A MEMOIR OF
                       SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY


                                Oxford
                HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY


[Illustration: Barraud’s Photo.

Walker & Boutall Ph. Sc.

J. H. Drummond Hay]


                              A MEMOIR OF
                         SIR JOHN DRUMMOND HAY
                         P.C. K.C.B. G.C.M.G.

                      SOMETIME MINISTER AT THE
                      COURT OF MOROCCO BASED ON HIS
                      JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE

                           WITH A PREFACE BY
                   SIR FRANCIS W. DE WINTON K.C.M.G.

                       PORTRAITS & ILLUSTRATIONS

                                LONDON
                     JOHN MURRAY ALBEMARLE STREET
                                 1896




                                PREFACE

                               * * * * *

On his retirement from public service in 1886, Sir John Hay Drummond
Hay, at the instance of many friends, undertook to set down the
recollections of his life. Some of these notes were published in
_Murray’s Magazine_ in 1887 under the title of ‘Scraps from my
Note-book’; others were laid by to be incorporated in a complete volume.
The work was, however, interrupted by an accident to one of his eyes
which rendered it impossible for him to write. For a time he confined
himself to dictating to my sister, who acted as his amanuensis, quaint
stories and detached incidents connected with the Moors, intending to
resume the continuous tale of his life when his sight grew stronger.
But, shortly after the recovery of his eyesight, and before he had
proceeded much further in ‘unwinding the skein of his memories,’ he was
prostrated by a severe illness, followed by influenza, of which he died
in 1893.

It has fallen therefore to my sister, Miss Drummond Hay, and myself,
his two daughters, to endeavour to unite, to the best of our ability,
these scattered notes and memoranda, and to add to them such details as
could be supplied from our own recollections. In this task we have been
naturally somewhat restricted. In the first place, we have been obliged
to omit from the memoirs of one who lived and died so recently much
that might have been published twenty years hence. In the second place,
as we have been necessarily debarred from using any official documents
except those published in the Blue Books, our work can scarcely do full
justice to the life of a public servant. These restrictions have not
lightened our task; and, had it not been for the kindly help and advice
of friends, we should have had still greater difficulty in tracing,
from my father’s notes and private correspondence, the course of his
lifelong labours in Morocco.

The main portion of Sir John’s letters are addressed to his mother—to
whom he was a devoted son—and, later, to his eldest sister, Mrs.
Norderling, who was during her lifetime the sympathetic and intelligent
sharer of his confidences. Except with his mother and sister he carried
on but little private correspondence, principally on account of his
sight, which was enfeebled after an illness in 1859. But he wrote
occasionally to friends, several of whom preserved and have kindly lent
us his letters. Some of these have been utilised, and for all of them
our thanks are most gratefully tendered.

On my father’s account of his school days at the Academy in Edinburgh
and at the Charterhouse in London, on his early life at Tangier, or on
his apprenticeship to diplomacy at Constantinople under Lord Ponsonby
and the great Elchi, it is unnecessary to dilate. The recollections and
impressions of boyhood and youth break off when more serious work
presses on him after his appointment as Consul General in Morocco in
1845. Though considered very young for such a post, for he was only
twenty-eight, his training in Egypt and Turkey well qualified him for a
position which was destined to give scope to a character eulogised by
one of his chiefs as vigorous, temperate, and straightforward. He was
aided by his great facility in writing and speaking foreign languages,
as at that time he had perfect command of Turkish, Italian, Spanish,
French, and Arabic; and to the end he retained his fluency in the
last three.

From the moment that he was appointed Consul General in Morocco, his
letters are animated by the one great aim on which his public career
was concentrated—the increase and consolidation of British influence
in Morocco. British interests, he believed, could best be furthered by
the encouragement of commerce, by the amelioration of the condition of
the Moors, and also by personally gaining the respect of the people.
Extracts from his diary of 1846 tend to show how he set himself to
attain these objects; and his endeavours bore good fruit. The account
of the arrest of piracy in Rif, through his intervention, may be taken
as an instance of his direct personal influence in dealing with the
wild mountain tribes.

His power of talking familiarly in their own tongue with natives of
every degree was of great advantage to him in gaining a personal hold
on the people, and many illustrations might be quoted from the stories
which he tells of his meetings with various governors of the provinces
through which he travelled in the course of his frequent journeys to the
Court at the cities of Marákesh, Fas, Meknes, or Rabát. In fact his
purity of motive, tenacity of purpose, his ever ready and shrewd advice,
won the respect and good opinion of the people of Morocco. Implicit
confidence was placed in him by high and low alike.

On his influence with successive Sultans it is unnecessary to enlarge.
The offer of Sultan Sid Mohammed to place in his hands the entire
control of the foreign affairs of Morocco speaks for itself. The story
of Benabu, again, relates how the latter entrusted untold gold to my
father’s keeping, assured that his treasure would reach its destination,
though no witness or written paper attested to the transaction. Lastly,
to take an instance in humble life, we may point to the pitiful faith
placed in him by a wretched Rifian criminal when on the point of
surrendering himself to the authorities.

Nor were this reliance in his uprightness and this respect for his
judgment confined to the Moors. During the war between Spain and
Morocco, when he alone of all the Foreign Representatives remained at
his post, he was appealed to by the Spanish friars to protect their
church and its sacred contents from the insults of the angry Moslems.
Their confidence was not misplaced: his protection secured the sacred
building from the slightest injury.

The Spanish war at first seemed likely to check the development of
trade in Morocco at the moment when it was on the point of revival.
The promise of prosperity was due to the Commercial Convention
negotiated by my father in 1856, a convention which an old resident
in Morocco, one well qualified to appreciate its value, has termed
the Magna Charta of that country. But when peace was declared, the
result of the contest proved eventually to be rather a blessing than a
curse. The necessity of raising a loan to pay the war indemnity impelled
the Sultan to ask help from Great Britain, thus enabling my father the
more forcibly to impress upon H.S.M. the necessity of introducing into
the administration of the Customs reforms which immediately and
substantially increased the revenues of Morocco.

Yet in spite of the good results which in this instance followed the
acceptance of his advice, the apathetic and ignorant Moors could rarely
be induced to take active steps in the path of reform. It was only under
the pressure of necessity that any advance was made. This lethargy did
not, however, proceed from any want of plain speaking on my father’s
part. As is shown by the account of his private interview with Sultan
Sid Mohammed at Marákesh in 1872, he indicated to that potentate, in
the clearest and most emphatic language, the debased condition of his
realm, and the iniquities of the system under which his subjects were
governed.

But it was not with the recalcitrant Moorish Government alone that my
father had to contend. His later letters recount his failure to put a
check on the abuses caused by the protection of natives by foreigners,
and the consequent downfall of his hope that the end of his career might
be signalised by another and more extended commercial treaty. The
Moorish Government was not inclined to promote foreign trade, contending
that greater facilities for commerce would inevitably cause an influx
of alien traders, each of whom would have his native agents and servants
under the protection of a foreign flag, and that such protected
subjects, not being immediately amenable to the native authorities,
would only increase friction, lessen the Sultan’s authority, and
diminish the exchequer.

Her Majesty’s Government recognised my father’s value by repeated
promotion, and honours were bestowed on him under various
administrations; but he was given to understand that his services could
not be spared from the country where, it may be said, he was an
acknowledged power. Indeed, the principal aim of my father’s life during
his long career in Morocco—the preponderance of British influence over
that of all other nations—may be said to have been attained and
maintained during his tenure of office. In 1885, the last year of his
official life, he writes with reference to his unceasing anxiety that
neither France nor any other country should by any means obtain a
footing in Morocco, ‘As a sentinel of the Straits, I fire my gun, as a
warning, when I know of a move to obtain that object.’

Sir Francis de Winton, in his kindly and graceful introduction, touches
on the expedition to the lower slopes of the Atlas made by the Mission,
of which he was a member, in 1872, when the heights to the eternal snow
were climbed by Capt. Sawle and Mr. Drummond Hay, and when the cordial
reception offered by the wild natives left a pleasant impression on my
father and his party. He also refers to my father in the light of a
sportsman. The latter’s recollections of many of the happiest days of
his life spent in pursuit of wild boar and other game were noted by
himself, and some of them have been embodied in this work. A keen and
hard rider, an unerring shot in his earlier days, before his eyesight
was impaired, and of almost reckless courage, he was well fitted to
become the elected leader and head of the native hunters. Under his rule
sport flourished in the environs of Tangier, the ground allotted for
the purpose by the Sultan was properly guarded, and the close season
strictly observed: it was then that pigsticking in Morocco reached its
highest perfection, and gave pleasure to many of every rank and
condition, whether Europeans or natives.

It is doubtful whether sport could again flourish in the environs of
Tangier as it did in my father’s day. An increasing armed European
population, the introduction of weapons of precision, and the denudation
of the woods, render such a prospect unlikely. His stories therefore of
narrow escapes and exciting days may prove of interest to the lover of
the chase; and to some, who in those bygone years shared his sport, may
perhaps recall the memory of pleasant times spent with him in the field.

                                                      L. A. E. BROOKS.




                             INTRODUCTION

                               * * * * *

To this memoir of the late Sir John Hay Drummond Hay I have been asked
by his daughters to write a few introductory lines.

My acquaintance with Sir John began in the year 1870. At that time I
was quartered at Gibraltar, being on the staff of Sir William Fenwick
Williams of Kars, who was then Governor of the fortress.

They were old comrades, Sir John and Sir Fenwick, having served together
in Constantinople, and the friendship begun in Turkey was continued at
the gates of the Mediterranean. Often and often Sir John and Lady
Drummond Hay, with their two daughters, visited the Convent at
Gibraltar; and in return the doors of the Legation at Tangier were ever
open, and always gave us a hearty welcome.

It was between 1870 and 1875 that this intercourse took place, and to
me it is filled with happy recollections. The quaint old town of
Tangier, full of the decaying influences of Moslem rule, yet keeping
up the struggle of life after an existence of over a thousand years;
racial and religious differences, civilisation and barbarism,
struggling along together, while Jews and Arabs, unchanged for five
hundred years, jostled with Christendom of the present day. It was a
strange medley: and out of it all stands one figure prominent, nay
pre-eminent, in the history of Morocco during the past forty years.

I do not think Sir John’s reminiscences sufficiently convey the enormous
influence he wielded in the empire, so called, of Morocco. Throughout
the Sherifian dominions his name was known and respected; and after the
Emperor and the Sheríf of Wazan, his was the most powerful influence in
the state. His long residence in the country; his intimate acquaintance
with the manners and customs of the people; his perfect knowledge of
Arabic; his love of justice; his absolute fearlessness; his keen
appreciation of their sports and amusements, in which he often joined;
not only made him the trusted friend of the late Emperor and his
predecessors, but also the chosen friend of the people.

In the many expeditions in which I had the good fortune to be one of
Sir John’s companions, I had abundant opportunities of observing the
power he possessed over the different tribes with whom we came in
contact; and especially among the hill tribes of Jebel Musa, who occupy
the country between Tangier and Tetuan. These people held him in great
esteem, and often sought his advice and counsel in their tribal
differences; thus enabling him to be of service to the Emperor in the
constant struggles between that ruler and his people.

A description of Morocco and its government has often been essayed by
various writers; but no one could give an adequate idea of Sir John’s
influence who had not personally witnessed his intercourse with the
discordant elements which constitute the government of that country.

On one occasion I had the pleasure of being on Sir John’s staff when he
paid a visit to the Emperor, who was then residing at Marákesh. What a
pleasant journey it was! The daily ride, the evening camp, our first
view of the great Atlas range of mountains, the entry into Marákesh, our
reception by the Sultan, and the six weeks we spent in the city but
little known to Europeans; and it was, perhaps, the events of that
journey which impressed one more than anything as to the individuality
and power of the British Representative.

By many Sir John will also be remembered as an ardent sportsman. Whether
he was organising a boar-hunt, or a day after partridge, or enjoying a
run with the Calpe hounds, there was always the same keen interest,
the thorough enjoyment of sport, which characterised the man. Under
his guidance you were always sure of finding boar, or of getting a
good bag of partridge; and it was through Sir John that, some twelve
miles South of Tangier, where the ground was favourable, the exciting
sport of pigsticking was introduced into Africa. Well do I remember
after a day’s sport the evening camp fire, round which we gathered after
dinner, when Sir John would tell us of some of his earlier hunting
recollections. He was an excellent story-teller, keeping his audience
in a state of the deepest interest to the end; and then, with a merry
twinkle in his eye, he would finish his narrative by a description of
some ludicrous incident in which he was often the chief actor, and no
one joined more heartily in the laughter which followed than he himself.

It is not possible, within the short space of an introduction, to give
more than a mere outline of the personality of Sir John Drummond Hay.
His recollections furnish the true index to his character. In them
are reflected the sterling honesty, the integrity, and the courage
and capacity of the man who, though working in a country but little
known and full of prejudice and fanaticism, made England respected and
trusted. He belonged to that band of the men of Great Britain who
serve their country wherever they are placed, and who, while mindful
of her interests and her honour, gain the good will of the rulers and
the people to whom they are accredited.

In conclusion, I shall ever remember him as a friend whom I respected,
and for whom I always had a true affection; and when asked to write
these few lines, while wishing the duty had fallen to an abler pen than
mine, I felt that, having been honoured with his friendship, I might, in
affectionate remembrance of that friendship, write this brief tribute
to his memory.

                                                         F. DE WINTON.




                               CONTENTS

                               * * * * *

   CHAP.                                                            PAGE

          PREFACE                                                      v

          INTRODUCTION                                              xiii

      I.  BOYHOOD. 1816-1834                                           1

     II.  WAITING FOR EMPLOYMENT—JOSÉ MARIA. 1834                     11

    III.  ALEXANDRIA. 1840                                            20

     IV.  CONSTANTINOPLE AND LORD PONSONBY. 1840                      30

      V.  CONSTANTINOPLE WITH SIR STRATFORD CANNING. 1841             49

     VI.  MISSION TO TANGIER                                          66

    VII.  POLITICAL AGENT AT TANGIER AND FIRST MISSION TO
          MARÁKESH. 1845-1846                                         76

   VIII.  VISIT TO SALLI AND DEPARTURE FOR MARÁKESH. 1846             97

     IX.  RESIDENCE AT MARÁKESH AND RETURN TO TANGIER. 1846          108

      X.  DIFFICULTIES OF MR. HAY’S POSITION AT TANGIER.
          1846-1854                                                  133

     XI.  LIFE AT TANGIER                                            142

    XII.  SECOND MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1855                           167

   XIII.  BENABU. 1857                                               184

    XIV.  MR. HAY’S POSITION AT TANGIER. 1858                        198

     XV.  THE WAR WITH SPAIN. 1859-1862                              205

    XVI.  SIR JOHN HAY’S HOME AT TANGIER. 1862                       221

   XVII.  THIRD MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1863                            230

  XVIII.  JOÃO, THE PORTUGUESE GUNSMITH                              241

    XIX.  FOURTH MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1872                           264

     XX.  ASCENT OF THE ATLAS MOUNTAINS                              288

    XXI.  MISSION TO FAS IN 1875                                     307

   XXII.  1876-1879                                                  318

  XXIII.  THIRD MISSION TO FAS. 1879-1880                            329

   XXIV.  1881-1884                                                  338

    XXV.  LAST YEAR OF OFFICIAL LIFE. 1885                           354

   XXVI.  OUT OF HARNESS                                             365

   INDEX                                                             399




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

                               * * * * *

                                                                    PAGE

  PORTRAIT OF SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY
  (_From a photograph by Barraud._)                       _Frontispiece_

  SENYA EL HASHTI                                                    229

  RECEPTION BY SULTAN SID MOHAMMED                _To face page_     238

  RAVENSROCK                                                         353

  PORTRAIT OF SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY ON HORSEBACK
                                                  _To face page_     368

                               * * * * *

                                 NOTE


The system of orthography used in this book for native names and places
is that adopted by the Council of the Royal Geographical Society, _the
true sounds of words as locally pronounced being taken as the basis of
spelling_, except in the case of old-recognised names such as Tangier
(more properly Tanja). According to this system, vowels are pronounced
as in Italian; consonants as in English; _kh_ and _gh_ as the Oriental
gutturals.

Morocco, the name of the region of _Western_ Mauritania of Roman
geography, has undoubtedly been corrupted from the native name ‘Moghreb’
(setting sun). Maroc, Marocco, Marruecos, Marok, &c., written by
different peoples of Europe, are curious corruptions, some even further
off from Moghreb than the English corruption of the native name, and no
nearer to the old classic corruption _Mauritania_ than in beginning with
_Ma_ instead of _Mo_.

The name of the ancient _city_ which we British call _Marocco_, or yet
more absurdly _Morocco_, is in the mouth of the natives ‘_Marákesh_.’




                       SIR JOHN HAY DRUMMOND HAY

                               * * * * *

                              CHAPTER I.

                          BOYHOOD. 1816-1834.


In 1816, my father, at that time Major in the 73rd Regiment,
was on the staff of Lord Lynedoch—then in command of the army
of occupation—and held the post of ‘Majeur de Place’ at
Valenciennes; where my mother, after the conclusion of peace,
had joined him. Here I was born on the 1st of June of that year,
and my name was inscribed as a French citizen at the Mayoralty.

After my father retired from the army, he was offered by his
relative the Earl of Kinnoull, hereditary Lord-Lyon, the office
at Edinburgh of Lord-Lyon Clerk. At Edinburgh we resided first in
an old-fashioned house at Deanhaugh—the boards of the room where
I slept were stained with the blood of a tenant who had committed
suicide there—the garden adjoined that attached to the house where
the painter Raeburn dwelt. Later, we moved into a house in Athol
Crescent, one of the first of the new buildings in Edinburgh in those
days; I have a little sketch, from a window at the back of the house,
of the pretty country seen therefrom and which is now all built over.

With my elder brother, I was sent as day-boarder to the Academy. Early
in the morning, after a breakfast of porridge, and having been given
by my mother a penny to buy a ‘bap’ for my luncheon, I started
off, with my satchel on my back, for school. Near Stockbridge I
would meet ‘daft Jamie’—walking up and down in all weathers,
bareheaded, with his hands behind his back—and often gave the poor
fellow half my bap: one day he had disappeared, and afterwards I
learnt he had been one of the first victims of the murderers Burke
and Hare, who sold bodies for dissection to the eminent surgeon, Knox.

Being an indolent boy, and having great difficulty in learning
by heart any lesson, I was always at the bottom of the form, but,
for my age and size, I was the best runner and player at football;
at which game I broke my arm and was taken to the well-known surgeon,
Symes, to have it set.

On going to school in the morning, I passed through Charlotte
Square and there frequently met Lord Cockburn[1] taking an early
walk, wearing Hessian boots, a large frill of shirt showing from his
waistcoat and a long chain with seals dangling from the fob in the top
of his trousers. He was a friend of my father’s, and on one occasion
he stopped and asked me to state what place I held in the form.

Hanging my head with shame, I did not reply.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘I dare say you are dunce! Tell me.’ I
replied that I was always at the bottom of the form. Upon which Lord
Cockburn said, ‘That’s right, my dear boy; keep there and you
are sure to get on in life and become an eminent man. Do you know
who I am?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you are a judge.’

‘Well,’ he resumed, ‘I was like you, always at the bottom of
the form. Some day you may be a judge, or a greater man than I am.’

Shortly after this happened, having reported to my mother that
I was dunce as usual, she remonstrated with me for being such an
idle boy. Then I joyfully related Lord Cockburn’s language to me,
adding, ‘Some day I shall be as great a man as he is.’

As may be supposed, the judge was rebuked by my parents for
encouraging me in idleness!

The future archbishop, Tait, was at the Edinburgh Academy at the same
time as myself. Though an idle boy, I learnt more at that school
than I did in the five years I spent at Charterhouse—whither I
was transferred with my brother in 1827—and it was at the Academy
that I won a prize of which I was very proud. It was not a reward
for efficiency in study, but an annual prize given to the boy who
was elected by a majority of votes as the favourite of the school.

In 1844, being on a visit to a friend in Edinburgh, I went to the
Academy, and on inquiring of the porter at the entrance who were then
the masters, I learnt that one of them was Ferguson, who had been
master of my form, and that he was then at lunch in the lodge with
the other masters. I entered, without my name being announced, and,
recognising Ferguson, gravely said: ‘I beg to be let off to-day,
Sir, for being late; I was prevented coming earlier.’

‘Hay junior,’ he replied at once, ‘you are forgiven.’ How he
had been able to remember my face after a lapse of sixteen years,
when he had known me only a smooth-faced boy, who now returned as
a man with a moustache, was especially strange to me, who never can
recollect any face—unless indeed it be that of a pretty woman!

Walter Scott was a great friend of my family and frequently came to
Athol Crescent. I have often sat on his knee and had stories told
me by him. I also accompanied my father to Abbotsford and spent
some days there, and I remember that on our arrival Walter Scott,
followed by his sleugh-hound ‘Maida,’ came out to welcome us,
and, taking my father by the arm, he turned round to ‘Maida’
and said, ‘Do you take care of Johnny and let him have a ride on
your back if he likes.’ ‘Maida’ and I became great friends,
and she allowed me to get on her back; for I was a very slight boy.

When in Edinburgh, Walter Scott for a time lived in Walker Street,
leading out of Coates Crescent, opposite to our house. He called one
day on my mother and said he was going away for a month and requested
that he should be allowed to send, at night, his writing-table, desk,
and chair to her house, as he said his housekeeper complained bitterly
that she had no peace from the constant visits of travellers, asking
permission to see the chair, &c., where he wrote his works. My mother
consented, and Walter Scott then added: ‘I shall put a notice on
the door of my house, “Walter Scott has left this house and his
furniture has been removed.”’

A few days after the removal to Athol Crescent of the desk and other
articles, there was an unceasing knocking and ringing of bells at
our front door by travellers, begging to be admitted to see the
desk. My mother had to have it removed, and a notice, similar to
that suggested by Walter Scott, was placed on the door.


Mention is here omitted of an incident well remembered by his children
as related by Sir John’s mother, Mrs. Hay. Some visitors who gained
admittance to her house removed surreptitiously her own worn quill
pen from Walter Scott’s desk, under the impression that it had
been used and left there by him!

Among the memoranda left by Sir John are notes to the effect that
when he entered Charterhouse, Thackeray had either just left or was
about to leave that school; but Havelock, Leech, and John Murray
were his schoolfellows, as also a young Sheridan, who was remembered
by him chiefly on account of the readiness with which he would
improvise verses on any subject. This boy appears to have been of
improvident habits, and was generally in a state of impecuniosity,
which debarred him from buying the dainties in which other boys
indulged. His schoolfellows would offer to share their tarts, &c.,
with him if he would make verses in reference to them—to which he
would instantly respond with apt rhymes.

During their early school life at Charterhouse the brothers
spent their holidays with either of their two grandfathers, the
one being the Rector of Hadleigh, Dean Drummond (youngest son
of the Archbishop of York of that day, and brother of the ninth
Earl of Kinnoull), through whom lay Sir John’s claim to French
extraction, as the Dean’s wife was a daughter of the Prince de
Vismes et de Ponthieu. Captain J. Thomson was their other and maternal
grandfather. A very learned linguist, he had been private secretary
to the Marquess of Hastings in India, spoke twenty-five languages,
and was author of _Etymons of the English Language_, which work was
completed after his death by his son-in-law, Mr. E. A. Drummond Hay,
father of the subject of the present memoir.

At Christmas-time, however, the two boys returned to their parents
in Edinburgh, a long, wearisome journey from London, travelling by
coach through two days and nights in bitterly cold weather. The
return journey to school, in particular, seems to have left a
desolate remembrance of arriving in London, cold and stiff after long
confinement in the crowded coach, but also a pleasant recollection
of the gruff kindness to the young travellers of the guards, who
would often forego their customary tip when changing, rather than
disturb from their sleep the schoolboys who were going from home.

After the death of Dean Drummond, and the appointment of their father
to a foreign post in 1829, the brothers were wont to spend a portion
of their holidays at Dupplin Castle with the Earl of Kinnoull, to
whom they were then prospective heirs: the elder to the earldom,
the younger to the property of Cromlix. In fact, Lord Kinnoull
asked their father to allow him to have entire charge of the two
boys and of their education, in view of their being his probable
successors. But this offer was prudently declined, their father
not wishing them—the sons of a poor man—to be brought up amidst
surroundings unsuited to adapt them for pushing their own way in life,
and in the expectation of a prosperous future which, in their case,
might fail to be realised. In this he judged wisely; as, while still
in the prime of life, Lord Kinnoull married and had a large family.

The boys, however, continued to spend many happy holidays at Dupplin;
posting from Edinburgh to Perth, a pleasanter mode of travelling
than by coach.

Another recollection, in connection with their visits to Dupplin,
was the ceremonious importance of their attendance at the parish
church at Aberdalgie on Sundays. Though only a short distance
intervened between this place and the Castle, the family coach,
with four horses and postilions, was always prepared, and in this
manner the two schoolboys proceeded alone to the church, to occupy
on arrival the family ‘sitting,’ and listen, with what patience
they might, to the long discourse of the minister.


In 1829 my father was appointed Political Agent and Consul
General in Morocco. At that time I was at Charterhouse, and first
received the tidings from another boy who had seen the notice
in the _Gazette_. Geography was not taught at Charterhouse, and,
as my informant professed ignorance regarding the whereabouts of
Morocco, beyond that ‘it was a country in Africa inhabited by
naked niggers,’ we got hold of a map and made therein a voyage of
discovery until we found Morocco.

My family came up to London from Edinburgh and rented a house in
Clarges Street for the season, and my father decided that my elder
brother, the late Sir Edward Hay, and I should remain at Charterhouse
two or three years longer; then rejoin our family at Tangier, and
there be placed under a private tutor.

It was a curious coincidence that before my father was appointed to
Morocco, or had indeed any expectation of obtaining any employment
in a foreign country, the boys at Charterhouse had nicknamed me
‘Othello,’ or ‘the Moor,’ not only because I was a passionate
youngster who resented an injury, but also on account of my dark eyes
and hair and olive complexion; typical of a thorough Hay, according
to Sir Walter Scott in _The Fair Maid of Perth_, where he describes
the clan as ‘a dark, short race.’

A frigate, H.M.S. Athol, in command of Captain Gordon, conveyed my
father and family to Tangier.

Three years later [1832], when I was fifteen, my brother and I, to
our great joy, were summoned to join them. Steam communication was
very rare in those days, and we sailed from Plymouth in a merchant
brig of about a hundred and fifty tons, with only a skipper and four
seamen on board. She was a clipper and made the run in seven days.

It was a rough life on board the brig: hard sea-biscuit, salt pork,
with now and then currant dumplings, was the fare.

Nothing particular occurred during the voyage, except that after
rounding Cape St. Vincent, when off the Spanish coast, a large lateen
craft—called a ‘mistico’—gave chase, making signals to the
brig to heave to: but our skipper, who declared the ‘mistico’
to be a pirate, responded to the signals by hoisting every stitch
of canvas—though a strong breeze was blowing—and we flew through
the water, leaving the ‘mistico’ far behind, and she gave up the
chase after firing shots which missed us. Probably she was a Spanish
revenue vessel and her commander had mistaken us for a smuggler.

There was a six-horned Barbary ram on board, which the skipper had
not been allowed by the Customs’ officers to land in England,
for fear, I suppose, of its contaminating the British breed of
sheep. No provision of fodder had been made for the poor animal,
but, as he had become a great favourite with the sailors, he was not
made mutton of, and lived on a pittance of hard biscuit, which the
sailors gave him from their rations. The poor ram was so ravenous
that I mischievously offered him one day a slice of cold mutton
between two pieces of biscuit, and this he devoured with avidity!

On our arrival at Tangier, my brother and I were placed under the
tuition of a Spanish gentleman, Don Gregorio de Borgas y Tarius,
whose father had been Captain-General in Estramadura; but, during the
reign of Ferdinand, having taken part in some ‘pronunciamiento’
against the despotic acts of that sovereign, he was compelled to
fly from Spain. His property was confiscated, and he and his son
gained their livelihood by giving lessons. Don Gregorio was a learned
man—not only a classical scholar, but a good mathematician, and
spoke French perfectly.

During the five years I had spent at Charterhouse I had studied
little or nothing except football, cricket, tennis, and other games;
in these I took the lead of others of my age. What I knew of Latin
or Greek had been acquired by me when a day-boarder at the Edinburgh
Academy—a far superior school at that time to Charterhouse for
education, as idle boys were there made to study: but even at
the Academy, geography and modern history were not taught. I had
learnt the history of the gods and goddesses, and knew much about
the doings of Jupiter, Juno, Hercules, Venus, &c., but was left in
total ignorance of English history, except what my mother taught me,
while knowing little or nothing of the history of Europe, or even
of the recent great war with Napoleon.

After we had spent two years in Tangier, my elder brother was
appointed a clerk in the Colonial Office, through the influence of
our relative, Mr. Robert Hay, then Under-Secretary for the Colonies;
so I was left alone under the tuition of Don Gregorio, but made
little progress, except in the French and Spanish languages, which
I acquired with as much ease as I had experienced difficulty in
mastering the classics.


          LETTER FROM MISS SHIRREFF TO SIR JOHN’S DAUGHTERS.

                           41 Stanhope Gardens, S.W., _Jan. 31_, 1895.

You have asked me, my dear friends, to tell you something of
our recollections and impressions of your father’s early home;
not that of his childhood, but of his early youth—that in which
his character was formed and the bent and purpose of his manhood
received its definite direction. It is but little that I can tell;
but as I am one of the few survivors of those who had the privilege
of knowing that home in those early days I will do what I can.

It was my father’s appointment late in 1830 to the post of Captain
of the Port at Gibraltar that first brought us into contact with
the Hay family. Not long after our arrival Mr. Drummond Hay came
over to see us and claim my mother as his cousin, though till then
personally unknown; and his kindness and delightful conversation
and old-world courtesy had made an easy conquest of us all. The
invitation that followed for Minnie[2] and myself to pay a visit
to Tangier was therefore at once accepted with great glee; though
circumstances—a deep family sorrow, illness, and my father’s
absence in England—delayed it till the spring of ’33. At last the
moment came. My father took us over, and we were left among strangers
who were to become the dearest friends of all our after lives.

Mrs. Drummond Hay’s kind motherly greeting to her two young guests
soon set us at ease. Mr. Hay delighted us again as at first, and we
then were at leisure to make acquaintance with the younger members
of the family; first Louisa[3], the eldest daughter, a year older
than myself; then your father, at that time a lad between sixteen
and seventeen.

Your father, who had but lately left Charterhouse and come to live
at home, was at this time engaged with the study of Arabic, more
rare then than now, and which was carried on more or less secretly
owing to native jealousies. He was thus not only preparing for work,
but was also laying in great measure the foundation of that immense
influence and popularity among the Moorish population, for which he
was so remarkable in after years.

When the busy mornings were over, riding and music were the two
delights that drew the young party together. Under Mr. Hay’s
guidance, and with the escort of a Moorish soldier, still at that
time necessary for protection, many were the delightful rides that
we took beyond the precincts of the old town, along the shore, or
through the half-wild country, so new in all its aspects to our eyes.

Then on our return, and often far into the evening hours, the long
balcony, or gallery as it was called, outside the drawing-room windows
was our favourite resort. Here we eat fruit, and talked over our ride,
and here guitars were brought out, and song and merry talk went on.

The garden, full of flowers and lovely shrubs, lay below us; in the
distance stretched the rugged coast of Spain; Gibraltar reared aloft
its rocky summit, whence the flash of the evening gun might be seen;
while the golden glory of the Western skies lighted up the narrow sea
between, alive with fishing craft, or some stately vessel passing
through the straits. Truly it was a lovely view, and once enjoyed
could never fade from one’s memory. That enjoyment was only changed
for the pleasant circle at dinner, or in the drawing-room.

Perhaps it was the fact of our close intimacy with dear Mrs. Hay
through the long years of her many changes and trials that makes
the recollection of the first impressions of her less vivid; yet
her gracious beauty, her gentle, pleasant ways in the midst of the
cares of such a household, can never be forgotten. But Mr. Hay was
himself emphatically the centre and ruler of the family life—a
stern ruler at times to his children, but they revered the will which
they were bound to obey, and loved the father. Louisa’s congenial
spirit, her sympathy in his literary tastes, made her naturally his
companion, young as she was, and as secretary—no such person was
then officially recognised—she was invaluable.

Such, then, as I have striven partly to describe it, was the home
in which John Hay was gradually developing the qualities that were
most remarkable in him through later years—courage, resolution,
sense of duty, power of work and willingness to work, warm and wide
sympathies, overflowing fun, and readiness to give help, no matter
in what direction: if the thing wanted were in his power to do it
was done, from mastering an unruly horse to teaching algebra to a
backward student.

The outside surroundings of the home had also their influence. Society
in Tangier was necessarily restricted, but within the small circle
of different nationalities the social tone of various countries
became familiar, and then the intercourse tended to dissipate
national prejudices, and to lead the young to wider sympathies
than generally prevail where all are more or less under the sway
of the same habits and associations. This was naturally favourable
to one who was destined to the diplomatic service, as was also the
necessary use of at least two foreign languages—French for society,
and Spanish, partly for the same, but also as the medium of common
intercourse with all the non-Arabic surroundings.

With reference to your dear father especially I may truly say that
whenever we met him in after years we felt that we were meeting
the same valued friend of our youth, and again our thoughts turned
to the dear old home where, under a noble father’s guidance,
he was trained to all manly excellence, and where he had learned
to form his ideal of womanhood under the influence of the loving,
unselfish mother, and the sister whose bright intellect added force
to the pure beauty of her character, and made her worthy to be his
trusted friend and confidant to the last hours of her life.




                              CHAPTER II.

               WAITING FOR EMPLOYMENT—JOSÉ MARIA. 1834.


In 1834, I travelled through Andalusia with my tutor, and visited,
amongst other towns, Seville, where I had been requested by my father
to rent a furnished house for three months, as he had obtained leave
of absence and intended to spend it there with his family. Mr. Ford,
the author of the _Handbook on Spain_, and father of Sir Francis Clare
Ford, afterwards Ambassador at Madrid, then resided at Seville; and,
as he was about to leave, I hired his house.

Ford had made the acquaintance of José Maria, the famous
brigand—the ‘Little John’ of Spain—who had been pardoned by
the Queen on condition of his acting as chief of a body of ‘guardia
civil’ and devoting himself to suppressing brigandage. He asked me
if I would like to see this notorious ex-robber and hear, from his
own lips, anecdotes of his life as a brigand. I readily assented,
so José Maria was invited to a luncheon at which I was present.

José Maria told us that all the robbers and thieves in the Southern
provinces of Spain had been for some years under his control—he
could collect when required a body of about forty well-mounted and
armed men—and related how his pardon and present appointment had
been obtained.

Hearing that Queen Christina, attended by an escort of cavalry,
was about to pass, on her return to Madrid from a visit to Granada,
through a wooded country known to be infested by banditti, José
Maria collected his well-mounted brigands, armed and dressed in
handsome ‘majo’ costume, and placed them at the entrance of the
forest through which Her Majesty would pass.

On the approach of the royal cortège, José Maria, observing a
trooper posted as vedette in advance of Her Majesty’s escort,
accosted the man and informed him that, as a loyal subject of the
Queen, he had brought a body of well-armed and mounted inhabitants of
the neighbourhood to escort Her Majesty through the woods in safety.

The trooper rode back and reported this language to the officer in
command of the escort, adding that he suspected from the appearance
of their chief that the men were banditti.

This was repeated to the Queen by the officer, who also informed
Her Majesty that he was prepared to attack the supposed banditti.

Queen Christina, however, ordered him not to attack, but, after
taking the necessary precautions against treachery, to bring the
chief of the band to her carriage.

José Maria, at the request of the officer, then came forward. The
Queen thanked him for his loyalty in having assembled a body of
mounted men to ensure her safety in a district said to be infested
by brigands. ‘Place your men,’ said Her Majesty, ‘in front of
the escort, and then come yourself to the one side of my carriage,
whilst the officer in command of the cavalry rides on the other.’

After traversing the forest, José Maria asked permission to retire
with his mounted followers, and at the same time announced that he
had a boon to beg.

‘What is it?’ said Her Majesty. ‘I shall be glad to make my
acknowledgement of the service you have rendered.’

Bowing low, he answered, ‘I am José Maria, the chief of the
banditti who infest your realms. I ask for pardon for myself and for
those of my followers who may be ready to accept it: for those who
do not accept, as they have accompanied me on the present occasion
without knowledge of my intended petition, I beg that they be allowed
to depart without hindrance.’

The Queen, after conferring with the officer in command, granted José
Maria’s prayer, on condition, however, that he should become a chief
of the ‘guardia civil’ and assist in putting down brigandage.

All the brigands accepted Her Majesty’s pardon, with the exception
of a man nicknamed ‘Veneno’ (poison), who had been José Maria’s
lieutenant.

José Maria related to us stories of the most daring robberies
he had committed, in various parts of Spain, on passengers by
diligence and other travellers. He declared that his band had never
robbed or molested the farmers or peasantry; but, on the contrary,
when they heard that a wedding or other feast was taking place,
he would appear with some of his men in smart ‘majo’ costume
and bring presents for the bridegroom and bride. Also that the
Alcaldes, or petty magistrates of the villages, were all bribed by
him when a robbery was committed in other districts than their own;
and when cavalry were sent in pursuit of the banditti, the country
people never betrayed them, but kept José Maria informed of their
movements whilst they misled his pursuers.

The brigand told us that on one occasion he had robbed an English
gentleman travelling in Andalusia on horseback, with a Spanish guide,
of their horses and everything they possessed except the clothes they
wore. ‘The Englishman,’ he added, ‘was a bright, pleasant youth,
and submitted with good humour to the robbery; so I felt sorry, as
he was forty miles from Seville, whither he was going, that he should
have to walk that distance, and I gave him back his servant’s horse
and a doubloon (sixteen dollars) out of the two hundred dollars I
had taken from him, mentioning that he might require that money for
lodging and food on the road before he had reached his destination.’

‘My young friend,’ José continued, ‘thanked me warmly,
adding that since I had been so kind he had a great favour to ask,
which was that I should return him his gold watch as it had been
the parting gift of his dear father.’

‘Is your father alive, and does he love you very much?’

‘Oh, yes,’ replied the youth, ‘he lives and loves me.’

‘Then,’ said José Maria, ‘I shall keep this watch, and as
your father loves you so dearly he is sure to give you another!’

José then gave the young Englishman a signed pass, requiring that
all brigands or thieves in Andalusia or Estramadura should refrain
from robbing or molesting the bearer. He also told him, if robbed
at any time, where to send a note which would be sure to find him.

The Englishman spent some weeks at Seville, and, returning one evening
from Alcalá, was attacked and robbed by a man armed with a gun. He
showed the pass to the footpad, who only remarked that he was not
going to have the bread taken out of his mouth by the brigand José
Maria or any other man.

The Englishman then had a note written in Spanish and sent to the
care of the head man of a village mentioned by José Maria, to be
forwarded to the great brigand, stating the sum of money that had
been stolen from him. Within a week a Spaniard called at the hotel
where the traveller lodged and returned the money, adding, ‘The
“ratero” (thief) has been stabbed for paying no attention to
José Maria’s pass.’

After luncheon, José Maria had his horse brought for us to see. It
was a well-made Spanish ‘jinete,’ standing about 15.1, and had
the appearance of being fast. He mounted the nag and rode rapidly up
a street, presently returned at a gallop, jumped off, and, removing
the bridle, gave the animal a slap and then ran into the house. The
horse went off at full gallop and disappeared up one of the streets.

‘Now,’ said José Maria, ‘I am supposed to have committed
a robbery and to have been pursued by cavalry in a wood. I have
taken off the bridle, and my horse, if chased, will be sure from his
swiftness and being riderless, to escape. Suppose me to have climbed a
tree or hidden amongst bushes or rocks and thus eluded my enemies.’

After a short interval he continued, ‘I must now recall the horse,
who, not being pursued, will not have gone far and is listening for
my summons.’ So, taking a large whistle from his pocket, he walked
up the street and commenced whistling. In a few minutes the horse
galloped up, neighing as he recognised his master, who put on the
bridle and caressed the intelligent beast.

‘For two years I have been employed,’ said José Maria, ‘in
putting down brigandage, and have succeeded in arresting many robbers
and “rateros,” but my late lieutenant “Veneno” has hitherto
escaped us, and some day he will kill me!’

A year after my meeting with José Maria, I saw in the newspapers
that ‘Veneno’ had been tracked by him to a cave in the mountains,
frequented by this robber and his band. The ex-brigand entered the
cave one night at the head of a body of ‘guardia civil’ and was
killed by ‘Veneno’ while in the act of arresting him. ‘Veneno’
and his companions were then shot by José Maria’s men.

Whilst residing with my father and family in the house he had rented
in Seville, it happened on one occasion that I had dined and spent
the evening with my friend Don ———, and did not leave his house
until nearly eleven o’clock. It was fortunately bright moonlight,
for Seville was then but dimly lighted. On saying good-night, my
host accompanied me to his door and warned me to keep well in the
centre of the streets, as at that late hour wayfarers were often
attacked and robbed.

I had no weapon—not even a stick—with me. The evening was fresh,
so I threw my Spanish ‘capa’ round me and walked briskly down
the centre of the narrow streets which led to the great Plaza,
about a mile distant, near which our house was situated. Presently
I heard footsteps and, looking back, saw a figure following me,
but keeping in the shadow.

I knew I was fleet of foot, so set off running at a good pace, feeling
sure that if the fellow were dodging me he would follow. As soon as I
quickened my speed the man sprang into the light and came after me,
and I dashed on with him in pursuit. As I turned a corner I caught
sight of his long ‘navaja’ gleaming in the moonlight. Finding my
cloak heavy, I unfastened it and let it trail behind, determined to
hold on to my new capa as long as I could. However, I soon outstripped
my pursuer, and on reaching the Plaza paused to again wrap my capa
about me and to reconnoitre well before venturing into the street
where our house stood. The footpad had vanished on seeing me reach
the lit and frequented Plaza.

After this I never ventured out at night without a pistol.


At this time Mr. Hay had become very proficient in Arabic, and
his family have still in their possession some examples of Arabic
writing, then beautifully executed by him in the highest style of
Oriental manuscript; and a friend, writing from London to his mother,
Mrs. Drummond Hay, says, ‘I met the other evening Mr. Burchardt
Barker, the Oriental translator to the Foreign Office; he told me that
a letter from the Sultan of Morocco had been sent home by your son,
Mr. John Hay, and that he had never seen anything more beautifully
translated by any Orientalist.’

It was either during this stay at Seville, or on a subsequent
occasion, that Mr. Hay visited the Alcazar, then in course of
restoration.

The architect was employed in reconstructing the beautiful arabesque
stucco-work on the walls, by taking moulds of the injured portions,
and, after remodelling the defaced parts, casting from these moulds
fresh plaques to replace those injured or missing.

After gazing for some time on these restorations, and vainly
endeavouring to puzzle out the Arabic inscriptions which enter so
largely into arabesque decorations, Mr. Hay asked for the architect
and inquired of him whether he was aware that he had reversed all
the inscriptions!

The poor man was horrified. He declared he would undo and rectify his
work, begging Mr. Hay, for pity’s sake, not to betray to any one
his discovery: as, if it were made known, he would be a ruined man,
and he and his children would starve. Mr. Hay having shown him exactly
what his error had been, left Seville without betraying the architect.

In the summer of 1838 Mr. Hay made an expedition into the interior of
Morocco, of which he wrote an account entitled _Western Barbary_. This
little book, written with all the vigour and freshness inspired by
youth, and with a thorough knowledge of the wild people amongst whom
he travelled and whose sport he shared, was published by Mr. Murray
and attracted much attention and praise from the press at the time.

During a visit to England in 1838, Mr. Hay made an application to
Lord Palmerston for a diplomatic appointment in the East, and in this
connection relates the following incident, which occurred after his
return to Tangier in the next year.


A respectable Moor, named Selam Lamarti, who was employed by my
father to attend as guard upon my younger brothers and sisters,
and who was very anxious about my future career, inquired one day
whether I should like to have my fortune told by one who had never
failed to predict correctly the life and fortune of any man or woman
whom she might have happened to see, and the chief events of whose
future life she felt intuitively that she could foretell. I replied,
‘As you say _she_, you refer, I suppose, to a woman, and probably
to an Arab gossip, who expects that I shall reward her handsomely
for telling me a parcel of lies about the happiness and good fortune
which are in store for me.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘she is not an Arab gipsy, but my first cousin,
a young Moorish maiden named Leila, with whom I have been brought up
from infancy as with a sister. If she tells your fortune she will not
take money, nor even a present, in return for her predictions. The
Most High God, who foresees and knows all things, has gifted her with
this incomprehensible power, for which she has attained great fame;
but it is not every one whose fortune can be told by her, only those
whom she occasionally selects, from feeling—as she describes—a
sudden innate inspiration which she cannot explain. Last Friday,’ he
continued, ‘she and her mother were seated, muffled in their haiks,
praying at the grave of a relative in the Mohammedan cemetery. You,
whom she knows by sight, were walking with a companion on the high
road through the cemetery, and you stopped for some minutes near
to the spot where Leila was seated, and she had a good view of your
features. After you had passed Leila told her mother, and afterwards
myself on her return home, that your future life was seen by her
clearly, as in a mirror.’

‘Is she fair? Is she pretty? Can I hear from her own lips my
future?’ I exclaimed, foolishly flattering myself that this maiden
might have fallen in love with me and sought an excuse for a meeting.

‘Hasha’ (God forbid), cried Selam, ‘that you or any man should
visit, or even speak to her, until she meet her bridegroom on her
wedding night, except it be her father, or I as her foster-brother,
in the presence of her mother. Yes, she is very fair and pretty,
with a sweet gentle voice and manner. If you wish to learn the chief
events of your future life, Leila says she must see you again and
have a long look at your features and expression. I will arrange
to-night the hour when you are to accompany me to stand below the
lattice window of her house, where she will be able to gaze at you,
though, as you know, her features will not thus be visible to you.’

This was agreed upon, and the next day Selam accompanied me to the
door of Leila’s house, where, leaving me standing in the street,
he entered, but shortly rejoined me, saying, ‘She is now at the
window.’ I could just see there was some one behind the lattice,
so I looked up and smiled, hoping she might show herself; but not a
glimpse had I of the fair Leila. After waiting a few minutes there
was a tap at the window, and Selam said,

‘That is the signal that you may leave. To-night I shall learn
from Leila, in presence of her mother, the chief events of your
future life. She is a clever girl, and, what is rare with our women,
can read and write Arabic.’

The following day Selam related Leila’s predictions as follows:

‘John, whom I have so often seen as he passes through the cemetery
on Fridays, will in a few months return to London, and will be
appointed “Katseb” (secretary) to the English “Bashador”
(ambassador) at Stambul; he will rise in favour and become his
confidential secretary. He will be sent by the Bashador on missions
to several countries in the East and return to Stambul. After a few
years he will go back to England, and then on his intended return to
Stambul he will visit Tangier, where he will find his father in bad
health. His father will die and he will be appointed in his place. He
will be in great favour with the present and future Sultans, and
will attain to a much higher rank than his father now holds. There
are two maidens who will love him—one dark, the other fair. He will
marry the fair one, who lives in a distant land. He will have a long
and happy life, and when he is old he will retire to his own country
with high honours from his sovereign and from other sovereigns of
foreign countries. He will live to an advanced age.’

Leila declined an offer of money or a present, and I was never allowed
to see her fair face or hear her sweet voice. Without narrating
here the various events which have happened in my long life I may
say that Leila’s predictions, by an extraordinary combination of
circumstances or chances, have all been verified. Though I never
had an opportunity of letting Leila know that I had fulfilled her
expectations, I hope she may have continued to take an interest in
my career, whether she be in this or in the other world.




                             CHAPTER III.

                           ALEXANDRIA. 1840.


Mr. Hay did not long remain without employment. In his Note Book for
1840 he thus describes his entrance on the career of a diplomatist.


Waiting with some anxiety to learn what might turn up and be my fate,
I stayed for some months in Town, and in May, as I was walking down
St. James’ Street towards the Foreign Office, I met Henry Forster,
brother of the late General Forster, then a senior clerk in the
Foreign Office, who said, ‘Hay, I have to congratulate you, for
you have just been marked with our chief’s initial letter.’

On my asking for an explanation, Forster informed me that my name had
been sent up by my kind friend Mr. Hammond (the late Lord Hammond,
then Senior Clerk) for the post of attaché at Constantinople,
and that Lord Palmerston, as usual when he approved a note or a
memorandum, had signed P. Before I received this appointment, Lord
Palmerston’s private secretary asked me whether I was a Whig or a
Tory, adding that his Lordship had directed him to question me, as
he had appointed so many members of Tory families to foreign posts
that it was his intention in future before making an appointment to
inquire of a candidate to which party he belonged.

I replied that, as I hoped to obtain employment abroad, where it
would not be necessary for me to take part in politics as Whig or
Tory, my party would always be that which upheld the honour and
interests of my own country.

I was told that, when my reply was reported to Lord Palmerston,
he said, ‘Mr. Hay may be a Tory, but he will do for diplomacy.’

On my appointment I was directed, before proceeding to my post,
to attend for some weeks at the Foreign Office to learn the forms, &c.

Before the present Foreign Office was built there was, at the back
of the old buildings, a street, the houses on the opposite side of
which were overlooked by the rooms occupied by some of the junior
clerks. In a window of one of these houses two elderly ladies used
sometimes to be seated, sewing, and a youthful clerk was wont to amuse
himself dazzling them by means of a looking-glass. The ladies wrote
a note to Lord Palmerston, complaining of this annoyance; upon which
his Lordship sent a memorandum to be circulated amongst the clerks:

‘The gentlemen in the office are requested not to cast reflections
on ladies. P.’

After working for some weeks as an assistant clerk in the Foreign
Office I was ordered to proceed, in the first place, to Alexandria,
where I was to remain for some time to assist Colonel Hodges, then our
Agent and Consul-General in Egypt—as there was a press of work in
consequence of the question with Mehemet Ali—and was told that Lord
Palmerston desired to know when I should be ready to start. I replied,
‘To-day.’ This pleased Lord Palmerston, but I was given three days
in which to prepare, and told that, if I had not a carriage of my own,
I was to buy one at Calais and post with all speed through France to
Marseilles in order to catch the mail-packet thence to Alexandria. At
the Foreign Office I was given £100 to pay all expenses.

Posting down to Dover, I crossed to Calais, and there bought,
second-hand, a light _britzska_, in which I deposited the two huge
bags of dispatches, of which I was in charge for the admiral at Malta
and our agent in Egypt. As bearer of dispatches I had the preference
over other travellers for fresh horses, and travelled very rapidly,
day and night, arriving at Marseilles several hours before the
packet left. After selling the carriage I had bought at Calais,
I took a bath and had dinner at an hotel.

During dinner, I was waited on by two Maltese. Having finished,
I requested that my bill should be brought; upon which, one of the
waiters observed to the other _sotto voce_ in Arabic, ‘We will
not present a bill; let us charge him fifteen francs, and we will
divide the five which remain over and above the charge for bath
and dinner.’ Knowing Arabic, I understood the plot; so when they
told me I had fifteen francs to pay, I replied that I wished to see
the landlord before leaving. He was summoned and I then related to
him what had passed between these rogues of waiters. Upon which he
demanded very angrily what they meant, and one of them, very much
flurried, replied foolishly that they had not supposed the gentleman
knew Maltese! The landlord dismissed the two waiters from his service
then and there, and I paid him his bill of ten francs.

It is remarkable that though Malta has been occupied by a great number
of nations—Phœnicians, Romans, Arabs, Franks and English—Arabic
is still the language of the inhabitants.

Before arriving at Alexandria, I learnt that the plague was in Egypt,
and, having heard so many dread stories about this disease and the
dangers incurred from contagion, I landed with my hair standing on
end from terror, fearing I should be plague-stricken and die—as
I had heard might happen—after a few hours’ illness.

There was much contention at that time between medical men at
Alexandria regarding the contagion from plague. The chief Italian
doctor—whose name I have forgotten—who was said to be very
clever, mounted a donkey covered with oil-skin, the doctor wearing
also clothing of a supposed non-contagion-bearing texture. He visited
the plague patients, but carried an ivory wand with which he touched
their ‘buboes.’

The other chief medical man was Dr. Lorimer, an Englishman, who did
not believe in great danger from contagion but rather in the risk
of infection from visiting, or living in, unhealthy quarters of the
town where there were no sanitary arrangements.

These two doctors were on friendly terms, and when they met in the
streets during their visits to plague patients, some banter generally
passed. The Italian doctor was wont to salute Dr. Lorimer with ‘Tu
creparai’ (Thou wilt die), and the latter returned the gloomy
salutation with a ‘tu quoque.’ The Italian died of the plague
whilst I was at Alexandria, but Dr. Lorimer kept in good health and
was unremitting in his attendance on the sick, doing many acts of
charity. He told me, in support of his theory of infection rather than
contagion, that there were several houses in Alexandria of a better
class, but situated in an unhealthy part of the town, whose tenants,
even when observing the strictest quarantine, had caught the plague,
whilst there were whole streets in a healthy quarter where no cases
ever occurred.

Some years before, in Morocco, I had experience of the danger of
going into dwellings where there is disease.

When the cholera morbus visited Tangier in 1836, Mr. Bell—at that
time Consul under my father, and who had been surgeon on board Lord
Yarborough’s yacht Falcon—devoted his spare time after office
hours to attending, gratis, upon cholera patients and had much
success: I sometimes accompanied him to interpret when he could
not find an assistant who spoke Arabic, and on one occasion he
requested me to aid him in giving directions to a poor Moor whose
son was attacked with cholera. I accompanied Dr. Bell without fear,
but when he requested me to lift the dying man, already looking like
a livid corpse, to enable him to pour some liquid down his throat,
I shuddered, and, trembling, held the man in my arms till the dose
was administered. The patient died shortly after.

I returned home feeling ill and shaken; and, whilst standing before
a fire trying to warm myself, was seized with terrible cramps and
fell in pain on the hearth-rug. I was put to bed with bottles of
hot water on my body. Dr. Bell was sent for, but was not to be
found. Having heard that sometimes oil relieved pain in cholera, I
got a bottle of good French oil and adding a few drops of laudanum
to a full tumbler of oil, drank it off. This relieved the intense
pain. When the doctor arrived, he approved of my remedy and said I
had an attack of cholera asiatica.

The danger from plague by contagion cannot, however, to my mind be
called in question. That dire disease was introduced into Morocco
about the year 1826 by an English frigate which our Government
had dispatched to Alexandria, where the plague was then raging, to
convey from that port to Tangier two sons of the Sultan, returning
from a pilgrimage to Mecca. No case of plague or other illness had
occurred on board the frigate during the voyage, and the Sultan’s
sons and other passengers were allowed to land at Tangier.

The Customs’ officers being suspicious that in the numerous boxes,
brought by pilgrims who had been permitted to embark with the
Moorish princes, contraband goods were being smuggled, caused some
of the cases to be opened. One contained Egyptian wearing apparel,
which the owner said he had bought second-hand, and subsequently
confessed had belonged to a person who had died of the plague at
Alexandria. The two Moorish officials who opened the boxes were
attacked with the plague that night and died in a few hours. The
disease spread rapidly throughout Morocco, carrying off eighty per
cent. of those who were attacked.

Shortly after my arrival at Alexandria, I was presented to Mehemet Ali
by Colonel Hodges. I need not give a description of this remarkable
man, of whom so much has been written, but I was much struck by his
keen eyes, like those of an eagle. The Colonel proved to be no match
for him in discussing the grave questions then at issue regarding his
desire to be independent of the Sultan’s sway, whilst Mehemet Ali
showed markedly his personal dislike to the Irish colonel, who was
hot-tempered and blurted out in very unguarded language the views
entertained by the British Government at that time regarding Egypt.

On hearing that I was attached to the Embassy at Constantinople,
Mehemet Ali fixed on me his eagle eyes with no friendly expression,
and I could perceive, from words let drop then and afterwards, the
extreme hatred his Highness entertained towards any one connected
with our Ambassador, Lord Ponsonby, the persistent and successful
opponent of his ambitious views.

About this time a portion of the Mahmud Canal was being dug by the
unfortunate Egyptian fellahin, assisted by their wives and children,
according to the ‘corvée’ system. Men, women and children
dwelt in miserable hovels near the canal, and I have seen the
wretched people working by thousands. A platter of bean soup and some
coarse bread was all that each person received to keep body and soul
together. No pay was given—or if any were made, it was retained by
the overseers—and the greatest misery prevailed. I was told that
there were two young fellah girls, sisters, who possessed only one
garment between them; so whilst one worked the other remained in her
hovel until her turn came, and then she donned the long blue shift
and the weary one remained nude. Yet have I seen this joyous race,
after emptying the baskets of earth they carried, filled with mud
grubbed up by their hands, without aid of spade or other implement,
singing and clapping their hands as they returned to the canal,
balancing the empty baskets on their heads.

The Egyptians have been bondsmen for thousands of years, and are a
degenerate and cowardly race.

On one occasion, when the younger son of Mehemet Ali, Abbas Pasha, a
cruel tyrant, visited the canal, a wretched fellah, with hardly a rag
to his back, walked to a mound of earth above where the Pasha stood
and cried out to his fellow-workmen: ‘Slaves and cowards! There
stands the tyrant. Strike and destroy him, or—if you have not the
courage to strike—spit, and you will drown him!’ This rash but
brave fellah was seized and beaten until he lay a corpse.

To give another instance of the cruelty of this monster, Abbas
Pasha. It was the custom in Egypt for any one of position to be
accompanied, when on horseback, by a ‘sais,’ or footman, who ran
beside, or preceded, the rider; and it was astonishing how these
men could keep up for miles with a horse going at a fast amble or
trot. The ‘sais’ of Abbas Pasha, having run by the side of his
master during a long journey, became footsore and, his shoes being
worn out, begged that a new pair might be given him at the next
village. The Pasha replied, ‘Thy petition shall be granted.’
On arrival at the village, Abbas Pasha ordered that a blacksmith
should be sent for, and when he came said, ‘Bind the sais, and
nail on his feet two horse-shoes; see that they are red hot before
they are fastened on.’ This was done, and the tortured man was
left writhing in agony, whilst the Pasha returned to Alexandria.

One day, finding that I was not needed at the office, I went for a
ride. When I had gone about four miles beyond the town I met an Arab,
mounted on a ‘huri,’ or dromedary, riding at a great pace towards
Alexandria, his face muffled up, as is usual with these people. He
stopped his animal as I passed, and, showing me a little object he
had in his hand, said, ‘I hear you Franks care about these things,
and am going to Alexandria to find a purchaser.’

It appeared to be a very beautiful gem, apparently cut in agate,
of the head of Bacchus. On my asking where he had found it, he told
me in some ruins at a distant spot. I offered him a few piastres
for the gem: but he refused my offer, saying that he knew a similar
object found on the same site had been sold by a friend of his for
a sum equivalent in piastres to about £5.

Though not myself a collector of antiquities, my father was an
archaeologist, and possessed a beautiful collection of coins, &c.,
and I decided on purchasing the gem as a gift to him: so, after
some wrangling, I became the owner on paying about £2. The Arab,
on receiving the money, turned back and rode off at a rapid pace.

Being very anxious to learn whether my acquisition was one of
great value, I returned to Alexandria and called on the Austrian
Consul-General, Monsieur Laurin, a collector of gems and other
antiquities, and a great connoisseur. On showing him the gem he
pronounced it to be a very beautiful work of art, and, if genuine,
of great value and worth ten times what I had given; but said he
really could not say without putting it to a test whether or no it
were counterfeit. He informed me that imitations of all kinds of
antiquities were imported from Italy and sold to travellers. When I
related to him the incident of my meeting with the Arab, when riding
out in the country, and the language and appearance of the man,
he said there were Europeans at Alexandria who sold these objects,
who were quite capable of hiring an Arab and his camel, and, on
seeing that an English stranger was about to take a ride, sending
him to encounter the traveller, in the hope of getting a good price.

With my permission, Monsieur Laurin used a penknife to scratch the
back of the gem, which he said was agate, but he still hesitated
in declaring, though he used a magnifying glass, whether the head
of Bacchus was also cut on the agate or was composition. He said
there was one way of solving the doubt, which would not injure a gem,
but that if it were a counterfeit it would disappear,—which was to
plunge it into hot water. He added that the head was so beautifully
executed, it deserved to be kept on its own merits and not to be put
under the test, as it would be greatly admired, he felt sure, by my
father. I insisted, however, on the test being applied, so hot water
was brought. Into this I dropped the gem, and in an instant Bacchus
disappeared and I found myself the possessor of a flat piece of agate.

My father, as I have said, was an archaeologist. When he lived
in the neighbourhood of Valenciennes, in 1826, a French labourer
discovered, in the neighbourhood of that town, a beautiful bronze
statue of Hercules, about eighteen inches high, and, hearing that
my father bought coins and other antiques, brought it to him. The
statue was then in a perfect state: the club was of silver, in the
left hand were apples of gold; the lion’s skin over the shoulder
was in silver, and in the eyes were two small rubies. My father made
the man an offer, which he refused.

A few days afterwards he brought back the statue in a mutilated
state—the club, apples, lion’s skin, and ruby eyes were gone,
having been sold to a jeweller. My father gave the man 100 francs
for the statue, and this beautiful work of art became his idol;
though offered a large sum to part with it, he declined, and in
his will bequeathed it to the British Museum, where it can be seen
amongst other gems of ancient art. His collection of coins and
other antiquities he left to the Museum of the Antiquarian Society
in Edinburgh, of which he was for many years honorary secretary.

Dated June 27, 1840, Cairo, I find among my notes the following
entry:—

‘Heard a good story of the last of the Mamelukes, a fine old
Saracen, one of the very few who escaped the massacre at Cairo.

‘The old fellow had been invited to an evening party at the house
of the former Consul-General, Colonel Campbell, where there was
assembled a large party of ladies, to each individual of whom he
determined, in his politeness, to address what he imagined to be
the most flattering remark possible. Thus he made the tour of the
fair sex, saying to each, “I see you will soon make a child!”
accompanying his words with an expressive gesture. Married and
unmarried were greeted alike! and to a young widow, a flame of the
Colonel’s, notwithstanding her persistent denial and offended
dignity, he repeatedly asseverated she would “make a child!”’


                              CHAPTER IV.

                CONSTANTINOPLE AND LORD PONSONBY. 1840.


Colonel Hodges had been hospitable and very kindly disposed towards
me, but I hailed with pleasure the day when I embarked—in an
Austrian steamer, in consequence of relations being broken off with
Mehemet Ali—to proceed to Beyrout and thence to Constantinople,
to join the Embassy.

At Beyrout, where I spent a few hours, I went on board the flag-ship
of Admiral Sir Charles Napier, where I heard it was decided to attack
Acre, and that a battle was impending between the army of Ibrahim
Pasha, and the Turkish and British troops commanded by General Smith.

On arrival at Constantinople, I presented myself to Lord Ponsonby,
who, after listening to the tidings I brought, directed me to address
him a dispatch reporting all I had related to his Excellency; adding,
that I must lose no time in preparing it, as he was about to dispatch
a messenger overland to England.

Never having written a dispatch in my life, though I had
corresponded privately on passing events in Egypt with members
of the Embassy at Constantinople and the Foreign Office, I felt
very nervous—especially as the report was required immediately by
his Excellency. Half-an-hour after my interview with Lord Ponsonby,
while I was still writing, the late Percy Doyle, then first attaché,
came in with a message from the Ambassador to request that my report
should be brought to his Excellency at once. I said the draft was
not quite finished, and that I wished to copy it out.

Doyle answered he must take it up at once to his Excellency, so,
after I had scribbled the few lines that remained, without allowing me
even to read it over, he carried it off. I waited for some time for
his return and then, to my dismay, he announced that Lord Ponsonby
had read my draft, and, as there was no time to have it copied,
had enclosed it, as it was, in a dispatch to Lord Palmerston. It was
published in the Blue Book, with other dispatches on Eastern affairs.

It was in this year, when a victory had been gained over the Egyptian
army in Syria by the combined British and Turkish forces, that a
number of trophies in flags, banners, &c., were sent by General Smith
and Admiral Sir Charles Napier, who commanded the British forces,
to the Ambassador to present to the Sultan.

A day having been fixed for the audience, Lord Ponsonby prepared the
speech he proposed to deliver, and directed Mr. Frederick Pisani,
Chief Dragoman of the Embassy, to write out a translation into the
Turkish language, and to learn it by heart. He was instructed not to
pay any attention to Lord Ponsonby’s utterances during the audience,
but, when requested by his Excellency, he was to repeat the prepared
speech, and subsequently the replies, which had likewise been prepared
in answer to the Sultan’s language, of which his Excellency was
able to guess the purport. Lord Ponsonby gave these directions, as he
knew that Mr. Pisani was a nervous man, and might find it difficult
on such an occasion to render the Ambassador’s language adequately
into eloquent and polite Turkish, if not prepared beforehand.

The Ambassador and members of the Embassy in uniform, with numerous
kavasses, proceeded in the state kaik from Therapia to the Sultan’s
palace.

To each attaché a banner or flag was given, to carry for presentation
at the audience. To me was allotted a Turkish banner, on a very long
pole, with crescent and spear.

All the ministers and other dignitaries of the Porte were assembled
at the palace, and stood in two lines on each side of the Sultan,
as the Ambassador and suite entered the reception hall.

Keeping my eyes fixed upon the Sultan as I entered, I lowered
unwittingly the pole and banner, which were very heavy, and nearly
carried off on the spear the fez of one of the ministers. This
‘gaucherie’ produced a suppressed giggle from an attaché.

The scene that followed was very ludicrous, especially as Lord
Ponsonby had not warned the members of the Embassy of the nature of
the address he was about to deliver, or of the instructions he had
given to Mr. Pisani. Advancing with great dignity near to where the
Sultan stood, and putting out occasionally his hand as an orator
might do, Lord Ponsonby commenced with a very grave expression of
countenance, counting ‘one, two, three, four, five,’ &c., up
to fifty, occasionally modulating his voice, as if he desired to
make an impression upon the minds of his hearers, putting emphasis
upon some numbers, and smiling with satisfaction and pleasure when
he reached the higher numbers of thirty up to forty. Of course his
Excellency knew that the Sultan, his ministers, and other officials
at the Court were not acquainted with the English language.

On concluding, he turned to the interpreter and motioned him to
speak. Mr. Pisani recited in very eloquent and flowery Turkish the
Ambassador’s prepared speech.

When Lord Ponsonby commenced the enumeration, I hid my face behind
the banner, and pinched myself sharply, to check the outburst of
laughter which inwardly convulsed me.

The Sultan replied, expressing his sense of gratitude to the British
Government, his thanks to the British naval and military forces
and their Commanders, as also to the Ambassador. This Mr. Pisani
translated. Then Lord Ponsonby commenced again to count from sixty
upwards, pausing now and then as if dwelling upon particular numbers,
which by his voice and gesture it would appear he desired especially
to impress on H.I.M.’s mind.

Mr. Pisani again repeated the language which he had been desired
to prepare.

The trophies were handed over to Turkish officers appointed by the
Sultan to receive them, and the Ambassador and his suite retired.

Not one of the Turkish officers present during the audience appeared
to have the slightest suspicion of what was taking place, and even if
they had subsequently learnt that the Ambassador had counted instead
of making a speech, they would have comprehended that the desire
of his Excellency was that his prepared speech should be clearly
and properly translated by the interpreter on such an interesting
occasion.

It was at this time that Bosco, famed for sleight of hand and
magic art, visited the Turkish capital; and Lord Ponsonby—who
never went out at night, not even to a dinner or reception at other
Embassies—being desirous of witnessing the performance of this
renowned magician, invited Bosco, who was a gentleman by birth,
to dinner to meet a large party, requesting that he would entertain
the company after dinner by his marvellous sleight of hand.

Bosco arrived a little time before dinner was announced. The room was
crowded, and he was introduced and entered into conversation with
several of the guests. During dinner he was quiet and unassuming,
and did not take part in the general conversation; but just as
Lady Ponsonby was preparing to move, Bosco rose and, turning to the
Ambassador, said, ‘I beg your Excellency’s permission to say a few
words before the company leave the table. It has been a high honour
to have been invited by your Excellency to dine in company with such
distinguished men and noble ladies; but I feel that it would be an
act of ingratitude on my part were I to conceal from your Excellency
proceedings which have been passing both before and during dinner,
and which have come to my knowledge through the extraordinary gift
of vision I possess, and the faculty of perception of the acts and
movements of those around me. Humble individual as I am, I have no
hesitation in declaring that the very unusual proceedings in which
certain persons in this society have taken part might reflect, in
some degree, upon all present—even upon myself, a poor conjurer,
who has been thrown into their company—should it be known that I
have associated with gentlemen and ladies, whose conduct might be
stigmatised as criminal!’

He spoke thus with such a grave countenance that even Lord Ponsonby
seemed puzzled, and thought the man was demented.

Bosco continued, ‘Your Lordship cannot but admit that the grave
charge I have put forward is not without foundation, when I declare
that in the coat pockets, or the breasts of the waistcoats, of several
of the gentlemen there will be found some of your Lordship’s
silver spoons—and the selection has not been confined to the
clean alone.’

The guests put their hands into their pockets, from which they
extracted spoons and forks still greasy from use, salt spoons,
tops of cruets, &c. Great merriment ensued, especially on the part
of the ladies at the expense of the unfortunate men who were thus
proved to be guilty.

Then Bosco, turning to some ladies who were on the opposite side of
the table, and with whom he had been holding a lively conversation
before dinner, said, ‘That noble lady,’ indicating one, ‘ought
hardly to laugh at the disclosure I have made, since it will be found
that she has secreted in the bodice of her dress the bouquet of one
of the gentlemen, who has since been making a vain search for it,
having possibly received the pretty flowers from another fair hand.’

The lady flushed up angrily; but, in searching, found the lost
bouquet concealed in the folds of her dress.

Then turning to another, he said, ‘Madame, you cannot be justified
in speaking, as it appears to me I have heard you doing, regarding
the gentlemen who took possession of his Lordship’s spoons, when
you will find, concealed in your hair, an ornament which rightfully
belongs to that lady upon whose person sparkle so many beautiful
jewels.’

The ornament in question was found fixed in the hair of the accused.

In the evening, Bosco explained the extraordinary gift he possessed
of sleight of hand and of his being able—while calling the attention
of the person, with whom he was conversing, to some indifferent object
or otherwise distracting attention—to abstract, by an instantaneous
and almost imperceptible movement, some ornament from their person
and again to be able to place, or cast it with precision, wherever
he desired. He also explained the trick which many have of shuffling
cards, so that when dealing at whist or écarté, &c., he could put
into his own hand or that of others the cards he pleased. He added
that, though possessing this extraordinary faculty from boyhood,
he had never taken advantage of it in a dishonest or unworthy manner
except when, as quite a youth, he desired to go to Paris to make his
way in the world as a conjurer, and his father, a poor gentleman, had
not been able to give him more than a few gold pieces wherewith to
defray the expenses of his journey. He described how he had started
with his knapsack from some town in Austria, occasionally travelling
by diligence, and passing the nights at inns on the road. During
the journey, Bosco said, he frequently had a gold piece changed,
and whilst the change was being delivered he managed to recover the
gold coin, and thus arrived at Paris with sufficient means to enable
him to live until he found employment. ‘Since then,’ he added,
‘I have been an honest man.’

Other recollections of those days follow.

Lord and Lady Londonderry arrived at Constantinople and called on
the Ambassador, and Lady Londonderry requested his Excellency to
present her to the Sultan.

As the presentation of a European lady to H.I.M. had never been
heard of in those days, Lord Ponsonby declined to take steps to meet
the wishes of the fair lady, on the plea that such an unprecedented
request might give annoyance to the Sultan. Lady Londonderry was,
however, determined to gain her point, and also to show Lord Ponsonby
that if he had not sufficient influence to obtain such a special
favour from the Sultan, another Representative might be found who
would pay more attention to her wishes.

Lady Londonderry had made the acquaintance at Vienna of Baron Stummer,
the Austrian Ambassador at Constantinople, who, though he had not the
powerful influence which Lord Ponsonby then enjoyed, was regarded
by the Sultan and his Ministers as a very important personage to
whose wishes it was politic and advisable to attend.

Lady Londonderry made known her request to the Baron, who at first
demurred for the same reason as Lord Ponsonby; but pressed by the
fair dame—who pleaded that she only asked for a private interview
with the Sultan—and knowing that Lord Londonderry held a high
position in his own country, he promised to mention her wishes to
Reshid Pasha, who was at that time Minister for Foreign Affairs and
spoke French fluently, to ascertain whether it was possible that
such an extraordinary favour could be granted by H.I.M.

Reshid Pasha raised many objections; but being most desirous to
please the Austrian Ambassador, he informed him that there was one
possible way by which the lady could be brought very privately into
the presence of His Majesty. He had heard, he said, that the noble
lady travelled with untold wealth in diamonds, &c.: the Sultan was
passionately fond of jewelry, of which he made frequent purchases;
and possibly His Majesty might consent, on learning that there was a
person in Constantinople who had a large assortment of jewels, that
she should be allowed to bring them herself to the Palace. Should
His Majesty consent, the Pasha informed the Baron, no one but himself
(Reshid) and Lady Londonderry would be present at the interview with
the Sultan, and in such case he would act as interpreter.

Reshid Pasha having made known to the Sultan that a person had
arrived at Constantinople with a wonderful collection of most valuable
jewelry, asked whether His Majesty would like to see them.

The following conversation is said to have taken place:—

_Sultan._ ‘Let the jewelry be brought and prices stated.’

_Reshid._ ‘This individual never trusts the jewelry to any one,
and would have to come in person.’

_Sultan._ ‘Bring the jeweller.’

_Reshid_ (in a hesitating manner). ‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon
for indelicacy, but it is—it is—a female[4], and she always
carries the jewels on her person when she wishes to dispose of them
for sale, and never puts them in a case.’

_Sultan._ ‘Bring her, and let her put them all on. You come also,
to interpret.’

Reshid returned and told the Baron he might inform Lady Londonderry
that she would be presented at a private audience by him, but that
the Sultan, having heard of the fame of her jewelry, had particularly
requested she would put it all on, and he, the Pasha, hoped therefore
she would raise no objection to such a strange request.

Lady Londonderry was very good-natured, and being much amused at
the condition made by the Sultan, consented to put on all her most
valuable jewelry.

On arrival at the Palace, Reshid Pasha conducted Lady Londonderry
into the presence of the Sultan. Her dress glittered with diamonds,
pearls, turquoises, and other precious stones.

‘_Pekkei_—good,’ said the Sultan (as Lady Londonderry
curtseyed), ‘she has brought magnificent jewels.’

_Reshid_ (turning to the lady). ‘His Majesty graciously bids
you welcome.’

Lady Londonderry bowed and expressed her thanks in French.

_Reshid_ (interpreting). ‘She says she has other jewelry, but
could not put on all.’

_Sultan._ ‘Ask her what is the price of that diamond necklace.’

_Reshid._ ‘His Majesty inquires whether this is your first visit
to Constantinople.’

_Lady Londonderry._ ‘It is my first visit, and I am delighted with
all I have seen.’

_Reshid_ (_to Sultan_). ‘She asks a million of piastres.’

_Sultan._ ‘That is too much.’

_Reshid_ (_to Lady Londonderry_). ‘His Majesty asks whether you
have seen the Mosques. If not, offers you a firman.’

Lady Londonderry expresses her thanks.

_Sultan._ ‘What price does she put on that set of turquoises?’

_Reshid_ (_to Lady Londonderry_). ‘His Majesty says that perhaps
you would like to take a walk in the garden.’

Lady Londonderry expresses her thanks, and would like to see the
garden.

_Reshid_ (_to Sultan_). ‘She says 400,000 piastres.’

_Sultan._ ‘Take her away, I shall not give such prices.’

_Reshid_ (_to Lady Londonderry_). ‘His Majesty graciously expresses
satisfaction at having made your acquaintance.’

Lady Londonderry curtseys low and withdraws from His Majesty’s
presence to visit the garden with the amiable and courteous Reshid
Pasha.

                               * * * * *

In the summer months at Constantinople, Turkish ladies and their
children were wont to drive in ‘arabas’ to the ‘Sweet Waters.’
Groups of Mohammedan women of the better class, with their families
and slaves, were to be seen in picturesque dresses reclining on
carpets and cushions, enjoying coffee, sweetmeats, &c., under the
shade of the fine old trees on this beautiful spot. Men were not
allowed to approach the ground where the women were seated. Kavasses
warned off intruders; but the members of Embassies, especially when
accompanied by a kavass, were not interfered with, even if they
walked near the groups of women.

Turkish ladies in those days wore the ‘yashmak’ or veil, supposed
to cover their faces, but worn so low as frequently to expose even the
mouth, and at the ‘Sweet Waters’ yashmaks were thrown aside still
more, thus displaying embroidered jackets, bright-coloured belts,
and silk or cotton ‘shalvas.’ Turkish women, even the far-famed
Circassians, are not in general pretty, but they have fine eyes and
a piquant expression.

When passing these groups of ladies, I have often heard humorous
remarks, evidently intended to reach the ears of the unabashed
‘Frank’ who had ventured to intrude amongst them.

One evening, when taking a walk, I had wandered to a secluded spot,
when I suddenly came upon two Turkish ladies and a slave taking
coffee. One of the ladies looked up and smiled, making some remark
to her companion, evidently about myself, the purport of which I
did not quite understand. I merely returned the smile and walked
hurriedly away, for the dinner-hour at the Embassy was approaching. I
had gone but a short distance when I heard some one running up behind
me. On turning round I was accosted by an old black woman, who, in a
breathless voice, said, ‘Khanem’ (my mistress), ‘whom you have
just passed, requests that you will give her a pin for her dress.’

As I happened to have a pin, I was about to hand it to the slave,
when she said, ‘Khanem wishes you to bring it to her;’ adding,
in a whisper, ‘there is no one near, and she has something to say
to you.’

Looking at my watch, I replied it was late, and requested her to tell
her mistress that I was sorry I could not comply with her request,
adding, ‘Tell me, who is your beautiful khanem?’

The slave replied, ‘She is the wife of the late Sultan Mahmud’s
dwarf.’

I had already heard something about this lady, but having a vivid
recollection of a late adventure of Baron B., a member of a foreign
Legation and a particular friend of mine, whom I had helped out of
a serious scrape where his life had been in great danger, and who
had been obliged to quit Constantinople suddenly (having been given
to understand that unless he left the country his recall would be
required by the Turkish Government), I made up my mind not to satisfy
my curiosity by seeking for an interview with the fair Circassian.

The next day, I requested a Turkish police officer of high rank,
who had aided me in helping Baron B. out of the scrape to which I
have alluded, to tell me what he knew about the wife of the dwarf,
not mentioning, however, the incident which had occurred at the
‘Sweet Waters.’

The officer then related the following tale:—

‘Sultan Mahmud had a humpbacked dwarf, with a hideous countenance,
but who was renowned for wit and humour. This monster was frequently
admitted by the Sultan into the harem when H.M. was seated with his
odalisques enjoying the “chebúk.”

‘To please the ladies, the dwarf was made a constant butt, both
by H.I.M. and the odalisques, and he answered them by his gibes
and ready repartee: having full permission to say what he pleased,
even should he cast reflections on H.I.M.’s sacred person.

‘Amongst the odalisques who happened to be present one evening,
was a tall Circassian of great beauty, with a graceful figure. She
was very lively, and in order to amuse the Sultan, had made pert
remarks about the admirable figure and handsome countenance of the
dwarf, thus giving rise to much merriment, in which the Sultan Mahmud
joined. Turning to the dwarf, H.I.M. said, “Now if you can kiss
Leila (the tall Circassian) she shall be your wife.”

‘The dwarf replied, “Can a dog reach the moon? Can a bramble
entwine the top of the lofty cypress?”

‘The Circassian continued to make fun of the dwarf, who appeared
to take no further thought of the Sultan’s words, though it was
observed he kept his eye on her tall figure.

‘Later in the evening, when the pipe which the Sultan was smoking
had to be renewed, Leila bent down for that purpose. In a moment
the dwarf, watching his opportunity, sprang up and kissed her as she
stooped. She struck him, and, in a volley of violent and passionate
language, implored the Sultan to punish him for his insolence and
outrage.

‘The dwarf exclaimed, “The Commander of the Faithful, the Sultan
of Sultans, has spoken. His word cannot be broken. I claim Leila
for my wife.”

‘The Sultan looked displeased; and, after a pause, with a severe
expression on his countenance, ordered the dwarf to leave the room;
then, turning to Leila, said, “Retire. Henceforth consider yourself
the wife of the dwarf. A dowry shall be given you, and the wedding
shall forthwith take place. Depart from my presence. I see you
no more.”

‘The Circassian, as she left the room, turned towards the dwarf, who
was also about to withdraw, and cursed him, saying, “Monster! The
day will come when you will rue and bitterly repent your cruel
treachery.”

‘Leila duly became the wife of the dwarf. She drove about in her
“araba” through the streets of Pera, and, wearing a transparent
“yashmak” lowered to the chin, even entered the shops, and
conversed—when not observed—with Europeans. She visited the studio
of a French artist, by whom her portrait was painted in water-colours,
and of which she allowed copies to be taken to present to favourite
Franks with whom she became acquainted. Her conduct became a source
of great scandal, and was brought under the notice of the Sultan.

‘H.I.M. said, “Let her be free to do what she pleases. I committed
a great injustice in giving her to the dwarf; but my word could not
be set aside.”’

The police officer having thus concluded his story, I inquired where
the French artist lived, and, calling on him, offered to purchase a
copy of the portrait. He told me he could not give it without the
consent of the wife of the dwarf. I then requested him to let her
know that the ‘Frank,’ one of the British Secretaries, of whom
she had requested the gift of a pin at the ‘Sweet Waters,’ begged
for her portrait. Her consent was thereupon given, on condition that
I should not show it to any one in Constantinople.

I paid a round sum for the water-colour, and on my return to England,
after Lord Ponsonby had resigned the post of Ambassador, I gave the
portrait of the beautiful Circassian to Lady Ponsonby—from whom
I had received great kindness—as a souvenir of Constantinople.

                               * * * * *

Very extraordinary hours were kept at the Embassy: we rarely sat down
to dinner before 9.30, and frequently not till ten p.m. At eleven
o’clock Lord and Lady Ponsonby had a rubber of whist in which I was
always required to take a hand, it being thought I knew more about the
game than the other members of the Embassy. As his Excellency required
that Lady Ponsonby should be his partner, and as that charming lady
knew very little about the game, they almost invariably lost.

After whist, Lord Ponsonby was wont to request one of the attachés
to remain and converse, and his Excellency would then hold forth
for hours upon events present and future, both in Turkey and Egypt;
foretelling much that has since happened to the ‘Sick Man.’ One
night, when it was my watch, and I had listened to his Lordship until
I nearly fell asleep and was conscious that dawn was approaching, he
rose, opened one of the blinds and said, ‘The sun is rising. I think
it is time, Mr. Hay, to go to bed. Have you followed and understood
my views upon the Eastern Question?’ I answered, I had, to the
best of my ability. ‘Then,’ said he, ‘have the goodness to
embody to-morrow in a memorandum all that you may have retained.’
Observing that I looked aghast at having such a task imposed upon
me, he patted me on the shoulder and added, ‘Well, well, don’t
trouble yourself. Eat, drink, and sleep; the rest’s a joke.’

There was great charm in the manner of both Lord and Lady Ponsonby,
and they showed much kindness to all the members of the Embassy. There
was not one of us who would not have been ready to make any sacrifice
of time and pleasure to meet their wishes.

Lord Ponsonby was not a wealthy peer, but his expenditure was lavish
as far as the table was concerned. Briant, a Frenchman, was steward
and head cook, and his wife was maid to Lady Ponsonby. They received
£400 a year between them for their services, but it was well known by
the members of the Embassy that Briant, during the few years he had
been at Constantinople, had been enabled to deposit several thousand
pounds in one of the banks at Pera, levying a heavy percentage on
everything that he purchased, wine included, and some of which it
was discovered he was in the habit of selling to an hotel in Pera;
so when any member of the Embassy passed a night in the town and dined
at the said hotel, he always called for ‘Chateau Briant’! An old
friend of Lord Ponsonby’s, who remained for some months on a visit
at the Embassy, hearing of the scandalous manner in which Briant was
accumulating money at the bank, thought it would be a friendly act
to make known to his Lordship that which was in the mouth of every
one—Briant’s system of peculation. He did so. Lord Ponsonby
thanked him for the information and observed, ‘How much do you
think Briant robs annually and deposits in the bank?’

‘At least £1000 a year,’ his friend replied.

‘Pray,’ said Lord Ponsonby, ‘pray keep what has passed between
us most secret; I had thought Briant’s pilferings far exceeded
that sum. I would not, for double that amount, lose such an excellent
chef. Keep it secret, Mr. ———, keep it secret!’

Though he may not have possessed the brilliant talents of his
successor, the great ‘Elchi,’ Lord Ponsonby acted with much
energy, decision, and success in carrying out the views which he knew
were entertained by that most admirable of statesmen, Lord Palmerston,
regarding the Turkish Empire at the time when Mehemet Ali, backed by
France, was seeking to declare his independence, and to place Egypt
under the aegis of the latter power; to attain which object has been,
and is, the aim of France even up to the present day.

The Sultan, Abdul Mijid, and his Minister, Reshid Pasha, accepted
thankfully and unreservedly the dictum of Lord Ponsonby in all
questions—and as long as Palmerston was at the head of foreign
affairs, Lord Ponsonby carried out his views in the East without a
check, notwithstanding the vigorous opposition made by the French
Ambassador, Monsieur Pontet, and the constant threat that extreme
measures would be adopted by France under certain contingencies; but
when Lord Aberdeen came into power and sought to pursue a conciliatory
policy towards France, Lord Ponsonby received dispatches, couched in a
spirit which pointed out distinctly that he should moderate his action
in support of the Sultan against Mehemet Ali’s pretensions. From
private letters that Lord Ponsonby received from friends at home, he
knew more or less what was the tenor of the instructions contained
in those dispatches, so he did not break the seals but continued
to follow up vigorously the same policy as before, until the object
he had in view, viz., Mehemet Ali’s submission to the Porte, was
achieved, and then Lord Ponsonby retired, or was required to retire.

It happened one day that I was standing near the Ambassador at
his writing-table whilst he was giving me directions to convey a
message to an Armenian banker of the Porte, upon a monetary question
affecting the interests of the Turkish Government. He pulled open
the drawer of the table at which he was seated to get out a paper,
and I caught a glimpse of several sealed dispatches, addressed to his
Excellency, from the Foreign Office. Lord Ponsonby, whilst closing
the drawer, perceiving, as I suppose, an expression of surprise on
my face, looked up with a smile, and re-opening the drawer, said,
‘You are astonished, Mr. Hay, at seeing such a number of Foreign
Office dispatches lying here unopened: so am I!—for though I had
certainly left in this drawer a few sealed letters, they have since
been breeding;’ adding, whilst he re-closed the drawer, ‘Let
them breed!’

Those were days when an Ambassador possessed extraordinary powers, and
could carry out a policy which he considered best for the interests
of his country, without allowing himself to be fettered by the
vacillating views of Government and be moved—as now happens—like
a puppet, by telegraph wires or other rapid means of communication.

In pursuance of instructions received from Lord Ponsonby, I called on
the Armenian banker, before mentioned, at his private dwelling. This
was a beautiful house, fitted up in the same manner as was then usual
with Turks, for the Armenians of Constantinople at that time adopted
the Turkish mode of living. The Armenian women veiled their faces and
wore costumes similar to those of the Mohammedans, except that their
slippers were red, whereas those used by Turkish females were yellow.

After making known to the porter who I was, and that I had come
upon an errand from the Ambassador, the old banker came to meet me,
led me to a room set apart for receiving his guests, and seated me
on a luxurious divan. He was attired in a handsome Armenian costume,
wearing a black head-dress much like an inverted iron cauldron.

A few moments after my arrival, a damsel of about seventeen—daughter
of the banker—set before me a ‘narghileh,’ and adroitly
placed between my lips the amber mouthpiece. I had never used a
‘narghileh’ or smoked ‘tumbaki,’ which is the form of tobacco
employed in that kind of pipe, and was glad to have an opportunity
of trying it, as presented to me by the Armenian maiden.

She was a pretty girl, with brilliant dark eyes, and features much
resembling those of a Jewess of Morocco. The Turkish costume, with its
yellow satin ‘shalvas’ or trousers, and the graceful shawl which
girded her waist, looked most picturesque and charming, and I sank
back on the cushions and gurgled my hubble-bubble with satisfaction;
whilst another pretty damsel, a younger sister, brought in coffee,
which she presented with a graceful bow.

The banker and I talked and puffed, drank coffee and sherbet, and eat
sweetmeats of all kinds which were brought to us in succession. I felt
happy, as if I had reached the seventh heaven of the Mohammedan. Time
slipped by very quickly. I had finished the business of my mission
when the old banker looked at his watch, put aside his ‘narghileh’
and fidgeted a little, thus giving me clearly to understand it would
be convenient that I should leave. Much as I was enjoying myself,
I was also of the same opinion, and made an effort to rise and
get my feet to the ground—for I was seated cross-legged on the
divan—but could not move them; they seemed to be paralysed. The
banker, not knowing my state, and fancying perhaps that my admiration
for his pretty daughters had checked my departure, told them rather
roughly, when they again appeared smiling and bringing more Turkish
sweetmeats, that their presence was no longer required, and then,
looking once more at his watch, he said most politely, and with
profuse apologies, ‘I see the hour is past at which I ought to
present myself to the Porte.’

I made many excuses for not having taken my leave and told him,
with a nervous laugh, that I felt very strange sensations, but
did not know the cause; that on attempting to rise I found I had
no control over my legs, and could not remove them from the divan,
feeling as if my body did not belong to me. I added, ‘You can see
however I am not deprived of my senses.’ Could it be the effect
of the narghileh—which I had never smoked before—and that the
tumbaki had produced this extraordinary languor in my limbs, as it
possibly contained opium?

The Armenian appeared much amused on hearing of my helpless state. He
assisted me from the divan, supporting me while I tried to walk,
and finding that I could not do so, a daughter was summoned to
fetch some cordial, which the maiden, with an expression of mirth,
brought and administered. Having taken this and rested awhile,
I regained the use of my legs. The banker, on my taking leave,
expressed repeatedly his regret that I should have suffered any
inconvenience from the effects of the narghileh, and added that were
not his presence required at the Porte he would have insisted on my
remaining at his house to rest for that night at least.

About a year or more after this incident, when Sir Stratford Canning
had replaced Lord Ponsonby as Ambassador, a fancy ball was given
by Lady Canning at the Embassy at Pera, and I was requested by her
Ladyship to take the lead and the direction of the dancing. I was
dressed in Highland costume, and had selected for my partner in
the cotillon the daughter of the Armenian banker mentioned in this
story. In those days Armenian ladies rarely mixed in European society,
but she had been permitted on this special occasion to appear at the
ball at the Embassy, accompanied by her father. She was beautifully
dressed in the ancient Armenian costume, was certainly the belle
of the evening, and waltzed like a sylph, so made a perfect partner
for one who loved dancing as I did, and we led the various figures
in the cotillon with great spirit. Our conversation was carried on
in Turkish, which I spoke fluently.

Whilst we danced I observed that one of the Turkish Ministers,
who was present at the ball, took every opportunity of coming close
to where I happened to halt with my partner; gazing at her rudely,
as I thought, especially as she was a shy and modest girl.

At last, when the cotillon was drawing to a close, the Pasha came
up to us smiling and said, ‘Pekkei, pekkei’ (very good). ‘You
are suited to each other. She is “chok ghazal” (very pretty),
and you are a well-favoured youth. You must marry her: she will
have money; you have position. My friend the banker will consent;
I am pleased.’ And so the old fellow rattled on, much to my dismay
and to the confusion of the pretty Armenian maiden.

I remonstrated courteously with the old Minister, saying, ‘My
partner is very beautiful, but we have not thought of love or
marriage, for we are of different nations and creeds. Moreover, she
would not accept me as a candidate for wedlock, even if I offered
myself; but I shall always look back with pleasure to this evening
when I have been honoured by having such a lovely partner for this
dance.’

‘Ah,’ said the Pasha, ‘she is, I know, the daughter of the
banker. I will speak to him and arrange matters, for I should like
to make you both happy.’

Luckily the time had come for me to bring the cotillon to a close;
so, bowing to the meddling old gentleman, I carried off my partner to
her father, telling her how vexed I felt; for she must have suffered
great annoyance from the foolish language held by the Pasha. The
fair Armenian replied, very shyly and prettily, that she did not
think he had said anything from malice, so she hoped I would forgive,
as she had done, his remarks. To this I readily agreed, and leading
her back to where her father the banker was standing I took my leave,
and never met again the pretty Armenian.




                              CHAPTER V.

           CONSTANTINOPLE WITH SIR STRATFORD CANNING. 1841.


Sir Stratford Canning succeeded Lord Ponsonby as Ambassador in
1841. He arrived at Constantinople on board a Government steamer, and
all the members of the Embassy presented themselves on the arrival of
his Excellency. These were Charles Bankhead, Secretary of Embassy,
Percy Doyle, Charles Alison, and myself; Lord Napier and Ettrick,
William Maule, Mactavish, and Count Pisani, keeper of the archives,
besides the elder Pisani (Etienne). Robert Curzon, afterwards Lord
Zouche, accompanied his Excellency as private secretary.

The fame of Sir Stratford for severity towards his subordinates had
preceded him, and we all felt sad at the loss of our late chief,
the kind and courteous Lord Ponsonby, and at the prospect of being
ruled with an iron hand.

Sir Stratford inquired of Doyle as to the method employed in the
conduct of business at the Chancery. He replied that office hours
were from eleven till half-past three, but that Lord Ponsonby allowed
the gentlemen of the Embassy to attend at, or leave, the Chancery
when they pleased, so long as the work was done efficiently. Sir
Stratford said that such an irregular way of conducting business
would not suit him and that he should appoint one of the gentlemen to
hold the key of the archives, to receive the dispatches and letters
and come to him for orders every morning. Then, turning towards us,
he added, ‘I am not acquainted personally with any one of you,
and therefore have no ground for selection, but I choose Mr. Hay.’

Gladness flashed across the faces of the other attachés, and,
when out of hearing of the great Elchi, they chaffed me by saying,
‘You are the smallest, so his Excellency thinks he can get the
better of you if there is a row!’

When we arrived at the Embassy, which was at that time at Buyukdere,
I was summoned, and was directed by the Ambassador to take possession
of the key of the archives and not to allow any one to have access
to, or to see, the dispatches which might be received from, or
written to, the Secretary of State on political subjects, and that I
should be held responsible if anything of importance transpired. Sir
Stratford told me his reason for making this arrangement was that
an attaché, at one of the Missions he had held, had by foolish
indiscretion betrayed the contents of an important dispatch to a
member of a foreign Legation. He directed that I should myself copy
all dispatches of importance to the Secretary of State and give out
the rest of the work to the other attachés.

I made known to the Secretary of Embassy, Bankhead, and to the
attachés, the instructions I had received. They were indignant—it
appeared to me with good reason—that they were not to be trusted;
especially Bankhead, who remonstrated and said he considered he had
a right to see all the dispatches to and from the Foreign Office, and
therefore should pay no attention to the Ambassador’s directions. I
replied that, having told them the orders I had received, they
were free to act as they thought fit and that I was not going to
be a Cerberus, but suggested that they should remonstrate with Sir
Stratford and not with me.


Sir Stratford seems to have been satisfied with his selection of
Mr. Hay as his confidential attaché, for shortly after he writes
in a note dated from Buyukdere to Mr. Hay at the Embassy, ‘I
have welcomed your first communication to me in writing. All quite
clear. Everything necessary, nothing superfluous.’


In 1843, the British Consul at Broussa laid before the Ambassador
complaints against the Pasha of the district where he resided, and
the latter had also brought under the notice of the Porte grievances
of a serious character, alleged to have been suffered from the
proceedings of the Consul. Attempts were made by both the Porte and
the Ambassador to bring about a settlement of the differences but
without success. British subjects, Ionians, and Turks whose interests
were affected by this state of affairs, appealed to the Embassy and
to the Porte, urging that steps should be taken to secure the ends
of justice.

Sir Stratford Canning proposed to the Porte that an officer of
the Embassy should be sent to Broussa to make an inquiry into the
conduct of the two functionaries, and that he should be empowered
both by the Porte and the Ambassador to bring about a settlement
of these differences, which had been a constant source of vexatious
correspondence.

Sir Stratford selected me for this duty, and delivered to me
letters from the Porte to the Pasha and from himself to the Consul,
acquainting them respectively that I had been authorised to inquire
into the various questions at issue, and to endeavour to bring about
a settlement.

Accompanied by a Greek servant, who knew the country and could act
as guide, I embarked in a steamer which took us to a port where we
hired horses and proceeded to Broussa.

Both the Consul and Pasha, on my arrival, offered me hospitality,
which I declined under the peculiar circumstances in which I was
placed by my mission.

The day after my arrival the Pasha summoned a Divan of several local
notables, who were to give evidence, and the Consul was also requested
to attend.

When I entered the Divan, being then a youth of about twenty-six,
I was much shocked at seeing that the Pasha, Consul, and other
notables—upon whom I had, as it were, to sit in judgment—were
men with white and hoary beards and of a venerable appearance.

After pipes and coffee, the hearing of the various subjects in
dispute commenced. Though I refer to this scene, as it affects the
end of my tale, it is needless to relate what passed, further than
to mention that I found both Pasha and Consul were in the wrong, but
that neither had acted in a manner to require any severe censure on
the part of the Porte or Ambassador, and I drew up a report in that
sense. On my return journey to the port, having heard that game was
plentiful, I gave my horse to the Greek to lead and wandered over the
country. I had good sport; and the Greek frequently warned me that
unless we kept to the beaten path and rode on quickly, we should
not be able to reach the port before dark.

Continuing however to shoot, I wandered after game many miles from
the road, or rather track, until it became so dark that I could no
longer see the birds rise. On remounting, I told the Greek to lead
the way, but he declined; he knew not where we were, nor even what
direction to take. It was a bright clear night, and at a distance
of about two miles I espied a light; thither I decided to direct
our steps and to ask for shelter for the night, or for a guide.

We arrived at a large building, with lattice windows several feet
from the ground, surrounded by a high wall enclosing what appeared to
be farm-buildings, with a large double gate where carts and cattle
could pass. After knocking loudly, an old Turk appeared. Telling
him I was an English traveller and had lost my way, I begged to
have shelter for the night anywhere in the farm-yard; a feed for my
horses and some bread and coffee, if nothing else in the way of food
was procurable, for myself and servant, for we were very hungry.

The Turk replied that his master was ——— Bey, who had formerly
been in the service of the Porte; that he was a landed proprietor;
that as his family dwelt with him, no man could be admitted into the
house; but he offered to ask the Bey’s permission to allow us to
pass the night in one of the outhouses and to put up our horses.

The gate was again closed, and after waiting a few minutes, a Turkish
gentleman, dressed in a handsome fur pelisse and fez, appeared.

After the usual salutations, he said, ‘Are you an Englishman?’
I replied that I was, without making myself known as one of the
Secretaries of the British Embassy. He bade me welcome in a hearty
manner, and turning to the old man who had just opened the gate,
directed that my attendant should be lodged in a room in the
farm-buildings and given whatever he might require, and that the
horses should be stalled and fed.

Then taking me to the door of his house and opening it with a large
key, he stopped on the threshold and said, ‘You are an English
gentleman, and therefore a man of honour. I am about to do that
which no Mohammedan will or ought to do, and admit you to my harem
amongst my family. I have heard how English gentlemen visit the
houses of friends and live as men of honour with their families,
without restraint. I shall do the same, for I have special reasons
for my conduct, which I will relate when you have rested. It is my
earnest hope that you should feel as if you were with one of your
own countrymen; but I beg you to keep secret from every one your
visit to my house, and never to mention whom you may see within it.’

He then led me up a narrow staircase into a well-lighted room,
handsomely furnished with beautiful carpeting, comfortable divans,
mirrors, Turkish tables, arms hung on the wall, and a couch with
pretty embroidered cushions and silk quilt, which he said was to be
my bed.

Again and again he bade me welcome, adding, ‘I shall leave you to
repose—you must be hungry. Supper is ordered. A pipe and coffee
will be brought to you, order what you please;’ then as he withdrew
he repeated again in a kind manner, ‘An English Effendi is always
a man of honour.’

Whilst inspecting the room and wondering what all this meant, I heard
a gentle step, and a tall graceful figure of a girl about seventeen
entered. She was dressed handsomely in a jacket used by Turkish
ladies, with a bodice open in front, like the square dresses now worn
by English ladies of an evening. She had on yellow silk ‘shalvas’
fastened by a white muslin sash, the ends of which were prettily
embroidered. Her complexion was olive, with very large dark eyes and
long eyelashes; her nose aquiline, and her mouth like a ring set in
ruby lips. She looked grave and sad, but blushes diffused her cheeks
as she bowed gracefully, and with a sweet smile put a ‘chebúk’
to my mouth, and then retired. Her hair was braided in tresses around
her head and adorned with coins. Two long braids hung down her back.

This vision of a Turkish maiden seemed like a dream, and whilst
pondering over the pretty figure that had just left and wondering
whether she would return, another damsel appeared bearing a cup
of coffee in a ‘finjan’ studded with precious stones. Bending
before me, she put it on the little table.

She appeared to be about fifteen, dressed like the bearer of the
‘chebúk,’ but of a fairer complexion, with dark blue eyes,
her nose _retroussé_. She was not so demure in her looks or
manner, and standing before me blushing and smiling with a mirthful
expression, said in a very sweet voice, ‘My father bids me ask if
there is anything you wish for, and to say your supper will soon be
ready.’ After thanking her, I held my tongue, remembering I was
an ‘honourable man.’ She retired, turning at the threshold to
look at me, with a pretty smile of mischief. Shortly afterwards the
elder damsel reappeared, bringing sherbet. I thanked her, and she
bowed and withdrew.

Then the host followed to announce that supper was ready and inquiring
whether I had been properly attended to, led me to a lower room,
remarking that he thought I should be better able to enjoy my repast
without his presence, but that he hoped in the evening to converse
with me.

During the supper I was waited on by both the fair maidens, who
brought me in succession a number of savoury dishes, with fruit and
sweets of all kinds, for which the Turks are famous.

I partook of everything largely, to the evident amusement and pleasure
of the maidens. The elder was no longer so demure in her manner,
and the eyes of the younger sparkled with fun as she waited on me;
but I indulged in no conversation further than to thank them now
and then, saying ever to myself, ‘my host says I am an honourable
man;’ but I fear my looks betrayed my admiration.

After supper the Bey conducted me to my apartment, where coffee
was brought to us by the damsels, both of whom, I learnt, were
his daughters. I expressed to the Bey my warmest thanks for his
hospitality, and for the great confidence he had shown by admitting
me amongst his family. Upon this, he said he would relate why he had
broken through the Mohammedan custom and usages and bidden me welcome
in his harem. He was fulfilling a vow made years ago, that whenever he
had an opportunity, he would endeavour to give proof of his gratitude
for kindness received from the captain of a British merchant vessel.

‘When I was a young man,’ continued the Bey, ‘before I was
married, I went on a pilgrimage to Mecca. On my return I embarked
from Alexandria on a Turkish vessel bound to Constantinople. We
encountered a heavy gale; the vessel was old and rotten; leaks were
sprung, and the captain, crew, and myself who was the only passenger,
had barely time to get into the ship’s boat, when the vessel
sunk. I lost all my clothes and money, with the exception of a few
piastres. We expected every moment the boat would be swamped by the
heavy seas breaking around us, when a ship hove in sight. Signals
of distress were made, and she came to our assistance, and we were
all taken safely on board. She proved to be an English vessel bound
for Salonica. The captain, a kind-hearted but rough-looking sailor,
gave us dry clothes, dressed me in a warm suit of his own and supplied
us with food.

‘We arrived at Salonica and I was enabled through the pratique
master, who understood a little English, to express my gratitude. I
offered to pay for my passage and food. The captain was indignant,
and said he would not accept a farthing; but, on the contrary,
having learnt that I had no money to continue my voyage and had
no friends at Salonica, put a small sum into my hands which would
enable me to proceed to Constantinople.

‘You,’ he continued, ‘are the first Englishman to whom I have
had an opportunity of showing feelings of gratitude, long pent-up,
to your countryman who saved my life.’

I then told him that I was one of the Secretaries of the British
Embassy at Constantinople, and what had been the object of my visit
to Broussa. I said I should make known to the ‘great Elchi’
his hospitality and kindness. He again impressed upon me his
anxious wish that I should keep my reception in his household a
secret, and, above all, the fact that I had been waited on by his
daughters—for he said it would be a serious matter if this was
known to his co-religionists. He consented, however, to my telling
the Ambassador confidentially all that had happened; but to my
Turkish friends at Constantinople I was only to mention that I and
my servant had received shelter for the night. He also requested me
not to tell my Greek attendant that I had seen any women in the house.

At sunrise next day I was up, and going into the courtyard gave
directions to my servant to have the horses ready for a start as soon
as I had breakfasted. He informed me that he had been well taken care
of. I gave the Greek several gold piastres, which I directed should
be distributed amongst the dependants of the Bey. He informed me that
he had learnt from the old gatekeeper that the Bey had only one wife,
and no other inmates of the harem except his two daughters and some
black slaves.

A good breakfast was ready for me as I re-entered the house, and again
the pretty damsels waited on me without the presence of their father;
and though I had lost my heart (it was an easy matter in those days)
to the blue-eyed little maiden, I refrained from saying more than
expressions of thanks in the most polite Turkish, keeping steadfastly
in mind that an ‘English gentleman is an honourable man.’

On going away, the Bey accompanied me to the door, and whilst I
reiterated my warmest thanks, he put into my hand a little sealed
packet, observing, ‘You will pardon me for returning the handsome
“bakshish” you had directed the Greek to distribute amongst my
dependants. The latter have made known and returned to me what they
had received; I shall reward them, but I cannot allow that you should
do so. It would have given me,’ he added, ‘great pain if they had
retained the money, and it would have deprived me of the pleasure and
satisfaction I have felt in welcoming an Englishman to my house.’
I said not a word, and put the money into my pocket. As I left the
house I could not help looking back as long as the lattice windows
were in sight, and thought I espied bright eyes peering out at the
parting guest; but I refrained from waving hand or handkerchief.

Sir Stratford Canning, to whom I related this adventure confidentially
on my arrival, made known to the Porte that I had received hospitality
and great kindness from this Bey when benighted on my return from
Broussa, and expressed a hope that the Porte would in some suitable
form mark approval of such kindness shown to a member of the Embassy.

The Turkish Government announced their satisfaction and thanks
for the report I had presented, through the Ambassador, giving the
result of my inquiry into the conduct of Pasha and Consul, and sent
to H.E. a Sultan’s ‘berat’ or edict, placing the Bey under
the special protection of the Porte and of His Imperial Majesty, and
recommending him to the good offices of the Pasha and other officials.

This ‘berat’ I forwarded in a letter to the Bey; but, alas! I
could not send the messages I should have wished to have done to
Fatima and the ‘dil bere’ (heart-robber) Aisha.

That year Sir Stratford Canning, accompanied by all his family and
all the members of the Embassy except myself, who was left in charge
for a few days, made an excursion to Broussa and were received with
great attention and hospitality by the Pasha. In 1844 the latter
was removed from his government and returned to Constantinople,
where he resided in a large kiosk on the Bosphorus.

In the summer of 1844, having obtained leave of absence from Her
Majesty’s Government, I made arrangements to embark in a French
steamer bound for Marseilles.

On taking leave of the Ambassador, he told me he had ordered his
‘kaik’ to convey me from Buyukdere, where his Excellency
then resided, to the steamer in Pera harbour, but that he was
anxious I should call on the ex-Pasha of Broussa and present to
him a gold chronometer, worth about £60, as a token of his—Sir
Stratford’s—friendship, and acknowledgement of the hospitality
shown to himself and family on his visit.

His Excellency added, ‘I am especially anxious you should present
this gift, and renew your acquaintance with the Pasha, and thus
remove any feeling that might possibly exist in his mind regarding
the inquiry made by you into his and the Consul’s conduct, and the
decision that was come to by the Porte in consequence of your report;
for the Pasha will probably be employed again by the Government,
and when you return to the Embassy it is desirable that you should
both be on friendly terms.’ In pursuance of these instructions I
called on the Pasha, who received me very kindly and told me he had
a lively recollection of my visit to Broussa, and of my statement
in the report that both he and the Consul were in the wrong and had
been quarrelling upon trivial matters.

He laughed and added, ‘You were quite right; the Consul and I
made it up and became good friends, so I feel indebted to you for
not having unduly taken the part of your Consul.’

I presented the chronometer, with a suitable message from the
Ambassador, and then told the Pasha I could not wait for the usual
pipes and coffee, as I had to embark in a steamer which was about
to start. He replied that he should only detain me for a moment,
and left the room. He returned immediately, bringing a small green
leathern case, suspended in a little muslin kerchief, which he put
into my hands, saying, ‘You are going to your own country and you
may not return, so I beg you to keep this as a little souvenir of
my friendship.’

Though I knew not what were the contents of the leathern case,
I thought by the shape it was a ‘finjan’ or Turkish saucer for
holding a small cup; but as it is against the established regulations
for a diplomatic officer to accept presents from a foreign official,
I told the Pasha my scruples, and that it would affect me injuriously
if I accepted even the smallest gift.

He said all he could to induce me to waive my objection; but finding
me resolute, he became very grave, took the little muslin kerchief
containing the case from me, as I held it towards him, and handed me
back at the same time the case containing the watch, saying that ‘if
a Secretary of the Embassy cannot receive a little token of friendship
on going away, from a man who no longer holds any appointment,
neither can I, a retired Governor, accept this chronometer from the
Ambassador; have the goodness to make this known to his Excellency,
with my best thanks and excuses.’ As I felt that Sir Stratford
would be excessively annoyed if the gift were returned, and might
think I had not managed to present the gift in a proper manner,
I came (after some parley) to a compromise with the Pasha, that he
should retain the chronometer and I his gift; that I should write
a note at once to the Ambassador explaining all that had happened,
and dispatch it to his Excellency by the ‘kaik’ that brought
me; that if the Ambassador disapproved of my accepting the gift
I should be allowed to return it to the Pasha, with a letter of
explanation, and in such case he would retain the chronometer;
but if his Excellency approved, there was an end of the matter,
and under any circumstances, I told the Pasha, I was much pleased
and most grateful for his kind intention.

I sent off the ‘kaik’ to the Embassy, and proceeded in another
to the French steamer, which was about to leave. On getting into the
‘kaik,’ I opened the little leather case. It contained a small
gold ‘finjan’ encrusted with rose diamonds, worth about £70.

Just as the steamer was on the point of leaving, the Ambassador’s
‘kaik’ came alongside, with a messenger bringing a note
from Lady Stratford Canning. The note stated that the Ambassador
entirely approved all I had done, and directed that I should keep
the Pasha’s gift.

On my way to England I stopped at Paris for a few days to make the
acquaintance of Admiral Lalande, who had commanded the French fleet
which had been sent to Besika Bay during the Egyptian question in
1840. He was married to the sister of my brother-in-law, the late
M. Mauboussin.

The Admiral received me very cordially. He was looking ill, and
told me it was probable that he would be in his grave before the
end of three weeks, as he was suffering from an internal disease
and lived entirely upon milk. He was not confined to his couch but
walked about the room whilst conversing, as if full of vigour both
in mind and body. He asked me if I should see, whilst in London, Lord
Ponsonby; saying he was very anxious to send him ‘the message of a
dying man.’ I replied that I should make a point of calling on his
Lordship, from whom I had received much kindness. The Admiral then
observed that he entertained the highest opinion of Lord Ponsonby,
though he was aware that he had successfully opposed French views
and projects in Egypt, and had assumed an ascendency over the minds
of the Sultan and his advisers which redounded to his credit as a
diplomatist, though antagonistic to France.

‘From the fact,’ said the Admiral, ‘of my having such a high
opinion of the character of your Ambassador, it has been very painful
to me to have learnt, from communications which have been imparted
to me by my Government, that Lord Ponsonby is under the impression
that I took a prominent part in inducing the Turkish Admiral to be
a traitor to his sovereign and deliver over the Turkish fleet to
Mehemet Ali. It was of course,’ he said, ‘an event to which much
importance was attached by those who had desired to support Mehemet
Ali’s independence; but,’ he added, ‘no possible advantage to
French interests would ever have induced me to advise or encourage any
man to turn traitor to his sovereign, and I hold the Turkish Admiral
in utter contempt for that act of infamy. I am now,’ he continued,
‘as I have told you, a dying man; in a few days you will hear I have
passed away, and I desire that you should convey to Lord Ponsonby
the following message:—“I swear, as a dying man, that whatever
may have been done by other French officials, I took no part in the
matter, nor indeed was I aware, until the Turkish fleet was delivered
over to Mehemet Ali, of the intention of the Turkish Admiral.”

‘It is my anxious desire, as I have the highest opinion of Lord
Ponsonby as an honourable man, that any erroneous impression on
this subject should be removed from his mind before I die, and
that he should give me credit also for being an honourable man,
and incapable of counselling any one to turn traitor to his sovereign.

‘Take his Lordship,’ he added, ‘this message, and let me know
before I die whether he gives credence to my declaration.’ This
I promised to do.

Admiral Lalande related to me that, during the time the French and
British fleet lay together in Besika Bay, he had become very intimate
with Admiral Sir Robert Stopford, that they dined frequently together
and had become fast friends.

He observed that I was no doubt aware that it was then expected,
at any moment, that a declaration of war would take place, and that
an engagement would follow between the two fleets. ‘It is all
settled now,’ he said, ‘and we are at peace, so I can tell you
confidentially that we two old men talked over the probability of a
sudden declaration of war one evening after dinner, and as we each
expressed a sincere desire that no undue advantage should be taken by
either through receiving earlier tidings of a rupture, we concerted
that a private signal should be hoisted on our respective flagships,
the object of which should be unknown to the officers of our fleets,
when either of us received tidings that war was declared, so that each
might be prepared, without undue advantage, to take measures for a
fair fight. Every morning and evening we were wont to look for this
signal. At that time,’ the admiral continued, ‘the French fleet
was in first-rate order, and we had one vessel more than the English
at anchor, as the latter had a vessel or two on the coast of Egypt.

‘Your fleet,’ he said, ‘was also in admirable order, but we
were quite your match; and I tell you frankly that though I have
no unfriendly feeling towards your nation, I die a disappointed man
in that I lost the opportunity of a fight; for I had hoped, if not
victorious, to have been able to wage such a battle as would have
wiped out the defeats our squadrons and ships had almost always
experienced in the last great war.’

Lord Ponsonby was in town when I arrived; he took the greatest
interest in the message I brought him, and requested me to inform
Admiral Lalande it was perfectly correct that he had been led to
believe he had induced, or secretly encouraged, the Turkish Admiral
to deliver up the fleet to Mehemet Ali; but that Admiral Lalande’s
declaration was sufficient to convince him that he was mistaken,
and that he greatly regretted having joined with others in putting
forward such an accusation. He requested me also to say that he was
much pleased and gratified that the Admiral should have desired to
have this matter cleared up, and told me to thank him and to express
a hope that he would yet live for many years to serve his country.

I wrote to Admiral Lalande and made known Lord Ponsonby’s reply. My
letter reached him a few days before his death, which occurred within
the three weeks, as he had prognosticated.

In the same year I was directed, by order of Her Majesty’s
Government, to accompany Colonel Barnett to Egypt, on his appointment
as Political Agent and Consul-General, and remained there several
months. After a few weeks’ residence at Cairo, I was offered by
Lord Palmerston, through Colonel Barnett, the post of Consul at
Alexandria, which the latter endeavoured to persuade me to accept
as he urged it would lead to my being appointed his successor;
but the climate of Egypt did not agree with me and I declined,
preferring to return to the Embassy at Constantinople.

Commodore Porter was at this time Minister of the United States
at Constantinople.

He was a distinguished officer, who had rendered important services
during the war with Great Britain. The commodore was very eccentric,
a type of the rough sailor of by-gone days, but pleasant and amusing,
and, when spinning yarns about actions between British and United
States ships, always careful to avoid—even when the story related
regarded the capture by himself of one of our ships—any expression
which he thought might wound my susceptibilities as a ‘Britisher.’

He lived at San Stefano, a village about ten miles from
Constantinople. I had made the acquaintance of his nephew,
Mr. George Porter, the Secretary of the United States Legation,
who frequently invited me—when there was a passage of quail—to
a day’s shooting and to dinner with his uncle; but I was the only
member of the Diplomatic Corps at Constantinople thus favoured.

Since he had presented his credentials to the Sultan, and made the
usual formal visits to his colleagues, he called upon no one—not
even upon the Vizir or any member of the Turkish Government.

One day, after dinner, I happened to relate to the Commodore a
political event that had recently occurred, in which he appeared
to take great interest; so, finding him in good humour, I took the
liberty of observing that, as he had mentioned he never visited or
received visits from members of the Turkish Government or of the
Diplomatic Corps, I thought he must find it a difficult matter to
keep his Government properly and correctly informed upon passing
events, which were at that time of the greatest importance to the
political world.

The Commodore replied, his eyes twinkling with humour, ‘I am very
careful to keep my Government fully informed of all that takes place,
and I receive replies expressing satisfaction with my interesting
reports and the foresight they declare I show in predicting events
which are likely to happen.’

‘Now,’ said the Commodore, ‘I will make known to you, in the
greatest confidence, how I acquire the information which enables me
to draw up those very able reports. I take _Galignani’s Messenger_,
which reaches me regularly, and this paper—as you know—contains
extracts from the English and foreign journals, with reports
from their correspondents at Constantinople, regarding the various
questions which are taking place and other occurrences of a political
character. I have all these under my careful consideration, and,
assisted by the local knowledge of my nephew, draw my conclusions
and transmit, with some slight alteration in language, copies of
the articles which appear in the _Galignani_. I may be sometimes
three or four days later than my colleagues in forwarding reports of
passing events to our respective Governments, but I flatter myself
that the digest of the views entertained by the able reporters at
Constantinople is preferable to, and less likely to mislead the
United States Government than the reports which many of my excellent
colleagues, carried away sometimes by personal motives, may transmit
to their Governments.’




                              CHAPTER VI.

                          MISSION TO TANGIER.


In 1844 Mr. Hay went to England on leave, and visited also Stockholm
and Copenhagen. At this latter capital he met the ‘fair girl’
who was to be his future wife, as Leila had predicted. Whilst
in Stockholm, he was presented to King Oscar by our Minister,
Mr. Cartwright, and in the course of conversation with His Majesty
about Morocco, pointed out the advisability of abolishing the old
Convention between Morocco and Sweden, and Morocco and Denmark,
which stipulated that $25,000 (£5,000) should be paid annually
to the Sultan, in order that vessels under the flags of these two
nations should pass the Straits unmolested by Moorish cruisers; these
cruisers having virtually ceased to exist, though the Convention
remained in force.

A rupture of relations between France and Morocco was at this time
imminent, and Mr. Hay’s father, then Political Agent at Tangier,
had been sent, with the knowledge of the French Government, to the
city of Marákesh on a mission to endeavour to induce the Sultan
to accept the French demands. On hearing of this expedition Mr. Hay
wrote to Lord Aberdeen, who was then Secretary for Foreign Affairs,
to offer his services temporarily in Morocco. This offer was accepted.

That Mr. Hay, while at Constantinople, had gained the kindly opinion
of Sir Stratford and Lady Canning may be gathered from the following
letter written to him after his departure from Constantinople, when
Lady Canning learnt that he had been sent to Tangier. The note was
accompanied by the gift of a beautiful cushion in Turkish embroidery.


You must not leave Constantinople, my dear Mr. Hay, without some
little memento from me to remind you in future days of our life
spent together on the Bosphorus in which, though it may have had
some cloudy moments, I hope the bright ones have preponderated and
will alone be remembered by you. We shall miss you sadly; for your
labours have not been thrown away on Sir Stratford, and you have
helped to keep us all in good humour with our neighbours, and for
all this I thank you much. Let us hear of you often, and believe
that we shall feel interest in all that concerns you.

                                               Yours very sincerely,

                                                        E. C. CANNING.


Mr. Hay arrived at Tangier shortly after the bombardment of that town
by the Prince de Joinville. Notwithstanding the promises made by the
French Government that hostilities should not be commenced until his
father returned from the Court, where he had actually succeeded in
obtaining consent to the chief demands of the French, the Prince
had bombarded Tangier. This unexpected outbreak of hostilities
placed in jeopardy the life of the elder Mr. Hay, who was still in
the interior and who had to pass, on his return from Marákesh to
Tangier, through districts inhabited by wild tribes.

Some of the difficulties with which his father had been confronted
in dealing with the Sultan are touched on in the following letter
written on the return journey from his mission to Marákesh, dated
Camp on the Wad Nefis, July 26, 1844:—


’Tis a sad thing that all folks in Europe, my masters in Downing
Street may not be excepted, have hardly any just conception of the
difficulties of my position. It would take a volume—not small—to
relate the bother and the tricks and bad faith with which I have had
to contend—and as to _going fast_, as Mr. Bulwer has everlastingly
urged, who among mortal men can make Moors go fast, nay, nor hardly
move at all—in the straight path of honour and sound policy? . . .

Alas! I know not what to think. I had hoped the French would have
waited until my report reached Tangier or myself arrived there and
told them all. So they are now preparing to cast fire and the sword
on this unhappy country of ignorant barbarians.

The Moors are mere children, vain children; obstinate, through
a shocking bigotry and ignorance scarcely credible. They have,
I believe, had at least two collisions with the French on their
frontier; but all their acts of folly were, I am certain, without
authority. Alas, again, for the poor Sultan; he cannot manage his
own people! If the war do burst forth here, when shall it end? There
will be an internal revolution forthwith, I am almost sure! And
drivellers in pomposity and self-sufficiency would ever publish that
all was well.


The elder Mr. Hay did not long survive the effects of the journey,
with all its worry and vexation; but succumbed shortly after his
return, to low fever and other complaints. During his illness, which
lasted several months, Mr. John Hay was directed by Lord Aberdeen to
take charge of political affairs in Morocco, whilst Mr. H. Murray,
the Consul, conducted the consular duties.

The crisis was one of considerable importance. In addition to the
internal difficulties of Morocco, questions with foreign Powers
embarrassed the Sultan’s Government. Denmark and Sweden had sent
squadrons in this year to Moorish waters, demanding the abrogation
of the treaty referred to in Mr. Hay’s audience of King Oscar.

The Spanish Government had also a question pending with Morocco
regarding the neutral ground and frontier of Ceuta; and, for the
settlement of this question, Sir Henry Bulwer, then H.B.M.’s
Minister at Madrid, had been appointed special Plenipotentiary.

In the following letter to his late chief at Constantinople Mr. Hay
gives an account of the state of affairs which he found on his
arrival at Tangier.


                                                     _Sept. 12_, 1844.

  MY DEAR SIR STRATFORD,

I received yesterday Y.E.’s kind letter of 27th ult.

Your Excellency will no doubt have learnt, both from H.M.’s
Government and the newspapers, accounts of passing events in this
country, so I only relate the more recent that I have witnessed.

The day before yesterday the French squadron arrived, consisting
of two line-of-battle ships and five steamers, having on board the
Prince de Joinville, Mons. de Nion, the French Chargé d’Affaires,
and the Duc de Glücksberg (Decazes), an adjunct Plenipotentiary sent
for the purpose of meeting the Moorish Plenipotentiary, Sid Buselham
Ben Ali, to arrange the conditions for peace. I received, the same
morning, a letter from Mr. Bulwer acquainting me with the nature of
the French demands, which proved to be identic with those already
granted to my father by the Sultan of Morocco during his late mission.

The Moorish Plenipotentiary, Sid Buselham, has received orders from
the Sultan to be guided by our counsels in replying to the various
demands of the French. I accordingly went to see the Sid and made
known to him the nature of the French demands, telling him they were
just and such as could be granted without lowering the dignity of the
Sultan. I pointed out the proper answers to be made, and urged him
to settle the matter the very day that the demands were presented;
and thus it happened that three hours did not elapse from the time
they were made, until the French flag was hoisted and flying at
the Residence of their Chargé d’Affaires and was saluted by
the batteries.

The substance of the demands was as follows:—

‘That Abd-el-Kader be considered as a common enemy and, if taken by
either party, be confined in a State prison at some distant port. The
frontier to be marked out as in the time of the Turks. The withdrawal
of the French troops from Ujda, except 3,000 men. A new treaty to
be made embracing the above conditions, and, when ratified, Ujda
and the Island of Mogador are to be given up by the French and all
prisoners exchanged and set free.

The question that may now be asked is—What has been the object
of the French in all this? For their demands remain the same and
the concessions are the same as _before the war_: and although they
say the Sultan is faithless, they never gave time to test whether he
would be so or not, after having pledged himself to a British agent
to act with good faith—but this, it strikes me, is the sore point.

French supremacy is aimed at, throughout Eastern and Western Barbary,
and an arrangement effected through the good offices of a British
agent militates against that supremacy.

The foolish language of a British officer high in rank, on the other
side of the water, declaring that England would never allow a gun
to be fired at a Moorish port, roused the worst feelings towards
us throughout the French squadron, participated in by the Prince;
so, five hours before my father’s arrival from the Moorish Court
(although hourly expected, and feeling that to bombard Tangier after
hearing vivâ voce that the Sultan had granted their demands, would be
_un peu trop fort_), having bombarded Tangier in the presence of two
British ships of war and, I may say, of our garrison at Gibraltar,
off they go to Mogador—the _mouth_, as the Moors call it, of
British commerce with Central Africa, where we have a considerable
trade. They destroy the forts, and the destruction of the town
is completed by the wild tribes, who burn, pillage, and murder,
committing barbarities on a par with the wanton and uncalled-for
proceedings of the French. After striking this blow at British trade,
the French embark and return here to make peace!!

Well it is, that peace is made; for the country is in a state of
revolution; the Sultan totters on his throne, and in a few weeks
such a state of anarchy would have ensued that no Europeans could
have remained in the country. There would have been no Government
to treat with, and of the five millions of people, only robbers and
pirates would have come to the front.

How would England have liked this? How would other countries? How
would France?—pledged as she is to us not to take possession of
any part of Morocco. What would she gain but to have roused a spirit
of revenge amongst these wild inhabitants of a country capable of
maintaining ten Abd-el-Kaders, as soon as they learn how to war
with disciplined armies? An army of 20,000 men, well disciplined,
might march from one end of the Empire to the other, but to _hold_
the country 200,000 would not suffice.

The French interest, therefore, was not to have weakened the
Sultan’s power, but to have given him time to put in execution his
promises and to have helped him in so doing, if required; but the
shaft was shot at ‘Albion la perfide’—Albion, whose agent here,
ever since the conquest of Algiers, has been instructed to hold,
and has held, but one language, that of urging the Sultan not to
give ground of offence to his powerful neighbour, and above all not
to support or mix himself up with Abd-el-Kader.

The Spanish affair is also concluded. My father brought back very
full concessions, and on Mr. Bulwer’s arrival at Gibraltar, with
full powers from Spain, all matters were settled at once by the
Moors, and I had the satisfaction of having used my humble efforts
in effecting this.

The Danish and Swedish affairs are in a fair way of being settled
amicably, and, although I must not blow my own trumpet, yet I am
sure your Excellency will be pleased to learn that I have gained
some credit at home for the part I have taken in these affairs which,
in consequence of my father’s serious illness, have been entirely
under my guidance, as being the sole medium of communication both
verbally and in writing. I can assure your Excellency that I daily
feel the benefit reaped from the excellent school of diplomacy in
which I passed my probation in the East; and if I have been of use
to Her Majesty’s Government, the lessons I there learnt have been
my guide; if I have failed, it has been my own fault.

There is one more remark which I wish to add—that I look upon
Morocco as a field upon which there will often be like cause for
anxiety to Europe, and especially to Great Britain; and how can
it be otherwise when we consider the conflicting characters of the
people on the frontier? Such being the case, it becomes more urgent
than ever that some understanding be come to with France by England,
for preserving the integrity of this Empire, and that their agents
here should be persons that act up to the peaceful spirit of their
instructions—otherwise a bone of dissension will ever be found in
West Barbary.


Owing to his father’s illness and subsequent death, the settlement
of the complicated questions alluded to in this letter devolved
on Mr. Hay. In this task he acquitted himself with credit, as is
proved by the satisfaction of his official chief at Madrid, and
the recognition of his services by the foreign Powers for whom he
acted. Mr. Bulwer wrote to congratulate him on his success:—‘Your
conduct and explanations are equally good, and I am _gratified_
with you beyond measure. There is nothing to change in your views
or intuitions.’

Again in a later letter, Mr. Bulwer repeats the expression of his
satisfaction:—‘I have a great regard for you, and a high opinion
of you, and, whenever it is in my power, will do you a service. Be
sure of success; I am for you. All of us have had to contend with
difficulties.’

Mr. Hay further received the thanks of the different Governments
concerned, and the Kings of Denmark and Sweden sent him jewelled
stars, as Commander of the Orders of the Danebrog, and of the Polar
Star respectively. These, according to Foreign Office regulations,
he declined, as also the Spanish Order of Charles XII. Subsequently
he received, from the two former sovereigns, magnificent gifts of
plate, which H.B.M.’s Government authorised him to accept.

Some notes relating to this time, made by Mr. Hay in after years,
may prove of interest.


In the time of Sultan Mulai Abderahman it was not infrequent to hear
that some Basha, or Sheikh, who may have been supposed to have taken
part in an insurrection or given other serious cause for displeasure
to the Sultan, was summoned to the Court, and placed in confinement.

The ‘Mul Meshwa’ or chief Usher of the Court acted on such
occasions as executioner, and bearing a cup of coffee, would visit
the victim and say, ‘Our Lord and Master sends you this,’ adding
peremptorily, should the unfortunate man hesitate, ‘Drink: it is
our Lord’s order. You are in the hands of God. What is written
is written.’

During the time that Abd-el-Kader carried on hostilities against the
French in Algeria, Sultan Mulai Abderahman had given strict orders
to his Ministers and Governors not to hold any communication with
this active and daring chief, as H.M. feared the French might find
some pretext for a quarrel with Morocco.

Sid Mohammed Ben Dris, a very clever man, was at that time chief Uzir,
and was suspected of being in communication with Abd-el-Kader, and
even of having suggested to him that (as he thought it most probable
Abd-el-Kader would succeed in turning the French out of Algeria)
he should enter Morocco, upset the Sultan, and usurp the throne.

There is little doubt that, had Abd-el-Kader listened to these
suggestions, he might have succeeded in such an enterprise.

A courier, who had been dispatched secretly by the Uzir to
Abd-el-Kader, was arrested by the Governor of ‘Hiazna’: his
letters seized and sent direct to the Sultan. Amongst them, the
Sultan found a letter from Ben Dris to Abd-el-Kader with treasonable
propositions. Ben Dris was summoned to the presence of the Sultan,
who exhibited to him his letters asking, ‘Whose handwriting is
this?’ Ben Dris threw himself at the feet of the Sultan, crying out,
‘Amán (mercy)! It is mine.’ ‘You are a vile traitor,’ said
H.M. ‘Approach; put out that tongue with which you solemnly swore,
only the other day, you had never written, and would never write,
to Abd-el-Kader.’

The Uzir put out his tongue, of which the Sultan took hold and,
with one wrench, tore[5] it from its socket, leaving the tongue
paralysed and useless. ‘Go,’ said the Sultan; ‘your tongue
can no longer lie.’

The Uzir withdrew, his tongue swelled in a frightful manner, and
he died shortly afterwards in great agonies; but few persons at the
time knew the cause of his disgrace and death.

French journals, and Frenchmen in general, accused the British
Government and their Representative in Morocco of being in
communication with Abd-el-Kader, and even of sending emissaries and
money to assist that chief in carrying on hostilities against the
French. But the accusations were without the slightest foundation,
and though on one occasion Abd-el-Kader addressed me a letter
asking for British intervention on his behalf, no reply was sent
nor was any notice taken of his communication, and certainly not
one farthing was ever given by our Government to this gallant and
patriotic chief. On the other hand, advice was unceasingly tendered
to the Moorish Government by my father, and subsequently by myself,
that they should hold no communication with Abd-el-Kader or his
followers, and should oppose his making the Rif country a basis for
hostile operations against the French, when driven out of Algeria.


Mr. Hay’s appointment at Tangier was as yet only a temporary
one. His chief at Constantinople, who evidently awaited his return,
writes in December, 1844:—


I am glad to hear that you have won such golden opinions in Spain
and in Downing Street, and for your sake I shall be glad to learn
that promotion was the result. But as the last letters from the
Foreign Office speak of you as first attaché to this Embassy on
Alison’s apotheosis, I presume that you are to return, at least
for the present, and that being the case, I shall be glad to have
your services as soon as you can conveniently return to us. Napier
is going home to be married. . . . Add to this that I have lots of
business in hand, and very important business too. As Pisani is in
the Chancery as of yore, I will avail myself of your help with less
sacrifice of your eyes, and hazard to your health.

I hope you will be able to read these hieroglyphics. Believe me very
sincerely yours,

                                                                 S. C.


The reference to ‘less sacrifice to your eyes,’ it may be
inferred, was a jesting allusion to an occurrence which had taken
place at Stambul, when Mr. Hay was Acting Private Secretary. The
story is told by Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole, in his _Life of Sir
S. Canning_, how the fiery Ambassador and his not less hot-headed
young attaché, both worn out with over-work, lost their tempers
and their self-control[6].

In 1845, Mr. Hay succeeded his father as Political Agent and
Consul-General in Morocco. As will be gathered from the following
letter addressed to him by Lord Ponsonby, congratulating him on his
appointment, Mr. Hay considered that in diverging from the direct
line of a diplomatic career by becoming Agent and Consul-General,
he endangered his hopes of future advancement. But he decided on
incurring this risk, in order to assist his widowed mother, who had
been left with slender means, by undertaking the education of his
younger brothers. For many years he devoted half his salary to this
object, and, at a later period, to starting them in life or assisting
any member of his family who was in need of aid.


‘I have been wishing,’ wrote Lord Ponsonby in April, 1845, ‘ever
since I heard of your appointment, to write to you and say how very
much I rejoiced at it, but I fancied it might be more prudent to
hold my tongue; your letter of the 11th (received this night) has set
me free, and I will declare my conviction that however advantageous
your nomination to the important post may be to yourself, the English
Government will find it more so for their own objects. Your intimate
knowledge of the country where you are to serve, and I will add,
your talents, your zeal, your courage and honesty and manner, such
as I know them to be, will enable you to overcome difficulties which
might be held insuperable; and I suspect that the time will come
when you will have to encounter them. Aberdeen is a kind man, and
I have no doubt of his considering your father’s services as they
deserve to be considered, but I am very sure he would not have shown
his estimation of them in the way he has done, unless he had cause
to know and to appreciate the capacity of _the father’s son_. Have
no fear that “the door of ambition is closed against you.” _I_
think it is opened wide to you now; there will be plenty of room
for the display of your judgment and activity in the management
of questions of great importance, and as I feel confident you will
succeed, I entertain no doubt of your mounting to what are called
higher posts, though I _do_ doubt if you will find any of them
demanding more skill and vigour in the occupier than you will be
called upon to display where you now are.

‘Your most kind remembrance of the time we passed together gives
me very great pleasure; you are a man to make the most profit of
experience, and in that time I allude to, many affairs well worth
noting were in fermentation. I am too wise (excuse this vanity)
to attribute to myself anything more than honesty and good fortune
as the cause of the success that attended the Embassy, and it is
claiming a great deal too much I fear. I will accept, gratefully,
the kind things you say of me personally, and I am happy to know
that my manner to you (for there were no deeds) showed the feeling
of friendship for you which sprung up in me from my observation of
your good qualities.

‘Lady Ponsonby is well, and at this moment I hope amusing herself
at a ball at Lady Palmerston’s. I will give your message to her
when she comes home, and I am sure she will be most happy to receive
it. She has shared in my rejoicings for your advancement.’




                             CHAPTER VII.

  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.




                             CHAPTER VIII.

           VISIT TO SALLI AND DEPARTURE FOR MARÁKESH. 1846.


Mr. Hay’s firmness produced an effect on his surly hosts. On March
18 a letter arrived from the Sultan, which completely changed their
attitude towards him. His Diary thus continues:—


_March 18._ Young Ben Abu has just announced the arrival of a courier
from the Court. A cavalry soldier was the bearer of my letter, and
had accomplished the three days’ journey in twenty-four hours,
having been ordered by the Sultan to travel until his horse dropped
and then to continue on foot.

The letter from the Court is most satisfactory. The _amende honorable_
is made; the authorities here are reprimanded. Already have I received
messages from the Governor, crying ‘peccavi!’ The palace of the
Sultan here is being prepared for me, and a most plentiful ‘mona’
has been brought.

The Sultan’s orders are that tenfold honours are to be paid to
the British Envoy.

As soon as Ben Dris receives my answer, I am to proceed to the Court
escorted by the Governor of each successive district until I reach
the Sultan.

I have told the authorities here that I have forgotten all; and
like good friends or lovers, a little quarrel is going to make us
better friends than ever. With Moors, and indeed most Orientals,
you must be kind, but very firm, or the end would be great guns.

_March 20._ Our house is charming; a jewel of Moorish architecture. It
is quite new, and the workmanship is almost as good as that which
is seen in the Alhambra. The walls are highly ornamented in gypsum,
and very tastefully painted. The pavement is mosaic, and a fountain
stands in the midst, from which a jet of clear water plays; the
ceiling is carved and decorated, and intricate and mystical figures
adorn the walls. The huge folding doors and small windows are all in
the same style; in fact, the whole is perfection. On the walls are
written many verses of the Koran, and among other expressions which
I could decipher in the flowery writing, were ‘God is the true
wealth,’ and ‘Health is alone with the Everlasting;’ or, as we
should say, ‘Lay up your riches in heaven.’ Adjoining our rooms
are all sorts of intricate passages with small apartments, fountains,
baths, &c., and, quite separate, are quarters for the cook and other
servants. Then there is a pretty garden, run to weeds, with a charming
alcove of tastefully-turned woodwork, from which may be seen, on the
other side of the narrow street, the ornamented mausoleum of a saint,
shaded by a lofty palm-tree. Upon this house of the dead sit a couple
of storks, pluming themselves, billing and cackling the live-long day;
they are wild, but all their race in this country are fearless of man,
and on the house they choose for their nest, ‘no evil befalleth.’

‘Meteor’ has saluted; Salli and Rabát have replied. I walked
to the castle to witness the firing of the Moors; an immense crowd
followed, and although I was alone, except for one black soldier,
not a whisper or a curse was heard. Smiles and kind words were the
order of the day, and a murmur ran through the crowd that the English
are the Moslem’s best friends and are honoured by the Sultan.

Accompanied by Kaid Ben Abu (‘the Father of the Mountain’ is ill)
and a troop of cavalry, we rode towards Shella, passing through the
old part of the town of Rabát, of which the walls are still in good
preservation, and appear to have been formed of red tápia[11]. The
Governor informed me that tradition says they were built without
any foundation, and that thirty thousand Christian prisoners,
whom he said were from ‘Irak’ (I don’t know how this is to
be explained, except that they were Persians), worked at the walls,
and that many thousands of the bodies of those that died, or happened
to be punished with death, are embedded in the tápia.

We passed the gate called Bab-el-Haddad or the Smithy Gate. The
ancient town of Shella lies within a few yards of the old walls of
Rabát, and is built on one side of a conical hill.

The walls have a very ancient appearance, and the architecture
looks Saracenic.

Neither Christians nor Jews are allowed to enter Shella; though
Mr. Urquhart, who was here the other day, penetrated into the sacred
town, and his foolhardy curiosity very near cost him his life; for
a Moor with a gun happened to be there and fired at him, as I am
informed, but the gun missed fire. Urquhart was stoned by those who
had seen him enter, and was obliged to shut himself up in Rabát,
and ultimately take his departure. The town is not inhabited and is
in ruins. I could perceive the remains of a mosque or chapel. Ben
Yáhia, my Arabic secretary, tells me there are many inscriptions
but no dates, that one of these mentions the Sultan Assuad[12]
as having built a gate. ‘Sultan Assuad’ means the black Sultan.

I had much desire to see the interior of the town, as one has for all
things forbidden, but make it a point of duty never unnecessarily
to go contrary to the prejudices of the people, however gross they
may be. I believe at this moment, if I were to insist upon it,
the Governor would let me go anywhere and do anything.

We rode to the river side near the town, passing near some
saltpans. The valley had several fine gardens, abounding in orange
and pomegranate trees; the former were covered with their golden
fruit. Oranges are sometimes sold on the trees at the rate of about
a shilling a thousand—_and such oranges!_

_March 23._ Went over in a boat to Salli, as invited by Hadj Kassem,
the contractor for supply of bullocks to Gibraltar.

Hadj Kassem met us on the shore and, surrounded by half a dozen
of our own troopers and the same number of the Rabát soldiery,
we entered Salli, the hot-bed of fanaticism. Here a host of boys
began to muster round the party, but Hadj Kassem’s house was at
hand, and we took refuge there before the mob molested us. The Hadj
was very civil, and took us all over his house, which was furnished
in good Moorish style, with carpets of all kinds, looking-glasses,
and clocks, which latter generally indulge in indicating any hour
they please and never seem to be unanimous as to time after falling
into the hands of the ‘Faithful.’ I caught a glimpse of one or
two of the Hadj’s ladies: they appeared well-favoured. There was
a charming little girl of three or four years old, who was admitted
to our society; she sat in all the glory of full dress, on a cushion,
looking on with the gravity of a ‘Kadi.’ The Hadj feasted us with
Moorish tea of all kinds, and we were threatened with ‘siksu’
and other delicacies, from which, indeed, we had a most narrow escape.

Whilst talking to the Hadj, a great hubbub and shouting were heard
in the street, emanating from a mob of boys waiting to attack the
Christians as soon as they should appear. Hadj Kassem proposed a
retreat by the garden; and this was agreed upon. So out we sallied,
with half our soldiers in the front and half in the rear; backed by
one of our attendants, a young Sheríf, a very daring and active
youth. We had not gone a hundred yards before we were assailed at
the corner of one of the cross streets by a host of men and boys, who
pelted us with brickbats and stones of all sizes. Don José received a
blow on the shoulder. The Sheríf and some of our soldiers charged the
mob, one of whom was knocked down by a stone hurled by the Sheríf.

On we went at a rapid pace, and after us came a shower of
stones. Dr. Simpson received a blow on the head, and a Portuguese
skipper, who happened to have followed our party, ditto. Again and
again was the mob driven back by the Sheríf and our soldiers; but,
urged on by many a grey-headed fanatic, they rallied and pursued
us. At the town gate we found some rascals had got to the top of
the walls, intending to hurl down rocks upon our devoted heads. We
dislodged the enemy, however, with brickbats, from their stronghold
and then rushed into the open, making for the Hadj’s garden. A
madman, a dancing fanatic, had joined the mob and was yet urging
on the pursuit of us, whistling, jumping and twirling, in the most
savage style. We got safe into the garden, refreshed ourselves with
oranges, and wended our way towards the river.

The mob had again collected in force to oppose us, and a battle
of stones (or, as we should say in ‘Auld Reekie,’ a _bicker_),
took place. The ‘father of the red cap’ distinguished himself
by cracking the pate of one of the enemy—though only to ‘kill
him a little,’ as an Irishman would say. We reached the boat,
and I sent back one of my soldiers to the Governor of Salli to say
that I was extremely surprised to find he had not sent any guard to
prevent this uproar, and that, unless some satisfaction was given me,
I should report him to the Sultan. I received a reply, brought by the
Sheikh of the Jews, a Moorish Kaid, and some others, apologising for
what had taken place; the Governor of Salli declaring that he was
very unwell and that he had been totally ignorant of my intention
to visit Salli that day (this I rather doubt, as the Governor of
Rabát tells me he had written to inform him of our intention),
that he had put twenty of the offenders in prison, and would not
let them out until he had my permission.

I did not receive the Sheikh or the Moorish officer, nor did I accept
this apology as sufficient; for the story of the prisoners might or
might not be true, and public atonement is what I must require for
such a gross outrage. I therefore told my interpreter to tell the
messenger that, if the Governor of Salli wished to hear further from
me, he must come himself to my house in Rabát; or that, if he were
ill, he must send the Lieutenant-Governor and some of the prisoners,
and then I should see what was best to be done. The messengers left
us, very crest-fallen.

In Salli we saw nothing of interest: narrow streets and high town
walls were all that we had seen.

_March 24._ The Governor of Salli, his Khalífa and a Kaid,
the Governor of Rabát and Hadj Kassem, came to apologise for
yesterday’s outrage, bringing with them ten prisoners. The Governor
of Salli looked indeed very ill, as he had declared himself to be. He
made many apologies for the misconduct of the people of Salli and
for not having come to me himself, or sent some guards. He told me
he had taken twenty prisoners, that he had brought ten with him,
to be punished as I desired, and then to be taken back to prison to
remain there till I pardoned them. After giving him a lecture for
not keeping his people in better order, and pointing out the serious
consequences that might have attended any misfortune happening to
one of our party, I agreed to forget the past and requested him to
free the prisoners. The Governor of Salli then begged I would visit
his town another day, if I remained here for any time, adding that
he would come himself, with his guard, to meet me and would engage
that not even a word should be uttered against us.

No doubt yesterday will be long remembered by the people of Salli,
who are the worst of fanatics in Morocco. I am told the crews of
European vessels, taking in ballast on the shore, are often attacked,
with knives and swords, by these demi-savages. I trust what has now
passed will show them that Christians can command respect and are
not to be insulted with impunity.

I care little for all this, in fact I hate palaver; but look to
increase our influence—which perhaps has been somewhat on the wane
since French hostilities of last year—and trust I shall succeed by
pursuing a very firm, but friendly and just course towards all. Young
Ben Abu declares that what has occurred will cause Christians to be
better respected by the people, and will make the authorities more
on the alert and on their good behaviour towards Englishmen.

_March 25._ The brother of the Governor of Salli came this morning to
make professions of good-will. I sent Dr. Simpson with him to Salli,
to visit his brother who is ill. Simpson returned well pleased with
his reception; not a word, not a look, of insult from the crowd as
he passed; all was silence and respect.


On March 28 Mr. Hay left Rabát for Marákesh. In his diary he records
the events of the journey, the cordial receptions he met with from
the governors of the various provinces through which he passed,
and the savage parade which they made in his honour.

The account is too long to be given here in full detail; but a few
of the more striking incidents which occurred during his march are
found below.


On March 29 he writes:—An Arab, with a small dagger between his
teeth and making low bows, presented himself in the middle of the
road, saying, ‘I put myself under the hem of your garment.’
I thought the man was mad, and was preparing to meet some act of
fanaticism, when Kaid Abd Selam explained the mystery by telling me
that this man had killed another in feud, and had been condemned to
death, or, if the relatives of the deceased would accept it, to pay
blood-money. This they had agreed to do, and the individual, being
very poor, was travelling to collect the sum fixed upon (generally
about twenty or thirty pounds for a man) before a certain time. I
gave the poor wretch a trifle.

We have now entered the district of Shawía, famous for its ladies
and horses. The Sultan’s harem is principally supplied from this
part of the Empire. I have caught a glimpse of two or three very
fine-looking damsels. Their features are very delicate, eyes as
black as jet, with eyelashes that hang on the cheek when the eyes
are closed. Their figures also are graceful, but the rags they wear
would completely spoil their appearance, were it not that they barely
conceal their well-turned limbs. The country was better cultivated
than any we had yet seen, the barley and wheat already far advanced in
the ear and looking splendid. On the uncultivated ground a rich grass,
vying in luxuriance with a variety of wild flowers, carpeted our path.

I sigh to think of the word ‘scarcity’ being ever used in
this ‘blessed land,’ when such an excellent tract of country
is allowed to remain a neglected waste. But this is the result of
a system of government which destroys all security in property or
life. To cut the throat of the goose that lays the golden eggs is
the blind system of the Sultans of Morocco.

On passing a ‘duar’ several Arabs came to meet us, one of them
having a sheathed sword in his hand. This he laid across the crupper
of the saddle of the principal person of our party. A marriage has
taken place to-day, and these people have the custom of collecting
‘mona’ for the bridegroom in this manner.

On April 3 he writes:—There have been two Arab thieves about our
tents during the night: one was caught, the other escaped. The rascal
was taken before the Khalífa of the Governor of Dukála and has been
most severely bastinadoed. My informant reports the following scene.

_Kaid._ ‘Who are you?’

_Culprit._ ‘Mohammed Ben El Amrani.’

_Kaid._ ‘Down with Mohammed and lick him.’ (Six soldiers
advanced, four held his hands and feet, whilst two striped him
with cords.) After some three dozen, the Kaid says, ‘Who was
your companion?’

_Culprit._ ‘Abdallah.’

_Kaid._ ‘Down with him and see if that was his name.’ (Soldiers
beat the culprit, who sings out, ‘Selam Hamed Sodik.’)

_Kaid._ ‘Very well. So it was Sodik. Now what were you doing about
the tents?’

_Culprit._ ‘Nothing.’

_Kaid._ ‘Down with him.’ Culprit is licked, and sings out,
‘I came to pick up anything that was abandoned.’ (More stripes.)

_Culprit._ ‘I came to rob.’ (The soldiers stop.)

_Kaid._ ‘So you came to rob! Beat him again.’

_Culprit._ ‘I will never commit a theft again.’

_Kaid._ ‘No: that you shall not.’ (After some more stripes,
the poor wretch is led off prisoner.)

The approach to Marákesh is thus described:—

_April 7._ Struck our tents an hour before sunrise and continued
our journey to the southward, over a vast plain extending to the
east and west farther than the eye could see. About eight a.m. we
reached the foot of the hills called Jebíla, where there are many
wells and a kubba-topped sanctuary. A few tents were pitched in the
neighbourhood. The place is called Suánnia.

After taking a hasty breakfast we ascended the Jebíla (meaning in
Arabic, small mountains); they are almost barren. Here and there a
shrub of the ‘sidder[13]’ and a sweet-smelling acacia is to be
seen. At half-past ten, on descending the Jebíla, we came in sight
of the Moorish capital, in which stood most prominent the lofty
tower of the mosque called Kutubía. In the foreground lay a forest
of palms, and in the background the snow-capped gigantic range of
the Atlas. Owing to the intense heat of the day a waving atmosphere
veiled in great measure the grandeur of the scenery. The soldiers
pointed out to me the mountain which my father had ascended as far
as the snow on his first mission to the Sultan, when he visited the
high-perched village of Mesfíwa. At noon we entered the palm forest;
these palm-trees are valuable property and belong to the Sultan and
the townspeople. There are no enclosures, but each proprietor knows
the trees that belong to him. The trees had begun to put forth their
flower, which consists of a white stalk, with a mass of small flowers
in a sheath, looking in the distance like a white leaf.

At half-past twelve we reached the river Tensift, a fine clear
stream, over which there is a bridge of twenty-five arches, built,
I believe, by a Spaniard some years ago. Here we pitched our tents,
as we are not to enter Marákesh until the morning.

_April 8._ On crossing the river this morning a body of cavalry of
the district of Erhamna met us, with their Kaid and twenty banners,
in the midst of a fierce powder-play. After another hundred yards
we were met by the Bokhári guard with their Kaid and twenty-five
banners, who were succeeded by the troops of Mulai Dris, the native
soldiers of the city, with twenty-five banners of all colours, white
predominating; lastly, by the immediate followers or body-guard of the
Sultan with the green Sherifian flag and other banners. Lab-el-barod,
which a Frenchman might translate into ‘La belle parade,’ never
ceased along the whole road, some three miles, to Marákesh. The
dust was insufferable; the troops kept charging, reining in and
firing their guns within a few feet of us. The road was narrow,
as a wood of palm-trees flanked us on the right and left, and the
rush of cavalry was terrific. Every moment you would have supposed
they must have trampled down our party before they could check their
horses. Several messengers, the immediate attendants of the Sultan
and Uzir, came to welcome me on the part of His Majesty, repeating
the word ‘Mahababek,’ you are welcome. I cannot tell what may
have been the number of cavalry that met us; but as I am told there
are a hundred to each banner, there ought to have been from seven
to eight thousand men. It is said that the Sultan ordered every
horseman in the city of Marákesh and the camp to meet us. By the
wayside I observed a number of people begging, with large straw hats
on their heads. The straw hat in the neighbourhood of Marákesh is
a sign that the wearer is a leper: there are numbers of these poor
wretches; a separate town is given them—called Hara—and they are
not allowed to enter the city of Marákesh or communicate with the
inhabitants except on a Thursday, on which day they say this horrid
disease is not catching, as a great Moorish saint pronounced that
on that day leprosy should not be contagious.

After riding some half-mile along the town wall of this great capital,
we entered the gate called ‘Bab Hamár.’ At the entrance were
the tents of the troops (infantry).




                              CHAPTER IX.

          RESIDENCE AT MARÁKESH AND RETURN TO TANGIER. 1846.


_April 9._ Twenty-five guards were sent by the Sultan last night to
be distributed around the garden and walls of the palace, so we are
well taken care of. The chief of the guard wanted to lock my door
on the outside: I must indeed be very precious to be considered
worthy of such care; and, like a strange bird of value, am well
fed and closely caged. I hear also that one hundred cavalry patrol
the streets near our dwelling every night. To-day we are as state
prisoners and must take our rest _malgré nous_, I am not to see the
Sultan or his ministers, I understand, according to the usual form,
till I have had at least three days’ rest: this is tiresome, for
I should best be pleased by an immediate audience and the prompt
conclusion of all I have to say or settle.

The garden that surrounds our house, and in which our horses are
picketed, is a wilderness; full of orange, olive, walnut, palm,
plum and pear-trees, with vines, pomegranates and rose-trees in
full flower. A harvest of beautiful rose blossoms is gathered every
morning for making attar of roses. From our terrace on the house top
little is to be seen but low ruins with gardens, and here and there a
tall mosque, whilst within a few hundred yards of our palace towers
the Kutubía with its gilded ball on the top. This ancient mosque
is still in good preservation, and is used as a place of worship,
so there is no hope of our seeing the interior. The tower does not
appear so high as that of Hassan at Rabát, nor indeed so symmetrical
or ornamented, nevertheless it is a beautiful remnant of Moorish
architecture, and proudly rears its lofty head above the miserable
dwellings of the modern Moor.

_April 10._ The Uzir has sent for my interpreter this morning. I
primed David, and told him to mention my wishes to come to business
and have an audience without delay.

A curious incident took place during David’s visit to the Uzir. I
sent with him my soldier Abd-el-Kerim and a servant, Hadj Abd Selam,
who is a Sheríf and the grandson of the patron saint of Tangier,
Sid Mohammed-el-Hadj. The Uzir, on hearing who the latter was, went
forward and kissed the hem of his garment, asking for his blessing;
yet this holy man serves me in the double capacity of housemaid
and valet.

Whilst writing this, the Sheríf and my servant Kaddor have come to
tell me they have just seen the Sultan returning from the mosque. When
His Majesty approached they prostrated themselves on the ground. The
Sultan reined in his horse and sent an usher to ask who they were
and from whence they came. They replied, ‘We are servants of the
Roman’ (meaning me). His Majesty sent them a civil message and
rode on. We are living indeed in a country where there is a strange
mixture of patriarchal and tyrannical government.

_April 11._ Rode out at three o’clock, accompanied by the
Lieutenant-Governor, the Kaid of the town-guards, and a dozen of
foot-soldiers, also some of my own escort. I requested to be shown
round the outside of the town. After riding through dilapidated
streets, in which there were no signs of present or past opulence
either in the buildings or in anything else (Ben Yáhia calls this
town the ‘Mother of Villages,’ meaning that it is composed of
poor buildings), we sallied out of one of the gates of the town and
commenced the circuit.

On our left were several picturesque tombs: here the great saint,
Sid Bel-Abbas, is interred, also many of the Sultans; amongst others,
Mulai Yazid, whose mother was an Irishwoman.

It is said that formerly the Moors erected busts or effigies over
the tombs of the Sultans in this city, typical of their good or bad
qualities. Thus the liberal Sultan was depicted with a hand extended;
the sordid one with his hand closed; the warrior with a sword. Mulai
Yazid, being both a warrior and liberal, was represented with one
hand open and a sword in the other.

Mulai Soliman, in a fit of fanaticism, destroyed all these effigies as
being impious and against the interpretation of the law of the Prophet
Mohammed, and ordered inscriptions to be written in their places.

As we passed near this spot a negro saint, or holy maniac, brandished
a club at us. But the Lieutenant-Governor, beckoning him to his
side, kissed his garment, and the saint, patting his Excellency
on the back, satisfied his diseased brain by pointing his stick,
as a gun, at our cursed Nazareneships. The Lieutenant-Governor was
not communicative and seemed to dislike the evening’s jaunt; so,
I suppose, he accompanied me _malgré lui_. He rode the whole way
muttering his prayers, and every now and then, holding his hand in
the manner that is called ‘fatha’ towards some distant saint’s
tomb, he appeared to pray; but perhaps called down imprecations on
our doomed heads. God bless the old fool! If I had an hour’s talk
with him, I would leave him some doubts as to which of us is the
most fit for Jehannum.

We rode for an hour-and-a-half round the walls, and yet, as I am told,
had not got half way. As sunset was nigh, I proposed to finish our
ride round the town another day.

We entered a gate near the Kutubía mosque, and passing by a very
handsome archway, now blocked up, but formerly, I am told, leading to
a Governor’s house, we rode past ruins and through gardens in the
midst of them. This town was once very extensive. It is said to have
had formerly four hundred thousand inhabitants. I don’t give it now
a hundred thousand. The ancient mosques, which are numerous and very
handsome, show what it must have been; and the inside of the Kutubía,
of which we had a glance in passing, is quite a maze of columns. An
old soldier of the Second Guards, in writing of this capital,
described its numerous but narrow streets in ancient times thus:
‘When the traveller entered the city gates he did not see sunshine
again until he left the town.’ In speaking of the value of the land,
which is now worthless and sold at the lowest price for gardens,
he said, ‘Ground was formerly purchased by covering the surface to
be bought with coins laid close to one another.’ He spoke also of
the denseness of the population, the wealth of the inhabitants, and
facility of making money in those times, and records a tradition that
a vendor of sugar-plums made five hundred ducats in one day by hawking
his goods at Bab-el-Khemés—or Thursday-gate—which is now closed.

I should have mentioned that we passed, outside the town, the Hara,
or village of lepers; it is close to the walls of the city.

Two lepers were standing near the roadside begging. I gave them a
few pieces of money. These wretched people live almost entirely upon
alms. The Sultan gives them annually about seven thousand ducats,
or about a thousand pounds sterling. I hear that their children prove
sometimes quite free of the malady, but the curse is in their blood
and they must remain in the Hara and intermarry with lepers. People
of bad character, or those condemned for crime, often, I am told,
escape to the Hara, and find concealment there by assuming the
covering of the lepers and living with them, until perhaps they
become lepers or their crimes are forgotten.

_April 12._ Received a letter from the Sultan, at half-past six
this morning, to say that H.S.M. had appointed eight a.m. for the
audience. I tumbled out of bed and gave my directions to prepare
the presents and to have each box borne by a mule and the smaller
cases on the heads of men—altogether eleven packages. Whilst I was
yet dressing, the Kaid Madáni—General of the Sultan’s household
troops—came to say that we were to mount and leave our dwelling at
half-past seven. We were punctual to our time: I, leading the van,
with the Kaid Madáni; St. Leger, Escazena and the Doctor immediately
behind us. Having traversed various narrow streets and lanes,
and passed under some half-dozen horse-shoe archways, we entered
a large square in front of the Sultan’s palace, in ‘Ghásats
E’Nil.’ The entrance to this palace, where the Sultan’s ladies
are living, is through a gate called ‘Bab Khadár,’ or ‘the
Green Gate.’ We left this gate and the forbidden fruit it led to,
on our left. Before we had reached the opposite side of the square,
messengers were running backwards and forwards, from the Uzir and Mul
Meshwa (the Lord High Chamberlain) to the Kaid Madáni, telling us
to halt, or to advance. After several halts, we came to the gate of
Kubbats E’Suiera, or the ‘Picture Cupola.’ Here we dismounted,
and leaving our animals and the presents at the door, entered again
into another large yard or square, about a quarter of a mile in length
and rather less in breadth. The sides were lined with soldiers, who
presented arms to us in the Moorish fashion—i.e. shouldering them.

In front of the gateway of the palace, or rather kiosk, were placed
three brass field-pieces (about eight pounders) and three dismounted
iron guns (twenty-four pounders). Two soldiers, shouldering each
a long pike, stood near the cannon facing the kiosk. Here we were
again halted for a couple of minutes, when the Mul Meshwa beckoned us
forward and, advancing at a very slow, respectful pace, we approached
the Sherifian gate. The entrance to the kiosk was not what I should
have expected, for it was on a small scale and poorly ornamented. In
the hall sat several of the Sherifian secretaries and clerks. Here
again we were made to pause before we were brought to the foot of
a narrow winding staircase, which we ascended, preceded by the Mul
Meshwa. On reaching the landing, where there was a gallery commanding
a fine view of a vast garden on the one side and of the court through
which we had passed on the other, I saw two figures standing in a
doorway to our right. These persons were the Grand Uzir, Ben Dris,
and the Minister, Sid Alarbi Mokta. The Mul Meshwa now stepped forward
to the open doorway and made a low bow; I followed, and discovered
the Sultan seated on an ordinary chair, near an open window. I then
also made a low bow, and His Majesty said in a loud voice and with
a kind manner, ‘Zid’ (approach)—the Mul Meshwa adding in a
low voice, ‘our Lord says approach.’

The Mul Meshwa had now taken off his shoes, and, holding in my
right hand the Queen’s letter of credence, I advanced a few paces
and made another low bow. The Sultan repeated the word ‘Zid,’
so again bowing I approached within about five steps of where
H.S.M. was seated and, placing myself immediately in front of him,
as the Mul Meshwa intimated, repeated my respectful obeisance. The
Mul Meshwa retired and I stood alone with the Sultan, who, looking
very gracious and smiling, said, ‘You are welcome! The bonds of
peace and friendship which have existed from ancient time between
our ancestors and the ancestors of your sovereign still continue and
shall endure. We hold your Queen and nation as the most friendly,
above all sovereigns and nations, to our Royal person.

‘We knew your father; he was well inclined to us, proved a faithful
servant of the two Governments, and we held him in favour as one of
the chosen of the Empire. We have now become acquainted with you,
and the friendship and good-will which we held towards your father
shall be inherited by you. What is your first name?’

Bowing, I replied, and the Sultan resumed: ‘You are the bearer of
a letter from your Queen.’ Then, calling Ben Dris, said to him,
‘Take the letter for me from the Consul; I shall read it and the
answer shall be given, if it please God, at another time.’

Sid Ben Dris advanced barefoot, and, making a low bow, took the
letter and retired to his post.

The Sultan, having paused in his speech, I made a suitable reply.

The Sultan then made a sign to the Mul Meshwa to advance and said to
him, ‘Show the Consul my gardens, and take him wherever he wishes,
so as to afford him amusement and pleasure.’

Before I quit this subject I must record the appearance and dress of
Sultan Mulai Abderahman. He appeared a middle-sized man of some sixty
years of age with a dark complexion, of a shade lighter than that
of a mulatto, short black beard, arched eyebrows, large black eyes
with a slight squint in one eye (but not so as to give an unpleasant
expression), nose long and aquiline. He had a healthy appearance,
and a very kind and benign expression of face. He was dressed in a
white ‘haik’ which hid his under garments; over the ‘haik’
he wore a white ‘sulham,’ or burnous; on his head a high red
cap and a white turban, and yellow slippers on his bare feet. There
was no emblem of royalty near his person, nor any attendant except
those outside the room.

It has been the custom for the Sultan to give his first audience to
Europeans in my position, on horseback, with the Imperial umbrella
over his head and in an open court. My reception is considered a very
favourable one, and it is thought that H.S.M. has shown me especial
condescension. In fact, I am told that I have been ‘the most
favoured of Envoys that have ever come to the Sherifian presence.’

We returned by the same staircase and entrance: our horses had been
brought near to the doorway; we mounted, and accompanied by the Mul
Meshwa, visited the several gardens of the Sultan. There were few
flowers but roses; these were in abundance and most sweet. Trellises
of vines, groves of orange-trees, woods of pomegranate, olive, peach,
pear, citron, lemon, palm, apple, plum, fig and other trees covered
these vast cultivated wildernesses. Straight tápia walls enclosed
these gardens and thousands of vines, from which the infant grapes
were peeping, were trained against them on canes.

_April 13._ At twelve o’clock I had a conference with the Uzir Ben
Dris at his private dwelling, a pretty Moorish house standing in the
middle of a large garden, which is cultivated with far better taste,
and shows a greater variety of flowers, than any of the Sultan’s
gardens. His Excellency received me at the door and led me to a
picturesque court with marble columns, mosaic pavements, and a
bubbling fountain in the centre, with a view of orange-trees and
roses to delight the eye on every side. A chair had been provided
for me, and the Uzir sat on a low mattress, handsomely covered,
and furnished with piles of luxurious cushions. Two little slaves
were the only attendants present during our long conference. When a
step was heard in the garden his Excellency seemed to be under some
anxiety lest there should be any eavesdroppers. Coffee was brought
in by one of the slaves, and was served in handsome china cups,
placed on a bright brass tray inlaid with mosaic. His Excellency
sipped from each cup that I partook of before handing it to me, to
show that it was free from poison, for this Uzir has sometimes given
a deadly feast to his guests, who, whilst partaking of ministerial
hospitality, laid the seeds of some dread disease in the intestines
which wore away their life in a few months or perhaps years.

Our conference lasted three hours. The Uzir told me he was merely
acting as the ‘ear of the Sultan,’ and that he was desired to
report every word to His Majesty, who alone would decide upon every
matter. In reply I said that, nevertheless, I should consider myself
indebted to him if I could report favourably to our Government upon
the Sultan’s replies, which was sufficient to let him understand
what my sentiments would be vice versâ.

In the afternoon I rode out; starting from the same gate by which we
had entered on a previous evening, and continuing our circuit round
the town, it was an hour and a half before we reached the gate we
started from on the first day, so Marákesh must be a good twelve
miles in circumference.

The scenery of the distant Atlas mountains was very grand.

_April 14._ This morning, before I rose, a very beautiful bay horse
arrived as a present from the Sultan, brought by the head groom of
H.S.M.’s stables. He was covered with a handsome horsecloth, and
is one of the finest animals I have seen in the country: standing
a good fifteen hands and a half.

After our breakfast, came Hadj Gabári, the jester of the Uzir,
with a note from his Excellency, of which this is a translation;—


Praise to the one God!

To the mediator of the two nations, Mr. J. H. D. Hay. May God
exalt you!

The bearer is sent to amuse you. Let the painter that is with you
see him and the various forms he can assume: he is a jester. Peace!

                                            Finished 17th Rabea, 1262.


Hadj Gabári was a funny fellow, made all sorts of grimaces and a
number of _bon mots_; had been in the East and spoke of Mehemet Ali;
told us that, when in Egypt, he had been called upon to serve in the
army, but got freed upon being told to march to see whether he would
make a good soldier. He then showed us how he had walked, which was
much like the gait of one of Astley’s clowns. Hadj Gabári meant
this joke, I suspect, as a cut at the discipline of the Sultan’s
troops. Escazena made a very good caricature of the jester, with
one eye shut. I dispatched it to the Uzir, with a note to thank his
Excellency for the amusement he had afforded, adding that I sent
him back two jesters, with only three eyes between them.

I have been pointed out certain marks on my horse (turns of the hair)
underneath his neck, which the Moors assure me are the best guarantee
that the owner of the animal will never have any wish in life that he
will not obtain. My horse has also been turning up one of his hoofs
or resting his foot, as all horses do, and I am told that this is
his ‘fatha’ or mode of prayer, and that he is praying God for
his own and his master’s welfare.

_April 15._ Had another long interview with the Uzir. His Excellency
has promised verbally, in the name of the Sultan, to give a favourable
answer to each affair. We shall see how the letters run, for I have
required that all be written—‘Quod scriptum est manet.’

The Sultan, it seems, is vastly pleased with the Queen’s gifts,
especially the long gun barrels.

The Uzir asked many questions about India and our late victories
there; about the war in China, our possessions there, &c., &c. I
afforded him all the information he desired, and gave him some more
distinct ideas than he had before of our power and wealth, compared
with those of other nations, and let him understand (what few Moors
do) that we can be powerful without being tyrannical or oppressive;
that the weak and the strong nation are equally respected by us, if
they keep to their treaty engagements and show no ill-will towards
us. I finished by saying that the peace of the world was the greatest
blessing to mankind when founded upon such principles, and that
those nations with whom we had been at war in former times were now
our good friends, whilst our old friends remained our best friends.

_April 16._ Another horse was brought me this morning as a present
from the Sultan. He is not so handsome as the last, but a fine animal.

It has always been customary, on the occasion of a visit of a
Consul-General to the Sultan, for His Majesty to give two horses:
to give less would be ominous of the Consul or his nation being out
of favour.

_April 17._ Saw from the roof of our dwelling the Sultan go to the
great mosque, the Kutubía, at twelve o’clock. The new troops lined
the road. A large body of unmounted irregular troops marched before
His Majesty, who was immediately preceded by two lance-bearers. The
Sultan was dressed in white, as on the day of my reception, and
mounted on a white horse. A man on foot held a large red silk
umbrella, with a gilt ball on the top and a long pole for a stick,
over the ‘Exalted Presence.’

Some thirty attendants, all dressed in white except for their red
caps, surrounded the person of the Sultan, from whom, with white
handkerchiefs, they kept off the flies. The regular troops presented
arms, and the drums beat as His Majesty passed, whilst the female
spectators screamed the ‘zagharit,’ or shout of joy.

_April 18._ Up before daylight. At seven o’clock the Sultan sent
for me, and mounted on the Sherifian gift, I rode with a train
of soldiers to the Ghásats E’Nil, or the Garden of the Nile,
where it was arranged the audience should take place. The Mul Meshwa
met me at the palace gate with his attendants, and I was conducted
into a court some two hundred yards square, at the end of which,
near the doorway of the palace, sat the ‘Exalted Presence’
on a raised platform in the open air. His Majesty was seated at
first on a divan, but whilst I approached with measured steps, the
divan was exchanged for a chair. Ben Dris was standing near. After
various bows I came within some few paces of H.S.M. and then halted,
when the Sultan said, ‘We have been glad to become acquainted with
you; we had very friendly feelings towards your father, and have now
the same towards you. Our minister has reported to us all you have
represented, and we see that you are a prudent person and desirous
of serving faithfully the interests of the two countries.’

I thanked His Majesty for such flattering sentiments, and expressed
also my grateful acknowledgements for the readiness with which he had
given ear and consented to the settlement of the various affairs that
had been brought under his notice by the Uzir; but at the same time
I urgently begged that he would keep in mind those affairs relating
to commerce, upon which depended most important interests, as also
the welfare of a large class of His Majesty’s subjects and those
of my gracious Sovereign.

The Sultan replied that he should bear them in mind, but that he
required time to consider the matter.

I then took leave, and H.S.M. commanded that I should be taken into
the interior of the court and garden where his harem resided—a
special favour which, the Sultan added, had been granted to my
father, and therefore ‘the son should have the same privilege.’
Accompanied by two eunuchs, for I was now to be admitted within
the prison cage of many a wild and lovely woman, we passed under a
lofty archway, in which were two small carriages like bath-chairs,
and entered the garden; like the rest in Marákesh, full of oranges,
roses, and fruit-trees, adorned with fountains and wide walks. As
we passed along the avenues I saw the spectre of a female vanish at
our approach, and, as far as I dared indulge my curiosity, she was
as pale and pretty as the negresses that accompanied her were sooty
and hideous. The fair Sultana’s dress was white, and I confess I
hardly observed how it was made, as I strained my vision to see her
face rather than her form. At the windows, or small loop-holes of the
palace, I could hear _en passant_ whispers, and saw visions of tips of
fingers, both white and black, and brilliant eyes darting fiery looks.

I came back by the way I had entered. The Sultan had retired. Ben
Dris was still there, and we settled all remaining matters.

On April 18 Mr. Hay left Marákesh. On the 19th he writes:—While
resting to-day, one of my Bokhári guards gave me a history of
the origin of their becoming the body-guard of the Moorish Sultan,
which legend I introduce as follows.

Mulai Ismael, who reigned some two hundred years ago, was one of the
most powerful but vainglorious of the Moorish potentates who have
been shadowed by the Sherifian umbrella. Desirous of extending his
dominions, and in consequence of the black Kings of Sudan, Timbuktu,
&c., not having sent him the customary annual present for some years,
he determined to march into the desert and subdue the petty princes of
the interior, who reigned over districts contiguous to his dominions.

Having prepared an army of ten thousand men he marched towards
Timbuktu.

The Bokhári Kaid here described the sufferings and loss the army
was said to have experienced on traversing the desert.

On approaching Timbuktu Mulai Ismael learnt to his dismay that the
Sultan of Sudan had surrounded him with a force tenfold his own,
and that in a few hours he might expect to be overwhelmed; upon which
H.M. wept, and sent for his Uzir, who, being a cunning and wise man,
said, ‘Weep not, O mighty One! Grant that I go as Ambassador to
the Sultan of Sudan. Give me full powers to act as I think best,
and I will guarantee that your Majesty shall retire hence with all
honour and without losing a man.’

The Sultan then issued his Royal firman to the Uzir to act as he
deemed right for the good of Islam; so the wily Uzir, taking presents
with him and a flag of peace, set out for the camp of the Sultan
of Sudan, by whom he was received with much pomp and magnificence,
and to whom he thus declared the object of his mission:—

‘Sultan of Sultans, King of the black race, my master the Sultan
of Fas and Marákesh, &c., &c., sends you greeting and gifts. He has
come to these distant parts with all his followers, having heard of
your fame and power; and is desirous of allying himself to you by
demanding the hand in marriage of your Majesty’s daughter, whose
beauty the Moorish poets and songsters daily extol. Therefore, O
Mighty Prince, our Lord and Master doth homage to your most sable and
queenly daughter, and hath brought the chiefs of his kingdom and his
troops to show her and you that he is worthy of such a Royal prize.’

The black Sultan, who had been wroth with Mulai Ismael for his
apparently hostile and daring intrusion into his kingdom, now smiled
with joy at the flattering proposition made through the Uzir in
the name of the descendant of the Prophet, the ‘Prince of the
Faithful.’

The demand was acceded to. The sable daughter of the Sultan of Sudan
was betrothed to Mulai Ismael. Rich presents in gold and silver,
and ten thousand black warriors, as a dowry, were presented to the
Sultan of Morocco to wait upon the dark bride. These troops and
their descendants have ever since formed the most faithful guards
of his Majesty the Sultan of Morocco.

This same Sultan, Mulai Ismael, after a revolt of his troops, it is
said, formed a body of some twenty thousand Jews as regular cavalry,
thinking that though they had not the courage of Mussulmans, he
would find them more faithful subjects.

Shortly after they had been trained in the art of war, His Majesty
ordered his Jewish troops to march against some rebels near the
town of Fas. The Jews, who were tired of soldiers’ fare and the
hardships of the life, bethought them how best to be freed from
such misery. A learned Rabbi and General of the troops, after some
reflection, undertook to obtain this freedom; so the very day they
were to march from Fas, he waited on the Sultan and said, that
though he and his brethren were all ready and eager for battle and
to fight in H.M.’s cause, they begged their Lord the Sultan would
send a few of his guards with the army to prevent the Moorish boys
insulting them; ‘for our Lord the Sultan knows,’ said the wily
Rabbi, ‘that a Jew cannot strike a Moslem.’

Mulai Ismael disbanded _instanter_ the Israelitish army.

_April 20._ Pursuing our course for some seven or eight miles
over an arid plain famous for fattening sheep, though the blades
of parched grass in an acre might, I think, have been counted,
we reached, about seven o’clock, a fountain called Ain-Umast
(Ain means eye or spring), near which were the remains of a large
Moorish town. From this fountain we ascended into a hilly country
covered with the argan tree[14], from the fruit of which the argan
oil is extracted; the leaves of this tree are of a fine deep green,
the fruit is rather larger than an olive and pointed at one end. The
trees run from thirty to forty feet high, and their lower branches
extend frequently to about the same length.

The trees were laden with fruit. Like the palms near Marákesh, every
tree has its owner, though there appears to be a forest many miles
in extent. The fruit is ripe in autumn, and the harvest is collected
by threshing the trees. The fruit is then carried to magazines, and
camels and cattle fed upon it. They eat stone and all, but afterwards
void the stone whole, which is again collected and taken to the mill,
where it is crushed and the oil extracted. This is preferred by the
Moors to olive oil for cookery.

The commencement of the hilly ground has brought us into the
district of Shedma and into the northern part of Sus, one of the
great divisions of Morocco. The Sus people, like the Shloh and the
Rifians, are aborigines: they are a fine race, small limbed, but tall
and active. Here the place of the tent is taken by mud castles or
walled enclosures, within which they build their huts or small stone
houses. As we travelled on, though the sun was high in the heavens,
the air got cooler, and I fancied I could sniff the breeze from the
sea. The country improved as we advanced: corn-fields amidst the argan
trees. Here and there orchards of fig, grape, and other fruit-trees,
olive in abundance.

_April 21._ We were off at daybreak, and rode for two hours through
a forest of argan and wild olives. We then entered a barren waste,
covered with steep sandhills, which drift like snow with the wind,
so as to render it impossible, after a gale, to find a vestige or
track of former passengers. These hills are from forty to eighty
feet high, almost perpendicular in the ascent and descent, and extend
some three or four miles from the coast.

The picturesque town of Mogador, or Suiera, presented itself as we
reached the summit of these hills; it lies in a flat sandy plain
and the sea washes its walls on the southern and western sides. In
winter the sea floods the plain, leaving Mogador as it were an island,
except for a causeway over an aqueduct, raised some feet from the
ground. On our approach to the town, the batteries saluted me with
eleven guns, which was responded to by Her Majesty’s steamer
Meteor. The Governor and all the authorities came out to meet us,
with two hundred cavalry and three or four hundred infantry; all
the accustomed honours and parade were gone through.

Mogador is the European name given to the town of Suiera from a
saint’s tomb on an island, about half-a-mile from shore, called
Sid Mogdul. The island is fortified, and forms a shelter for
shipping from the west and north winds. Mogador was built in the
last century, 1760 I think, by Sultan Mohammed Ben Abdallah. An
immense sum of money was laid out, as the Sultan built all the
merchants’ houses, as well as the walls of the town and many fine
Government buildings. It was called by him Suiera, or the picture,
from its regularity and handsome appearance when compared with the
generality of other Moorish towns. The houses are fine buildings,
some of them three stories high; the streets broad and straight. The
two main streets run through the town at right angles, so that you
can see out of each gate of the town at the same time. There are
many solid, neat archways dividing the different quarters of the town.

The walls, batteries, mosques, and public stores are solid and
handsome, but partaking rather of the European than Moorish style
of architecture, therefore much less interesting to a European eye.

Sultan Mohammed built the town as an emporium for trade with
the interior, which it afterwards became; and several firms of
British merchants of some wealth had been established here till the
bombardment of the place by the French, when they escaped. Owing
to the debts due by these persons to the Moorish Government and the
loss of property they experienced by the plunder of the town by the
wild tribes, they have not returned either to claim their property
or to liquidate their debts. At the earnest request of the Governor,
I passed the night at this place.

Embarking on board the Meteor on April 22, Mr. Hay reached Tangier
on the 24th.


In a letter, written on this expedition to his friend the
Hon. A. Gordon, Mr. Hay gives some interesting notes on the habits
of the Moors. He says:—


My friend N. was right when he said the Moors do not smoke. The
Moors are perhaps the most fanatical of the Mohammedan sect, and
much stricter in observance of the laws of their prophet than their
brethren in the East. Smoking is looked upon as a sin; for smoking
is supposed by them to produce intoxication—or at least a slight
aberration of the senses—and can therefore be placed in the same
category as wine, which was forbidden by Mohammed solely on that
account.

A Mohammedan sage was once asked what was the greatest sin a
man could commit. He replied—‘To get drunk,’ and told the
following parable: ‘A certain man of good repute drank large
potations of the juice of the grape until he became intoxicated and
lost his senses. When in that state, _he lied, he stole, he committed
adultery and murder_; none of which sins would he have been capable of
committing had he not sinned against the Koran by drinking wine.’
The Moor, however, when he does drink wine, drinks to get drunk, and
when he smokes he uses a herb called ‘kif,’ a species of hemp,
which produces much the same effect on the senses as opium.

Here and there you find a Tangerine with a cigar in his mouth; but
then you may be sure he is a worthless fellow and has learnt the
vice from the ‘Nazarenes.’ Tobacco is much used in the form of
snuff, and the snuff of the town of Tetuan is deservedly famed for
its pungent flavour.

‘Ahel tanbakko lil Jinnats yasbakko’ is a Moorish doggerel couplet
meaning, ‘Snuff-takers enter heaven first.’ This may be said to
reconcile many a snuff-taker to his box of vice, whereas those who
do not so indulge take the proverb in another sense as inferring
that the snuff-takers have a short life.

The Moor takes his snuff as we Highlanders do; not in a pinch, but
by laying it along the hollow of the back of his thumb. Very small
cocoa-nut shells, having a narrow ivory mouth-piece, form the usual
style of box, to which is attached by a small chain an ivory pin to
stir up the snuff, which is jerked through the orifice. But I am
growing tiresome, and though snuff may keep the attention awake,
it will not do so, I fear, when taken in this manner and in so
plentiful a dose.

You ask about the Jews in this country; much may be said, and I
will endeavour in subsequent letters to tell you all I know. They
are a sadly degraded race, full of bigotry and superstition, but
retaining their activity, cunning, and love for each other, together
with an extraordinary firmness in their belief—for which, indeed,
these persecuted people have been always famed in every clime.

The Jew of Morocco, next to the Negro in the West Indies and America,
is the most persecuted and degraded of God’s creatures. In Tangier
and the seaport towns, through the Christian Representatives, the
Jews have ever received a certain indirect countenance and support,
but in the interior their fate is a very hard one.


The subject of the Jews in Morocco was one that greatly interested
Mr. Hay. In subsequent notes and letters, as the following extracts
show, he redeemed his promise to Mr. Gordon. Thus he writes:—


With respect to the Jews, I have knowledge of there being a population
of about four or five thousand in the Atlas mountains beyond the
city of Marákesh, and they are said to have lived there ever since
the time of Solomon.

These Jews are armed, but are not independent; each Jewish family
having its Moorish master, or protector. In the feuds of the Moors
in the mountainous regions they take part and, by their active
and warlike life, acquire a far more independent spirit than their
brethren of the seaport towns and of the capitals. There is some
tradition about their Rabbis possessing a document containing the
signet of Joab, who was sent to collect tribute from them in the
time of the son of David.

In 1844 there still existed an ancient inscription in Hebrew graven
on a stone in the Dra country, which was said to be as follows:
עד כאן הגיץ יואב בן צרויה לקבל המס which
is interpreted thus, ‘So far as this place came Joab Ben (son of)
Serruia to receive the tribute.’

Joab, chief of the army of King David, is called in the recognised
translation of the Bible ‘the son of Zeruiah.’

A drunken Rabbi, named Judah Azalia, called on me the other day;
he has been travelling for three years in the southern districts of
Morocco, and he visited also many of the towns and villages bordering
on the Great Desert beyond Dra, which province you will find marked
in the map. Judah was half intoxicated, as usual, when he visited me,
and he left Tangier before I could entrap him in a sober moment. Judah
had travelled much in the East, had read a number of curious old
books, and was full of traditions he had picked up in the interior
of this country; but all he told me was in such a jumbled state that
I could not retain it, but requested the learned and drunken Rabbi
to commit to paper the subject-matter of our conversation.

I send you a translation of the Hebrew original.

From the _preface_ you will expect much; but, alas! there is only
the phantom of a skeleton, whose doubtful apparition leaves us big
with fancies and uncertainty. The man knows nothing of geography or
history, except the Bible.

You will be struck with the tradition of the Jews of the interior
respecting the tribe of Naphtali, the tombs, &c. I regret he
has curtailed greatly his verbal statements; for, amongst other
curious matter, he told me of a burial-ground of the Jews in the
interior—some mile or mile and a half in circumference.

The story about the Israelite warriors is curious, but the staining
of the hair before battle looks more like the Goths.

Judah supposes that Wadan is much nearer the Red Sea than it really
is; but if the Naphtali tribes fled from captivity, through Central
Africa, towards Dra and the South of Morocco, one of the first towns
or villages at which they would have found means of subsistence,
would have been Wadden or Yaden.

The names of the places and towns are so different from those given
in our maps, as indeed they always appear to be when mentioned by
natives of the interior, that I can hardly recognise them, and have
no time just now to refer to my maps of Africa.

Judah has promised to send me a further memorandum, but the fumes
of ‘agua ardiente’ will, I fear, stifle all recollection of
his promise.


                     TRANSLATION FROM THE HEBREW.

I am about to give a description respecting my brethren of Israel,
who, through captivity, are now dwelling in Western Barbary, and to
tell—as far as my knowledge permits—of their state, their mode
of living and genealogy; being in conformity with what has been
related to me by wise old men and persons of integrity and good
faith, incapable of stating an untruth. I will further relate what
I have personally witnessed during the travels of my youth, as also
the information I have obtained from ancient and exact tradition,
both in manuscript and in print.

It is well known that when Sennacherib (? Shalmaneser[15]), king
of Assyria, conquered the people of Israel, these (the Israelites),
were led into captivity to Lahleh (? Halah) and Habor. Thence all the
Israelite tribe of Naphtali, or the greater portion thereof, sought
refuge in Vaden, a town situated on the limits of Guinea (meaning
Central Africa), which town had at that time direct communication with
Lahleh and Habor. From Vaden they (the Israelites) were scattered to
Daha[16], Tafilelt, and Vakka[17] which are situated on the confines
of the Province of Daha towards Ofran, according to the writings of
the pious Rabbi, Jakob Benisargan, who places Vakka upon the borders
of the river of Daha. Thus were the Israelites spread throughout
the interior of Africa.

In Vaden there is a large burial ground of Jews, whose sepulchres are
covered with slabs of stone bearing very intelligible epitaphs. In
Vaden there is a synagogue where fragments of the Pentateuch and of
the Prophets, written on parchment, are to be found.

In Ofran is to be seen a carved stone with a Hebrew inscription
which has existed since the destruction of the first temple. In
the burial ground there are several tombstones bearing epitaphs,
of which the genealogy is written in the Hebrew character but in
the Arabic tongue: some of these are dated three hundred years ago,
others go as far back as twelve hundred years.

From Ofran you journey to Eleg[18], where there exists a large
congregation of Jews; exactly as is related by the famous and
illustrious Rabbi, Izak Barseset. In Ofran there stands a building
which it is supposed was erected by one of the ancient kings
of Western Barbary. It is constructed with large hewn square
stones. There are also ruins of buildings which are supposed to
be Roman.

Then comes the town of Telin, and later that of Thala, where
there exists even at the present time an immense stone, and at its
foot is a pool of water. The old people of the place tell you of a
tradition that upon this stone the Israelite warriors prepared a dye
of ‘henna[19]’, with which they dyed their hair before going to
battle. They relate that the number of the said warriors amounted to
four hundred thousand cavalry. It is said that on one occasion the
enemies of these warriors treacherously came to offer peace upon any
conditions that might be imposed. The peace having been concluded
on the sacred day of Kipur[20], all the Israelites were unarmed,
but the enemy had hidden their own arms in the sand.

The Israelites, glad to profit by so advantageous a peace—and not
suspecting any treachery—approached the hostile army, perceiving
also that they had no arms, when suddenly a preconcerted signal
was given, and the latter, rushing upon the Israelites, cut them
to pieces. One slave alone survived this most fatal misfortune,
and he buried the bodies of the slain. On account of their number
he put ten bodies into each grave, but for the last grave there
were only nine bodies, so the slave—overwhelmed with grief and
sorrow—threw himself into the grave to complete the ten. Even to
the present time this spot is called ‘The sepulchre of the ten.’

At a little distance from Eleg, there is a celebrated fountain called
Ras-el-Ain (the source of the spring), so called because there is
a spring of water at forty fathoms below the surface. The fountain
can be followed three days’ journey irrigating the olive, fig,
pomegranate, almond, and palm trees, and the land is also thereby
watered for the cultivation of grain and vegetables.

The following towns or villages are to be noted as having Hebrews
among the population: Zaachian, Lasakia, Takulebat, Torribat,
Bardlaiimi, and Taheret[21]. This last-mentioned town is noted for
being the birthplace of many learned Jews and Rabbis in very ancient
times. The most celebrated and illustrious Rabbi, Judah El Hayugni,
was born at Taheret. He it was who founded the grammar of our sacred
language.

Beyond Taheret is the town of Lasats, which has a large Jewish
population. In it there are gardens and fruit trees, which are
cultivated with great success.

The best limes in Barbary are grown here, and are used in the
religious ceremonies of the Jews throughout Morocco.


Mulai Hashem, a native of Tafilelt, tells me that the Jews are very
numerous in his country. He says there are two races of Jews among
them, one race has been in Tafilelt since eight years previous to
the Hegira of Mohammed, the other having been brought in by a chief
named Mulai Ali, the son of Mulai Hassan.

Mulai Ali, says my informant, had purchased these Jews from
some distant country of the East—where he found them in great
distress—and he gave fifty pieces of money for each: what money
he does not know.

Mulai Hashem says that these two races are thus distinguished. The
older race have the whole head shaved. The colony brought by Mulai
Ali leave a small segment of a circle unshaved on the top of the
forehead. These latter also wear a black cap, somewhat pointed at
the top, where it is made to curl down on one side of the face.

The Jewesses are not dressed like those that live in Tangier, but
in the costume of the Moorish woman, and wear rich dresses with
jewels. They are however to be distinguished from the Moorish woman
by the arrangement of their hair, which the latter draw backwards
from either side of the forehead over the temples to the back of the
head; whereas the Jewesses (unmarried) twist their hair in circles
on the top of the head. The married Jewesses are not allowed by the
law to show their hair. This law, by the way, is not from the Bible,
but is an invention of the Rabbis.

The Jews, said Mulai Hashem, are well treated in Tafilelt, whilst
they behave well and according to the rules laid down for them;
which, by the specimen of one that he gave, appear sufficiently
humiliating—viz. that should a Jew pass or be passed by a Sheríf,
he, the Jew, must take off his shoes; or, if mounted, must dismount,
unless specially absolved by the Sheríf.

He tells me that they exercise all the crafts which are practised
in the country, except tilling the soil. It appears that the Jews
themselves seldom, if ever, accompany the ‘kafilas’ (caravans),
but, he says, they have commercial dealings with the Sudan country.

It would appear that the Tafilelt Jews are much at their ease,
if one may judge from the joking adage—according to Mulai Hashem
common in Tafilelt—that ‘forty Mohammedans work for one Jew.’
Mulai Hashem said that the Filali Jews, or Jews of Tafilelt, speak the
Shloh tongue as well as the Arabic, and whenever they wish to say what
they would not have known to Moors or others they speak in Hebrew.

A learned Jew of this country tells me that all Arabs and Moors
whose names are composed with Ben are of an Israelitish origin.

Mulai Hashem tells me that the following oath is administered in his
country to the Jews, and that they will rather give back anything
they may have come by unjustly than take so grave an oath:—

‘By God, there is no other God but He, the Eternal and Just—who
uttered His word upon the mighty hill—and by the truth of the
existence of the two palm-trees which meet together over the river
_Sebts_, and by the Book of Moses—peace be upon him—and by the
Ten Commandments delivered unto Moses, and by all that is contained
in his Book, the _Gadi_, God forbid that I should add or diminish
in this affair, else may God destroy my memory, and may the name of
my family be never mentioned in the world.’

_Sebts_ is the Arabic for Sabbath, and is here applied to the fabled
river called by the Jews Sabbatyon.

It is not clear what is meant by _Gadi_.

A Jewish Rabbi, named Benshiten, tells me that two and a half tribes
of Israel are the portion which make up the number of Jews that
are found in Europe and Africa—and the remaining nine and a half
are found to exist on the East of a river which is named Sabbatyon,
and is said to be to the East of Mecca. This river, said he, has the
peculiarity of the stones in its bed fighting with each other all
the week excepting the Sabbath, on which day Hebrews cannot travel;
so that the nine and a half tribes cannot communicate with their
separated brethren.


Mr. Hay, it may be added, was the first to break through some of the
despotic rules imposed by the Moors on the Jews. On his arrival at
Tangier in 1844 the Hebrew interpreters attached to the different
Consulates were obliged to remove—as did their brethren—their
slippers on passing a mosque or other sanctuary. When he paid
his visit of ceremony to the Basha, on succeeding his father as
Consul-General and Political Agent, Mr. Hay went, according to the
custom of those days, in full uniform. He was accompanied by his
staff, of which one member—the Interpreter, Mr. David Sicsu—was a
Jew, a shrewd and able man, who had been attached for some years to
the British Consulate. On their way to the Basha’s residence they
passed the great mosque. Mr. Hay noticed that Sicsu stopped and took
off his shoes; so turning, he called out to him in a loud voice, that
all might hear, ‘What are you doing? Put on your shoes. Remember
you are an English employé and, as such, have all the privileges of
British subjects. If ever you do that again, I shall dismiss you.’

Also, on his first visit to the Sultan’s Court, in 1846, Mr. Hay
insisted on his Jewish interpreters being allowed to ride about the
capital on mule-back, and to enjoy the same rights and privileges
as granted to other members of his staff.

It is only within the last thirty years that Jews in Morocco—not
foreign employés or protected subjects—have been allowed to assume
the European dress, or to wear yellow slippers or red caps when in
native costume. Formerly they were compelled to confine themselves
to black slippers and caps and the Jewish gaberdine.




                              CHAPTER X.

        DIFFICULTIES OF MR. HAY’S POSITION AT TANGIER. 1846-54.


With characteristic energy and perseverance Mr. Hay endeavoured to
increase the influence and develope the trade of Great Britain in
Morocco, then greatly on the decline. But at every turn he met with
many obstacles. Not the least of these was the warlike attitude of
France towards Morocco as compared with the peaceful policy of Great
Britain. To the ignorant, barbarian Moors quiet strength appeared
to be weakness, while they were in a corresponding degree impressed
by the restless activity of the French, who, in consequence of the
machinations of Abd-el-Kader, were then on uneasy terms with the
Sultan, and left no means untried to consolidate their influence and
to acquire sole predominance over him. In pursuance of these objects
the French Representatives, with whom Mr. Hay individually was on
excellent terms, were unceasing in their efforts to promote French
interests and gained over to their cause all the most powerful men
connected with the Moorish Court,—not a difficult matter with a
corrupt and venal Government.

The Sultan dared not depend on the countenance of any nation but
the French—fearing that the latter power, if he sought other
protection, might, on the pretext of sending a force in pursuit of
Abd-el-Kader or rebel Algerian tribes, invade Maroquin territory. But
the natives generally were strongly in favour of Great Britain and
hostile to France.

Legitimate commerce, then principally in British hands, was ever on
the decrease, while contraband traffic was largely increasing.

Mr. Hay urged that, to counterbalance French military influence,
a more authoritative tone must be adopted by Great Britain in her
dealings with the Sultan, and that certain commercial concessions
and reforms should be demanded. He also advised that more frequent
visits should be paid by British men-of-war to Moorish ports, from
which some vessel of the French navy was seldom absent, while British
ships were rarely seen. A year later he pointed out that his rank,
as Consul-General and Agent only, militated against his efforts
to increase British influence, since both the French and Spanish
Governments had Ministers accredited to the Moorish Court, and the
Moors, who neither had newspapers of their own nor read those of
other countries, who had no postal system, and no native society in
which Europeans could mingle, estimated the comparative importance
of different nations by the status of their respective employés.

Mr. Hay’s efforts were not unrecognised by the Foreign
Office. Encouraging letters reached him from the Chief Clerk
signifying Lord Palmerston’s satisfaction, and at the close of
1847 he was promoted to the rank of Chargé d’Affaires.

It was also owing to Mr. Hay’s persistent representations that
duties on imported goods were, in September, 1848, reduced ten
per cent. The reduction gave fresh impetus to British trade and
prevented its diversion into Franco-Algerian channels which seemed
at one time imminent.

In the meantime the feelings of the people of Morocco were growing
still more in favour of Great Britain and antagonistic to the policy
of the Sultan. This potentate evinced great ill-will to Mr. Hay,
and even threatened at various times to insist on his recall, should
he persist, as hitherto, in enforcing the claims of British subjects.

This ill-will on the part of the Sultan arose, no doubt, in great
measure from his having been erroneously led to believe by evil
advisers in 1844 that Great Britain would employ armed force on
behalf of the Moors, and from his conviction that she had broken
faith in failing to do so.

A better feeling towards Great Britain was brought about, however,
by an act of kindly courtesy on the part of Her Majesty’s
Government. In July, 1849, a British vessel of war was sent to conduct
H.S.M.’s two sons to Alexandria, whence they were to journey to
Mecca, the same vessel afterwards bringing them back. This act of
kindness was received with great gratitude by the Sultan, and in
acknowledgement he shortly after sent to the Queen a present of wild
animals, horses and specimens of Moorish manufactures. Several Moors
accompanied the Sultan’s gift to the Queen and, on their return,
in May, 1850, Mr. Hay wrote to Mr. Addington, then Chief Clerk at the
Foreign Office, telling him of their delight at their reception:—


The Moors have returned, delighted with their visit to the land
of the Nazarenes. Around my house, groups of respectable men
may be seen listening to the wondrous tales of Kaid Abd-el-Kerim
or of my groom. The old chief hunter, Hadj Abdallah, sits in his
village—amidst a motley crowd of Arabs and Rifians—telling them
of the magnificence and wonders of London, and the kindness the poor
Moors received, from the Queen down to the servants that assisted
them. He proclaims loudly to the astonished fanatics that power,
wealth, honesty, and charity are to be found in the land of the
Infidel and not in the land of the Moslem.

The Hadj tells me that at one time he had almost lost his reason in
thinking over what he had seen. His stories have amused me as much
as they do the Moors, and I have been almost inclined to publish
the ‘Travels of the Hadj,’ or get my brother to do so, as I am
rather lazy about writing when it is not a duty.

All the Moors talk much of the Queen and Prince Albert, who they
declare sent for them more than once. So England and the English
are in the mouth of every Moor since the return of the travellers.


In direct contrast to this exchange of courtesies, the French had
continued their dictatorial policy and the feeling in Morocco ran
high against France.

Thus, in April, 1849, the French Chargé d’Affaires struck his
flag in consequence of an altercation with the Lieutenant-Governor
regarding a courier in French employ who had been imprisoned by that
official. This courier was found carrying letters of a purely private
character from Abd-el-Kader to his former lieutenant, then a State
prisoner at Fas. The Moorish Government refused to release the courier
who eventually died in prison. After much negotiation and pacific
counsel on the part of the Neapolitan Consul, who was in charge of
French interests, and of Mr. Hay—who, as he wrote to a relative,
could not have worked harder to bring about a peaceful issue,
had he been himself a Frenchman—the Moors gave way and offered
every reparation. But French pride was roused. Fresh complications
ensued, and finally all the French subjects at Tangier and the
Ports embarked on board vessels of war. In the meantime the Sultan
had begun to collect troops on the Algerian frontier and war seemed
imminent. Mr. Hay hurried off to El Araish by sea and interviewed the
Moorish Minister for Foreign Affairs who, by an anomalous—though
essentially Moorish—arrangement, resided there. He succeeded in
persuading him to check all warlike preparations; but it was not
till the close of September that matters were brought to a peaceful
termination and the French flag hoisted and saluted.

In connection with the foregoing events Mr. Hay relates the following
story, which he had from an authentic source.


When relations between France and Morocco were in a critical
condition and a declaration of war seemed imminent, the Sultan sent
for Abd-el-Hadi, the Kadi of his Capital, said to be the wisest man
in Morocco, and asked him what he was to reply to the demands of
the French.

‘Refuse the infidel,’ said Abd-el-Hadi. ‘Order the destruction
of all your ports; blow up the fortifications; let every man arm
and become, as were his ancestors, a wandering Arab, and then tell
the French to do their worst!’

When Abd-el-Hadi had retired, the Sultan turned to his Uzir and said,
‘The Kadi ought to have added—Abdicate, encourage anarchy and
revolution, and destroy at once the Empire.’

It may be surmised, however, that Abd-el-Hadi was a wiser man than he
appears. Desirous of humouring his lord and master by recommending
war, he yet put his advice in a light which would show the Sultan
the folly of resisting the French.


Not only was the residence of the Minister for Foreign Affairs at El
Araish most inconvenient at all times to the Representatives—all
of whom lived at Tangier—but it necessitated, as has been seen,
frequent hurried journeys on their part to that port.

On one such occasion, Mr. Hay had proceeded to El Araish by land
to interview Sid Buselham, and had succeeded in getting from him a
reply, which he desired to forward at once to head-quarters by one of
the rare steamers to England due to leave Tangier next morning. In
expectation of this he had, on his way to El Araish, arranged that
four relays of horses were to await his return at different points
of the road between that town and Tangier, a distance of sixty
miles—and, as soon as he had obtained the Minister’s signature,
he mounted and dashed off homewards.

The Governor of El Araish, anxious for the British Agent’s safety
in those troubled times, had given orders that a mounted escort
should also await him with every fresh horse and follow him on the
road. These, however, were unable to keep pace with him. On arrival
at the little town of Azaila, situated about halfway between Tangier
and El Araish, he found no horse prepared for him. Riding at once to
the British Consular Agent’s house, Mr. Hay demanded his horse. The
Agent, a Jew, explained that it was locked up in the stable of the
Basha, who was away, and that the groom was not to be found. ‘Take
me to the stable,’ said Mr. Hay, and, calling to four men of the
little crowd of idlers that had gathered, he ordered them to lift
a large log of wood which lay near and direct it as a ram against
the door. ‘Now, all together,’ said Mr. Hay. Down came the door
with a crash, and quickly putting his saddle on the fresh horse,
and throwing money to the Agent to repay the damage to the door,
he mounted and rode on.

Before reaching the river Mishra-el-Hashef, some miles to the west of
Tangier, he found his own sturdy pony awaiting him, and riding this,
his favourite mount, he galloped to the river bank where the ferry,
rowed by two men, awaited him. Shouting to them to stand clear,
he jumped his pony into the boat, and out again on reaching the
further side. He arrived at Tangier having ridden the whole distance
in five hours.

The escorts appointed to accompany him returned to their quarters,
having failed to keep Mr. Hay in sight. ‘It was useless,’ said
they. ‘We galloped along behind him but he ran away from us, and
as soon as he had gone a little way ahead he spread large wings and
flew away with his horse!’

As Mr. Hay wore a loose Inverness cape, to protect him from sun and
weather, the fluttering of this may have suggested the idea of wings.

An account of a curious and unpleasant adventure which befell
Mr. Hay, and which points to the unsettled and fanatical state of
the inhabitants of Tangier at that time is given in the following
letter to his wife’s sister, Mme. Marcussen.


                                                      _July 29_, 1849.

I have also had an affair—and as it may probably be stuffed into
some newspaper which might report my death, as was done once before,
I will tell you about it in a few words.

A few days ago I was accompanying A., perched on her donkey, and
the two children to Madame F.’s. On passing through the little
market-place I had remained rather behind to take care of R., who was
holding my hand, when I was assailed with abuse without the slightest
cause by a wild-looking Hadj from the interior—and, on my calling
on the bystanders to arrest him, the fanatic made at me and struck
me a blow in the face and on the shoulder, hitting also by chance
poor little R. I had nothing in my hand but my little gold-headed
cane. Of this, however, I made good use; for I immediately struck the
bare head of the Moslem who instantly fell to the ground, stunned,
with a gash of several inches from which issued torrents of blood,
whilst the wretch looked livid and appeared to be quivering in the
convulsions of death. Several of the Hadj’s brethren were near me,
but they all seemed so alarmed at the fate of the wounded man that
they did not venture within reach of my little stick. You may imagine
my astonishment at the effect of such a blow from so small a weapon,
and you may imagine also, though I was justified in defending myself,
my horror at the appearance of the wounded man.

The man was sent to prison and his head examined. The skull was not
hurt, but there was a large gash of the skin and plenty of blood
from a severed vein. This was soon put to rights, and as the wretch
had received a good lesson for attacking a Christian, and all his
brethren came to me to intercede for him, as he was about to embark on
board a vessel for Alexandria, I let him out of prison and prevented
Basha giving him the bastinado as he had intended. ‘Voilà tout.’


It may be added in connection with the incident here recounted
by Mr. Hay that, surrounded though he was by a crowd of angry
fanatics—very different in those remote days from the generality
of the native population as known to the tourist in these later and
more civilised times—he stood his ground, alone and undaunted, and
the moment after he had felled his assailant, his only remark was,
while pointing to the fallen man with his stick, ‘Erfed e’jifa’
(Take away the corpse).

No fear of consequences held back the wild pilgrims who hated
the Christian with the blind, unreasoning hatred of ignorance and
fanaticism; his individuality alone kept them in check, where another
man might have been torn to pieces.

The Basha, after seeing the wounded man, sent to inquire what manner
of sword Mr. Hay had employed which produced such a peculiar and
dangerous wound—and was much astonished when shown a light but
strong cane with a silver gilt head, formerly the property of Sir
Walter Scott, by whom it had been given to Mr. Hay’s father.

The attitude Mr. Hay had adopted in dealing with the barbarous
Moorish Government, his firm, upright, and frank policy, began to
bear fruit, and in 1850 he writes to his cousin, Mr. R. W. Hay,
then Under-Secretary of State for the Colonies:—


I am glad to find that the straightforward course I have always
pursued with this Government—though often not very flattering to
their vanity and fanaticism—begins to be understood and appreciated,
rather than the cajolery they are accustomed to meet with from others.


On the other hand, to Sir Stratford Canning in February, 1851,
he says:—


In this country there is nought of interest passing. Our Sultan is
a fanatic, and is guided by a set of ignorant and venal ministers,
who are doing all they can to ruin the commerce of the country by a
system of monopolies. It is no use talking or writing to those who,
it appears, won’t or can’t understand.

Their disputes with the French, about frontier, &c., have ceased for
the moment, but there are difficulties we must expect to the end of
the chapter—or rather, until Algiers becomes Morocco or Morocco
part of Algiers.


The difficulties he anticipated were not long in abeyance. In the
following December, in a letter to Mme. Marcussen, he tells her:—


The French bombarded Salli on the 25th ult., without giving any
notice to us here or to the Sultan or his Government. Not much
harm is done to the town: some thirteen persons killed in all,
and the French have five killed and thirty wounded. One of their
steam frigates was compelled to retire from the combat. After the
bombardment they came here, and all the petty affairs they had to
settle were settled at once—as they would have been before the
bombardment if they would only have been inclined to arrange matters
amicably. They saluted the town and peace was concluded. A reference
was then made to the Sultan. His Majesty accepts the peace, but asks
for explanations about bombardment; so B.[22] has taken umbrage and
embarks with all the French subjects, or most of them, leaving the
French flag flying and the Sardinian Consul-General in charge. It
has been mere bullying; the strong trampling on the weak.


In the midst of these difficulties Mr. Hay continued to press upon
the Moorish Government the necessity of a more liberal policy in
matters of trade; but French schemes of political aggrandisement
and the natural apathy of the Sultan, combined with fear of France,
for the time rendered his best endeavours fruitless. In 1853 Mr. Hay
seemed as far from his object as ever. Writing in that year to
Mme. Marcussen, he says:—


I have been very busy, and have been compelled to suspend all
relations with the Moorish Court—though I do not strike my flag. I
have given them ten days in which to give way, and have no doubt
they will. My demands have reference to our rights in trade in this
country, which we are anxious to place on a better footing, not only
for Great Britain but for Morocco itself and all countries.

The Moorish Government have announced that they send an Envoy to
England; and his object, it is reported, is to complain of the
insistance and _audacity_ which I have shown in this negotiation. I
am delighted at this manœuvre because it will only tend finally to
show these people I am acting up to my instructions and the views
of Government. So much for Moorish politics.


Such representations on the part of the Moorish Government to the
British Foreign Office were not likely to bear much weight, as may
be gathered from the following farewell letter addressed to Mr. Hay
by Mr. Addington, then retiring from his post as Chief Clerk at the
Foreign Office.


                                                       _May 18_, 1854.

  MY DEAR SIR,

I have been much gratified by the receipt of your letter, written
on hearing of my retirement from the Foreign Office. . . .

No act of mine, while I was in office, is remembered by me with
more satisfaction and confidence than the part I had in forwarding
your appointment to the post which you now enjoy so creditably to
yourself and so beneficially to the public.

Some thought so _young_ an appointment hazardous. I felt satisfied
it would succeed, and I therefore pushed it on so far as it depended
on me. And it _has_ succeeded, and will yet succeed.

Go on, without swerving, in the same track; vigorous but temperate;
straightforward; never condescending to indulge in paltry and
un-English intrigue or tortuosity; but not despising the ‘reculer
pour mieux sauter’ principle whenever you find turning the bull’s
flank more likely to succeed than taking him by the horns; and always
remembering that, ‘suaviter in modo, fortiter in re,’ is the
real adage for subduing the world and any individual in it.

I wish you every success, and am ever yours very sincerely,

                                                     H. CH. ADDINGTON.




                              CHAPTER XI.

                           LIFE AT TANGIER.


Mr. Hay had married, in 1845, a daughter of Mr. Carstensen, a former
Danish Consul-General to Morocco. Except when the exigencies of a
climate which proved very trying in summer for children of northern
race compelled him to send them home, he, with his wife and young
family, resided either at the old Government House in Tangier or in
a villa called by him ‘The Wilderness,’ outside the walls, which
had belonged to his father-in-law. This existence was only varied
by missions to the Court or occasional visits to England. Beyond
the very small European society, composed chiefly of the various
Representatives and their families, residence in Tangier offered no
occupation for the leisure hours of a young and active man. Thrown
therefore on the resources of sport, he mingled constantly with the
wilder natives of the hills as well as with the less uncivilised
farmers and agricultural peasantry of the plains. His interest in
these folk grew, and he gained their respect and even affection.

Justice amongst these people, when regarded from a purely personal
point of view, as Mr. Hay found, often took rather a romantic than
a strictly logical form. But his hope was to gain the hearts of the
natives, and he knew that such an aim was best attained by bending
in some cases to such national prejudices and customs as those which
are illustrated in the following letter to his mother.


                           ‘The Wilderness,’ Tangier, _June 22_, 1852.

The other night A. and I were woke by my servant Azdot informing me
he had just seized a robber who had come into the garden to steal
our horses, but that the fellow, though stabbed in the breast
by the son of Hadj Abdallah, whom he had attacked with a sword,
had managed to slip out of his jelab (outer cloak) and get away,
leaving as trophies the jelab and a sword they had wrested from him.

A quarter of an hour after I had dismissed Azdot, I heard a couple
of shots close by the house. My people had found the companion of
the robber, who attacked them and then attempted to make off and
was fired upon, but managed to get away—though tracks of blood
were found in the gap of the hedge through which he had escaped.

This morning I sent off a body of my hunters into the country, about
twelve miles from here, to where I suspected the robbers lived:
the men were identified and brought before me. They confessed their
crime, but declared that they had only come to rob the fruit.

Whilst telling the man the punishment I was about to inflict on him,
he escaped; so we raised a hue and cry, and judge and attendants
all made after him. His object, however, was only to get hold of my
horse, whose protection he claimed, according to Moorish custom. He
was again brought before me and I was compelled to let him off the
bastinado[23], condemning him to prison only. R. was standing near
me at the time and, to his surprise, the robber sprang towards him,
and seizing him by the hand said to me, ‘I call on you in God’s
name and for the love of this boy, under the hem of whose garment
I seek refuge, to have pity on me.’

After this appeal there was no use in talking of punishing the man,
and the upshot of all was that I caused the rascal to pay a doubloon
to my men and two of the Kaid’s soldiers for arresting him. The
man and his brother are the Robin Hoods of this neighbourhood, and,
grateful for my pardon, declare that they are ready to defend me
and mine whenever I call on them: or if any of my cows, camels,
or horses are robbed to cause them to be restored.

Our Governor has given an order to my people to kill any man coming
into my garden at night. This order is published: so we are safer
from thieves than you are in England. I have generally some dozen
fine fellows, armed to the teeth, who guard my garden all night,
and who seek for no other compensation than to be my friends.


The promise made by the robber was faithfully kept, and Mr. Hay reaped
the reward of his leniency in after years, as, by this clan at least,
his property was always respected.

An indefatigable sportsman, Mr. Hay delighted in expeditions into
remote districts of the country in pursuit of game. It was thus in
part that he acquired his intimate knowledge of the character of
the people. Brought into personal contact with the wild tribesmen,
in circumstances which strongly appealed to their natural chivalry,
he gained an influence among them which he was often able to turn
to useful account. A good illustration of his power of dealing with
the native races is afforded by his suppression of piracy among the
Rifians. The story is told in his own words.


Before the year 1856, vessels becalmed on the Rif coast between the
Algerian frontier and the Spanish fortress Peñon, which is situated
about sixty miles to the eastward of the Moorish port of Tetuan,
were frequently captured by Rifian ‘karebs,’ large galleys manned
by thirty or forty men, armed with long guns, pistols, and daggers.

When a vessel becalmed, drawn by the current, approached the Rif
coast, especially in the vicinity of the village of Benibugaffer, near
Cape ‘Tres Forcas,’ about fifteen miles to the westward of the
Spanish fortress of Melilla, the natives launched their ‘karebs,’
hidden in nooks on the rocky coast, or buried under sand, and set
out in pursuit, firing volleys as they neared the vessel. The crew,
if they had not escaped in the ship’s boats when the piratical
craft hove in sight, were made prisoners, but were not in general
ill-treated unless they attempted to offer resistance.

On landing, they were compelled to labour in the fields, receiving a
daily allowance of very coarse food. The captured vessel was rifled
of cargo and rigging, and then burnt, so as to leave no vestige.

In the year 1851 a British vessel was taken by the ‘karebs’
of Benibugaffer.

In pursuance of instructions from H.M.’s Government, a strong
representation was made by me to the Sultan of Morocco, then Mulai
Abderahman, demanding that the pirates should be chastised, that
compensation should be given to the owner of the vessel, and that
energetic steps should be taken by His Sherifian Majesty to put a
stop to these piratical acts of his lawless subjects of the Rif.

The Sultan, on the receipt of this demand, dispatched officers
from his Court to the Rif country with a Sherifian edict to the
chieftains, directing that the sums demanded for the destruction
of British property should be paid, and threatening, if further
piracies were committed, to send a force into the Rif to chastise
his rebellious subjects.

No attention was paid to this edict, for though the Rifians
acknowledge the Sultan of Morocco as ‘Kaliph[24] Allah,’
H.M. being a direct descendant from the Prophet, and though they allow
a governor of Rif extraction to be appointed by him to reside amongst
them, they do not admit of his interference in the administration
of government or in any kind of legislation, unless it happens he
is voluntarily appealed to in cases of dispute.

The Rifians, however, pay annually a small tribute, which is generally
composed of mules and honey, the latter article being much cultivated
on the extensive tracts of heather in the Rif mountains. This tribute
is collected by the Governor and transmitted to the Sultan.

After a lengthened correspondence with the Moorish Court, negotiations
were closed by the Sultan declaring he had no power of control
over the mountainous districts in the Rif, and therefore declining
to be held responsible for the depredations committed on vessels
approaching that coast. The British Government then dispatched a
squadron to Gibraltar under Admiral Sir Charles Napier, with orders
to embark a regiment at that garrison, and to proceed to the Rif
coast to chastise the lawless inhabitants.

On his arrival at the Spanish fort of Melilla, which is about fifty
miles to the westward of the Algerian frontier, Sir Charles called
on the Spanish Governor and requested him to invite the chiefs of
the neighbouring villages to come to Melilla to meet him.

On their arrival, the Admiral demanded compensation for the losses
sustained by the owner of the British vessels which had been
captured. The Rifians cunningly evaded discussion by replying that
they could not accede to demands which did not emanate from the
Sultan, whose orders they declared they would be prepared to obey.

Sir Charles accepted these vague assurances[25]; and with this
unsatisfactory result returned with the squadron to Gibraltar, and
addressed to me a communication, making known the language held to
him by the Rifians, and requesting that I would dispatch an express
courier to the Moorish Court to call upon the Sultan to give the
requisite orders to the Rifians who, he declared, were prepared
to obey, though he admitted he was ignorant of the names of the
chieftains with whom he had the parley.

In my reply to the Admiral I expressed my belief that the Rifians
had cunningly given these vague assurances to induce him to depart
with his ships from their coast, and that I apprehended the Sultan
would express his surprise that we should have been led to suppose
that the piratical and rebellious inhabitants of the Rif coast would
pay compensation or give other satisfaction, in pursuance of any
orders which H.S.M. might issue.

In this sense, as I had expected, the Sultan replied to my note;
holding out, however, a hope, which had been expressed in past years,
that he would seek at a more favourable moment to make the Rif
population, who had been from time immemorial in a semi-independent
state, more subservient to his control.

Some months after the squadron had returned to England, a British
vessel, becalmed off the village of Benibugaffer, was taken by a
Rifian piratical craft, and the English crew were made captives.

Tidings having reached Gibraltar of the capture of the British ship,
a gunboat was sent to Melilla to endeavour to obtain, through the
intervention of the Spanish authorities and an offer of a ransom,
the release of the British sailors, but this step was not attended
with success. Having heard that the Englishmen who had been captured
had been presented by the pirates to a Rif Marábet (or holy man)
named Alhádari, who resided on the coast, and as I had in past
years been in friendly communication with this person regarding
some Rifians who had proceeded in a British vessel to the East on
a pilgrimage to Mecca, and had been provided by me with letters of
recommendation to British Consular officers, I wrote him a friendly
letter, expressing the indignation I felt at the outrages which had
been committed by his piratical brethren on British vessels; that
I had been informed the authorities at Gibraltar had endeavoured,
when they heard British sailors were in the hands of the pirates, to
pay a ransom for their freedom, but had failed, as exorbitant demands
had been put forward; and that since I had learnt my countrymen were
in his hands, I felt satisfied they would be well treated, and that
he would facilitate at once their release and return to Gibraltar;
that I entertained too high an opinion of him to suppose he would
not consent to their release except on the payment of a ransom,
and therefore I would make no offer to purchase the liberty of my
countrymen, but renewed those assurances of friendship and goodwill,
of which I said I had already given proof in the past treatment of
his brethren.

Alhádari replied that the sailors were under his care, had been
well treated, and would be embarked in the first vessel which might
be sent to receive them.

This engagement was faithfully executed, and at my suggestion the
authorities at Gibraltar sent a suitable present to the worthy
Marábet. I wrote also to thank Alhádari, and to beg that he would
use his influence to put a stop to the disgraceful outrages committed
in past years by his brethren on the lives and property of British
subjects, and to say that I should probably take an opportunity of
seeking to have a parley with the chiefs, in the hope of coming to an
understanding with them to bring about a cessation of these outrages;
adding, that if my friendly intervention did not put a stop to the
piracy of his brethren, the British Government would be compelled,
in concert with the Sultan, to resort to hostile measures on a large
scale, and send forces by sea and land to chastise these rebellious
subjects of His Sherifian Majesty.

In the spring of 1856 H.M. frigate Miranda, Captain Hall, arrived
at Tangier with directions to convey me to the coast of Rif, and I
embarked on April 21, taking with me a Rifian friend, Hadj Abdallah
Lamarti, who was Sheikh of a village near Tangier called Suanni,
whose inhabitants are Rifians, or of Rif extraction.

Hadj Abdallah had left the Rif in consequence of a blood feud. He
was the chief of the boar-hunters at Tangier, and was looked up to
with respect, not only by the rural population in the neighbourhood
of that town, who are chiefly of Rif extraction, but also by the
local authorities, who frequently employed him in the settlement of
disputes with the refractory tribes in the mountainous districts of
the Tangier province.

We steamed along the rocky coast of Rif and touched at the Spanish
garrisons of Peñon and Alhucema. The former is a curious little rock,
separated from the mainland by a very narrow channel. A colonel and
a few soldiers garrisoned the fortress, which is apparently of no
possible use, though the authorities at that time might have aided
in checking piracy by stopping the passage of the Rif galleys. The
rock is so small that there was not a walk fifty yards long on any
part of it.

On the island of Alhucema, so called from the wild lavender that
grows there, we also landed. The Spanish authorities were civil, but
held out no hopes of being able to take steps to put a stop to piracy.

This island is also an insignificant possession, about half a
mile distant from the mainland. The inhabitants had occasional
communication with the Rifians, hoisting a flag of truce whenever a
boat was dispatched to the shore; but Spaniards were not at that time
allowed to make excursions on the mainland, nor were they permitted
to obtain provisions except a few fowls, eggs, and honey.

On our arrival at Melilla, the Governor, Colonel Buceta[26], received
us courteously. I made known to him that the British Government had
directed me to proceed to the coast of Rif, to endeavour to come to
an understanding with the chiefs with the view of putting a stop
to piracy on that coast, the Sultan of Morocco having declared he
had no power of control over his lawless subjects, who had shown
an utter disregard of the peremptory orders which had been issued
to restore British property captured by their piratical galleys;
that in order to carry out this object I was anxious to have an
interview with some of the chiefs, not only of the villages on the
coast where the owners of the piratical galleys dwelt, but more
especially with the chiefs of the neighbouring inland villages, as
the latter derived no immediate benefit from the plunder of shipping.

Colonel Buceta endeavoured to dissuade me from this purpose, reminding
me that Sir Charles Napier had failed in obtaining any beneficial
result from his parley with the Rifians who had an interview with
him in Melilla.

Perceiving from the Governor’s language that he entertained those
feelings of jealousy which prevail with Spaniards regarding the
intervention of any foreign Government in the affairs of Morocco,
I let him understand that, should no beneficial result be obtained
by my visit in putting a stop to the outrages committed on merchant
vessels approaching the Rif coast, it would become a serious matter
for the consideration of our Government whether steps should not be
taken to inflict a chastisement on the Rifians by landing a force, and
in conjunction with the Sultan’s troops which might be dispatched,
at our instigation, for that purpose, to destroy the hamlets and boats
on the coast. The question might also arise, perhaps, of erecting a
fortress in some sheltered spot where a gunboat could be placed to
guard the coast against pirates, which I observed the authorities
at Spanish fortresses had hitherto been unable to effect.

This language sufficed to decide Colonel Buceta to accede to my
wishes; but he informed me that, in consequence of late acts of
aggression on the part of the natives, all communication with the
garrison had been cut off, and that no Rifians were allowed to
enter; it was therefore out of the question that he could admit any
chieftains into Spanish territory. Neither did he think the latter
would be disposed to venture into the gates of the fortress.

I then proposed to be allowed to dispatch my Rifian friend Hadj
Abdallah Lamarti with an invitation to some of the neighbouring
chiefs, both on the seaboard and inland, to meet me on the neutral
ground.

Colonel Buceta assented, but he repeated that he could not admit
any Rifians into the garrison, nor send an escort to accompany me,
should I pass the gates to go into the Rif country, adding that he
thought I should be incurring a serious risk of being carried off a
prisoner by the Rifians, if in the parley I should happen to express
myself in language such as I had used to him regarding the outrages
committed by these lawless people.

His predecessor, he informed me, in consequence of the frequent
hostilities which had taken place between the natives and the
garrison, had proposed to have a meeting with some chieftains within
the garrison. This they declined, fearing, as they alleged, some
act of treachery; but it was finally agreed that they should meet
the Governor on the neutral ground; that he could bring an escort of
twenty-five armed men, and that the chiefs would also be accompanied
by an equal number of followers; that the Governor and one chief,
both unarmed, were to advance to a central spot that was selected
about 150 yards distant from where their followers assembled, and
that the Spanish Governor could also bring with him an interpreter.

This arrangement was carried out, and a Rifian chief, a man of
gigantic stature and herculean frame, advanced to meet the Spanish
Governor.

The parley commenced in a friendly manner; propositions were made
by each party regarding the conditions upon which peaceful relations
were to be re-established; but without bringing about any result.

The Spanish Governor, finding the demands put forward by the
chieftain to be of an unacceptable character, expressed himself
strongly on the subject. A warm dispute ensued, and on the Governor
using some offensive expression, the Rifian seized in his brawny
arms the Governor, who was a little man, and chucking him over his
shoulders like a sack of grain, called out to the Spanish detachment
of soldiers to blaze away, and at the same time to his own men to
fire if the Spanish soldiers fired or attempted to advance, whilst
the chieftain ran off with the Governor, who was like a shield on
his back, to his followers.

The officer in command of the Spanish detachment, fearing that the
Governor might be killed, did not venture to let his men fire or
advance, and the Governor was carried off prisoner to a village about
three miles off on the hills, and notice was then sent to the fortress
that he would not be released until a ransom of 3000 dollars was sent.

The Rifians kept the Governor prisoner until a reference was made to
Madrid, and orders were sent for the ransom to be paid. ‘Now,’
said Colonel Buceta, ‘your fate if you trust yourself to these
treacherous people will probably be the same, and I shall be quite
unable to obtain your release.’

I thanked the Governor for the advice, but declared that I must
fulfil my mission and was prepared to run all risks, having been
accustomed for many years to deal with Rifians at Tangier.

Buceta then consented that I should be allowed to pass the gates of
the garrison and invite the chiefs of the neighbouring Rif villages
to a parley on the neutral ground.

Colonel Buceta, a distinguished officer well known for his great
courage and decision, was I believe, on the whole, pleased that I
held to my purpose, though he warned me again and again that I was
incurring a great risk, and that in no manner could he intervene, if
I and the English officer who might accompany me were taken prisoners.

My messenger returned and informed me that the neighbouring chiefs,
both of the inland and of the piratical villages of Benibugaffer,
would meet me on the neutral ground as had been proposed to them.

Accompanied by Capt. Hall, who commanded H.M.’s frigate Miranda,
my friend Hadj Abdallah, and a ‘kavass,’ we proceeded to the
rendezvous.

Five or six chiefs awaited our advent, attended by some hundred
followers, stalwart fellows, many of them more than six feet high.

The chiefs wore brown hooded dresses, not unlike the costume of
a Franciscan friar; but part of the shirt-sleeves and front were
embroidered with coloured silks. Handsome leather-belts girded their
loins. A few of the elders wore white woollen ‘haiks,’ like unto
the Roman toga or mantle without seam, such as our Saviour is said
to have worn.

Some of the wild fellows had doffed their outer garments, carrying
them on their shoulders as they are wont to do when going to
battle. Their inner costume was a white cotton tunic, coming down
to the knees, with long wide sleeves fastened behind the back by a
cord. Around their loins each wore a leathern girdle embroidered in
coloured silk, from which on the one side hung a dagger and a small
pouch for bullets; while on the other was suspended a larger leathern
pouch or bag prettily embroidered and having a deep fringe of leather,
in which powder is carried; containing also a pocket to carry the
palmetto fibre, curiously enough called ‘lif,’ used instead
of wads over powder and ball. Their heads were closely shaved,
except that on the right side hung a long lock of braided hair,
carefully combed and oiled. Several of them were fair men with brown
or red beards, descendants perhaps of those Goths who crossed over
into Africa.

The wild fellows reclined in groups on a bank, immediately behind
where the chiefs were standing to receive us. After mutual greetings
I addressed them in Arabic, which though not the common language,
for Berber is spoken in the Rif, yet is understood by the better
classes, who learn to read the Koran and to write in the ‘jama’
or mosque school. The Berber is not a written language.

‘Oh, men! I come amongst you as a friend; an old friend of the
Mussulmans. I have been warned that Rifians are not to be trusted,
and that I and those who accompany me are in danger of treachery; but
I take no heed of such warnings, for Rifians are renowned for bravery,
and brave men never act in a dastardly manner. My best friends at
Tangier are Rifians, or those whose sires came from the Rif, such
as my friend here, Hadj Abdallah Lamarti. They are my hunters, and
I pass days and nights with them out hunting, and am treated by them
and look upon them as my brethren; so here I have come to meet you,
with the Captain of the frigate, unarmed, as you see, and without
even an escort of my countrymen from the ship-of-war lying there,
or from the Spanish garrison, for I felt sure I should never require
protection in the Rif against any man.’

‘You are welcome,’ exclaimed the chiefs. ‘The English have
always been our friends,’ and a murmur of approval ran through
the groups of armed men seated on the bank.

‘Yes!’ I continued, ‘the English have always been the friends
of the Sultan, the ‘Kaliph Allah,’ and of his people.

‘You are all Mussulmans, and as followers of the Prophet every year
a number of your brethren, who have the means, go to the shrine of the
Prophet at Mecca, as required by your religion. How do they go? In
English vessels from Tangier, as you know, and they are therefore,
when on board, under the English flag and protection. They are
well treated and their lives and property are safe. They return
to Tangier in the same manner, and many of them have come to me to
express their gratitude for the recommendations I have given them
to English officers in the East, and the kindness they have received
at their hands.

‘These facts, I think, are known to you; but let us now consider
what is the conduct of certain Rifians,—not all, I am happy to add,
but those who dwell on the coast and possess ‘karebs,’ for the
alleged purpose of trade with Tangier and Tetuan, and for fishing.

‘The inhabitants of these coast villages, especially of the
neighbouring village of Benibugaffer, when they espy a peaceful
merchant vessel becalmed off their coast, launch a ‘kareb’ with
forty or fifty armed men, and set out in pursuit. The crews of these
merchant vessels are unarmed, and generally consist of not more than
eight or nine men. When they observe a ‘kareb’ approaching with
a hostile appearance, they escape in their little boats to the open
sea, trusting to Providence to be picked up by some passing vessel
before bad weather sets in, which might cause their small craft to
founder. The merchant vessel is then towed to the beach, where she
is stranded, pillaged of cargo and rigging, and burnt.

‘I now appeal to all true Mussulmans whether such iniquitous
acts are not against the laws of God and of the Prophet. These
pirates are not waging war against enemies or infidels, they are
mere sea robbers, who set aside the laws of the Prophet to pillage
the peaceful ships of their friends the English, to whom they are
indebted for conveying their brethren in safety to worship at the
Holy ‘Kaaba’ of their Prophet.

‘To these English whom they rob, and also murder if they attempt
to resist, they are indebted for much of the clothing they wear,
for the iron and steel of which their arms are made, and for other
commodities. I now appeal to those Rifians who dwell in inland
villages, and who take no part in and have no profit from these
lawless acts, and I ask whether they will continue to tolerate such
infractions of Allah’s laws? Can these men of Benibugaffer who have
been guilty of frequent acts of piracy, can they be Mussulmans? No,
they must be “kaffers” (rebels against God).’ As I said this,
I heard from the mound behind me, where the Benibugaffer people were
seated, the sound of the cocking of guns, and a murmur, ‘He calls
us kaffers.’ Looking round, I perceived guns levelled at my back.

One of the elder Chiefs rose and cried out, ‘Let the English Chief
speak! What he says is true! Those who rob and murder on the seas
innocent people are not Mussulmans, for they do not obey the law
of God.’

I continued: ‘Hear what your wise Chief says. I fancied I heard a
sound like the click of a gun being cocked. Some foolish boys must
be sitting amongst the assembly, for no brave Rifians, Benibugaffers
included, would ever commit a cowardly murder on an unarmed man who
has come amongst you trusting to the honour and friendship between
the Rifians and English from ancient times.

‘You have, I think, heard that the English Government has
frequently complained to the Sultan Mulai Abderahman, the Kaliph
Allah and Emir El Mumenin (Prince of Believers), of the commission
of these outrages, and has put forward a demand for reparation and
compensation for damages.

‘The Sultan, who is the friend of the powerful Queen of England,
my Sovereign, under whose sway there are fifty million of Mussulmans
whom she governs with justice and kindness, issued his Sherifian
commands to you Rifians to cease from these outrages; but you paid
no attention to the orders of the Kaliph of the Prophet.

‘The Queen then sent a squadron to chastise the pirates and
obtain redress; but the Admiral took pity on the villages, where
innocent women and children dwelt, and did not fire a gun or burn
a ‘kareb,’ as he might have done. He had a parley with the
Benibugaffer people and other inhabitants of villages where boats
are kept.

‘They made false promises and pretended they would cease to commit
outrages, but, as was to be expected, they have broken faith, and
since that parley have been guilty of further acts of piracy. So now
I have come to see you and hear whether the Rifians in the inland
villages will continue to suffer these outrages to be committed by
those who dwell on the coast, which may expose all the honest and
innocent inhabitants of the Rif to the horrors of war.

‘I have begged that no steps should be taken by my countrymen,
lest the innocent should suffer, until I make this final attempt
to come to an understanding with you; but I have to warn you, as a
true friend, if another outrage be committed, my great and powerful
Sovereign, in conjunction with the Sultan, will send large forces
by sea and by land to carry fire and sword into your villages, and
bring the whole population under subjection. H.S.M. may then think
fit to compel the Rif tribes dwelling on the coast to migrate to
the interior of his realms, or, at any rate, they will no longer be
allowed to possess a single boat for trade, or even for fishing.

‘I now ask—Will you inland inhabitants tolerate the continuance
of piracy on the part of your brethren on the coast?—Will you brave
inhabitants of the coast continue to set Allah’s laws at defiance,
and thus expose your lives and property, and those of your inland
brethren, to destruction?’

The old Chief again spoke, and others stood up and joined him, saying:
‘He is right. We shall not allow these robberies to be committed on
our friends the English; such outrages must cease, and if continued,
we shall be prepared to chastise the guilty.’

The Benibugaffer Chiefs said, ‘We approve.’

‘I know,’ I continued, ‘you Rifians do not sign treaties or
like documents; but the words of brave men are more worthy of trust
than treaties, which are too often broken. Give me your hands.’
I held out mine. As the pledge of good faith I shook the hands of
the chiefs, including the Benibugaffer.

‘Remember,’ I said, ‘it is not English vessels, but all vessels
without exception must be respected on approaching your shores.’

‘We agree,’ they cried.

Upon which I exclaimed, ‘I have faith in your words. May God’s
mercy and blessing be on you all and grant you prosperity and
happiness! The Rifians and English shall remain true friends for
ever. I bid you farewell.’

‘Stay,’ said the chief of a neighbouring village, ‘come with us
and be our guest. We shall kill an ox to feast you and our brethren
here, and bid you welcome. You are a hunter; we shall show you sport,
and become better acquainted with each other. Upon our heads shall
be your life and those of your friends.’

Pointing to the frigate, I said: ‘That vessel has to return
immediately, and I have to report what has been done, in order to
stop all preparations for seeking through other means to obtain
the satisfaction you have so readily offered. I should have been
delighted to have gone with you and should have felt as safe as if
amongst my own countrymen. You are a brave race, incapable of doing
a wrong to a true friend. I shall never forget the manner in which
you have received me.

‘I bid you all farewell. I believe in your promises, even those
made by the Benibugaffer. Send messengers at once to the villages
on the coast and let them know the promises you have made, which
they also must be required to carry out strictly.’

The Chiefs and their followers tried all they could to persuade
me to accompany them but finally consented that I should depart,
on promising that I would some day revisit them.

Colonel Buceta was surprised to learn the result of my visit,
but said the Rifians would never keep faith, and that we should
soon hear of fresh acts of piracy. ‘In such case,’ I replied,
‘we shall have to land a force and burn every hamlet and boat on
the coast; but I have every hope the Rifians will keep faith.’

They have kept faith, and since that parley near Melilla no vessels,
either British or of other nationality, have been captured or molested
by the Rifians[27]


It was amongst these wild and lawless Rifians that Mr. Hay found the
most thorough sportsmen, and also men capable of great attachment
and devotion. Always much interested in the history of this race,
in their customs and mode of life, he wrote an interesting account
of the tribes which inhabit the north of Morocco and of his personal
intercourse with them.


The Rif province extends along the Mediterranean coast to the eastward
from a site called Borj Ustrak, in the province of Tetuan, for about
a hundred and fifty miles to the stream marked in maps as ‘Fum
Ajrud’ (mouth of Ajrud), the northern boundary between Morocco
and Algiers.

The Rif country to the southward, inland from the Mediterranean coast,
extends about thirty-five miles and on the westward is bordered by
the Tetuan province and the mountains of Khamás and Ghamára.

The population of Rif amounts, as far as can be calculated, to about
150,000 souls. The Rifians are a Berber race, and have never been
conquered by the various nations—Phœnicians, Romans, Goths, and
Arabs—who have invaded Mauritania: they have always maintained
their independence; but on the conquest of Morocco by the Arabs,
the Rifians accepted the Mohammedan faith, and acknowledged the
Sovereigns of Morocco as the Kaliphs of the Prophet.

The country is mountainous, the soil in most parts poor, and though
the Rif is rich in iron, copper, and other minerals, there are no
roads or means of conveyance to the seaboard. There are large forests
of ‘el aris[28],’ which the Rifians convey in their ‘karebs’
(sailing boats) to Tetuan and Tangier. They have no saws, so when a
tree is felled it is cut away with a hatchet until a beam or plank
is shaped, generally about ten feet long by a foot wide. This timber
has a strong aromatic odour, and when not exposed to damp is more
durable than oak. It was used for the woodwork of the Alhambra at
Granada and other Moorish palaces in Spain, and though many of the
Arabesque ornaments in plaster or stucco have fallen into decay and
walls have crumbled, this woodwork remains sound.

The Rifians are an industrious race; but their barren hills do not
produce sufficient grain to provide food for the population. Large
numbers migrate every year to different parts of Morocco, especially
to the northern provinces, and are employed to cultivate orchards and
gardens round Tangier and Tetuan. The majority of the inhabitants of
the town and neighbouring districts of Tangier are of Rif extraction.

In the Rif the natives do not submit to any authority except upon
religious or legal questions, such as marriage, inheritance, and
title deeds. The ‘f’ki,’ or chief priest in a village mosque,
draws up, with the aid of ‘tolba’ or public notaries, all legal
documents regarding marriage or property. In other matters the Rifian
does not submit to legislation; his gun, pistol, and dagger are his
judge and jury—yet crimes such as robbery, theft, or outrages on
women are rarely known, but murder from feud is rife throughout the
country to a frightful extent. No man’s life is secure, even though
he be a distant relative, such as the great-grandson, of some one
who may have taken a life thirty years before in a blood feud. The
widow of a murdered man will teach her son, as soon as he can carry
a gun or pistol, how to use those arms, and daily remind him that
his father must be avenged lest the son be looked upon as despicable.

The men always go armed even in their own villages. Cursing, swearing,
or abusive language, so common amongst the Moors, are rarely heard
in Rif; for the man who ventures to use an opprobrious epithet knows
that he incurs the risk of being stabbed or shot. A Rifian never
forgives or forgets an insult.

They are distinguished for their courage. During the war between
Spain and Morocco in 1859, they did not obey the appeal of the Sultan
for assistance; but the inhabitants of the district of Zarhon near
Fas, who are of Rif extraction, sent a contingent of 1,500 men to
Tetuan. They arrived a few days before the battle of ‘Agraz’—the
last which took place between the Moors and Spaniards before the
peace of 1860—and fought so determinedly that two-thirds of their
number fell during that battle.

Polygamy is extremely rare in Rif. Few men venture to take a second
wife lest offence be given thereby to the father or brother of either
of the women they have married. Even in Tangier, where there is a
population of over 9,000 Mohammedans, chiefly Rifians by descent,
I never heard of more than four or five Moors who had two wives. When
an exception occurs, it has generally been at the request of the wife,
who, having had no child, begs her husband to marry some cousin or
friend, selected perhaps by herself.

Immoral conduct on the part of married women or maidens is unknown;
for, should they be suspected of leading an irregular life by father,
husband, or other male relative, such disgrace is wiped out by death.

Rifian women do not cover their faces. If a man sees a young woman
fetching water from a well or walking alone, he will avoid meeting
her, and even turn back rather than run the risk of being seen by
some relative of the female and be suspected of having communicated
with her by word or gesture. He will shun the woman who may be alone,
as a modest girl in Europe might try to avoid a man whom she should
happen to meet when walking in some lonely spot.

Some years ago an old Rifian, one of my boar-hunters, who dwelt at
a village near Tangier, presented himself before me looking very
miserable and haggard. ‘I take refuge under the hem of your
garment,’ he exclaimed, ‘and deliver into your hands these
title-deeds of my hut and garden, also a document regarding a mare;
these are all my possessions. I am about to deliver myself up to
the Basha of Tangier, Kaid Abbas Emkashéd, and to ask that I be
sent to prison.’

On inquiring of the old hunter why he thought of taking such an
extraordinary step, and also what he expected me to do with his
papers and property, he replied, whilst trembling from head to
foot, with tears running down his rugged cheeks and his teeth
chattering as he spoke, ‘My youngest daughter, whom I loved so
dearly’—here he gasped for breath—‘is no more. I have buried
her. She was put to death with my consent.’ Poor Hadj Kassim then
covered his face and sobbed violently, paused to recover himself,
and continued, ‘The authorities have heard that my daughter,
who was very beautiful, has disappeared, and have given orders that
some innocent persons who are suspected should be arrested, as it
is supposed she has been carried off or murdered. I cannot remain a
passive spectator whilst innocent men suffer, feeling that the whole
blame of the disappearance of my child rests on me alone. My daughter
was of a joyous character, and, like a silly girl, thought only of
amusement. Both her mother and I had repeatedly punished her for going
to weddings or other festivities without our permission. She had been
warned that misconduct on her part, as a Rifian maiden, would never
be forgiven; but she took no heed. Some neighbours reported that she
had been seen going to Tangier to dance in the “mesriahs.” Her
shameless conduct became a source of great scandal in the village,
and as it was supposed that I countenanced her misconduct, I was
shunned by my friends. They no longer returned my salams, and when
I joined the elders, who are wont to assemble of an afternoon on
our village green, they turned their backs on me.

‘Life had become a burden, and my son, who was also taunted by
young men for having a sister of bad repute, came to me yesterday,
when he heard that she had again gone off to the town, and declared
that as Rifians we could not allow a daughter and sister who did
not obey her parents, and brought disgrace on her family, to live.

‘Though I loved dearly my foolish child,’ continued the old
hunter, ‘I gave way to the passionate language of my son, and
consented that, should we discover she danced at the “mesriah,”
she should die.

‘We went to Tangier and concealed ourselves near the entrance of a
“mesriah” we were told she frequented. We saw her enter, followed
by some young Moors. A little before sunset she came out, enveloped
in her “haik,” and walked hurriedly towards our village. She
did not see us, and we followed her until we reached a path in the
brushwood not far from our village, and then we stopped her. My son
accused her of leading a disgraceful life, and then struck her heavily
with a bill-hook on the head. She fell, never to speak again. We
buried her in a secluded spot. My son killed her, but I am really her
murderer—I alone am responsible for her death; but my wretched child
could not have lived to be a curse and a disgrace.’ Then the poor
Hadj trembled in his acute misery, and shook as if he had the palsy.

‘I shall,’ he continued, ‘present myself to the Basha. I
shall not say I am the murderer, as the Basha is a Rifian, and will
understand all when I declare I wish no man to be arrested on account
of the disappearance of my child, and that I alone am responsible
for whatever may have happened to her.

‘Now,’ he added, ‘you know, according to Moorish law, no man
can be punished for murder unless he acknowledges his crime, and that
after twelve months’ imprisonment, should no witnesses appear, the
accused can claim to be liberated from prison. If I live, therefore, I
shall be released; but I care no longer for life, except it be to work
and provide for my wife and remaining daughter. As to the title-deeds
of my property, I implore you to keep them until I am released, for,
as you know, it is the practice of the authorities to take possession
of the property of a prisoner who is a criminal such as I am. You have
often lent me small sums of money—for I have been your hunter—and
you have not asked to be repaid. Should there be any attempt on the
part of the authorities to take possession of my house, garden, or
mare, or should my family be called upon to give up the title-deeds,
I have directed them to say the “Bashador” is in possession of
all our property as a guarantee for repayment of money advanced by
him. This will check extortion. The Basha is of my tribe, and will
be just and merciful to a poor Rifian in misfortune. He knows that
death is better than dishonour and disgrace. Oh! my unhappy child!’
he exclaimed; ‘your life has been taken, and I long for the day
when Allah may take mine!’ and again the old man wept piteously.

I took charge of his papers; he presented himself that day before
the Basha, and after having a few questions put to him, was lodged
in prison. As he left the presence of the Basha, the latter called
to the guard who led him away, and said, ‘No fetters are to be
placed on this man; his family may visit him.’

Hadj Kassim remained a year in prison, and on his release presented
himself to me to recover his papers, informing me that no steps had
been taken to seize his property, but, on the contrary, the Basha
had shown him kindness in prison, sending him occasionally a little
present in money; and that when he was brought before him, on being
let out of prison, the Basha said, ‘We are Rifians. The most High
and Merciful God forgives the sins of men. I also forgive thee.’

The wretched man never hunted again or associated with his
fellow-villagers, whose esteem and regard he had regained. His spirit
was broken; he wandered about, pale and emaciated—speechless
even—amongst his friends. A few months after his release from
prison I learnt that he had died.


The interest which Mr. Hay took in the natives was not entirely
confined to the Rifians. The needs and sufferings of his poorer
neighbours—whether Christian, Hebrew, or Moslem—always met with
his sympathy, and, so far as lay in his power, he sought to assist
them in times of distress. In December, 1857, after a severe famine,
he writes to his wife, then in England:—


My farm has yielded wheat plentifully: I have enough for the house,
for seed, and some hundred almuds over, which I shall give in your
name to the poor Christians, Jews, and Moors this winter—equally
divided—as there is, I fear, great misery. The poor peasants
had no seed to sow this year, so there is a lack of wheat. I have
asked the Sultan to lend seed gratis to the poorer farmers, and, to
practise what I preach, I shall lay out £100 for the same object. If
something is not done we shall have fever and famine again this
year. At present the general health is excellent and there are no
fevers, but I fear the winter, and poor folk flocking into the town,
will bring typhus again.

Only think of a rascally Jew trying to sell me some $10,000 worth
of stolen jewels for $2,000. From the stupidity of the Governor’s
soldiers, the accomplices in the robbery made off with the jewels
before they were seized, though I had given notice. The only person
seized was the Jew who tried to bribe me into committing the roguery.

Curiously enough, since my return, there have been two other
attempts made to impose upon me gifts to large amounts to secure
my good-will. Of course I have declined to receive them, but I am
almost ashamed to think that people should have such a poor opinion
of my character as to venture upon making me such offers.


In proof that his kindness was not unrecognised by the natives,
the following anecdote is told by Mrs. Chapman, Sir John’s only
surviving sister:—


Two or three years after the famine in Morocco, one of the tribes from
the interior sent a deputation of chiefs who asked to speak to John.

During the great scarcity, he had sent for corn from Spain, and
dispatched camels laden with grain to the different tribes who were
suffering from starvation, to relieve their distress and supply them
with seed to sow their land.

The chiefs, fine hill-men, were received by my brother and unfolded
the purpose of their mission. They said, ‘We have heard a report
that you are about to dig a well in one of your gardens. We come to
entreat you to allow us to do this thing for you, as a slight proof
of our gratitude for your generosity. You heard that we and our
families were starving; you did not know us, but you believe in the
one God and Father of us all, and you would not let your brothers
want; you sent your gold across the sea and caused a ship to come,
laden with grain, and sent camels with sacks of corn for our food
and to sow our land. God will reward you!—but let _us_ do this
little thing. We will come with our families and encamp around your
garden, we will dig your well and tend your fruit and flowers and
take nothing. We will bring our cattle and our sheep for food, and
you shall be at no cost on our account. This will partly satisfy our
desire to show our gratitude, and you, when you drink of the water
of this well, will remember your poor brethren whom you saved from
death, for love of the one God.’

John consented, and gave them leave to do as they wished.

When the report spread that these wild people were coming within a
mile of Tangier, the alarmed townsfolk sent a messenger to beg my
brother to dissuade the tribe from coming, declaring that they were
much to be feared, and that their proximity would endanger the peace
of the town. My brother told the messenger he would be responsible
for the orderly conduct of the tribe.

They came and dug the well, the garden and grounds were left in
perfect order, and the strangers quitted the neighbourhood in peace,
going quietly back to their hills.


Another instance of the gratitude of which these wild people are
capable may be inserted here, though the actual occurrence took
place a few years later, and after another and similar bad season
with failure of crops in the Rif.

In the stress of famine the starving mountaineers crowded, with their
families, to Tangier in search of work and food. Strenuous efforts
were made by the people of Tangier and the foreign Representatives
to assist these unhappy folk. In reply to an appeal from Sir John,
a large subscription was raised in Gibraltar, and expended in flour,
which was sent for distribution to the care of the British Legation
at Tangier.

Some of these unfortunate Rifians found work near Tangier; others,
their immediate wants relieved, as tidings came from Rif that rain
had fallen and prospects were better, returned to their homes in
small detachments; but many remained. Cholera and smallpox broke out
amongst these, and numbers died, leaving orphan children, too young,
in many instances, to be able to give any account of themselves or
their families. These were adopted by charitable townsfolk, and are
now many of them prosperous, well-to-do individuals. But when the
cholera and famine were ended, several hundred Rifians, with their
families, remained. These poor people were finally dismissed in a body
to their own country, provided with the means of purchasing seed-corn,
and with clothing and food for their journey. When leaving Tangier
they assembled at daybreak outside the gates of the town. There,
raising their hands to heaven, they called down a blessing from God
on the town and people, and more especially on the Christians who
had shown them such charity and kindness.

Not long after they gave good proof of their gratitude. A ship was
wrecked on the coast inhabited by some of these very Rifians. The
crew were succoured and sheltered by them, and a contingent personally
conducted them in safety to Tangier.




                             CHAPTER XII.

                   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.




                             CHAPTER XIII.

                             BENABU. 1857.


In December 1857, Mr. Hay writes to his sister-in-law:—


Poor Benabu has been arrested at Fas by the Sultan and imprisoned. All
his property has been confiscated except the house in which he
lived. The property and jewels of his wives have not yet been touched.

To the surprise of everybody the Sultan has appointed, in Benabu’s
place as Basha, the youngest son of the former governor of Tangier,
Alarbi el Saidi. He was a bookbinder and very poor, but no sooner
did he get the Sultan’s letter, than he assumed the reins of power
well, and with the dignity of a grandee. We are already good friends.


The story of Benabu, whose sudden downfall is here alluded to,
deserves, we think, to be repeated.


The Basha of Tangier, Kaid Mohammed Ben Abdelmalek, better known
as ‘Benabu’ (_Anglice_, the son of his father), was Governor of
that province in the year 1857. He had previously held the post of
Commander-in-Chief of the Sultan’s Cavalry, was distinguished for
bravery when His Sherifian Majesty, whom, it is believed, ‘Allah
protects,’ marched annually against rebellious tribes ‘to eat
them up,’ an expression very significative of a Moorish monarch’s
plan of campaign.

Benabu had also been for many years Governor-General of the
Rif Provinces. He was a Rifian by extraction, as are most of the
inhabitants of Tangier. One of his ancestors, in the time of Charles
II, when the English were in possession of Tangier, commanded an army
sent to invade that place. In a sanguinary conflict which took place
between the Moors and the English, when the latter stormed the heights
where the Moorish forces had encamped above the river of Bubána,
about two miles from Tangier, Benabu’s ancestor was killed.

The site is called to this day the ‘Mujáhidin,’ or ‘Warriors
of the Faith.’ It is considered holy ground, as those who fell in
that battle against ‘Infidels,’ were buried on the spot. Kubbas,
or cupola-formed mausoleums, were erected, in which the bodies of
the Moorish chieftains were laid. A regiment of our Foot-guards took
part in the action, and it is said that the member of the Guards’
band who plays the cymbals used to wear an Oriental costume, in
commemoration of this battle.

When Mr. Bulwer was sent to Tangier on a Mission by the British and
Spanish Governments, to settle the differences between Spain and
Morocco, in 1845, I gave him a long rapier which I had found at low
water in the ruins of the fine old mole which the English blew up,
from a dog-in-the-manger policy, when they gave up the place. The
hilt had on one side a C. on the other a rose. Though it had lain for
nearly three centuries in salt water, I managed to restore the weapon,
which proved to be of beautiful steel, and before I introduced the
lance for pig sticking, I had at full gallop killed boar with this
rapier on the plains of ‘Awara.’

One night I had donned my dressing-gown and was about to go to bed. It
was late; lights had been extinguished and the servants had retired,
when the porter at the gate of the Legation, a Moorish soldier,
lantern in hand, appeared. He was trembling with excitement and
could hardly articulate as he addressed me. ‘The Basha is here,
alone in the porch. He came on foot and is without an attendant. He
wishes to see you at once. He has commanded that “I shut my tongue
within my teeth.”’

I received the Basha, who was an old friend, in my dressing-gown. He
was about six feet three in height, and of a Herculean frame. His
features were very marked; a prominent Roman nose and massive jaw,
with eyes like a lion; shaggy locks hung beneath his turban over
each ear. The general expression of his countenance was that of
a stern tyrant, but in conversation with those he liked, his face
beamed with good humour, and he had a pleasant, kind manner.

Benabu was very intelligent, and not a fanatic, as Moorish grandees
generally are. After friendly salutations, and bidding him welcome,
I inquired the cause of his visit at such an unusual hour.

The Basha, having looked around repeatedly, to satisfy himself that
there were no eavesdroppers, said, ‘I come to you as the only
friend I can trust, to beg a great favour. This evening an officer
arrived with a letter from the Sultan, summoning me to the Sherifian
Court. I leave to-morrow at daybreak. You know,’ he continued,
‘what this means—either it is to extend my government to the
district of Anjera, which I have applied for, or it is to place me
under arrest, and then, by long imprisonment, or even the bastinado,
to extort, under the pretext of arrears of taxes or other dues, the
little wealth I have accumulated during my long and arduous services,
both in campaigns and as Governor of the Rif. I am an old soldier, and
it is my firm intention, even if I were put into the wooden jelab[31]
or other torture, not to give one ‘fels’ either to the Sultan,
the Uzir, or other rapacious satellites of the Court, who, no doubt,
expect to fleece me as they do other Bashas and Sheikhs, even if it
is the Sultan’s will that I am to receive some mark of his goodwill.

‘The favour I have to beg of you,’ continued Benabu, ‘is that
you allow me to leave in your possession some bags of gold I have
brought with me.’

I looked at the Basha; he had nothing in his hands, but, beneath the
ample folds of his ‘sulham,’ I observed that his huge chest and
body were distended to an extraordinary size.

‘I am very sorry,’ I replied, ‘to hear of the sudden summons
to the Court, which, I fear, bodes no good. I shall be happy, as an
old friend, to do anything to help you; but,’ I added, ‘it will
be a delicate matter for me, as British Representative, to receive
in deposit a large sum of money, which might hereafter be claimed
as arrears of taxes due to the Treasury, and the British Government
might disapprove of my having placed myself in a false position.’

Benabu replied that he had paid up all arrears of taxes; that the
money he wished to leave with me was not only savings effected
during a long career of forty years, but money inherited from his
father. He added, ‘I have also other money, which I secretly placed
some time ago, for safety and profit, in the hands of a wealthy Jew,
who is under foreign protection.’

Benabu reminded me, that when war broke out between Spain and Morocco
I had allowed the Moorish Minister for Foreign Affairs—Sid Mohammed
Khatíb—to deposit about £10,000 in my hands, and he pleaded so
earnestly that I gave way.

Taking the key of a cellar where I kept a stock of wine, and which my
butler never visited unless I accompanied him, I led the Basha to it.

‘Can no one hear or observe us?’ asked the Basha, as we descended
into the cellar. I replied that the servants were all in bed, and
that the porter at the gate could not intrude, as I had locked the
front door of the Legation.

Bag after bag was extracted from Benabu’s portly person, and
deposited in an empty bin, which I selected for that purpose.

I observed to the Basha that the bags were not sealed, being merely
tied with string, and offered to fetch sealing-wax, requesting him
to mark on each bag its contents.

He declined, saying he really did not know the amount of money each
bag contained; and had neither time nor inclination to count the
coin, but added, ‘it is all good, and safer in your hands than
in a bank.’ By laying some laths on the top of the pile, and then
bottles of wine, the treasure was well concealed.

On returning to my study, I took up a sheet of paper and pen, and told
the Basha I was about to prepare a receipt, stating that a number of
bags without seal, contents unknown, had been deposited by him in my
cellar, and that I was not responsible for losses occasioned by fire,
robbery, &c. ‘Do you think,’ said the Basha, ‘I am “hamak”
[mad] to take such a receipt? Don’t you understand that, going as
I am to the Court, I may be searched? If I leave such a document
with my wife—no woman can hold her tongue—the secret would be
betrayed. My sons are spendthrifts, and not to be depended on.’ I
suggested that he should take my receipt and hide it in his house,
or bury it in his garden until his return from the Court.

He declined, saying, ‘Walls have ears, trees have eyes, so not
only must I decline to take a receipt, but I beg that you will keep
no record of having received these bags from me.’ I remonstrated,
saying, ‘I may die; my heirs will find the money in the cellar and
will rightfully appropriate it, even if you or your heirs were to
claim the money, for there will be no proof that you are the rightful
owner. You also,’ I added, ‘are in the hands of “Allah,”
and may die.’ Benabu replied, ‘We are all in the hands of
“Allah.” What is written[32] by the Almighty is written. I have
entire confidence in you, and if you die, as you say might happen,
and your son and daughters, whom I know and love as my own, got
possession of the money—it could not fall into better hands.’

He then took leave, and wishing him ‘God speed,’ I let him
out by the garden-door. Summoning the porter, I told him the Basha
was leaving for the Court in the morning, and had come to announce
his departure; I warned him not to let any one hear of the visit,
as it might give offence to other Representatives, upon whom he had
not time to call to take leave. ‘Remember,’ I said, ‘you are
a soldier of the Basha, and if you betray his visit he may some day
mark his displeasure.’

Benabu departed for the Court the following morning, leaving his
elder son, who had been his Khalífa, or Lieutenant-Governor, in
charge of the government of the province.

On the arrival of Benabu at the Court, he was summoned by the Uzir,
who informed him that the Sultan was dissatisfied with the accounts
rendered by him of receipts of taxes and dues during his government
both of the Tangier and Rif provinces; that a house had been allotted
to him, where he was to reside, and consider himself under arrest
until more regular accounts were presented. Benabu replied that the
Uzir knew the Rifians never paid tithes upon land or agriculture; that
he had transmitted regularly to the Court the presents of mules and
other gifts which the Rif population had delivered to him, as their
customary annual tribute to the Sultan, as ‘Prince of Believers
and Allah’s kaliph;’ that as to the Tangier province, he had
presented annually an account of receipts of taxes, and other dues;
that the receipts had greatly diminished on account of irregular
protection being extended by Foreign Ministers and Consuls to rich
farmers, and to the peasantry in general, and that all protected
persons were held by the Foreign Representatives to be exempted from
the payment of taxes or other contributions to the Government.

Guarded by the Uzir’s kavasses, Benabu was taken to the small
house that had been prepared for his confinement. He was allowed
to retain one of his followers; the bodyguard he had brought from
Tangier was dismissed, and ordered to return.

Months passed, Benabu remained under arrest; his son, the Khalífa
at Tangier, died. This misfortune, and the harsh treatment he
had received as an old and loyal servant of the Sultan, preyed on
his mind. Prostrated by an ague, followed by typhus fever, Benabu
petitioned the Sultan to be allowed to send for his younger son
Fatmeh. This was granted, and Fatmeh arrived a few days before his
father’s death.

On the return of Fatmeh to Tangier, I waited some days expecting
him to call and claim the money left in my possession; but he did
not appear, so I sent for him.

After expressions of condolence about the death of his father,
I inquired whether he had found him still sensible on his arrival
at the Court, and whether his father had given him any message for
me. He said he had found his father in a dying state, but perfectly
sensible, and that he was able to give him full directions about his
property: that he had spoken of me and had used the words—‘God’s
blessing be on his head, he has been a true friend to me and to the
Mohammedans!’ ‘Did he not mention,’ I asked, ‘that he had
seen me the night before he left Tangier and had placed money in
my hands? Did he not mention also that he had left property in the
hands of a Jewish friend?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘a large sum with ———, which I have
had the greatest difficulty in recovering, though my mother had a
receipt. Two thousand dollars were paid by my family to recover the
money left in the Jew’s hands.’

‘Did your father not tell you,’ I repeated, ‘that I had also
received a deposit in money for which, as requested, I did not give a
receipt?’ On Fatmeh replying in the negative, I told him to return
to his mother and ask her whether her late husband had ever mentioned
his intention of secretly depositing money in my hands; adding,
‘Come back, unattended, to the Legation at midnight, and without
knocking enter at the garden door, which you will find open.’

At midnight Fatmeh returned. I awaited him. He informed me that his
mother had never heard or supposed that any money had been deposited
with me. We then descended into the cellar and, pointing to the bin
where the bags lay, I told him to remove the bottles and laths.

‘These bags,’ I said, ‘contain coin left me by your father,
who refused to accept a receipt. They now belong to his heirs. I
know not the amount, but wish you to open each bag before you leave,
and to bring me to-morrow some proof that you have delivered the
money to your mother.’

Fatmeh took down a bag, and opening it, exclaimed in a very excited
manner, ‘Gold!’ Each bag was opened with the same exclamation, his
excitement increasing. Having finished the examination of the bags, I
told him to put them as his father had done, in the ample folds of his
dress, above the girdle. ‘All?’ he said. I replied ‘all.’ He
hesitated, and then turning to me, observed: ‘Shall I not leave you
half?’ ‘You are “hamák,”’ (mad) I replied. ‘Don’t you
understand, that if I had wanted this money I might have kept all?’

So he interned bag after bag in the ample folds of his dress until
they could hold no more, for he was a smaller man than his father.

Three bags remained, which he said he could not possibly carry in
his dress, and begged that I would keep them. I replied angrily,
and fetching a basket, put the remaining bags into it, and, bidding
him ‘Good-night,’ I passed him through the garden gate.

Next day I received, through a mutual Mohammedan friend in the
confidence of the family, a message from Benabu’s widow, to say
her son[33] had delivered to her all that he had received from me.

A week passed, and Fatmeh again asked me for an interview. He informed
me he had come with a message from his mother and sister to reiterate
their thanks, and to beg that I would not refuse to accept, as a
token of their gratitude, a Spanish ‘three-decker,’ of which
Fatmeh gave the following history.

‘In the last great naval war between Spain and England, my
great-grandfather was Basha of Tangier. He was on the most intimate
terms of friendship with the Spanish Representative, and was a strong
partisan of Spain and unfriendly towards the English. Having granted
to the Spanish Representative some special privilege unauthorised by
the Sultan, his intrigues and proceedings came to the knowledge of
His Sherifian Majesty. An officer and an executioner were dispatched
forthwith to Tangier: my ancestor was decapitated, and his head
was placed by special order of the Sultan over the gateway of the
residence of the Spanish Representative.

‘Amongst other gifts which had been presented to my ancestor by
the Spanish Government was the model of a Spanish three-decker, in
a glass case, about four feet long. It was much prized by my late
father, and my mother and our family beg you to accept it.’

I accepted the gift of the line-of-battle ship. It was a curious
old model, very complete, with figures of sailors in the rigging,
and Spanish flag flying.

This model may have been of the ‘Santissima Trinidad,’ one
of the largest three-deckers sunk by the English at the battle
of Trafalgar. Her masts were washed ashore on the Moorish coast
not far from Cape Spartel, were taken possession of by the Moorish
authorities and floated down to the mouth of the river Wad el Halk,
which enters the bay near the site called ‘old Tangier[34],’
an arsenal built by the Romans wherein to lay up their galleys. The
masts were floated as far as the village of Sharf, and placed across
the high banks of the river; parapets of masonry were built on each
side to form a bridge for horse and foot-passengers.

The bridge was still in use twenty years ago, and I have often crossed
it; but one of the masts having given way, it was taken down by order
of the Sultan, and a Portuguese architect was employed to erect a
stone bridge in its place. The Portuguese had nearly completed the
work, when a freshet from the hills levelled it to the water’s
edge, hardly leaving a vestige of the fabric. The Moors declared the
bridge was accursed by Allah, as the Sultan had employed an Infidel
‘Nazarene’ instead of a Mohammedan architect. A Moor was then
dispatched from Fas by the Sultan to rebuild the bridge, which he
executed in a satisfactory manner on three arches and sluices.

An aged Tangerine, some twenty years ago, told me that he and
many other Moors witnessed from the heights of the hills near
Cape Spartel[35] the great battle, and that their hearts were with
the English. He said the firing was terrific, with an occasional
explosion. Wreckage and many bodies were cast upon the African shore.

Benabu was the best Governor I have known during the forty years I
was at Tangier. Under his iron but just rule, murder, robbery, and
even theft became unknown after the first year of his government. He
made terrible examples of all criminals.

Cattle-lifting was, and still is, a common practice throughout
Morocco. On his first appointment as Basha he sent the public crier,
on a market-day when the mountaineers and peasantry flock in to make
their purchases, to proclaim that the severest punishment would be
inflicted on robbers or other criminals.

He kept his word, for the next market-day two cattle-lifters, caught
red-handed, were brought before him. After hearing the evidence,
they were severely bastinadoed. Benabu had caused an iron brand to
be prepared with the letter س (‘sin’), the first of the word
‘sarak’ meaning robber. On the forehead, just above and between
the eyebrows, these robbers were marked with the hot brand.

Their property was seized and confiscated, and after issuing a fresh
proclamation that any criminal who had been branded, would, on a
second conviction of crime, have his hand or foot or both amputated,
according to circumstances, Benabu liberated the robbers, and reported
his proceedings to the Sultan, making known to H.S.M. that he had
found on his appointment murders, robberies, and crime of all kinds
prevailed, and that there was no security for life or property outside
the walls of Tangier, and he requested the Sultan’s authority to
cut off the hand or foot of any person branded with the ‘Sin,’
who was again convicted of a murder or robbery with violence.

The Sultan approved of his conduct, and complied with the request.

Six months after the branding of the two robbers, one of them was
caught, having robbed some cattle and wounded the herd in charge.

The delinquent, stripped to the waist, was mounted on the back
of a donkey. The animal was led through the principal streets and
market-place; two soldiers followed with the bastinado, which is a
rope of twisted leather about four feet long. The lash was applied
every twenty paces to the back of the prisoner, who was compelled
to proclaim his crimes in a loud voice. He was then taken off the
donkey in the middle of the market-place, where a fire was lit,
and on it an earthen pot stood filled with boiling pitch.

A butcher, the first the soldiers could lay hands on, was seized,
and ordered to sever a right hand and left foot.

The unfortunate butcher remonstrated in vain. The condemned man was
laid on the ground, his hands were untied; the right hand was taken
off at the joint, and the stump plunged into the pot of pitch to
stop hemorrhage and prevent gangrene.

The left foot was amputated in the same manner. Charitable
bystanders carried off the victim to a small house in the town
called ‘Morstan[36],’ where paupers seek shelter at night. There
he was provided with food and water for some months. He recovered,
and could be seen crawling about the streets or sitting at the gate
of the town, begging[37].

Murder, robbery, and cattle-lifting ceased throughout the Tangier
province. Life and property were safe. Thus this cruel and barbarous
mutilation of one ruffian saved hundreds of innocent men from murder,
and women and helpless Jews from outrage.

On a shooting excursion to a district about eight miles from Tangier,
I found in a sheltered spot about forty beehives[38]. There was no
village within a mile of the hives, and there was no hut even for a
guard. Passing a cowherd attending some oxen, not far from the hives,
I inquired to whom they belonged. He said they were the property of
the village of Zinats. I asked whether there was no guard to watch
the property, which could easily be carried off at night. Pointing
towards Tangier, he exclaimed, ‘Benabu.’

There was a very beautiful young Mohammedan widow at Tangier, who led
a dissolute life. Fatmeh, the Basha’s son, was a constant visitor
at her house. Benabu had repeatedly warned his son to discontinue
his visits. He summoned also the widow; and after censuring her
misconduct, he told her that if she again admitted his son into her
house he would mar her beauty, which was the cause of his son’s
disgraceful conduct.

Some weeks afterwards, Benabu was informed that Fatmeh had again
visited the house of the widow. He was arrested and imprisoned,
and the widow was brought before the Basha.

‘You have not,’ said the Basha, ‘kept your promise to me,
or taken heed of my warning. Your beauty has brought disgrace upon
my son and myself.’

Turning to the guards who attended in the ‘Meshwa,’ or Hall of
Judgment, he said, ‘Bring a barber.’

The barber was brought.

‘Cut off,’ said Benabu, ‘below the cartilage, the tip of this
woman’s nose.’

The barber, trembling, begged that the operation might not be
performed by him. ‘It shall be as you wish,’ replied the Basha;
‘but then your nose will be taken off for disobedience.’ The
barber obeyed, and the tip of the nose of the pretty widow was cut
off. ‘Go,’ said the Basha to her; ‘you will now be able to
lead a better life. May Allah forgive you, as I do, your past sins!’

When Benabu, as a young man, was Kaid in command of a body of cavalry,
he received orders from the Sultan to escort with his troopers a
foreign Envoy to the Court at Marákesh. During the journey to the
capital, the camp had been pitched in the neighbourhood of a large
village, where a ‘Marábet’ or holy man dwelt, who was looked
up to with great veneration by the villagers.

This fanatic, having observed the Envoy seated in his tent with a
light, and the door of the tent open, fetched his long gun, squatted
down at about fifty yards, and took a pot shot at the ‘Nazarene
Infidel.’ He missed the Envoy, but the ball, passing through the
tent, killed a horse of one of the escort on the other side.

Benabu, hearing a shot, rushed out of his tent, and seeing a strange
man making off, had him arrested and brought before the tent of
the Envoy.

‘This assassin,’ Benabu said, ‘who calls himself a Marábet,
has attempted to take your life, and thus placed in jeopardy my head;
for had he killed you, the Sultan would have beheaded me.’

Benabu then drew his sword, and, ordering the guards to bare the
Marábet’s neck and shoulders, turned to the Envoy and said:
‘My lord the Sultan, whose life may Allah prolong, has alone the
power of life and death; but I am ordered to protect your life at
all hazards through this country as the Representative of a great
friendly Power; and therefore, to deter others, I am determined
to make an example of this villain who has attempted to take your
life.’ Then, raising his sword, he added, ‘Give the signal,
and the head of this assassin shall fall at your feet.’

The Envoy requested Benabu to sheathe his sword, saying that he
believed the man to be mad. Benabu, who, no doubt, felt persuaded
that the Envoy would never give the signal for the execution of the
man, put his sword in the scabbard; the man was then bastinadoed
and sent off early next morning to the Governor of the district,
with a request that he should be confined in a dungeon until the
Sultan’s decision was learnt.

Benabu demanded also that a good horse, with new saddle and bridle,
should be sent by the Governor at once for the soldier of the escort
whose horse had been shot; this was done.

The name of Benabu went forth far and wide, and the Sultan, on
the arrival of the Mission, promoted Benabu to the rank of Kaid
‘Erha.’




                             CHAPTER XIV.

                 MR. HAY’S POSITION AT TANGIER. 1858.


Affairs were in a critical state in 1858, and Mr. Hay, who had
applied for leave of absence, which was granted only to be immediately
cancelled, writes to his wife on May 12:—


Only fancy what a shell has burst on me, scattering all my plans,
especially as last week I received my four months leave in full
form! The fact is that affairs in Europe are in such a state that
Government wishes every man, I suppose, to be at his post, ready to
do his best in the moment of danger. Morocco is ticklish ground, and
it is here we might be exposed to a movement on the part of France,
which might prove a severe check to us in our naval preponderance
in the Mediterranean.


In a similar strain he writes again on his birthday:—


Here I am, again, all alone on the 1st of June. I miss you and the
children more than ever; but I know there are yearning hearts and
thoughts for me on this day, and that I am not forgotten.

By way of _amusing_ me, I have just received from Government a
dispatch telling me to report upon a bundle of false allegations made
against me by two discontented merchants of Mogador. I am put out,
and yet pleased, at having an opportunity to let Lord Malmesbury know
what I have done, in contradiction of what these folk accuse me of
not having done. I hear also of a virulent article, or letter, which
has appeared in the _Daily News_ against me. The Gibraltar merchants
are very angry at the attack upon me, and I daresay they will defend
me without my saying a word—at least, I flatter myself they will.


He was not mistaken in his hope that his conduct would find defenders
at Gibraltar. Three weeks later he writes:—


I think I have told you I received a very handsome letter from the
Gibraltar merchants, quoting a resolution, dated June 1, in which,
amongst other compliments, they resolved, ‘That this Committee
desires to express its strong disapproval of the tone in which
the letter in the _Daily News_ of April 24 is couched—casting
reflections upon Her Majesty’s Chargé d’Affaires, Mr. Drummond
Hay—and its dissent from the opinions expressed by the writer with
reference to the late Treaty with Morocco. . . . That this Committee
desires at once to place on record its most grateful appreciation of
Mr. Hay’s eminent public services in the protection and support
of British subjects in Morocco, and for his prompt and courteous
attention to the demands and complaints of British subjects.’

So you see the abuse of two men calls forth the praise of many others,
and I am the gainer.


He had the further satisfaction of knowing that the British
Government approved of his opinions with regard to Morocco
affairs. ‘Government,’ he says, ‘are carrying out all my
plans. My only fear is, if they attempt to do too much, the whole
crumbling fabric of Moorish Government will tumble about our
ears. Lord Malmesbury is now beginning to approve of all I do.’

At this time a mark of the Sultan’s appreciation of Mr. Hay was
shown by a curious gift.


The Sultan has just sent me a present of a most beautiful
leopard. Fat, sleek, and tame as a cat. He is chained up in the
stable. I shall give him to the Queen, or to the Zoo gardens, which
will be the same thing. I wish you and the children were here to
see the beautiful creature.

I am in high favour, they tell me, with the Sultan, so I get a
leopard. It is like the gift of the white elephant to the unruly
chiefs in India.


Of this leopard he tells the following story.


Sultan Mulai Abderahman, who was very fond of having wild animals
kept loose in the garden or courtyard of his palace, had a beautiful
tame leopard named ‘Maimon’ (the ‘trusty,’) nearly as large
as a Bengal tiger. It was very good-tempered and a great favourite
of His Majesty.

A young negro slave who swept the entrance of the palace happened
one day to find the leopard lying on a heap of dust, so he hit
the beast with his broom to make it move. This was resented by the
leopard striking the lad on the head with his paw, so that he fell
dead. H.M. on learning what had happened, ordered that the leopard
should be confined in a cage and sent as a gift to me at Tangier
and that a Jew should be dispatched to take charge of the animal.

I received a letter from the Uzir, making known the gift His Sherifian
Majesty had been pleased to send me and stating that the animal was
docile, but dangerous if struck. No mention, however, was made of
the death of the slave.

Finding the leopard very good-natured, I dismissed the Jew keeper
and took charge of it myself. In the daytime the leopard was allowed
to run loose in the little garden of the Legation, for my family
were absent in England; but I had it fastened, when visitors came
to see it, by a long chain to a palm tree in the garden. I fed
the leopard myself, and he gambolled about like a cat, purring and
rubbing himself against my legs when I caressed him. If I happened
on such occasions not to take sufficient notice, he would strike me
heavily with a soft paw.

One day the leopard, finding that the door leading from the
dining-room into the garden was open, entered, and passing along a
lobby discovered the laundry, and an old Irishwoman ironing there. On
seeing the beast glaring at her over the table where she was engaged,
she boldly advanced with a hot iron in hand, with the courage of
her race, exclaiming, ‘Get out ye dhirty baste.’ The leopard,
much offended, withdrew with a dignified gait and passed on to a
courtyard near the kitchen, where a Moorish woman, squatted on a
mat, was sifting flour. With friendly intentions and hoping to be
caressed, the leopard put his head into the old dame’s bosom,
but she, thinking this was the preliminary step to being devoured,
swooned dead away.

A man-servant, passing, saw the leopard and woman in this compromising
position; but, being afraid to interfere, rushed, pale with alarm,
to the room where I was writing, to announce that the leopard had
killed ‘Titam,’ and was about to eat her.

Running to the rescue, I found ‘Maimon’ covered with flour,
purring and rubbing himself in a loving manner against the reclining
form of poor Titam, who was still in a swoon, but otherwise
uninjured. I told ‘Maimon’ his conduct was most unbecoming, not
to say improper, so he left poor Titam, and bestowed his attentions
on me, covering me with flour.

At dusk I was in the habit of accompanying the leopard across the
street to his cell in the stable-yard. One evening when leading him,
he lay down in the street and refused to move. In vain I coaxed
the beast. The road was thus blocked; for those who wished to pass,
viewing a huge leopard crouching loose in the street, hurriedly turned
back. I sent for a piece of meat, and walking with this bribe into
the stable, the leopard deigned at length to follow me.

When my family was expected, thinking there was a risk that he
might attack them as strangers, I sent the leopard as a gift to the
Zoological Gardens. Eight months afterwards, when I was in London on
leave of absence, I visited the Gardens, and there I saw ‘Maimon’
lying in a cage. I requested the keeper to allow me to pass the
bar in front of the cage to pat the leopard. He replied it was not
permitted; but, on telling him I was the donor, he allowed me to
cross the barrier, warning me, however, that though the animal was
docile, it showed sometimes a surly temper. I approached the cage
where the leopard was lying listless in a corner; ‘Ya Maimon,
ya habibi, busni.’ ‘Oh, beloved Maimon,’ I cried in Arabic,
‘come and embrace me.’ The animal sprang up and came to the side
of the cage, and no doubt would have embraced me if the bars had not
stopped him. I put in my hand and stroked his back, whilst he rubbed
against the bars of the cage, making a low purring noise. Then I
scratched his head, when to my horror he suddenly took my hand in
his mouth; but the friendly beast only mumbled, without hurting it,
and then let my hand go. A crowd had collected outside to witness the
exhibition, so I thought it was time to leave, though I might have
gone round with my hat to beg alms for the prisoner. As I left the
cage, the leopard watched me with eager eyes, and when some way off I
turned to look again, the beast was standing up with his paws on an
upper bar, his bright eyes fixed anxiously upon me. During my long
life loving eyes have often watched my departure, but none brighter
or more anxious than those of my four-footed friend. So we parted,
never to meet again, for the leopard was dead when I revisited the
Zoological Gardens, after a two years’ absence.


As another instance of this Sultan’s fondness for wild animals
Mr. Hay told the following story.


The Master of the Horse at the Moorish Court related to me, that
Sultan Mulai Abderahman happened one day to pass through the Court
of the palace, mounted on a magnificent white charger, when a lion
which H.M. was accustomed to stop and caress, sprang up the side of
his horse and placed its paws on the knee of the Sultan. H.M. reined
in his steed, which snorted and reared. The Sultan showed no alarm
and did not, said the Master of the Horse, change a muscle of his
countenance, but turning to the Kaid-el-Meshwa, or Chief Officer of
the Court, and putting his hand on the head of the lion to stroke it,
inquired ‘How many pounds of meat are given to the lion daily?’
The officer stated the quantity.

‘Let the lion have ten more pounds,’ said His Majesty. The
lion’s petition being granted, it quietly dropped off H.M.’s
horse and lay down quite pacified.

‘These animals,’ observed the Master of the Horse, ‘understand
what is spoken, though they have not the power of speech to tell
what they want.’

‘Mashallah!’ I gravely replied.


Many interesting and distinguished persons visited Tangier during
Mr. Hay’s long residence there. Amongst these may be mentioned,
in 1858, three Royal guests—the Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred
and the late Duc d’Orléans. In favour of the Prince of Wales
an extraordinary exception was made, and he was admitted to the
Basha’s house and there received by the ladies.

Louis Philippe, Duc d’Orléans, was accompanied by his tutor. After
introducing H.R.H. to the sights of Tangier, Mr. Hay arranged
a boar hunt for him on the Hill. The sport was good; but the
object of the hunt was unsuccessful, as the Prince never fired a
shot—principally through the mistaken zeal of one of his suite,
who, on seeing a pig coming in the direction of the Royal guest,
stepped forward and removing his hat exclaimed ‘Mon Prince, voilà
le sanglier!’—with the natural result that the pig turned and
broke back!

Riding down the rough mountain path afterwards, with Mr. Hay leading
the way, the Prince, who was mounted on Mr. Hay’s best pony, soon
outstripped with his guide the rest of the party, Mr. Hay’s horses
being always selected as good walkers. Commenting on the roughness
of the track, the Prince was somewhat astonished to hear Mr. Hay
say that he frequently, when out late, cantered down the hills,
and H.R.H. inquired eagerly whether the pony he was riding could
be trusted to go fast down the broken road, and if so would Mr. Hay
gallop down _now_ with him?

Mr. Hay, after a little demur (aware that the sure-footed little Barb,
who had often performed the feat, could be trusted), consented:
and leading the way, he and the young Prince tore madly down the
steep rough path, to the great enjoyment of the latter—though
rather to the bewilderment of his worthy tutor, who did not catch
sight of his pupil again till they met in the town an hour later.

Afterwards in a letter to Mr. Hay—the Duc d’Orléans, alluding to
an accident which had lately happened to him while hunting, wrote:—


Je ne montais pas alors le fameux petit cheval gris, sur lequel
je suis revenu de la chasse avec vous si bon train sans que jamais
il bronchât!

Les souvenirs de Tanger, de cette chasse que vous m’avez fait
faire avec les chasseurs à demi-sauvages de la montagne, resteront
toujours le meilleur souvenir de mon voyage, et je n’oublierai pas
tout le soin, tout l’empressement que vous avez mis à me faire
connaître un pays si nouveau, si curieux pour moi.

C’est à vous que je dois d’avoir pu profiter comme je l’ai
fait du peu de jours que j’y ai passés, et toutes les fois que
je veux faire un rêve agréable, je me figure prêt à repartir
pour le Maroc. . . .

Les événements actuels de l’Europe seraient bien de nature
à m’y pousser si les voyages ne m’étaient impossibles
à un pareil moment, car, lorsqu’on voit à quoi les nations
civilisées se laissent entraîner, on est bien tenté d’aller
oublier l’Europe chez des sauvages, au milieu desquels on sent du
moins la supériorité de notre civilisation sans en voir les maux.

Je vous demande pardon, Monsieur, de vous avoir écrit une lettre
aussi longue, mais, du moment que je pouvais écrire, je ne voulais
pas me refuser le plaisir de vous dire toute ma reconnaissance pour
le charmant accueil que vous m’avez fait. En attendant que je
puisse le faire de vive voix, croyez-moi toujours, je vous prie,

                        Votre bien affectionné,

                                             LOUIS PHILIPPE D’ORLÉANS.




                              CHAPTER XV.

                    THE WAR WITH SPAIN. 1859-1862.


In September, 1859, Mr. Hay returned from leave to find that Sultan
Mulai Abderahman had just died, and that troubles were brewing on
the French frontier. With Spain also difficulties had arisen and,
for months past, the Spanish Government had been preparing for
an expedition against Morocco. The ostensible motive which was put
forward for these hostilities was the chastisement of the Rif pirates
and the redress of insults received at Ceuta. But public opinion in
England inclined to believe that, under cover of reprisals for past
wrongs, schemes of European aggrandisement upon the coast opposite
Gibraltar were to be carried out by simultaneous action on the part
of France and Spain against Morocco.

Lord John Russell, then at the head of Foreign Affairs, raised no
objection to the temporary occupation of Tangier by the Spaniards;
and Spain, who had steadily refused all offers of English mediation,
only replied to repeated concessions on the part of the Moors with
fresh and more exorbitant demands. At length, early in October, 1859,
the Spanish Chargé d’Affaires sent secretly to beg Mr. Hay to
persuade the Moorish Government to give way yet once more, at the same
time solemnly assuring him that, if this demand were accepted, peace
would be made. Mr. Hay spent six hours with the Moorish Minister,
upon whom he brought to bear every possible argument, and terrified
him by the prospect of the dire displeasure of the Sultan in case
of a refusal. The Minister accepted the ultimatum and fell into a
fainting fit!

Four days later, on October 15, a third ultimatum was presented,
involving the cession of further territory. Mr. Hay then withdrew from
further mediation, and war was declared between Spain and Morocco.

Many years after, Mr. (then Sir John) Hay was called on by the
subordinate official who had brought him the secret message from
the Spanish Chargé d’Affaires. Sir John recalled the incident,
and then for the first time heard an explanation of what had appeared
to be an act of bad faith.

The ex-official related that the third ultimatum was brought by a
Spanish war-ship. On board the vessel was an official, who informed
the Chargé d’Affaires that _war was determined on_, whatever
might be the concessions made by the Moors; that the attempt to
arrange matters had been a grave mistake, and that now any extravagant
concession, however absurd, must be demanded as a pretext for war. The
Spanish Chargé d’Affaires told his subordinate how distressed he
was at thus appearing to deceive his British colleague; but added
‘We must obey orders and keep them secret.’

War having been declared, the European population and many of the
Jews fled from the coast towns to Europe, rather from fear of the
wild tribes who flocked to the defence of their country, than on
account of the threatened invasion by Spain.

Mr. Hay stopped his wife and two little girls, who were on their
way from England to join him, at Gibraltar—where they remained
during the six months that hostilities continued. But he, with the
English portion of his staff, stayed at Tangier. All other Foreign
Representatives left.

Writing at this time to his mother, he says:—


All is quiet here up to the present moment; thanks to my friends,
the hunters, having acted as the police of the town, and saved all
Christians from molestation.

It is supposed the Sultan will be acknowledged everywhere, but my
supposition about the French frontier being invaded has turned out
too true; all however may be arranged quietly.

It is rather from the Spaniards that we have to expect trouble and
ferment. They have been playing the fool at Ceuta, and now seek for
satisfaction, which would humiliate the new Sultan, and then perhaps
cause him, if he concedes, to totter upon his throne before he has
even taken a firm seat thereon.


‘My friends the hunters,’ alluded to in this letter, were, it
may be explained, villagers from outlying hamlets in the Tangier
district. They were strongly attached to Mr. Hay as a brother
sportsman and friend, and are frequently mentioned in his stories and
in his little book on Western Barbary. The bond lasted throughout
his life, though one generation of hunters passed away during his
long residence in Morocco.

Writing again to his wife on November 13, he says:—


Green and Reade[39] live with me, and are very useful and attentive;
but I am bored with this bachelor’s life and miss my wife and my
dear children.

All well so far.

Government has again approved of all I have done and am doing.

When war begins you will probably see me; but be assured I shall
not be in Tangier when bombardment takes place. I shall either
be on board a ship or safe inland amongst my hunters on ‘Mount
Washington[40].’ No imprudence shall I be guilty of, for your
sake. As to the Moors, they are ready to do anything for me. I will
not trust the Spaniards, nor go amongst the ‘Kabail.’

Sultan’s brother (Mulai Abbas, in command of the troops) and I
are good friends.

Tangier is deserted. Nothing but armed men: not a woman, not a child.

Difficulty in getting anything.


Every effort was made by the Spaniards to remove Mr. Hay from the
scene of action. His conduct was the subject of violent attacks by
the Spanish Minister, Señor Castelar, and by the Madrid press. It
was also commented on in a letter in the _Times_ from the Special
Correspondent of that paper. These attacks were brought before the
House of Commons, where Mr. Hay’s conduct was defended by Lord
John Russell and Mr. Liddell.


‘From Mr. Hay’s long residence in Morocco,’ said Lord John,
‘and his kindness to all who hold any intercourse with him,
he has gained to a great degree the respect of the people of that
country, not only of the Foreign Minister of the Emperor of Morocco,
who was formerly a merchant, but of the wild tribes of natives who
so frequently made incursions into the Spanish settlements. Having
this influence, I believe that he, according to instructions from
Her Majesty’s Government, endeavoured to prevent the breaking out
of war between Spain and Morocco. He endeavoured to prevent this war,
till he was told by the Moorish Minister that, whatever advice might
be given, Morocco could make no further concessions. Mr. Drummond
Hay did exert himself to the utmost, and used the influence he had
so justly acquired to prevent the outbreak of hostilities. Since
that time, it being the policy of Her Majesty’s Government to
be neutral in the war, his conduct has been in strict conformity
with his instructions. The hon. member has read a report from the
correspondent of _The Times_ newspaper—a very respectable gentleman,
I believe; but he is in the Spanish camp, and can hear nothing but
what he is told by Spaniards. They have stated various matters which
the correspondent repeats, but he says that he knows nothing of them,
and has no proof of them whatever. I have not heard from Mr. Drummond
Hay since he had an opportunity of seeing these statements in the
newspaper, but I have not a doubt they are, one and all, entirely
false. I do not believe that Mr. Drummond Hay has felt it his duty
to take any part in the war. The Spanish Minister did on one occasion
state to Mr. Buchanan that complaints had been made of the partiality
of Mr. Drummond Hay; but he gave no instance of such partiality,
nor any proof of it whatever. We are aware that the Spanish
Government in this war has obtained the aid of British merchants,
and that the Spanish army has been supplied with British stores and
provisions. Any complaints, therefore, of a violation of neutrality
might more justly be made by the Government of Morocco than by the
Government of Spain. I believe that the conduct of Mr. Drummond Hay
has been entirely free from blame. I do not wish to say which party
in this war is right; but I cannot sympathise with the enthusiasm
of the hon. gentleman in regard to it. I do not think because one
party is Christian and the other Mohammedan, we ought to give the
former all our sympathy, without knowing the causes of the quarrel.


Throughout the whole crisis Mr. Hay’s efforts to protect property
were unremitting, and an instance of his success is here given in
his own words.


When the rupture of relations between Spain and Morocco took place,
and Spanish subjects at Tangier were required by their Government
to leave Morocco, the ‘Padre Superior’ of the Roman Catholic
Mission paid me a visit, and informed me he had received orders from
the Spanish Minister to embark, with all the members of his Mission,
in a vessel sent to convey them to Spain. He added: ‘We are ordered
off in such haste that we have no time to pack and convey to Spain
the sacred pictures, crucifixes, and other religious emblems adorning
the chapel.’

(At that time the only chapel was that adjoining the Spanish
Legation.)

‘All the Foreign Representatives,’ he continued, ‘the Consular
Officers, as well as all foreign subjects, both Christians and Jews,
have begun to depart, and I hear that no one of them, with the
exception of yourself and the gentlemen attached to the British
Consulate, intends to remain in the country, fearing that the
Mohammedan population may, when the war commences, massacre the
Christians and Jews and pillage their dwellings.’

I replied that it was my intention to remain at my post, and that,
as I had never acted unjustly or unkindly towards the Mohammedans,
I had no grounds for supposing that they would seek to injure me;
though, in pursuance of instructions received from my Government,
my family would remain at Gibraltar.

The Padre Superior then said that the object of his visit was to ask
me a great favour—that I would prevent, as far as lay in my power,
the chapel from being broken into and pillaged.

‘After all,’ he said, ‘though we may entertain different views
regarding the forms of the Christian religion, _somos hermanos_
(we are brothers).’

I told the Padre it would afford me sincere satisfaction to be of
service to him; that I should let the Moorish authorities—and
also my native friends in the town—know that the Roman Catholic
Chapel was a house of God, and that it would be taken under my
special protection.

The Padre expressed his heartfelt thanks, and, shaking hands warmly,
we parted.

At the commencement of the war, large bodies of armed men belonging
to the tribes of the provinces of Tangier and El Araish arrived at
the former town, to buy powder and provisions before proceeding to
the Ceuta district—the seat of war. Amongst them came a body of
Beni Aros, composed of twelve hundred armed men. They are a fanatical
tribe, many of them being Sherífs, and guardians of the sanctuary
of Mulai Abd Selam. These wild fellows assembled in the little
market-place adjoining the Spanish Legation, which was situated about
a hundred yards from the British Consulate, and in the same street.

A Tangier Moor, having overheard some of the chiefs of these Beni
Aros, who were purchasing provisions, propose that the tribe should
break into and pillage the Spanish Legation and burn the Chapel,
ran down to report to my kavasses what they had said. As soon as I
received the information, I walked towards the little market-place,
accompanied by one of these kavasses, just in time to meet the
tribe, who had collected in the market-place, and were moving in
a body towards the Spanish Chapel with hostile intentions. I was
not acquainted with any of the Chiefs, but my kavass announced
to them that I was the ‘Naib Ingliz,’ the friend of the Moors,
who—having confidence in their good-will—had remained in Tangier,
when all other Christians had fled.

‘Oh, friends and warriors of the faith!’ I exclaimed, ‘where
are you going?’

They replied, with shouts,

‘It is our intention to destroy the dwelling of the accursed
“kaffer” (unbeliever), and the Spanish place where they worship
the devil, and to burn the pictures and idols it contains.’

I said, ‘Are you not aware that this house of the Spanish
Bashador and all it contains, as also this place of worship since
the declaration of war, is no longer the property of the Spaniards,
but belongs to your Lord the Sultan? Moreover, the Spaniards do not
worship the devil, but Allah—though their forms are different from
yours and mine. That chapel is a house of God, and you would bring
a curse on yourselves by committing such a sacrilege, and would be
punished by the Sultan for destroying his property. You are brave
warriors of your faith, going to the seat of war to defend your
country. War not against brick and mortar, the property of your Lord
and Master the Sultan, but lose no time and hasten off to Ceuta to
join your brethren in arms who await you.’

‘The Englishman speaks the truth,’ the chief Sheikh cried
out. ‘He is the friend of the Mussulmans. Come away.’

Many of the wild fellows looked up as they passed and gave me a
friendly nod.

Not a door, not even a pane of glass, was broken, and when peace
was restored and the Spanish Legation and other Missions returned,
everything was found safe and uninjured as they had left it.

During the war, my friend the Superior had died, and was succeeded by
another very worthy priest, who devoted day and night to attending
on the sick. All that he possessed he gave away in charity to
the poor, but he was more fanatical and intolerant towards the
‘hereticos’—as he called all Christians of other than the
Roman Catholic creed—than towards the Mohammedans and Jews.

On the return of the Franciscan Mission, after peace had been
concluded, the Superior called and thanked me for having guarded
the chapel and their property, which, he said, was found just as it
had been left. I replied that it had afforded me much pleasure to
be of service to the Franciscan friars, always so distinguished for
their charity and kindness to the poor Christians and Mohammedans;
and, ‘after all,’ I said, ‘_Somos Cristianos y hermanos_’
(‘we are Christians and brothers’).

The Padre looked very grave when I used this expression, and took his
leave. The following day he called again, after dark, and requested
to see me in private. He told me that he had been pondering over
the expression I had used, ‘_Somos Cristianos y hermanos_.’
‘If that be indeed the case,’ he added, ‘I rejoice; but I am
surprised that, as a Christian, you never attend at the Chapel. If,
on the other hand, you are still a Protestant, then you are not a
Christian or a brother, but a heretic, damned to all eternity.’
He continued, ‘Are you a Catholic?’

I replied, ‘Yes.’

‘Do you believe in God?’ ‘Yes.’

‘In the Trinity?’ ‘Yes.’

Then followed questions regarding the Sacraments, and whether I
acknowledged the Pope as God’s Vicar on earth.

My responses no longer met the good Padre’s views; for he burst
out, ‘I eschew you as a Christian! You are an accursed heretic,
and shall burn hereafter in the everlasting fire of hell,’ and he
raved in his excitement.

I interposed, ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged. Condemn not, lest
ye be condemned;’ adding, with a smile, ‘you have declared that
you believe I shall go to hell and suffer eternal punishment. Now,
I declare my belief that you, for your good works and charity, will
go to heaven, and there I hope to meet you. You see I have the more
charity, since you have cursed me; but I say, God will bless you. I
return good for evil, as taught by our Saviour. If you inquire,’
I continued, ‘regarding the belief of the members of the Church
of England, to which I belong, or of Protestants in general, as you
call us, you will find that we have the same moral laws as the Roman
Catholics, and that the livery alone and the outward forms separate
us from the Roman Catholic Church.’ So saying, I held out my hand
to the good old fanatic, repeating, ‘You shall be blessed for your
charity and kindness to all men.’

He took my hand in silence, and I bade him adieu.


Throughout these troubled times Mr. Hay rode daily, unattended, on
the beach or in the country. One afternoon, when riding along the
narrow road leading outside the town walls to the sea, he encountered
an armed tribe coming in to join the forces then bound for the Tetuan
district, the seat of war. As he passed quietly through them, one of
the men, cursing him for an infidel, spat at him. Mr. Hay at once
retaliated by bringing his heavy hunting crop sharply down on the
head of the offender, abusing him roundly the while.

In a moment the long guns of those who witnessed the occurrence
were brought to their knees, and he heard the click of the clumsy
flint-locks as they cocked their pieces.

Undaunted, he cried, ‘Shame on you, that would call yourselves
men! Cowards, go and fight with women!’

Some of the elders, who were rather in the rear, observing the pause
and disturbance, hurried forward and checked the excited tribesmen,
and Mr. Hay, turning to them, said, ‘It is most unseemly and
unworthy of the warriors of your race that these young men should
attack an unarmed and unoffending individual. Is it for these youths
to insult and abuse me, an Englishman, and the friend of the Moors?’

The elders soundly rated the offenders, and offered to bastinado, then
and there, the chief culprit, which Mr. Hay however declined. They
then frankly apologised, pleading that the men were under the
influence of great excitement at the prospect of fighting the
Spaniards, else they would never have behaved so ill to the
‘Ingliz,’ their friend. The weapons were lowered, and Mr. Hay
rode through the midst of the horde, who made way for him quietly.

When peace was finally concluded, in 1860, it was in great measure
due to Mr. Hay’s intervention. All the variations between hope
and fear are chronicled in his letters home.

At last, on March 29, he is able to write:—


Thank God! on the 25th preliminaries were signed. _Entre nous_,
though Spaniards continue to rave against me, it was I who got this
Government to agree to peace after a hard-fought battle in the plain
of Tetuan.


Altogether this period had been for him a time of great anxiety. His
troubles were increased by a sharp attack of what is now known as
‘Russian influenza,’ which prostrated him just when affairs
were in the most critical condition. He fought against the malady,
however, in his anxiety to secure peace; but when his family returned
to Tangier they found that the illness had left him with snow-white
beard and moustache, who before had not a gray hair.

The three letters that follow were written from Meknes during a
mission undertaken by Mr. Hay to the Moorish Court with the object
of inducing the Sultan to concede the demands of Spain, and to place
the peace just concluded between the two countries on a firm basis.

As will be seen, great difficulties arose with regard to the
payment of the indemnity claimed by Spain. The Sultan had asked
the British Government to guarantee a loan, to which request they
could not accede. During his sojourn at Meknes, Mr. Hay received
a proposal from Mr. Forde, a British merchant, to raise a loan in
England at 10 per cent., provided the British Government would make
a convention with the Moorish Government by which the interests of
the shareholders in the proposed loan would be safeguarded by the
British Government. This matter was not concluded when Mr. Hay left
Meknes, as much depended on the attitude taken by Spain. He writes
to his mother from Meknes on July 18, 1861:—


Here we are! all well and not even fatigued by our journey. We have
had a triumphal march through the country, and had I been the Sultan
himself, more honour and respect could not have been shown me.

Not an unkind word has been heard from high or low. The General
Officer sent by the Sultan to Tangier to escort us is the third
military dignitary in the Empire. All the governors and chiefs who
met us were under his authority, and the good fellow told me he was
ordered by the Sultan to attend upon me and to meet my wishes as
if I were the Sultan himself. He and I have made great friends. He
said, ‘When I received the Sultan’s order to take charge of the
Mission, I thought I should have to take care of pots of china, which
would crack or break at the first jolt, and that I might therefore
be ruined by some accident; but I find I have to deal with men who
have kind and stout hearts.’

I will not tell you of the thousands of wild fellows—cavalry and
infantry—who have saluted us on the road, but will merely describe
our reception this morning.

We left our last encampment, called Kasba Faráo, at 4 a.m., escorted
by the Governor of Sherarda with about 1,200 cavalry.

At 5.30 we were met by the wild tribe of Zerhóna, shouting and
firing. I do not believe they meant to offend us in any way, but,
on the contrary, to welcome us in this boisterous manner; but our
old Kaid declared that no man should shout or fire again till I had
passed. The Zerhóna objected, as they said they wished to honour me
face to face. I should mention that they are of Rif origin, and fight
better than all the other tribes put together. A dispute took place,
and then the order was given to the cavalry to surround our party. In
a moment we found ourselves surrounded by the 1,200 cavalry; the
chiefs of Sherarda declaring that they would ride down the Zerhóna
if the slightest insult were offered. All passed off quietly.

At 7 a.m. mounted officers arrived, sent from the capital by the
Sultan to welcome us. At 8 o’clock, about four miles from the town,
the Kaid-el-Meshwa, the first military officer of the court, met us,
and we beheld a line of about 15,000 cavalry and 18,000 infantry[41],
with banners flying, ranged along the heights surrounding the
town. Along these lines we passed, and I was presented to all the
governors, generals, and other dignitaries. A _feu de joie_ was
fired repeatedly along the lines.

The Governor of Meknes arrived in state to receive us, also a relation
of the Sultan; and the late Ambassador to London, with another Moorish
officer, came out to welcome us, and to say that they were ordered
by the Sultan to attend upon us during our sojourn at the court.

All the shops were shut; the whole population lined the wall.

We are lodged in a large and handsome house, with a fountain in the
centre of the court. The walls are in Arabesque filagree, the floors
in glazed tiles. The house is lofty, and has a second story. The
rooms are magnificently furnished with carpets, mirrors, clocks,
beds, and velvet and cloth tapestries.

The provisions are profuse, never have I eaten such bread; and,
strange to say, the butter is delicious.

The ex-Ambassador waits below to learn our wishes, the General
Officer to act as chief guard. _Too much_ has been done, and it
almost makes me feel sad, as I know how little we can do to help them,
and what a bitter pill I have to offer as the remedy to be taken to
save the Empire.


                                                      _July 22_, 1861.

This morning we had a public audience of the Sultan.

One of the chief officers of the royal household, with a guard of
honour, was dispatched by the Sultan to this residence to conduct us
to the palace. We proceeded on horseback, and threading the winding
and narrow streets of this town, which had been well watered for
the occasion, we arrived at the beautiful and picturesque gate of
the castle built by Sultan Mulai Ismael about two centuries ago. On
entering the gate we passed through lines of troops, placed on each
side of the passage conducting to the great court, or ‘Meshwa,’ of
the palace. This court, a mere walled enclosure, is about 200 yards
long and 120 broad. Around it were arranged some 2,500 infantry,
amongst whom I observed about 500 men drilled in the European style.

We were conducted to the centre of the court and there dismounted. A
chair, which I declined, was offered to me whilst awaiting the
Sultan’s arrival. Immediately in the rear of where we had been
placed stood the chief dignitaries and officers of the Sultan’s
court. A few minutes after our arrival, the chief Uzir came out from
the gate of the palace and, after salutations had passed between
us, placed himself in the centre of the line of officers standing
in our rear. The Uzir was followed by the ‘Kaid-el-Meshwa,’
or High Chamberlain, of the Sultan’s court. A few moments after,
from the gate facing our party, the Sultan, mounted on a magnificent
white horse, entered the court. His Majesty was preceded by five
led horses splendidly caparisoned, then came two officers carrying
very long lances: these men were followed by a number of officers on
foot, ranged on each side of His Majesty. Amongst them I observed
the Chief Executioner—wearing a broad sword—and the bearer of
the Sultan’s gun.

His Sherifian Majesty was dressed all in white, and wore a
‘burnous’ with large silken tufts on the hood—these tufts
being the sole mark of the Sovereign.

As His Majesty entered the court, the Master of the Horse shouted in
a loud voice to the officers and troops, ‘Our lord says, May God
assist you.’ All the line of officers in our rear, Uzir included,
kneeling, bowed their heads to the ground, and the troops, bending
low, raised a shout of ‘May God prolong the life of our lord.’
This was repeated twice.

His Majesty, having advanced to within thirty yards of where we stood,
waved to us with his hand to advance, which I and the other gentlemen
did, after making our bows, till I stood within a yard of His
Majesty’s horse. The interpreter, Mr. David Sicsu, accompanied us;
as on such occasions it is etiquette to speak through an interpreter.


Formal speeches were then exchanged and the Sultan withdrew. The
letter continues:—


The horse is the throne of the Sultan of Morocco, who is the
descendant and representative of the prophet Mohammed and of those
Kaliphs who, rallying from the deserts of Arabia on their swift
horses, conquered such vast and fair portions of Africa, Asia,
and Europe.

The fact of the Sultan having mounted a milk-white horse is meant to
be emblematic of peace and goodwill. When His Majesty is displeased
he rides a black horse, and according to the royal humour he is said
to vary the shade of the steed he mounts.


                                                      _July 28_, 1861.

We have not made much progress in negotiation, for the war
party is strong here, and the Sultan feels very strongly his past
humiliations. I have had one or two battles with the chief Uzir, and
he now openly declares that he takes my view of the whole question,
whatever may be the decision of the Sultan.

We continue to be feasted, and are rather bored thereby, for they
fix on the late hour of 10 p.m. to commence festivities, and there
is a great monotony; illuminations, Moorish music, tea and cakes.

The houses are most beautiful, fountains bubble all around, and the
scene is a fairy one.

Princely honours are paid me everywhere, the population being
compelled to stand up as I pass, in fact I am exceedingly bored by
all these attentions and forms.

We have our prayers on Sunday; it is perhaps the first little
gathering of Christians that ever prayed together at Meknes.


                                                            _July 30._

I have just returned from a long private interview with the Sultan. He
has not conceded Spanish terms, for he has not the money, and,
therefore, to say he would give what he has not, would only make
matters worse; but he agrees to send an Ambassador to Madrid to
treat. To persuade him to do this was one of the chief objects of
my mission.

Thus far we have succeeded.

Sultan is very kind, says much that is flattering, and laughs and
talks with me.


                                           Tangier, _August 20_, 1861.

We have arrived here, all well.

I succeeded in obtaining Sultan’s consent to all demands the British
Government desired me to put forward; so, if Spain keeps good faith,
all will be settled.


With the object of bringing negotiations to a conclusion, Mr. Hay
subsequently paid a short visit to Rabát, where the Sultan was
then staying. After his return to Tangier he writes on October 23
to his mother:—


The Sultan is at Rabát, and my object was to have a chat with him. He
received me very kindly, and privately, as I had requested. He
agreed to all I suggested, and even told his Uzir that his duty
would be to listen to what I proposed, and then to act at once on
my recommendations.

His Sultanic Majesty was in good spirits, scolded me good-humouredly
for not writing to him, told me he looked upon me as his best
counsellor and friend, and he therefore expected I should write to
him, not only what was agreeable, but also what was disagreeable,
as he said thus alone he could learn the truth.

I was lodged sumptuously. I refused all presents, but accepted for
Commander Nicolas a splendid sword mounted in gold which the Sultan
sent him through me.

I begin to feel almost nervous about the blind confidence placed in
me by the Sultan. I happened to mention to the Uzir that one of the
governors of a port was an ‘imbecile.’ Next morning I was informed
that the Sultan said my opinion sufficed, and he was dismissed from
office. A Jew had been robbed and put in prison by a governor. I
mentioned it. Orders were given for restoration of the property,
and the governor is sent for by the Sultan, which is equivalent to
imprisonment. I must think twice before I speak to these folk.

There are sad delays in England about the loan, but I am working hard.


Finally, in January, 1862, in virtue of a convention between Her
Majesty the Queen and the Emperor of Morocco, the loan was issued in
bonds amounting to £501,200. The terms of the payment were that half
of the custom’s duties were to be hypothecated as security, Her
Majesty undertaking to appoint Commissioners to receive the customs
duties. The Consuls and consular agents at the various ports were
directed to act as these commissioners, and the moneys so collected
were delivered to the British Representative to be transferred by
him to the contractors in London.

At the time the loan was issued, the customs duties were assessed
as follows:—

  Imports paying 10 per cent    £91,676

  Exports paying 25 per cent    231,228
                               --------
                       Total   £322,904

It was expected that this sum would be increased by a duty on
exportation of wheat and barley, which would have added another
£100,000, raising the total to be paid to the contractors to
£211,452[42].

The other moiety of the customs duties was paid to the Spanish
Government to cover the remainder of the war indemnity—they also
appointing Commissioners.

When the loan was finally paid off in 1883, the returns were—

  Exports     £832,212

  Imports      807,536
            ----------
    Total   £1,639,748

as against £322,904, quoted in 1862. This increase was attributable,
not only to larger commerce, but also to the improved system
introduced at the customs which Mr. Hay persuaded the Sultan to
adopt. Hitherto the officials, as was common in Morocco, were a
permanent unpaid staff, who were supposed to pay themselves by
subtracting a percentage from the duties levied. Under the new
system supervisors were appointed, who received a fixed salary, and
these officials were changed every three months. This reform worked
well. It at once materially increased the revenue derived from customs
duties, and, after the loan and war indemnity were paid off in 1883,
the Custom House officers continued to be appointed and paid on the
same system.

Mr. Hay’s services were recognised by Her Majesty’s Government,
and he writes to his wife’s sister in May, 1862:—


I received a telegram a few days ago from the Minister,
congratulating me on my nomination to the K.C.B. I am pleased,
as Government recognises so handsomely my labours; and, after all
the abuse of the Spanish Press, and even of the Spanish Government,
it is a public acknowledgement that I have done some good in the
cause of peace and goodwill. My ambition is now nigh satisfied,
and I am quite content if this is the last handle I get to my name.

I am rather troubled with inflamed or weak eyes. I have perhaps
strained them at night. I have given up reading almost entirely,
and only write to earn my bread, or to retain the affections of
those I love.


This eye trouble had its origin, no doubt, in the attack of
influenza from which he had suffered in 1859, accompanied as it was by
overstrain and work. It was further aggravated by his hurried journey
to Meknes in the great heat of summer. For many years he continued to
suffer, and, by the advice of eminent oculists in London and Paris,
gave up all reading and writing. All his letters and dispatches
were written from his dictation. Though towards the latter part of
his life Sir John in great measure recovered the use of his eyes,
he was always unable to read much at night, and thus endured what
to him was a great deprivation.

The following extract from the _Gibraltar Chronicle_ of July 21,
1883, concludes the history of the Moorish loan.


We are informed that a letter has been lately addressed to the
Secretary of the Stock Exchange by Messrs. Robinson and Fleming,
the contractors of the Moorish loan of 1862, notifying its
final settlement last month. The text of the communication is as
follows:—‘It affords us great pleasure to hand you enclosed
the official announcement of the payment off at par, on June 26,
1883, of the total amount of the undrawn Bonds of the Loan of His
Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Morocco. We take this opportunity of
stating that His Majesty has been careful to observe the provisions
of the contract upon which the loan was issued, and we further beg
to observe that Her Britannic Majesty’s Minister at Morocco, Sir
J. H. Drummond Hay, K.C.B., has most kindly rendered, voluntarily and
continually, his valuable services in all details connected with the
loan.’ In further speaking of this loan it was observed that it
is one of the only loans where no hitch of any kind had occurred,
and where perfect good faith had been shown. That such has been
the case all credit should be given to the Sultan, but we may also
observe that the Moorish Government has been so carefully watched
and kept up to the mark in its payments by our energetic Minister,
that they have had no opportunity of falling into arrears. The loan
was not a very big one, but the amount of detail work caused by the
smallest of loans to a country such as Morocco is much greater than
is generally imagined. From the first, however, the superintendence
of it was undertaken by Sir John Drummond Hay without any benefit
or remuneration to himself, and it has been carried through with
the thoroughness which has marked throughout his long public career
every measure to which he has put his hand.




                             CHAPTER XVI.

                 SIR JOHN HAY’S HOME AT TANGIER. 1862.


The British Legation at Tangier was, until 1891, situated in the
town, within a few minutes walk of the shore. In 1862 it still
commanded a full view of the bay and of the surrounding country;
for houses before that time were built only one story high, with
the exception of the residences of the Foreign Representatives,
then all within the town walls.

Erected in 1791, when James Mario Matra was Consul, the old Legation
was designed and built by an English architect. The narrow street,
leading to it from the beach, passed the principal mosque, which,
in the reign of Charles II, when Tangier was a British possession,
was known as the English cathedral.

A short distance beyond the mosque the street passed under an archway
from which the Legation was entered by large double doors. Inside
these was the deep porch where the kavasses sat, and adjoining was a
small room where one of them slept at night as guard and porter. The
entrance led to a paved court surrounded by the dwelling-house and the
public offices. On entering the house a great stuffed hyena, grinning
round the angle of the staircase, greeted the new comer—frequently
to the dismay of a native, who took it to be a living beast.

A balcony, or rather verandah, from which could be seen the bay
and the opposite coast of Spain, ran the whole length of the house
on the upper floor, in front of the drawing-room windows, and
overhung the little garden, a walled enclosure in which the trees
and flowering shrubs had grown to such a size that flowers could no
longer be cultivated beneath their shade, and which was therefore
only used for various pets. Here was kept the tame leopard in 1858,
and later several mouflons and gazelles; here, too, young wild boar
and porcupines had their day.

In his little book, _In Spain_, Hans Christian Andersen, the Danish
poet and writer of fairy tales, who was one of Sir John’s guests
in November, 1862, wrote of the old Legation:—


We were here in an old flat-roofed building with a balcony hanging
over the garden surrounded by high walls. Within all was so pleasantly
and well arranged. The stairs and corridors were adorned with skins
of wild animals, collections of Moorish pottery, spears, sabres,
and other weapons, together with rich saddles and horse-trappings,
presents which Sir John had received on his visits to the Emperor
of Morocco.

In the usual sitting-room—which was adjacent to a not insignificant
library—there were, among many paintings and engravings, more than
one well-known place and portrait belonging to my Danish home. The
splendid silver vase, a gift from the Swedish King Oscar, stood in
one corner, and in another a magnificent porcelain vase, presented
to Sir John by the Danish King Christian VIII. Every window-blind
was of Copenhagen manufacture, with painted views of the palaces
of Fredensborg, Frederiksberg, and Rosenberg. I might have fancied
myself in a Danish room—in Denmark—and yet I was in another
quarter of the globe.

In this house there was every English convenience, even to
a fireplace; and from the balcony we looked out upon the little
garden where oleander bloomed amidst the variegated bell-flowers I
had seen in the churchyard at Gibraltar. A large palm-tree raised
its lofty head in the clear moonlit air, and imparted to the view
its foreign appearance.

The sea, with its white-crested waves, was rolling near; and the
lighthouse at Tarifa glimmered upon us from the coast of Europe as
we sat, a happy circle, in the handsomely-furnished, comfortable
room. Sir John told us about the country and the people; he told us
also about his journey to Morocco (Marákesh), and of his residence
in Constantinople.


The room used by Sir John as an office during the last twenty years
of his life was on the opposite side of the court to that occupied
by the dwelling-house. Outside it was a little railed balcony whence
he was wont to interview the peasants and poor petitioners who came
to see him. They would come to entreat his intercession in cases
of cruelty or extortion on the part of the Moorish officials, and,
even more frequently, his friendly arbitration was sought, sometimes
by individuals, but not seldom by rival villages or even tribes who
desired an impartial judgment on their differences. His decision in
such cases was accepted as just and final, for his keen sympathy with
the peasantry and his love for an open-air life were among the many
ties that bound him to the people he had learnt to love and who held
him in such high respect. The country-folk knew that in him they had
a kindly friend, always ready in bad times to lend them small sums
of money, to be repaid when the harvest was gathered—and rarely
did they fail to refund such loans.

Residence in the town in summer-time, though not so unhealthy
then as now, was very trying for delicate persons and young
children. Consequently, for many years, Sir John sent his wife and
little girls to England to spend there the summer months: his son
being then a schoolboy at Eton. When the girls were older, and better
able to withstand the climate, several summers were spent at a villa
which had formerly belonged to Mr. Carstensen, Lady Hay’s father,
by whom the surrounding grounds had been beautifully laid out. But
in 1848, when Sir John bought the villa, the garden had fallen into a
neglected state. It had never recovered from the ravages committed in
1844, when the French bombardment destroyed the greenhouses and the
tribes completed the work of destruction by despoiling and wrecking
both house and garden. Still, it was a lovely spot. The house was
originally a small Moorish building consisting of a vine-covered
courtyard surrounded on three sides by long, low rooms. To these
Mr. Carstensen added several bedrooms and a large studio. Near the
villa stood, and still stands, a tower, constructed, it is said,
by Basha Hamed, the original owner of the garden, and one of the
warrior saints who fought against the English and is buried on the
hill of the ‘Mujáhidin.’

This garden Sir John had named ‘The Wilderness,’ for such it
was when he bought it. But to the Moors it was known as ‘Senya
el Hashti,’ or Spring of Hashti, from the water, which, rising in
the garden, is conducted through it by an ancient aqueduct. Charming
though this garden was, the irrigation necessary in the dry season
for the groves of orange and lemon trees rendered it unhealthy as a
summer residence. Sir John therefore decided on building himself a
house on Jebel Kebír, known to-day to residents as the ‘Hill.’
For this purpose he bought a piece of ground from a former American
Consul, to which however he later added largely. The site of the
house was pitched upon by a lucky chance. Sir John was hunting on
the ‘Hill’ with the gun, and an old boar being brought to bay
in a cave under an overhanging rock, he crawled into the thicket and
dispatched the beast where it stood fighting the dogs, and afterwards
clambered round to the top of the cliff which overhung the cave. Much
struck with the position and the view this spot commanded, extending
from Trafalgar to Gibraltar and along the African coast to Jebel
Musa, he determined, if possible, to establish his summer residence
there. There, in 1861, he built ‘Ravensrock,’ naming it from a
rock standing above the house which is known to the country people
as ‘Hajara el Ghaghab,’ or, ‘rock of ravens,’ because these
birds assemble there at certain seasons before flying to their
roosting-place in the trees below the house.

The plan of spending the hot season only three miles from Tangier, but
at a height of 500 feet above the sea, and with a northern exposure,
answered so well that for some years Sir John and his family only
left Tangier every second or third year to go home on leave or to
travel on the Continent. Here came many an invalid from Gibraltar to
endeavour to shake off the obstinate Rock fever. Here also gathered
the friends who joined in hunting or shooting expeditions, which,
in the hot season, were undertaken at a very early hour, so that
the sportsmen might rest throughout the heat of the day in some
shady spot and resume their sport in the cool of the evening before
riding home late at night. Sometimes, perhaps, they would sit out by
night in the grounds, or in the adjoining woods by the melon-patch
of a villager, to watch for boar in hopes of shooting one, and thus
saving him from an ignominious death in a trap or noose set by the
peasants to protect their crops from the greedy ravages of the pig.

When, in winter, the family returned to reside in the Legation,
Ravensrock was left unguarded (until quite recently, when it became
necessary to leave a man in charge); and for many years, for the
convenience of visitors a French window was left on the latch to
ensure easy entry, and not a single article, valuable or otherwise,
was ever missed.


A review of Hans Christian Andersen’s book, _In Spain_, published
in the _Spectator_ of February 26, 1864, says:—


Among the prettiest sketches of the book is the description of the
author’s trip from Gibraltar to the African coast, whither he went
by invitation from Sir John Drummond Hay.

The family of Sir John, consisting of his wife (a daughter of the
late Danish Consul-General in Morocco, Monsieur Carstensen) and
two daughters, were living in an Oriental villa close to the sea,
which existence seemed to the poet like one of the wonders of the
_Thousand and One Nights’_ tales. The English comfort and luxury
within the house; the tropical vegetation in the garden and terraces;
the howling of the jackals, with an occasional real lion within
a stone’s throw of all this European art and elegance, strongly
impressed the traveller from the North. ‘I lived as in a dream,’
he exclaims, ‘through golden days and nights never to be forgotten,
adding a new and rich leaf to the wonderful legend of my life!’


The poet, after his departure, wrote from Seville a letter to Lady
Hay of which the translation follows. It is very characteristic of
the gentle unaffected being who brought pleasure to so many homes
and accepted his small share of the good things of life with such
modesty and gratitude.


How shall I express all my thanks for the great hospitality and
kindness you and your husband showed to me and Collin? The eight days
in your home is still for us the flower of our whole journey. We were
so happy! We felt that we were welcome, and all around us was so new,
so strange. Yes, I am conscious that if I live to return to Denmark,
I shall take with me a fresh and many-coloured poetical blossom
which I shall owe to you.

The steamer brought us to Cadiz in the early morning. Still, in
the night I had a slight alarm, for in the Straits we grounded on
a sand-bank, but we soon were clear and the weather was favourable.

Cadiz was for me a most uninteresting town. It is clean, as if
in its Sunday best, but has no characteristic features. Seville,
on the contrary, is full of life, like Rossini’s music. And what
treasures are to be seen here—the Alcasar, the cathedral with its
glorious Murillos! But it is cold here like a chilly October day at
home. I am dressed in quite winter clothing, and in the streets the
men wear their cloaks thrown round them so as to cover their mouths.

I dread the journey to Madrid. To travel twenty-one hours at this
time of the year will not be pleasant. Very happy should I be if I
could hear at the Danish Minister’s at Madrid how everything is
passing in my African home. Yes! you and your husband must allow me
to call your happy dwelling by that name. Give my thanks and greeting
to your husband and bairns; also to Mr. Green. I regret that I did
not manage to take leave of him when I left.

I hope we may meet again next summer in Denmark.

In Denmark I will plant the melon seeds I got from African soil,
and I hope they will thrive, blossom, and bear fruit.

God give you and yours blessings and happiness.

                                       Your grateful and devoted

                                                       H. C. ANDERSEN.


It has been said that the native peasantry resorted to the British
Legation for sympathy, and assistance in time of need, from the
man they looked on as a kindly friend. In Sir John the victims of
injustice, greed, and oppression found a ready advocate and powerful
defender. The favour which he was known to enjoy with the Sultan added
weight to his remonstrances with petty tyrants, and with officials
who, even if not themselves guilty, readily connived at tyranny or
oppression. The authorities dreaded lest they should be reported at
Court for acts of misgovernment—reported, as they well knew, from a
desire for justice and not from personal motives—and this wholesome
fear drove many a venal Moorish official along the straight path. Thus
it was that Sir John obtained so great an influence in Morocco.

The following story illustrates the way in which an act of kindness
done by Sir John was remembered and bore fruit after many years. It
was told by a Moorish soldier who accompanied an intrepid English
traveller into the interior. This attendant had been recommended by
Sir John, and on his return to Tangier came at once to report himself
and give some account of the journey. He related that having arrived
at a certain stage of the journey they were detained. The tribesmen
who occupied the district through which it was necessary to pass,
refused to recognise the authority of the Sultan, whose troops they
had lately defeated. Declaring their belief that the Christian
traveller was a French engineer come to spy out their land, they
said they would have none of him. The officer of the escort sent by
the Sultan dared not proceed, and there was thus every prospect that
this, the first, attempt on the part of a European to penetrate into
this part of Morocco, would have to be abandoned.

At this juncture there appeared on the scene the Sheikh of the tribe
occupying the district adjacent to that of the rebels.

In the words of the narrator of the story:—‘This Sheikh rode up to
the tents and inquired of me whether the Christian was a Frenchman, or
whether there was any truth in the report, which had just reached him,
that the traveller was the son of the English “Bashador.” I told
him that he was not the son, but a friend, of the Bashador, who wished
to pass through that part of the country, and to whom the Bashador
had given letters recommending him to the good offices of the Uzir,
in consequence of which an escort had been sent by the Government
to take him as far as possible in the direction he desired to go,
and that now the officer of the escort dared proceed no further.

‘“Where are you from?” queried the Sheikh.

‘“From Tangier.”

‘“Do you know the Bashador?”

‘“For years I was his servant.”

‘“Is the Bashador he that lived at Senya el Hashti?”

‘“The same.”

‘“Is he well? And his son and household, are they well?”

‘“He is well, they are all well.”

‘“Do you know the hunters of Suanni and their Sheikh Hadj Hamed
and Hadj Ali and Alarbi and Abd-el-Kerim?”

‘“I know them all. Abd-el-Kerim—God’s peace be with him—was
my father.”

‘“And the Bashador, you say, is well and his son and his
household. Alhamdulillah! He it was who procured my release when I
was imprisoned at Tangier. I have worked in his garden, at Senya
el Hashti: I have eaten and drank in his house. His friend is my
friend. On my head be it to carry out the Bashador’s wishes. This
Nazarene, you say, is a friend of the Bashador who wishes him to be
helped on his journey. It is well. I will see him safely through. On
my head be it. This tribe will assuredly not grant free passage to
the Christian, nor to the Sultan’s escort, but I will arrange that,
‘enshallah,’ the Bashador’s wishes be carried out. Even now
will I dispatch a speedy messenger to my brother, telling him what
is required. By sunset the escort my brother will send should be
here, and after resting till the prayer of the ‘Asha’ is called
(about nine p.m.), we will start, ‘enshallah.’ See to it that the
Nazarene be then ready to go with us. Through the night will we ride
and shortly after sunrise we shall, with God’s help, be out of the
district inhabited by this rebellious tribe. The country immediately
beyond is now infested by bands of robbers, and the Sultan’s
authorities have fled, but before sundown, ‘enshallah,’ I will
hand you all over in safety to the Governor of the next district.”

‘The Sheikh’s men arrived about sunset, some hundred men, mostly
mounted and all well armed. Shortly after the hour of the ‘Asha’
prayer we started, our party riding in the centre of this escort. As
we travelled we found other parties of the Sheikh’s men waiting
for us at intervals; these, as we met them, joining and continuing
with us until—as daylight showed—the escort amounted to some
three hundred armed men.

‘In the morning, shortly after crossing a river which formed the
boundary of the hostile tribe, we rested for one hour. Then the
Sheikh ordered most of his men to return home; he himself, with some
twenty-five followers, escorting us to the dwelling of the Governor
of the next province, where we arrived before sundown.’

On the other hand Sir John occasionally made such bitter enemies
amongst the ill-disposed and the criminal classes that his life
was endangered. One of the most notable of these was a native of
the village of Zinats between Tangier and Tetuan, a man named Aisa
(Anglicé Jesus).

A brother of Aisa’s had been ill and applied for medical relief
to a doctor, an Austrian Jew, resident at Tetuan. The doctor did all
in his power to relieve the man, but without avail, and the patient
died. Aisa chose to consider that his brother had been poisoned,
and, vowing vengeance against the doctor and all Jews, soon after
murdered an inoffensive Israelite pedlar, travelling between Tetuan
and Tangier.

Sir John insisted that the authorities should seize and punish the
criminal; but this was extremely difficult to accomplish, as he
hid amongst the rocky slopes of the hills near Zinats, and thence
continued to threaten the Jews, who, in terror of their lives, dared
not travel from Tangier to Tetuan, except under safe convoy. He
also sent a written message to the effect that, in revenge for
these persistent efforts to have him arrested, he intended taking
Sir John’s life and—failing other opportunity—would force his
way into the latter’s house and kill him there.

To these threats Sir John paid no attention. He rode about as usual,
unattended and unarmed, and even shot partridge over the district of
Zinats, the murderer’s haunt, while still urging the authorities
in his pursuit. The villagers in that part of the country seem to
have shared somewhat in Aisa’s view of the cause of his brother’s
death. They sheltered, fed, and hid him. It was only when a fine was
levied on the district, when some of the Sheikhs were imprisoned
as hostages, and when a whole village which was supposed to have
sheltered the murderer had been burnt to the ground, that they
deserted the criminal. He was finally traced to a cave where he had
taken refuge. The soldiers tried to smoke him out of his lair; but
he fired on them and then, seeing escape to be hopeless, shot himself.

[Illustration: SENYA EL HASHTI]




                             CHAPTER XVII.

                      THIRD MISSION TO MARÁKESH.


In 1863 Sir John went to the Court at the city of Marákesh on a
special mission from Her Majesty’s Government, with the object of
obtaining certain concessions and privileges. In this mission he
was in great part successful, though many of the promises made to
him to introduce improvements and reforms never passed beyond words.

The following year, 1864, saw Sir John again in attendance at the
Court, which was then at Rabát. From that city he writes to his
mother on October 16:—


I arrived here on the 28th ult., having passed a week on the road,
and had good sport with small game.

The Sultan did not enter Rabát till the 13th inst., having been
detained en route in ‘eating up’ some rebel tribes, some of the
latter causing him several days of uneasy digestion.

The night before His Majesty’s entry into Rabát, the Uzir tells me,
the Sultan woke up about 11 o’clock and summoned him. It was to ask
whether the Uzir thought I would like to see His Majesty enter, and
if so to bid him write off and invite me to witness the scene from a
good position, where a guard of honour would be stationed to protect
us from the wild hordes, or, if I so pleased, to meet and have an
audience of His Majesty in the midst of his troops before he entered.

As a true courtier, I chose the latter course, and, having put on
our armour, we sallied out at 9 a.m. to meet the Sultan.

As usual on such festive occasions, it poured buckets. I was well
covered, but not so were the members of my mission, who looked in
their uniforms and feathers like drowned cocks.

Adjoining the outer walls of Rabát, which are about a mile from the
town, there is a beautiful plain of red sand, with small undulating
hills here and there, and covered with palmettos, shrubs, and wild
flowers. The vanguard of the army, which latter consisted of about
30,000 men, was already in sight, and picturesque groups of the
irregular cavalry had stationed themselves on these heights, as,
I suppose, pickets acting as a sort of police to the wild hordes
that followed.

The rain ceased, and the sun broke out as the Royal cortège
appeared. The disciplined troops, a body of about 6,000 infantry,
dressed in scarlet jackets and blue trousers, marched in parallel
columns, leaving a space of about a quarter of a mile between each
column. The disciplined cavalry, some 500 strong, riding in front
and rear and on the flanks to keep order. Within the lines came the
tribes, each forming a separate body and marching with some sort
of regularity, banners flying and pipes squealing, as if they had
been Highlanders.

Then followed some mules and camels with field guns and ammunition,
and, after these, bodies of the Sultan’s Bokhári, or Royal
guard. Troops of forty or fifty of these every now and then wheeling
back and charging towards the group that surrounded the Sultan,
fired their guns in the air.

His Majesty was preceded by a body of running footmen; then came the
Chief Usher, followed by two men on foot bearing long lances—the
last and sole signs of ancient Moorish chivalry; then the Sultan
himself, mounted on a beautiful grey horse, a monster for a Barb,
being not less than seventeen hands high. Behind His Majesty were
the umbrella-bearer and the sword-bearer, followed at a little
distance by the Ministers of State, mounted on mules, and by a
palanquin covered with scarlet cloth borne between two mules. It
was all closed, so there may have been some houri within.

As the Sultan drew near, the troops of Rabát, with the Governor at
their head, approached, forming a most brilliant line, in dresses
of all the colours of the rainbow adorned with gold and silver. His
Majesty wheeled his horse, broke through the lines of infantry,
and rode towards the newcomers. Down went the Mussulmen with their
heads in the dust, the Governor playing fugleman, and then raised
themselves, crying, ‘Long live our Lord and Master!’

The Sultan raised his hands towards heaven, and called a blessing
on his townspeople of Rabát.

We stood a little to the right of the Rabátin: His Majesty, instead
of awaiting our approach, and to the astonishment of all fanatics,
turned right back and rode towards us. We advanced until I was close
to His Majesty, my suite a little behind, and the Minister for Foreign
Affairs by my side. Down went his Excellency in the dust, and I took
off my hat and made a bow. The Sultan, who is the _ne plus ultra_
of stammerers, tried to make a gracious speech, but stuck at the word
‘Mahabábek’ (welcome). I took pity and made him a short speech,
which he received with a smile such as the Rabátin declare he never
bestowed on _them_.

This ceremony being over, His Majesty again took up his position in
the procession, and the march was resumed.

I should mention that several bands of the disciplined troops were
playing European marches; some, really well.

The Minister for Foreign Affairs then suggested that we should
keep away from the crowd; but His Majesty dispatched another of his
Ministers to invite me to enter his cortège—and to give a wigging
to our chaperon, the Foreign Minister, for not having asked me what
I should prefer to do. The scene was so interesting, and indeed the
most picturesque and strange I had ever witnessed, that I gladly
accepted the offer, and we rode in the cortège to the palace. As
the Sultan entered the palace doors, we could hear the ‘lu, lu,
lu’ (the hallelujahs) of the women. I had a short interview with
the Uzir, and then took my leave.

The Mohammedans are much surprised at the Sultan’s gracious
reception of me in the midst of his wild troops. I believe it was a
political move as well as an act of courtesy, and that, in entering
Rabát with his hordes, where several of the Foreign Representatives
are expected, he desired to set them an example of how to treat the
Nazarenes. It has had its effect, for we have not even overheard
the word ‘kaffer’ (infidel) muttered. Strict orders have been
given, and due punishment threatened, I hear, for any offence towards
a Christian.

The Uzir has returned my visit of ceremony, and now my work begins. As
I told the Uzir, I come to see them as a friendly doctor, to offer
advice for health and happiness, but that like most medicines, mine
are bitter and unpalatable. We shall see what I shall be enabled
to do.

This country is in such a rotten state that though the Sultan be
a clever and good man, anxious for reform, he has not the courage
nor the _men_ about him to carry it into execution. To give you an
idea of his intelligence, an English engineer, Fairlie yclept, who
is in His Sultanic Majesty’s service, tells me he lately erected a
steam-engine in Marákesh. The Sultan watched him at work, and after
one lesson told Fairlie to have fires lit and direct everybody to go
away. Fairlie could not imagine what was going to happen, for he saw
carpets and cushions and paniers of food pouring into the building
where the engine-room was. The next morning he learnt that His Majesty
had invited all the royal ladies to a picnic, set the engine working,
and had some fun with his harem, terrifying them by turning off steam,
&c. Fairlie says the man is naturally an engineer—he is certainly
as black as any stoker.

We expect the French and Spanish Ministers, frigates, &c., so Rabát
will, I fear be for a time a focus of intrigues.

You will say ‘jam satis’ of Morocco!


The practice of ‘eating up’ mentioned in this letter has always
been a favourite method with the Sultans of Morocco when desirous
of quelling discontent or rebellion amongst the unruly tribes of
the interior. If these in any part of the Moorish dominions, driven
frantic by the cruelty and extortion of their rulers, show signs of
revolt, an army is sent, like a plague of locusts, who literally eat
up the disaffected country. In the case of the larger districts, such
as Sus, these military expeditions are often commanded by the Sultan
in person. Crops are devoured or destroyed, heavy fines levied, and
sometimes villages sacked and burnt. When all the provisions in the
district are consumed, the army moves off, leaving behind starvation
and desolation, and a people often too broken-spirited to think again,
for many years to come, of revolt. Sometimes, however, amongst the
martial tribes in the interior, who enjoy the protection afforded
them by living in a mountainous district, the Sultan finds the task
of quelling a rebellion a difficult one, and eventually retires with
his army, having only succeeded in fomenting the discontent of his
subjects against his rule.

In 1868 the question of the exchange of Gibraltar for Ceuta was
raised, and a letter to the _Times_ from Admiral Grey, a former
Senior Naval Officer at Gibraltar, caused much discussion of the
subject by the press: the general feeling in England being against
such an exchange.

Writing to Sir Henry Layard in 1871, Sir John gives his opinion upon
the question at issue:—


I think it is the interest, and ought to be the policy, of Great
Britain to maintain friendly relations with Spain. I am even one of
those unwise men, who would like to see Gibraltar restored to Spain,
and thus extract a thorn which festers in the heart of every proud
Spaniard—a sentiment I do not blame.

I am told by important military and even naval men, that Gibraltar
would be worthless in war time as a port of refuge. In the present
state of gunnery, nothing could live there, either on land or water,
unless under a bomb-proof roof, so we should be compelled to have an
iron fleet to protect 6,000 men, cooped up. _Cui bono!!_ If we could
find a _quid pro quo_ suitable as a coaling station in time of peace
in these waters, I say the sooner we make terms with Spain the better.


Sir John always declared that, from a military point of view, he was
no judge of the question; but as a diplomatist he strongly advocated
the exchange of Gibraltar for Ceuta. Our possession of the Rock being
most bitterly distasteful to our national ally Spain, he maintained
that by occupying Ceuta in its stead we should conciliate the Spanish
nation. He was of opinion that so long as Gibraltar should remain in
our hands, no friendly footing could be established between the two
countries. Spain, though unable alone to take the fortress from us,
would certainly ally herself with our enemies in case of a European
war in order to recover this stronghold.

The Moors, on the other hand, would welcome the presence of Great
Britain on their coasts, not only as a safeguard to their national
independence, but as a guarantee against the encroachments of their
hereditary enemies the Spaniards, whose desire to increase their
possessions at the cost of Morocco is a constant terror to the Moors.

The objections which might be raised by other Foreign Powers to such
an exchange could be met by Great Britain undertaking not to attempt
to increase her territory in Morocco beyond what would be acquired
from Spain, and further to maintain the integrity of Morocco as an
independent and strictly neutral State.

Great Britain, once established in a stronghold on the shores of
Morocco, and relieved from the jealousy and ill-feeling of Spain,
would be able to insist on the reforms so necessary in Morocco, and
could bring pressure to bear on the Moorish Government to open up
trade, and to permit the exploitation of the immense mineral wealth
of the country. Coal, as is well known, is to be found on the Straits
Coast, though foreign jealousy, as much as the retrogressive policy
of the Moorish Government, has hitherto impeded the working of that
and other minerals.

As a coal store for the Royal and mercantile marine, as a dockyard
for the refitting of vessels, as a free port for the storage of
merchandise, Ceuta would offer the same advantages as Gibraltar
in time of peace. As a dépôt for trade with Barbary, it would
obviously possess many advantages over the Rock. Nor was this last
argument to be despised, when the immense resources of Morocco as
a grain-producing country are considered. Her granary is capable of
supplying Great Britain with wheat, which could be exported by sea
more quickly and cheaply than from elsewhere, and would in a measure
relieve the United Kingdom from the risk that, in time of European
war, some of the important grain marts of the world may be closed
to her.

In case of war, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to
victual Gibraltar, as Spain would undoubtedly stop all supplies
from entering the fortress from the mainland. No such contingency,
on the other hand, could threaten our hold on Ceuta, where plentiful
supplies would be available from the mainland both for the use of
the garrison and for provisioning the fleet. At Ceuta British ships
would find a harbour of refuge in a friendly and neutral country,
without being exposed, as they might well be at Gibraltar, to the
guns of the enemy on the Spanish coast, and could pass the Straits
in safety without approaching within range of a Spanish fortress.

That there would be many and great difficulties in the way of such
an exchange was foreseen by Sir John. Not the least of these is the
immense expenditure on the fortification of the Rock. This, however,
he thought might be met by Spain undertaking to make the necessary
alterations and repairs at Ceuta, and, pending the completion of
these works, agreeing to allow Great Britain the use of Gibraltar
for her ships as heretofore in time of peace or war.

The harbour of Ceuta, in its present state, does not offer the
same advantages as that of Gibraltar; but Sir John believed that
it was capable of such improvements as would render it thoroughly
efficient. Though great expense would be incurred by Great Britain,
he thought that the stability which such an exchange would give to
the maintenance of the peace of Europe was deserving of consideration.

Finally, it may be remembered that Lord Nelson used to say our naval
success in the South of Europe would depend on the friendship of
Morocco, or on our obtaining possession of Tangier. He foresaw that
any great Power established on a sure footing on the North African
coast would practically command the passage of the Straits for
seventy miles.

Such were some of the reasons which weighed most strongly with Sir
John. His long residence in Morocco, and his genuine interest in
its prosperity, led him to advocate the exchange, not merely for the
advantage of Great Britain, but also for the benefit of the Moors. He
saw in the occupation of Ceuta a means of promoting the welfare of
the Sultan’s subjects, and a powerful instrument for pressing upon
the Government the reforms for which he so constantly pleaded. In
1865 Sultan Sid Mohammed had introduced certain changes; but these
attempts at improvement were too timid to produce any real result.

Three years later (1868), Sir John visited the Sultan’s Court at
Fas, and he took every opportunity, afforded by frequent private
audiences, of again urging upon his Majesty the necessity of sweeping
changes in the judicial, financial, and administrative system of
the country.

In a letter written to Sir Henry Layard he speaks of the outspoken
advice which he was in the habit of offering to the Sultan, and
attributes to his frankness the influence which he enjoyed at the
Moorish Court.


This Government is the most _miserable_ in the world, and with the
exception of the Sultan himself, who is an honest man without energy,
Aji, and one or two others, they are a corrupt and venal set. As long,
however, as I am accredited to such a Government, I have thought it
my duty to keep on the best terms with all. . . .

Not only my Spanish colleagues, but I may say all in their turn,
attribute the good favour in which I am held by the Sultan and his
myrmidons to my giving secret counsels in opposition to the demands
of Representatives of other Foreign Governments, and thus currying
favour. They cannot and will not understand that I have managed
to maintain a certain ascendency over the mind of the Sultan,
in questions with other Foreign Powers, from the very fact of my
never having hesitated in speaking my mind and recommending the most
unpalatable concessions. The late Sultan, as also the present, found
that when they had not accepted my disinterested advice, troubles
ensued and they paid dearly. I therefore still hold my ground at the
Court, though Morocco has found itself on more than one occasion,
as in the last Spanish war, abandoned by England.


The reception of the Mission on arrival at Fas was most cordial,
and the usual great show of troops and powder-play was made. A very
beautiful house, splendidly furnished, with a small garden attached,
was assigned to the Minister and his suite; and the first repast
was placed on the table in the dining-room as Sir John entered the
house. It consisted of an immense bowl of milk, and a huge dish
of dates, which had been sent direct from the Sultan’s palace,
with a message to the effect that it was a token of welcome always
offered to Moorish princes—and to them only—on their arrival in
a Royal city. A curious form of hospitality, evidently a survival
from the custom which prevailed among the Arabs in olden time.

This was the first occasion on which ladies had joined any Mission
to the Sultan’s Court; Mrs. Drummond Hay accompanied her husband,
then Sir John’s secretary, the elder Miss Hay being also of the
party. As Christian women had hitherto never entered Fas—except
as captives, in the days of the Barbary pirates—the population was
both excited and amused by their apparition, as they walked through
the bazaars and streets of the town, or rode in the environs with
the gentlemen of the party. It was necessary for them always to be
accompanied by an escort of native soldiers, to keep off the crowds
that thronged in the streets to gaze at the strangers; but no rudeness
or unpleasantness of any kind was ever met with. When riding in the
pretty country about Fas, this mounted escort—consisting generally
of six troopers—found that they could not keep pace with the
Europeans, and were replaced by half a dozen Berber horsemen. These
small wiry mountaineers, riding active ponies, were prepared to dash
along at any pace over the roughest ground.

The Moorish Ministers, some of whom had visited European courts,
invited the presence of the ladies at all the banquets and receptions
offered to the Mission; admitting them also to the harems, where
they were well received by the Fas ladies, wives of the principal
Ministers. These ladies differ in some degree from their countrywomen
in other towns. Amongst persons of high rank, a certain amount
of social intercourse takes place, and men and women meet as in
Europe. But these gatherings are conducted in strict secrecy, for
fear of rousing scandal. The ladies of Fas, therefore, are more
enlightened and pleasant than their sisters elsewhere. Many of them
are well educated, according to Moorish lights, and materially assist
their husbands or fathers in official or literary work.

The public audience of the Sultan took place, according to custom,
three days after the arrival of the Mission. The English ladies were
especially invited to be present. The ceremony was the same as that
described in Sir John’s letter to his mother in 1861—with the
exception that the ladies were placed, in charge of several officers,
under an arch near where the ‘Bashador’ stood with his staff. From
this point they had a good view of the ceremony; but they were not a
little amused at the veiled anxiety shown by their guardians—not
that they should see, but rather be seen of, the Sultan. H.S.M.,
on his part, made a graceful allusion to their presence at the end
of his formal speech to Sir John, saying, ‘It has given us great
pleasure to observe that you have brought with you some members of
your family: this is a fresh proof of your confidence in us and in
our people. They are very welcome.’

In speaking thus, the Sultan made the closest approach which Moorish
etiquette allowed towards referring to the ladies of the party. In
Morocco, the females of a man’s household are never directly
mentioned, but are spoken of collectively, as ‘the family,’
or, more commonly, ‘the house’; and, in this form, are most
punctiliously inquired after by Moors, when exchanging salutations
with their friends or acquaintances. Though, according to Western
ideas, this custom appears to imply contempt of the weaker sex,
it originates rather from the fact that the Moors reject, as
an impertinence, any direct reference to the women whom they so
carefully seclude.

Almost immediately after the public audience, Sir John fell ill with
dysentery—brought on, the doctor believed, by drinking the water
of the Sebu river during the journey, and aggravated by the chill
and damp of Fas, which, lying high, and plentifully watered by the
river that traverses the city, was cold and not a healthy residence
in December. After more than a month’s stay, he was fortunately
sufficiently recovered to undertake the return journey.

During his stay in Fas, Sir John had several absolutely private
audiences with the Sultan, at which he reiterated all his former
arguments and suggestions. He pointed out that countries smaller than
Morocco—and with perhaps fewer resources—yet commanded greater
revenues, though their peoples were not over-taxed. In such countries
the security of property encouraged the natives in industrial
enterprises. No dread of confiscation prevented the accumulation
of wealth; and the justice and integrity of the administrative and
judicial system made the inhabitants happy, prosperous, and contented.

In the Sultan’s dominions it was, as Sir John urged, the want
of similar security which impoverished the people and emptied the
exchequer. It was the tyranny and venality of officials that drove
many of his subjects to redress their own wrongs by robbery, raids,
and rebellion, and impelled others to shelter themselves from
exactions and mis-government by becoming partners with European
traders—who, by treaty stipulations, enjoyed immunity from
taxation—and, under their protection, to rob the Sultan’s treasury
by evading the payment of exorbitant and irregularly enforced taxes.

[Illustration: RECEPTION BY SULTAN SID MOHAMMED]

The system of the payment of Custom House officers, inaugurated
in 1860, was dwelt on by Sir John in support of his argument. He
suggested that adequate salaries should be paid to all Government
officials, who would thus be deprived of excuse for peculation, and,
if they proved dishonest or extortionate, might be punished without
mercy. He recommended a great reduction of the army, and, in order
to check false returns, urged that proper lists of the troops still
enrolled should be carefully drawn up. He proposed that authorised
tax-gatherers should be appointed and the whole population equally
taxed without exemption of Sherífs or of Government officials; that
the payment of taxes should be strictly enforced; that tax-gatherers
should only hold office for a year, so that the incoming official
might act as a check on the proceedings of his predecessor; that the
supervisors of markets should be required to deposit a certain sum as
security before taking office, this sum to be forfeited if they were
convicted of malpractices. He also recommended the entire abolition
of the system of presents, and urged that all officials, from the
Sultan downwards, should be strictly forbidden to accept gifts.

If these reforms were introduced, Sir John assured the Sultan,
peace and prosperity would soon reign in Morocco, and his empire
would rise in the scale of nations.

It was not till the middle of December that Sir John left Fas on
his homeward journey. The last camp before reaching Tangier should
have been by the side of the river Mishra el Hashef. In summer this
is a mere stream; in winter, when Sir John arrived at its bank,
it was swollen into a deep and turbulent torrent. The previous week
some Moorish soldiers had attempted to cross, and several of them
were carried away and drowned in the flood; but the Arabs, who live
near the banks, declared that, by waiting, the party might risk a
detention of several days; though, on the other hand, the flood might
decrease in a few hours. At present they believed it could be swum
in safety. Sir John, always impatient of delay, and anxious moreover
to catch the mail from Tangier next morning, decided on starting,
and plunged into the river on his horse. Two powerful Arab swimmers
accompanied him, swimming in an upright position just down stream of
the rider. Horse and men were carried by the current some distance
down, to a difficult landing place on the muddy banks. Here they
reached the opposite side in safety, though the water had washed
over the saddle. Miss Hay followed in the same manner and, with her
father, galloped off towards Tangier. Four hours’ hard riding saw
them under their own roof.




                            CHAPTER XVIII.

                    JOÃO, THE PORTUGUESE GUNSMITH.


On the journey from Tangier to Fas, about three days’ march from
the former place, the Mission passed through the town of El Ksar,
near which is the famous battle-field where the Portuguese King,
Don Sebastian, was killed in 1578. In connection with this battle
Sir John wrote the following story.


During one of my hunting expeditions as a young man, I was surprised
to see that one of the Moorish hunters, a noted marksman, named
Ali Bufra, possessed a gun with a very long barrel of twisted iron,
upon which was engraved, in European characters, the words ‘João
Renauda, ano 1582.’

Ali was very proud of this weapon, maintaining that no gun barrel,
ancient or modern, could be compared to it. Curiosity has since
prompted me to inquire into the history and origin of this gun,
and from various sources I gathered the materials upon which I have
based the following tale.

Mulai Mohammed, Sultan of Fas, having been dethroned by his uncle,
Mulai Abdelmalek, fled to Lisbon, where he sought the assistance of
Don Sebastian, King of Portugal, to recover his throne.

King Sebastian, then a youth of twenty-two, and renowned for his
valour, moved by feelings of compassion and generosity towards the
unfortunate Sultan, and also by ambitious projects of conquest,
acceded to the petition of Mulai Mohammed, in opposition to the
advice of his mother, Queen Catherine, who had been Regent during
his long minority.

On June 25, 1578, King Sebastian assembled an army of 15,000 men at
Lagos, and a fleet to convey the troops. This fleet sailed to the
little port of Azaila, on the Atlantic coast, about twenty miles
south of Tangier, and on July 29 the army landed and encamped on
the ‘Sahel,’ or plain, six miles from Azaila.

Mulai Mohammed accompanied the army, having left his son at Lisbon as
hostage and guarantee of his good faith. He had led King Sebastian to
expect that a number of the Moorish tribes would join the Portuguese
army, but these expectations were not realised.

Mulai Abdelmalek, Sultan of Fas, had assembled near the town of El
Ksar an army of 40,000 cavalry, 10,000 infantry, and thirty-five
cannon, besides an auxiliary force of wild tribes from the mountains
of Beni Gorfet, Beni M’suar, &c. The Sultan was in bad health,
and, being unable to mount his horse, was carried on a litter. He
gave the command of the army to his brother, Mulai Ahmed.

On August 4 the Portuguese and Moorish forces met on the plain of
Tamista. Mulai Ahmed, seeing the inferiority in numbers of the
Portuguese forces, surrounded them, and began the attack on all
sides. King Sebastian and his nobles behaved with great valour; and
the King, though wounded at the commencement of the battle, charged
amongst the hordes of Moorish cavalry, with the hope of rallying his
troops scattered by the onslaught of the Moors. The King was slain,
as also the nobles who had joined in the charge. Sultan Abdelmalek
viewed from his litter the battle, and, though stricken with fever and
in a very weak state, mounted his horse, notwithstanding the efforts
made by his officers to dissuade him. The Sultan, who was then only
thirty-five years of age, anxious to share the glory of victory,
declared that he must perish either by the hand of the enemy or that
of God. He died on the field of battle from over-exertion. His death
was kept secret until victory was assured and proclaimed, and Mulai
Ahmed did not hear of the death of his brother until after the defeat
of the Portuguese.

Mulai Mohammed was drowned in the river ‘Mahazen’ during the
flight of the Portuguese army, most of whom were slain or made
prisoners. Don Sebastian was buried at El Ksar, whence, it is
said, his body was exhumed at the request of the King of Spain and
transferred to Ceuta. Mulai Ahmed was proclaimed Sultan of Fas.

João, a Portuguese gunsmith, was taken prisoner, together with
two companions, during the battle. Mulai Ahmed, now Sultan, gave
orders that the Christian prisoners, numbering about a thousand,
should be put to death or sold as slaves. Amongst the latter João
and two Portuguese soldiers fell to the lot of Sheikh Shashon,
Chief of the mountainous district of Beni M’suar, who dwelt in
the village of Tsemsalla, about fifteen miles from Tangier. In the
battle a brother of the Sheikh of Beni M’suar had been slain,
so the Sheikh vowed his Christian prisoners should die, and thus
avenge the death of his brother—blood for blood.

Cords were bound round the necks of João and his fellow-captives,
and, with their hands tied behind their backs, they were led
barefooted for two days over mountain passes until they reached Beni
M’suar. On arrival at the village of Tsemsalla, a crowd collected of
men, women, and children, who hooted and spat on the ‘infidels’
as they limped wearily on; the children crying out the old rhyme
of ‘E’ Nesára fi E’ Snara: El Yahúd fi E’ Sfud[43].’
(‘The Nazarenes to the hook: the Jews to the spit.’)

The Sheikh, to satisfy his feelings of revenge and those of his
followers who had taken part in the great battle, decided to make
the prisoners butts for shooting at with matchlocks, and notice was
given to the villagers that on the following day the shooting would
take place, so that every man who had lost a relative in the battle
with the cursed Nazarene could have ‘blood for blood.’

João had a stout heart, but it quailed when he beheld the scowling
countenances of the multitude who thronged around them, and he thought
of the morrow. Having lived some time at Tangier, at that period
in the possession of the Portuguese, he had picked up a smattering
of Arabic from the inhabitants, and he heard the announcement of
the cruel manner in which he was to meet his death, and felt that
there would not be an eye amongst the hundreds who witnessed it to
commiserate his cruel fate.

Iron fetters were fastened on João’s ankles, and locked with
a key which the Sheikh took. There was no prison in the village,
so two of the prisoners were cast, fettered, into a ‘matmor,’
or underground granary, closed by a large stone at the entrance,
and a guard was placed near it; but João, whose appearance and
manners showed he was of a better class, was imprisoned in a stable
adjoining the Sheikh’s dwelling.

Before the captives were led to their respective places of confinement
the women of the village were allowed to come and look upon the hated
Nazarenes; so, muffled in their white ‘haiks’—after the men
had withdrawn—they flocked around the wretched Portuguese. Many
uttered curses, thinking of their husbands, fathers, or brothers
who had been slain in the great battle; but João heard expressions
of pity proceeding from a group of women as they looked upon the
handsome young Nazarene condemned on the morrow to such a cruel death.

As night came on, João was put into the stable with a heavy chain
fastened to his fetters and to an iron stake driven deep into the
ground. A bowl of water, with some coarse bread made of ‘dra’
(millet) was placed within his reach. João, worn out with fatigue
from his long march, soon fell into a deep sleep: he dreamed that he
had been placed by the Sheikh as a target, and that the gun which was
aimed at his heart missed fire again and again, when he saw the figure
of a woman, looking like an angel in a white garment, standing behind
the Sheikh, and whenever the latter opened the pan of his flint-lock
to put in fresh priming, she sprinkled water on the powder. Raising
his arms in his sleep, João shouted out, ‘I die happy, for eyes
of pity are upon me!’ In doing this he woke with a start, and saw
the figure of a woman holding a green earthenware lamp. Bright eyes
gleamed through the muffled ‘haik,’ and he fancied he recognised
one of the women from whom he had heard expressions of pity. ‘It
must be a dream,’ thought João, so he rubbed his eyes; but still
the figure stood before him, and, in a trembling, sweet voice, said,
‘Nazarene! Do you believe in God and in the Day of Resurrection?’

João answered, ‘I believe.’

‘Trust then in Him,’ the figure continued; ‘He created Moslem
and Christian. He is merciful to those who believe in and love Him. I
seek to save you, Nazarene, from a cruel death. I shall never be
happy if “Baba” (my father) puts you to death to-morrow, as he
says he will, for you have eaten our bread. Baba takes counsel of no
man, and is very hard-hearted, but he is always kind to me, for I am
his only child. He has never denied me a favour; but when I begged
for mercy towards you, he replied, “Nazarenes are ‘kaffers’
(rebels against God); they do not believe in God and the last Day;
they are hateful in the sight of God and of all true believers, and
therefore are accursed. The prisoners must die.”’ So saying,
the gentle girl sobbed piteously; but after a pause continued,
‘Nazarene, you have a good, kind face. I feel certain you _must_
love God and that He loves you. Upon my head will be your blood if
I do not save you. It is past midnight and Baba is asleep; but as
I lay on my couch I could not rest, thinking of the cruel death
prepared for you to-morrow. Can you ride, Nazarene? Can you face
danger bravely?’ demanded she, her eyes flashing brightly from
under her ‘haik’ as she spoke.

João rubbed his eyes again to make sure it was not a dream. ‘I
can ride,’ he replied; ‘I have no fear of death, and I feel
happy now that a woman’s pity has fallen on me.’

‘See, Nazarene!’ she said, taking a key from her bosom, ‘this,
which I drew from beneath the pillow of my sleeping father, will
release you.’ So saying she bent and unlocked the fetters; then,
pointing to a saddle and bridle hanging in the stable, she continued,
‘Put those on the gray mare; she is the fastest animal in the
village. Here are my father’s spurs, and here is a “jelab”
to hide your Christian garb: follow the road you came by until out
of the village, then ride fast towards the setting stars. Why do
you hesitate? There is no time to be lost: the mare never fails,
and will have the speed over all pursuers. Gird on also this sword
which I have here concealed; it is my father’s trusty weapon.’

João shook his head and replied, ‘I cannot do what may bring you
into trouble, even to save my life.’

The girl stamped her little foot, saying, ‘Do at once as I direct,
or I shall hate you. Baba loves me dearly: he will not kill me. I
should never be happy again if you, our guest, were cruelly murdered
to-morrow.’

But João repeated, ‘I must not and cannot accept your offer. I
can die happily and bravely now, since I feel there will be one
gentle heart to pity me.’

The Sheikh’s daughter, trembling with emotion, exclaimed, ‘Are you
mad, Nazarene, that you reject the only chance of saving your life?’

‘Listen, sweet maiden,’ he replied, ‘never will I do that which
might expose you to the anger of your father; but I have a proposal
to make, which, if carried out, may ensure my safety. You say that
you have influence over your father: tell him to convey me at once,
a prisoner, to the Sultan, to whom I can render great service. Not
only will His Majesty employ me, but your father, by taking me to
the Court, will rise into high favour. I am João, the well-known
Portuguese gunsmith, who forges twisted barrels, a craft unknown in
Morocco. Before the battle so fatal to us Portuguese, your Sultan,
Mulai Abdelmalek, dispatched a secret messenger to Tangier, and
offered me a handsome sum of money and high wages if I would go to
Fas and enter his service. See,’ he continued, taking from the
breast-pocket of his coat a paper, ‘here is the Sultan’s own
signet with a recent date, which will vouch for the truth of what
I tell you. In the early morn, before your father leaves his couch,
go to him and say you found in the place where I was confined this
paper: let the Sheikh read it. The hope he may then entertain of
winning the Sultan’s favour should suffice to ensure my safety.’

‘Thanks be to the Almighty!’ said the maiden. ‘He is merciful
to those who trust in Him! I shall see my father before dawn and
show him the Sultan’s seal.’

‘Stay one moment,’ said João, ‘and relock my fetters, lest
your visit to me be suspected.’

As she stooped to relock the fetters the folds of the ‘haik’
fell from her head. She was young—about sixteen; her eyes were
dark blue, long black hair curled on her shoulders, her features
were regular, her complexion olive: slim, but not tall, she wore
a blue cloth caftan, embroidered with red and green silk, reaching
below her knees: around her waist was a broad silken sash: her feet
were bare. A coral necklace, silver bracelets and earrings were her
only ornaments. Smiling and blushing, she caught up her ‘haik’
to hide her face.

‘Oh, maiden,’ said João, ‘prithee let me know the name of
one who has sought to save my life.’

As she turned hurriedly to depart she said, ‘My name is Rahma’
(mercy).

Relocking the stable door, the girl returned to her room and lay on
her couch, but could not sleep. On the first streak of dawn appearing
she went to her father, who was occupied with his morning prayers
and prostrations. ‘God be praised!’ thought Rahma. ‘Baba is
always in a better humour after his prayers.’

The Sheikh, on seeing his daughter as he rose from his devotions,
cried out, ‘Well, light of my eyes, what brings you so early? You
look pale this morning. Have you not slept well? Methought the
return of your father safe from battle would have made my star shine
brighter. Sit down and tell me all. Who has displeased you? What
is it?’

‘Oh, Baba!’ she replied, ‘your safe return had made me most
happy, but now I feel miserable and very sad; for you have declared
you intend to shoot, this day, the Nazarene who has eaten bread
under our roof.’

‘Daughter,’ said the Sheikh, frowning severely, ‘know you
not that your uncle was killed by the infidel Portuguese? These
prisoners are their countrymen, and disbelievers in God, therefore
they must die. Whence comes this foolish pity? Know you not that
your mother—upon whose soul may God have mercy!—was a Sherífa? a
descendant of the Prophet, upon whose head be blessings!’

‘Yes, Baba,’ replied Rahma, ‘but did not the Prophet, to whom
we pray, say, “He that believes in God and the Day of Resurrection
shall have his reward, even though he be not a Moslem?” This
prisoner, the Nazarene now in your stable, believes in God and the
last Day.’

‘Who told you? What do you mean?’ cried the Sheikh, sternly,
rising and placing his hand angrily on Rahma’s shoulder. The girl
turned pale and sobbed out,—

‘Have patience, Baba, and I will tell you all. Never have I deceived
you nor dissembled my most secret thoughts.’ She then related,
with a faltering voice, how she had visited the prisoner and what
had passed between her and João.

The Sheikh was very angry, though he felt amused at the innocent
story and courage of his beloved child. He had a very hard heart,
but often, through her intercession, the cruel Sheikh had been led
to be kind and charitable in his deeds.

‘See,’ she continued, ‘what I found in the prisoner’s room:
a paper with the Sultan’s signet.’ The Sheikh read it, and his
countenance changed. After a pause he said, ‘’Tis well, Rahma,
that this paper, bearing the signet of our Lord the Sultan, has
been found. If this Nazarene prove to be João, the famous gunsmith,
I forgive your rash and unmaidenly conduct: but be careful for the
future, never to enter without me or an attendant any place where
a man, Christian or Moslem, may be.’

‘Baba,’ answered Rahma, ‘I always obey you; but if you care
for my happiness do not shoot the Christian. Do him no harm, he has
eaten our bread and he believes in God. Until I am sure he is safe,
I eat no bread nor even drink water.’

‘Begone, silly child!’ said the Sheikh. ‘Set your mind at rest,
for I swear by Allah that João dies not this day.’

The Sheikh then read the edict again and again, muttering to himself,
‘If this Nazarene be João the gunsmith, of whose fame we have
all heard, my fortune is made should I present him to the Sultan;
whilst, were I to take the life of the cursed infidel, and it came
to the ears of my Lord and Master that I had put to death the holder
of his Sherifian edict, I risk the loss of my head. Before coming
to a decision I shall verify, without delay, whether this infidel
is what he pretends to be. If he be the gunmaker, I shall be off to
the Court the day after to-morrow: if not, he shall be shot.’

Preparations had already been made in the early morning by the
villagers for placing the three Nazarenes as targets. An ox had been
killed and a great feast prepared: the mingled sounds of pipes and
drums were heard, and gun-dances, accompanied with frantic yells,
were being performed by the youths of the village. The elders, with
their long guns, squatted in circles and discussed the events of the
late great battle; whilst, with revenge rankling in their hearts,
they awaited with impatience the order from the Sheikh to have the
three Nazarenes brought out to be shot.

The order was at length given by the Sheikh that the two prisoners
confined in the ‘matmor’ should be led to the spot where they
were to become the butts for the villagers to shoot; whilst two
slaves, with drawn swords, brought along João from the stable,
his hands bound and his fetters clanging on the ground as he moved
slowly towards the place of execution.

João was resigned. ‘As I am to die,’ he thought, ‘I thank God
I have a clear conscience, in that I have never wilfully wronged a
fellow-creature.’ Then he remembered the kind pity shown him by
the daughter of the Sheikh, and said to himself, ‘As I am to die,
that sweet maiden at least will have pity and will mourn for me.’
So he walked erect through the throng of spectators with as firm a
step as the fetters would permit, and was conducted to the Sheikh,
who was seated on a hillock near the site chosen for the execution
of the prisoners. Crowds of women and children thronged on each side
of his path, and as he passed near some muffled figures of women,
João heard the words, ‘Put your trust in God, He is merciful!’
and his heart leapt with joy, for he recognised the sweet voice of
the Sheikh’s daughter.

When the three prisoners were placed in front of the Sheikh, he thus
addressed them: ‘Oh, Kaffers! Enemies of our Faith! prepare for
death and the eternal punishment which awaits you hereafter. You,’
he said, turning to João, ‘boast that you are the famous Portuguese
gunsmith. Does this Sherifian edict of our Lord and Master the Sultan
belong to you?’ holding it out, as he spoke, for João to see.

‘I am João, the gunsmith,’ the latter replied.

‘Prove it,’ said the Sheikh, ‘before twenty-four hours pass,
by making a twisted gun-barrel; a forge and implements shall be
prepared. If you fail, you will be placed as a target and perish
under the fire of the Faithful; and, as for the other prisoners’
(turning towards them), ‘Kaffers!’ he exclaimed, ‘Blood for
blood! You shall both die, and thus those whose brethren were slain
by the accursed infidels shall have their revenge!’

With a loud voice João cried out, ‘I swear by the Holy Cross
of Christ, if you injure a hair of the head of my countrymen, I
shall not do what you have proposed in order to prove that I am the
gunsmith. Neither durst thou, O Sheikh! put me or my countrymen to
death unless prepared to incur the dire displeasure of the Sultan.’
Then, turning round to the assembly of elders, he continued in a loud
voice: ‘I am João the gunsmith, the maker of twisted barrels,
and as I have been offered by the Sultan a large sum to serve His
Majesty, whosoever amongst you may have cause to be dissatisfied with
the Sheikh, and will give immediate notice at the Court that I am
a prisoner here and that the Sheikh has threatened to take my life,
will be sure to obtain high favour with His Majesty, who wishes to
employ me, as the Sheikh knows right well from the Sherifian edict now
in his possession. We three Portuguese soldiers were taken prisoners
in battle, and not in the commission of crime. The Sheikh calls us
rebels against God, but we believe in the Almighty as you do. We
have the same law as you from God, “Thou shalt do no murder.”’

Sheikh Shashon shook with rage and fear: he knew he had enemies
amongst the tribe, as many had suffered from his tyranny and
extortion: so he dreaded lest some one should hasten to the Court
and report to the Sultan that the gunsmith João was his prisoner
and sentenced to death. Turning therefore to the slaves who guarded
the prisoners, he said, ‘Take the infidels back to their place of
confinement. They shall die a more cruel death than that of being
shot, since this accursed Nazarene has dared to threaten me in such
an insolent manner.’

Murmurs arose amongst the crowd that the prisoners should at once be
slain, some crying out ‘Blood for blood,’ but the more prudent
elders told the Sheikh that João ought to be taken at once to the
Sultan to make gun-barrels for the Faithful to fight with against
the Christians.

After much uproar the prisoners were led off, and the Sheikh returned
to his dwelling, having made up his mind, from fear of incurring
the Sultan’s displeasure, to prepare at once to proceed to the
Court. He sent for Rahma, and when she appeared, said, ‘Loved
daughter! I have met your wishes, and shall spare the lives of the
Christians. To-morrow they will accompany me to Fas to be delivered
over to the Sultan, who may, if such be his will, put them to death,
should the Nazarene who calls himself João the gunsmith prove to
be an impostor.’

Rahma embraced her father but said not a word. She rejoiced in her
heart, for she was certain João was not an impostor, but she felt sad
that he was to leave, and that she could never hope to see again the
handsome young Christian whose life she had endeavoured to save, but
who, after all, might suffer death hereafter by order of the Sultan.

‘Light of my eyes!’ said the Sheikh, ‘do not look so sad. Is
it because I leave you? Please God, I shall soon return and prepare
for your wedding with my friend old Sheikh Amar.’

‘Baba,’ she replied, ‘now indeed all gladness has left my heart,
for I can never marry and leave you.’

‘Silly child! Go tell Embarek and the other slaves to prepare
for our departure to-morrow, and let two mules have packs put on
them to convey the prisoners. Two can ride together, with fetters,
upon one mule, and João shall have his fetters taken off and ride
the other. Thus shall the Christian be treated kindly, as you have
interceded for him, but he must swear by Allah that he will not
attempt to escape. Now tell your handmaids to direct the guards to
bring João here, and put on your ‘haik’ and cover your face,
my daughter, so that you may remain in the room and hear what the
infidel says, and the orders I am about to give.’

When João entered, the artful Sheikh put on a smiling countenance
and said, ‘João, I have decided on taking you to the Court,
as our Lord and Master, according to the Sherifian edict which I
have read, offered to take you into his service as a gunsmith. I
wish you to forget all that has passed and that we may become good
friends.’—‘Take off his fetters,’ he said to the slaves,
‘and go.’—Then turning to João, ‘No guard is necessary,’
said he, ‘for you are now at liberty, João, if you will swear by
Allah that you will not attempt to escape.’

The fetters were removed from João, who was about to give a haughty
retort, when Rahma, who stood a little behind her father, lowered her
veil and placed her finger on her lips with an imploring expression,
so João replied, smiling, ‘I thank you, Sheikh, and accept your
proffered friendship and will forget the past. I also swear by God,
in Whom as you have rightly said I believe, that I shall not attempt
to escape; but I have to beg that my fellow-prisoners also have
their fetters removed and be treated kindly.’

Rahma, bending down to her father’s ear, whispered, ‘Have pity
on the poor Christians. God’s blessing will then be with you,
Oh my father!’ Whereupon the Sheikh, turning to João, replied,
‘It shall be as you wish, and I will see these two prisoners at
once.’ So saying he clapped his hands, but neither Embarek nor any
other attendant answered the summons, and the Sheikh, rising hastily,
stepped into the courtyard calling loudly for Embarek.

João then hurriedly poured forth, in a low voice, his heartfelt
thanks to the gentle Rahma, and taking off a silver chain which he
wore concealed round his neck and to which was attached a small cross,
said, ‘Accept this in remembrance of one who owes his life to you,
and whose fondest hope now will be to see you again in this world.’

‘Never can that be,’ replied Rahma, placing as she spoke the
chain and cross in her bosom; ‘we are not like the Christian women;
we are kept shut up and treated as prisoners, and are not allowed to
have a will of our own: my father has just informed me that on his
return from Fas I am to be married to old Sheikh Amar of Zazor. I
am miserable at the thought of leaving my father who loves me,
to dwell under the roof of one I shall never love.’

‘Rahma,’ said João, ‘could you love a Nazarene who believes
in God, and loves you, sweet maiden, better than his own life?’

The girl, hiding her blushing face, faltered out, ‘I could, and
indeed I do love you; but it is all in vain.’

‘It shall not be in vain,’ said João, ‘for if I succeed
in pleasing the Sultan by the manufacture of gun-barrels such as
His Majesty desires, and thus obtain his favour, I shall assume
the Moorish garb, and, throwing myself at the feet of the Sultan,
implore His Majesty to require the Sheikh, your father, to give you
to me as my wife—if you will only love me.’

The clanking of fetters was heard; so Rahma, snatching from her
finger a little silver ring, gave it to João, saying, ‘May God’s
blessing and mercy be with us both. Trust in Him, and we may hope to
meet again.’ She then drew back and veiled her face as her father
approached, followed by Embarek and the two prisoners.

Addressing the latter, Sheikh Shashon said, ‘At the intercession of
João, whom I take to-morrow to the Court to enter the service of our
Lord and Master, as gunsmith, your lives are spared and your fetters
shall be removed. You will be taken with João to the Sultan, and
upon His Majesty’s decision your fate will depend. I swear, however,
that if you attempt to escape, no mercy shall be shown you.’

‘Take them,’ he continued to the slave, ‘to your hut and lock
them in; but remove their fetters. Let them have food from my kitchen
that they may feel well and strong for the journey to-morrow. Put a
couch for João in the courtyard: he is my guest, free to come and
go as he pleases.’ Then turning towards Rahma, he said, smiling,
‘All this I do to please you, my loved daughter.’

‘May God bless her!’ cried João and his companions.

Early on the following morning the Sheikh mounted a fine mule, and
the prisoners the animals prepared for them; whilst, destined as a
present to the Sultan, the famous gray mare, adorned with a handsome
headstall, was led by a slave.

Rahma appeared on the threshold, muffled in her ‘haik’; but
before João left she managed, when her father’s back was turned,
to unveil her face, and drawing from her bosom, where she had hidden
them, the silver chain and cross, pressed them to her lips: which
gesture João acknowledged by raising towards heaven the finger upon
which he wore her ring.

Sheikh Shashon despatched a courier to the Court to announce their
advent, and fearing lest some enemy in the village might forestall
him, he wrote to the Uzir that he was bringing the gunsmith João
and two other Nazarenes, prisoners, to deliver them to his Lord and
Master the Sultan, to be dealt with as His Majesty might please.

When within a few hours’ journey of the capital a Kaid of the
Sultan’s body-guard, sent expressly by His Majesty, arrived with
an order to the Sheikh to the effect that every care should be taken
of João, and to inform the latter that a house and forge, where he
could work, had already been prepared for him, and that the two other
prisoners were to be lodged for the present in the same dwelling. The
Kaid also informed the Sheikh that His Majesty commended his conduct
in having brought João safely to the Court, and that the Sheikh
was therefore regarded favourably by his Lord and Master.

On his arrival João was taken before the Sultan, who informed
him that he would be provided with ‘mona’ (provisions), and a
dwelling near the palace; that the implements of a smith and piles
of old horse-shoes were also ready, and that for every gun-barrel
João made, ten ducats would be paid him. The Sultan added, ‘If
you will become one of the Faithful, I have ordered that the garments
of a Moslem be given you.’

João thanked His Majesty and replied, ‘I accept with pleasure
your Majesty’s offer of Moorish garments to replace the tattered
clothing I now wear.’

Whilst thus accepting the Sultan’s offer, João vowed in his heart
that, though assuming the outward garb of a Mohammedan in the hope
of obtaining Rahma hereafter as his wife, he would remain always
a true Catholic, and hope for the day when he would return to the
land of his forefathers.

João was very industrious, and with the assistance only of the two
Portuguese, his fellow-prisoners—for he did not wish the Moors
to discover the secret of his art—he was enabled to manufacture
a number of barrels, even before the Sheikh left the Court.

The Sultan[44], who was interested in every kind of mechanism, was
wont to go to the forge to see João work; gave him the rank of Kaid,
and marked in many ways his satisfaction.

The Sheikh was presented with a horse, with handsome saddle and
bridle, as a mark of His Majesty’s favour, and before leaving
the Court went to see João, and told him of his own good fortune,
and expressed his satisfaction at seeing from his dress that João
was now a Moslem and an officer in high favour with the Sultan.

João shook the Sheikh warmly by the hand, bidding him farewell,
saying, ‘You know that I am indebted for my life to the intercession
of your daughter. I intend to marry and settle here. Will you grant
me the hand of your daughter?’

‘It cannot be,’ answered the Sheikh, ‘I have betrothed her to my
friend Sheikh Amar. The Sultan, now that you are in such high favour,
will bestow on you, if you petition His Majesty, some maiden with
a larger dowry than I can afford to give my daughter.’ He then
departed, leaving João very depressed.

A few days after the Sheikh had left, the Sultan visited the forge
of João and found the young smith hard at work, but looking very
wan and out of spirits. Observing this, the Sultan inquired of João
whether he was unwell, or had cause of complaint against any one
at the Court, and whether the food sent daily from the palace was
plentiful and such as he liked?

João replied that he had no complaint to make against any one,
but that he had a sorrow at heart which he could not make known to
the Sultan, lest it might cause His Majesty’s displeasure.

‘Speak,’ said the Sultan; ‘have no fear. Any one who may have
offended you shall be punished. Whatever you ask shall be granted:
what I promise shall be fulfilled. Speak out boldly.’

João obeyed and told the Sultan the story of his capture,
condemnation to death, and release at the intercession of the
Sheikh’s daughter.

When he had concluded his tale, His Majesty exclaimed, ‘Allah
Akbar!’ (God is great!) ‘Had the Sheikh taken your life he would
have forfeited his own. This daughter of his, the maiden who is the
cause of my having you safe here to manufacture guns for the Moslems,
shall be rewarded. What do you desire?’

Throwing himself at the Sultan’s feet João said, ‘She who saved
my life I had hoped might become my wife, but alas! I have learnt she
is betrothed to a friend of the Sheikh, an old chief of a neighbouring
village, named Sheikh Amar. This it is that makes me miserable.’

‘Before ten days elapse,’ said the Sultan, ‘if this maiden
be not already married to Sheikh Amar, she shall be brought here by
her father and become your wife, and I will give her a dowry.’

The young smith again fell at the feet of the Sultan and expressed
his gratitude.

A Kaid was despatched with all speed to the Sheikh of Beni M’suar,
with the command that he and all his family should be brought at
once to the Court. This officer was directed however to ascertain,
before he executed this order, whether the daughter of the Sheikh
had been lately married; for in such case the Royal command was not
to be carried out.

The officer departed on his mission and found that the wedding had
not taken place, as old Sheikh Amar had died suddenly shortly after
Sheikh Shashon had left for Fas. Father and daughter were therefore
brought to the Court, and on their arrival were given a comfortable
dwelling near the palace.

Rahma’s heart was filled with joy when she learnt that João was
in high favour with the Sultan, for she remembered his last words
to herself.

The smith hastened to salute the Sheikh. Rahma was not allowed to
enter the room, but she could see her lover through the chinks of
the door, and heard João, after saluting her father, say, ‘Is
your daughter, who saved my life, well? Is she unmarried? If so,
I must not conceal from you that I have petitioned the Sultan that
she be given me as wife. For this His Majesty has been pleased to
order you to come to the Court.’

The Sheikh, who had been in great trepidation, fearing that the Sultan
might have heard of the intention he at one time had of putting João
and the other Portuguese to death, and that His Majesty had summoned
him to the Court to punish him, was greatly relieved, and replied,—

‘Oh my son! as your garb shows you are now one of the Faithful
and in favour with our Lord and Master, His Majesty’s commands,
whatever they may be, shall be joyfully obeyed.’

The Sultan ordered the Uzir to signify to the Sheikh his Royal
command that his daughter was forthwith to be wedded to João, and
that it was His Majesty’s intention to give her a handsome dowry.

A great feast was prepared by the officers of the Court, at which
the Sheikh attended, whilst Rahma was taken to the harem of the
Hajib (Chief Chamberlain), where the ladies had also prepared a
feast. Beautiful dresses and jewelry were sent by the Sultan to
Rahma, and a marriage contract was drawn up by public notaries,
signed by the Kadi, with a note of the dowry, one thousand ducats,
given her by the Sultan.

On the day of the wedding, the bride, ensconced in a wooden cage,
covered with silk and embroidery, was conveyed on the back of a mule
to João’s house, accompanied by musicians with pipes and drums
and a large troop of men firing guns. The cage was removed from the
back of the mule by four female slaves and brought into the room,
prepared with handsome carpets, where João awaited her. The slaves
assisted her to leave the cage and retired.

As soon as they were alone Rahma threw herself at the feet of her
husband, crying, ‘Oh beloved! God has answered our prayers. He
is merciful, and now I shall be, as long as I live, your faithful,
happy wife. But, João, I beg you to repeat that you believe in God
and the Day of Resurrection. I rejoice to see you in the garb of a
Moslem, and hope you are now really one of the Faithful.’

‘Rahma,’ he said, raising her in his arms, ‘to thee I owe
my life; for thee I shall be ready to lay it down; but I must not
deceive thee! I am not a Moslem, but a Christian, and, as such, I
believe in God and the last Day. I assumed this garb in order that
I might be supposed to be a Mohammedan, and thus be able to petition
the Sultan that you should be my wife.’

Rahma drew away from his arms, saying, ‘I cannot, I must not,
offend God by marrying a Christian.’

João replied, ‘Know you not that your prophet Mohammed married a
Christian woman? Oh loved wife! I shall be a faithful husband, and
when I tell you about my belief and religion, you will learn that
we have the same laws from God, except that we Christians cannot
marry more than one wife. Does such a law displease you, my Rahma?’

‘Swear,’ she said, ‘that you will never divorce me, never
marry another woman.’

‘I swear,’ he replied, ‘that nought but death shall part us.’

Rahma then threw herself into João’s arms, exclaiming, ‘I am
for ever your loving wife, and shall honour and obey you!’

João and Rahma were very happy. Of an evening, when his work was
done, he taught her to read and write Portuguese, and found her
quick and intelligent in learning. He explained to her the precepts
of the Christian religion, and told her that he hoped the day might
come when he could find some excuse to leave the Moorish Court and
escape with her to Portugal.

When their first child, a girl, was born, Rahma expressed the wish
that her name should be ‘Miriam,’ or Mary, the name of the Mother
of the Saviour of all men, and that she should be brought up in the
Christian faith.

João was very industrious, and continued in high favour with the
Sultan, manufacturing many gun-barrels, upon which, besides his own
name in European characters, he engraved the Arabic word ‘Sidi’
(my Lord), to denote that they were made for the Sultan, and such
barrels are occasionally to be found at the present day.

The Moorish gunsmiths having lost, since João’s arrival at Court,
the Royal custom, took counsel together how they should contrive to
discover the Christian’s secret of forging the twisted barrels;
for João was careful to allow no Moor, except the Sultan, to enter
his forge when he was at work.

The Portuguese was of very cleanly habits, and had his workshop
whitewashed every month, for which work Jews are usually employed
throughout Morocco. One of the smiths, disguised as a Jew, offered
himself to João to whitewash the forge. He was engaged, and returned
for the same purpose every month.

The sharp-eyed spy watched the operations, and finally learnt so
much of the process as to enable him to imitate it, and he succeeded
so well that he presented a twisted barrel to the Sultan, which His
Majesty considered to be as good as any of João’s make.

The latter was summoned to the Court and asked how it came to
pass that twisted barrels could be made by native gunsmiths. The
unfortunate João declared he had been betrayed by some spy watching
him when at work.

Other Moorish smiths also acquired the art, and, as good barrels of
twisted iron were sold at low prices in Fas, the Sultan discontinued
employing João, and ceased sending him ‘mona’ from the palace.

João, however, had laid by a considerable sum of money, and he
determined to quit the capital with his wife and try to escape to
Tangier. He therefore petitioned the Sultan to be allowed to take
his wife to visit her father, the Sheikh at Beni M’suar.

This was granted, and João bought animals to carry away such
property as he had not been able to dispose of at Fas, and set out
with Rahma and her child for the village of Tsemsalla in the Beni
M’suar mountains.

After remaining some time with his wife at the Sheikh’s house,
where they received a warm welcome, João informed his father-in-law
that he must return to his work. Leaving early one morning with his
wife and child, he proceeded to Tangier, a distance of about fifteen
miles. On arrival at the Portuguese outposts, he was challenged by a
sentry. The soldier proved to be an old comrade who had heard that
João had assumed the disguise of a Moslem, and, recognising him,
allowed him to enter the town, where he was conducted before the
Portuguese Governor, to relate his adventures and present his wife
and child.

The Governor took great interest in João, who had always borne
an excellent character. Rahma, by her husband’s desire, wore the
European dress, and as a Christian no longer veiled her face. The
Governor was much struck by her beauty and gentle manners, and on
learning from her, for she had acquired the Portuguese language,
that she was already converted to the Christian faith and desired to
be baptized by a priest, together with her little girl, he took her
to his wife and daughters, by whom Rahma was made much of. They were
lodged in the Governor’s house, and the baptism was carried out,
with great ceremony, at the Cathedral[45] of Tangier; the child was
christened Miriam.

After a sojourn of some weeks, João and his family were given
a passage in a Government vessel bound to Lisbon, with letters
of recommendation to the King and Queen, to whom their history
was related. The Royal family patronised João, and took especial
interest in pretty Rahma and her daughter as being converts from
the Mohammedan faith.

Being a clever mechanic, João obtained a lucrative employment, and
lived in ease and comfort with his wife, who bore him a large family.

Rahma wrote to her father and described how happy she and her husband
were, and that they had escaped to the land of the Nazarenes, as
they had feared the jealous and revengeful feelings of the smiths
at the capital; for João, since the betrayal of his secret, had no
longer been shown favour by the Sultan. However, for fear of causing
sorrow to her father, she did not inform him of her conversion to
the Christian faith.

João sent the old Sheikh a beautiful gun, with his own name and
that of Sheikh Shashon engraved on the barrel in letters of gold.




                             CHAPTER XIX.

                   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.’




                              CHAPTER XX.

                    ASCENT OF THE ATLAS MOUNTAINS.


After his return from the Mission to Marákesh, which has been
described in the previous chapter, Sir John, writing to Sir Henry
Layard on May 24, 1873, gives an epitome of his labours at the Court,
and refers to the expeditions undertaken to the Atlas Mountains
during his travels.


‘We returned,’ he says, ‘from our travels on the 8th inst. in
better health than when we started. The weather was cool, and no
rain fell to stop our march except on one day.

‘I had no instructions from the Foreign Office except to deliver
my new credentials; but I took advantage, of course, of my visit to
the Court to place our relations on a better footing, and I flatter
myself I have succeeded, as I have settled, or put in the proper
groove for settlement, a host of pending claims and grievances.

‘Tissot was at the Court at the same time as myself, and we
marched hand in hand in all questions affecting common interests,
or, as Tissot described the position of the Moorish Government, like
that of a wild boar with a hound hanging on each ear. The Moors were
astonished to find the French and British Representatives in perfect
union and showing no signs of petty jealousy about etiquette in forms;
in fact, we took our precautions of warning Moorish and _our own_
officials that we insisted upon no attention being shown or form
observed to one or the other which differed.

‘The Sultan and his Ministers were most courteous and
hospitable. Nothing could be more pleasing than His Majesty’s
manner and language to myself in a private audience. He conversed
with great good sense, but he declared his policy to be _conservative_
in the strictest sense of the word.

‘In reply to the proposals made by Tissot and myself for various
reforms and improvements, His Majesty said to me, “We and thou
understand very well that all you suggest is very excellent, and might
be most beneficial in developing the resources of our dominions; but
the eminent men (Ulama, &c.) do not desire that we should introduce
the innovations of Europe into this land, nor conform ourselves
with Christian usages. We made certain promises on our accession to
the throne, and unless my councillors alter their views, we cannot,
without endangering our position.” When I alluded to Turkey and
Egypt, he intimated that those Governments had no doubt increased
in power and wealth, but that their independence was shaken.

‘Tissot received a telegram from his Government regarding some
frontier conflict near Taza, stating that a large force had been
sent by the Governor of Algeria to enter Morocco and chastise the
predatory tribes. Thiers stopped the march of the force, until Tissot
could be referred to. He has arranged all matters satisfactorily with
the Sultan, to whom he brought the “Grand Cordon of the Legion of
Honour.” . . .

‘Whilst the Sultan was digesting my memoranda on various affairs,
we made an expedition to the slopes of the Atlas. My son reached the
snow, but was obliged to beat a rapid retreat, as the mountaineers
were in revolt against the Sultan. The Shloh tribes of the Atlas,
who were submissive to the Sultan, were most kind and hospitable
to us. They gave us all a hearty welcome, and I was delighted on
finding that I was known to all these wild fellows as being a friend
to the Moors and “a just man.” The valleys of the Atlas are very
beautiful and fertile. The inhabitants live in two-storied houses,
something like the Swiss, only very rude in form. They are a far
superior race to their conquerors, the Arabs.’


As this letter shows, the hope which Sir John had entertained of
returning with the Mission through the Atlas mountains and thence
to Mogador was not completely fulfilled, as a rising of the tribes
in that district rendered the expedition unsafe. Sid Musa however
suggested that before leaving Marákesh, an expedition of a few days
might be organised to visit ‘Uríka,’ on the slope of the Atlas
nearest to the city. This was arranged, and on the morning of April 17
the party left Marákesh by the beautiful Bab el Mahsen, or Government
gate, the fine old arch of which, built of red stone engraved with
Arabic inscriptions, is said to have been brought by the Moors from
Spain,—an improbable legend founded on the fact that Jeber was
the architect. The narrative is given from Miss Hay’s Diary.

‘As we passed the Sultan’s palace, which, by the way, is said
to contain a female population amounting to a thousand women (of
all colours!), the standard-bearer lowered the banner as a mark of
respect. This salute was also accorded when passing the tombs of
“saléhin,” or holy men.

‘On this trip, as also on the subsequent return journey to Mogador,
the usual red banner that precedes an envoy was replaced by a green
one. This latter is the emblem of the Sultan’s spiritual authority,
and there was a peculiar significance and compliment in its being sent
to precede the Representative of Great Britain and of a Christian
Sovereign. The Sultan also sent his own stirrup-holder, a fine old
Bokhári, to attend Sir John, as he would his Royal Master, an office
which the noble old man punctiliously fulfilled. He was always near
Sir John’s person, prepared to alight and hold his stirrup when
required, as he was wont to do for the Sultan. The old man had many a
quaint tale to relate, and Sir John would sometimes summon him to his
side and encourage him to talk of his recollections and experiences.

‘The valley of the Atlas, whither we were bound, was in sight due
South. Our way at first lay across the plain and along the line of
deep and dangerous pits that mark the track of the aqueduct which
supplies Marákesh with water, said to come from the hills thirty
miles distant. These pits are about twenty feet in diameter and of
equal depth, and one of our party had a narrow escape one day, during
a wild and general race across the plain, riding nearly directly
into one of these chasms concealed by long grass. Fortunately the
clever little Barb swerved, and, jumping, cleared the pit to one side.

‘Tradition states that formerly, in remote times, an aqueduct
brought water underground direct from the Atlas to the city. This
became blocked and damaged, but could not be repaired or cleared
owing to its great depth below the surface. Therefore one of the
ancient rulers, to collect the water it supplied, made great wells
or reservoirs some fifteen miles from Marákesh, and closed all the
fountains and springs in their vicinity. From these the present water
supply was brought to the city, and originally flowed in through
four hundred canals or aqueducts. These, Arabian historians relate,
were the work of 20,000 Christian captives.

‘The greater extent of the plain was in grass, studded with thorny
“sidder” bushes; but some crops of barley and beans looked
flourishing, and here and there, where irrigation had been attempted
by means of watercourses from the river “Ghemáts” vegetation
was luxuriant beneath olive and other fruit-trees.

‘At about 4 p.m. the country assumed a more pleasing aspect as we
passed the villages of the Shloh tribe of Mesfíwa. These Shloh,
like the natives of Sus and Rif, are all of Berber race. Neither
Phœnicians, Goths, Romans nor Arabs ever succeeded in bringing them
completely under subjection, for they retreated before the conquerors
to the mountains, and in these highland fastnesses maintained their
independence. With the exception of a few tribes they owe no political
allegiance to the Sultan, but acknowledge his spiritual suzerainty as
the recognised head of the Mohammedan religion in Morocco, in virtue
of his direct descent from the Prophet. They altogether differ in
appearance from the Arabs, and no affinity can be traced between the
Berber and the Arabic languages, excepting in words connected with the
Mohammedan religion which were introduced when the Berbers adopted
the creed of Islam. In place of tents the Shloh live in houses, of
one or two stories, built of mud and stone without mortar, the earth
of this district having the peculiar quality, when well beaten down,
of being impermeable.

‘Learned writers have disputed the origin of the Berbers, but
they seem to agree that they are not the aborigines of the country,
but displaced another and more ancient race of inhabitants. One of
the traditions of the Berbers is that their ancestors were driven
out of Syria by the “Khalífa” of “Sidna Musa” (“our Lord
Moses”), meaning Joshua, the lieutenant of Moses. Their country in
the South of Morocco is called generally “Sus,” and the manner
of their expulsion is related in yet another legend quoted from a
commentary on the Koran.

‘God said unto David, “Banish the Beraber out of this land,
for if they dwelt in hills of iron they would break them down.”
Whereupon, says the story, King David placed the people on camels,
in sacks called “gharaiar,” and sent them away. When they arrived
at the Atlantic coast their leader called out, in the Berber tongue,
“Sus”—which means let down, or empty out—so the exiles were
canted out of their sacks, and the country is thence called “Sus”
to this day!

‘Many of the Shloh proper names appear to have an affinity to the
Hebrew, if not actually of Hebraic origin, such as Ait Usi, Ait Atta,
Ait Emor, Ait Sisac, Ait Braim. The Hebrew equivalent of the first
three being Hait Busi, in our translation the Jebusites, Ha Hitti,
the Hittites. Ha Emori, the Amorites. Ait Sisac may be translated
“Those of Isaac,” or The children of laughter. Ait Braim needs
no translation.

‘On our entry into Mesfíwa we were surprised to find signs of
much more industry, and even of civilisation, than in the districts
inhabited by the Arab population. Here irrigation was carefully
attended to; the numerous plantations of olive and fruit-trees,
as well as the fields of grain, were better cultivated; and the
condition of the bridle roads and rude bridges over the streams
afforded further proof of a more intelligent and industrious people.

‘Ascending the slopes we reached the camp pitched in an olive-grove
on a small island formed by the Ghemáts, here called the “Dad i
Sirr,” evidently its Berber name. We crossed with some difficulty
this mountain torrent, which foamed and swirled up to the horses’
girths. Flowing down a gorge of the Atlas running nearly North and
South, this river then takes a north-westerly direction till it
joins the Tensift, which again flows into the Atlantic near Saffi.

‘On the side of a hill, about four hundred yards from the site of
the camp, lay the village Akhlij, crowned by a castle built of red
stone and earth, and having five square bastions with loopholes for
musketry. In fact every house in these villages can be used as a
little fort, the walls being pierced so that each householder can
defend himself against his neighbour, or all can combine and act
against an invader of their stronghold. The population of Akhlij is
said to be about 500 souls, including some forty Jews, each Jewish
family, according to the custom of the Shloh, being under the special
protection of a Mohammedan chieftain.

‘Above the spot where we were encamped rose the mountain of Zinat
Kar, the summit dotted with patches of snow, and, towering over
all, the snowy heights of “Glaui” frowned upon the groves of
palms, oranges and olives which spread below basking in the sultry
temperature of the plains.

‘On our arrival in camp the Sheikh and elders of the village
presented themselves, by order of the Sultan, to welcome the
“Bashador.” The Sheikh, a tall man, was draped in a long, seamless
“haik;” but some of his followers wore a black burnous similar
to those in use among the Jews of Marákesh. The meeting took place
under the British flag—hoisted for the first time in these wild
regions—before Sir John’s tent. In the evening the deputation
returned, bringing an abundant supply of provisions and forage,
and, in addition, huge dishes of cooked food for the soldiers and
camp-followers. This “mona” was collected from the whole province
under the rule of Basha Grenog, comprising some fifteen “kabail,”
or tribes, spread over a district about fifty miles in diameter. The
tax therefore fell lightly on the inhabitants, not amounting to more
perhaps than a half-penny a family, which sum would be deducted from
the payment of their annual taxes.

‘This spot in the valley of Uríka, at the foot of the Atlas, is
about 500 feet above Marákesh and 2,000 feet above sea-level, and the
fine air was most enjoyable. The night appeared cold, the temperature
falling below 60° Fahr. At midday it was 74° in the shade.

‘There were contradictory statements as to the sport to be
expected. But, after much cross-questioning, the natives confessed
that there were no wild boar nearer than the snow; that the
“audad[48],” or wild sheep, was to be found, but only on the
highest hills a couple of hours’ ride distant; and that lions and
leopards were not to be seen within two days’ march, or about
thirty miles further among the snowy ranges. On inquiry whether
there were any fish in the river, we were told that, later in the
season, a speckled fish about nine or ten inches long comes up from
the Tensift. This no doubt is the trout, which is found also in the
mountain streams near Tetuan. On asking the Berber name for large
river fish, Sir John was surprised to hear that it is “selmen,”
which would appear to be a cognate word to our “salmon.”’


The account of the ascent of the Atlas which follows is chiefly
compiled from notes written at the time by Mr. Drummond Hay, who
accompanied the Mission, and who, with one companion, succeeded in
scaling the heights and reaching the snow. An earlier ascent, but not
to so high a point, was made in 1829 by Mr. E. W. A. Drummond Hay,
Sir John’s father. Other travellers have visited the Atlas, both
before and since Sir John; but no Representative of a Foreign Power,
it is believed, had ever yet done so, openly and with the good-will
of the Sultan.

‘_May 18._ After breakfast all the party, ladies included, mounted
their horses. The son of the Sheikh, a fine handsome fellow, riding
a splendid black horse, led the way up the valley of Uríka, and
we rode along the banks of the torrent. On each side of the gorge
rose conical hills clothed with “el aris[49],” the scented
“arrar[49],” and the lentiscus or wild pistachio. The olive,
walnut, orange, apricot and vine were also abundant.

‘We travelled along a path on the steep river bank, sometimes so
narrow that, if a horse had made a false step, the rider might have
been precipitated into the torrent which foamed below. But as we
advanced the road improved, and showed signs of some knowledge of
road-making and of great care on the part of the inhabitants. Here
and there it was mended with wood and stones; the large boulders
were cleared from the path and built up as walls on either side;
and, where a torrent crossed the way, there was a rude bridge
of one or more arches, composed of trees and branches cemented
with mud and stone. Below us flowed the river, now turbulent
and shallow in its wide bed. By the banks grew numbers of trees
which resembled silver poplars, the timber of which is used in the
construction of their houses by the mountaineers. Their delicate
foliage contrasted pleasantly on the mountain side with the sombre
green of the “arrar” and “aris,” which here do not seem to
attain so great a height as they do in the Rif country. Mingled with
them grow the karob, or locust-tree, and the mountain ash. Numbers
of wild flowers filled the hedges that hemmed in the fields or grew
by the wayside; among them we recognised many English friends. There
were also several flowers new to us, particularly a lovely species
of broom bearing a brilliant violet blossom with an orange centre,
and another pretty, highly-scented, yellow flower all declared must
be a wild jasmine, so closely did it resemble the garden variety.

‘Villages were to be seen on both sides of the gorge, and
one of them saluted us with a _feu de joie_ of musketry. After a
gentle ascent of an hour and a half we arrived at a pretty grove of
olives. Here the Sheikh insisted upon our dismounting, as he said the
villagers desired to welcome our party by giving us a feast. It was
in vain the “Bashador” explained that we desired to push, as far
as we could ride, up the mountains. After waiting an hour, as no food
appeared, he gained his point and we were allowed to re-mount. But,
to our great dismay, just at the moment of moving off, arrived
some forty villagers, every one of whom carried on his head a huge
earthen platter, containing several dishes of meat and “siksu”;
each dish holding sufficient to satisfy ten hungry hunters. Having
explained to these hospitable people that we had only just had our
morning repast and were most anxious to sharpen our appetites by a
ride up the mountain before consuming the feast, we were allowed to
depart in peace—though a solemn promise was first exacted that we
would return without fail in the evening to accept their prodigal
hospitality. We then continued the gradual ascent, passing through
villages the houses of which recalled in some degree the _chalets_
in Switzerland, though these were of very rude form. Many of them had
overhanging eaves and open galleries on the second story, where the
inmates could sit and enjoy the air and scenery, sheltered from sun
or weather. Some of the houses were decorated with patterns on the
wall below the roof, picked out in crossed lines such as are seen
in old buildings in some parts of England and Germany. But in this
instance the lines were white on the dull background of red earth
with which these houses are built.

‘The population—men, women, and children—turned out to gaze at
us. But neither by word, look, or gesture was there any demonstration
of fanatical or hostile feeling. The villagers seemed rather to
consider our advent to be the occasion for a holiday. A petition was
sent to the “Bashador” by the boys of a school that their teacher
should be asked to grant them a holiday to behold the English. A few
silver coins to the pedagogue and the request of the “Bashador”
set all the boys at liberty, and thus the rising generation of
Uríka will, it may be hoped, retain a friendly recollection of
the “Ingliz.”

‘These mountaineers were fairer than their brethren of the plain,
and some of the women comely. The latter, like their Rifian sisters,
do not hide their faces; and we are told that the state of morality
amongst them is of a very high standard. No female is in danger of
being insulted, and it may be safely declared that there is a better
state of morality amongst the Berber women of Morocco than exists
in England or in any other country in Europe. The women were draped,
like the men, in a long, seamless garment; but they wore it fastened
by two silver brooches on the shoulders or over the breast, supporting
the folds which hung gracefully around their persons. These brooches
are generally connected by long pendent silver chains. The younger
women had long black hair, which appeared to be carefully dressed,
and they showed the same love of adornment as their European sisters
by decorating their tresses with poppies and other wild flowers.

‘Lady Hay, who rode a mule, on learning that all must now dismount
and proceed on foot if they wished to continue the ascent of the
mountain, decided to remain at the village. A fine-looking Shloh,
hearing of this decision, stepped forward and offered to take her
into his house. She accepted his hospitality, and was placed under
the ægis of the faithful chief of the camp, Hadj Hamed Lamarti. The
rest of the party proceeded on foot.

‘The dismounted horsemen of the Bokhári guard were soon blown
and gave up; then the Sheikh’s son—who was rather too well fed
and in bad condition—sat down, looking very grave, and tried to
dissuade us from further ascent. But on we went, accompanied only
by some half dozen stalwart Shloh, armed with long guns. Under the
shade of a locust-tree Sir John and his daughters, having ascended
some way, came to a halt, as the air was sultry and the ascent very
precipitous. Colonel Lambton, Major de Winton, Major Hitchcock,
Captain Sawle, Mr. Hay, and Mr. Brooks plodded on, the mountaineers
leading the way. The ascent was almost as steep as a vertical
ladder, and after climbing some 1,500 feet they began to feel much
exhausted. At this point four of the party gave up, and two of the
mountaineers, glad of an excuse to halt, remained to guard them.

‘Captain Sawle and Mr. Hay continued their upward way, and, as
Mr. Hay relates, “We appeared to gain fresh wind and strength as
we ascended. On reaching the first snow we fired a shot to announce
to the party our success, for in the morning there had been a great
discussion whether the ascent to the snow could be accomplished in
one day.

‘We reached the summit of the first high range called Zinat
Kar at 2 p.m., and at that moment I sprung a covey of partridges,
and again signalled our arrival by a successful right and left,
which was greeted with a yell of delight by the mountaineers who
accompanied us. We could not tell what height we had reached, as
my aneroid was out of order and had stopped registering half-way;
but as far as we could judge by distance we must then have been
about 6,000 feet above the camp. To our astonishment we found here
an extensive table-land with considerable cultivation, though snow
was still lying on the ground in many parts. This plateau extended
to the foot of a snow-covered range which again rose abruptly beyond.

‘Whilst we rested I discharged my gun at an eagle, and afterwards
at a crow, which latter I killed—a curious bird with red beak and
legs. A few minutes after, when we were thinking of again continuing
our route, we heard to our surprise a volley of musketry, and saw the
distant heights around us manned by armed men. Our Shloh companions
informed us that these people were the “Ahal Kubla,” or people of
the South, inhabiting the snowy range before us. This tribe does not
submit to the Sultan’s authority, and a gun fired on a height is
a signal that an enemy is in sight, and consequently, we were told,
in another hour we might find ourselves surrounded by these lawless
people, who were at present at feud with the Uríka, and the latter
do not venture therefore to trespass on their territory.

‘The difficulty the Sultan would experience in subduing these
tribes can be imagined, since the sole access to this district is
by the steep ascent we had just made[50].

‘Discretion being the better part of valour, we determined to beat
a rapid retreat, and descended the escalade as fast as our weary
limbs would carry us. At 4 o’clock we rejoined the rest of the
party under the olive-trees where we had first stopped. They had
just concluded the feast and were starting for camp.

‘While the climbing party were in sight Sir John and his daughters
watched them from under the shade of the locust-tree: then,
descending to the village, found Hadj Hamed waiting for them in
one of the little streets. He conducted them to Lady Hay, whom the
villagers had installed in the open gallery of one of their houses,
looking out on the mountains. It was very clean: there were only some
dry maize husks piled in a corner and a number of beehives arranged
in a row on the floor. The pillars which supported the front of the
gallery were ornamented very rudely with quaint attempts at arabesque
decoration. Lady Hay said she had felt faint on arrival, and having
asked for bread, they brought her a loaf and a piece of honeycomb.

‘The owner of the house welcomed us warmly, and on Sir John saying
that he was much pleased with the mountaineers and considered them
far finer fellows than the Arabs, he was delighted, and tried to pay
some compliment to the English. Then he brought us in the skirt of his
dress a number of freshly gathered oranges, which proved delicious.

‘All the climbers now returned except Captain Sawle and Mr. Hay,
and we prepared to leave our comfortable retreat; but, when Sir
John turned to take leave of his kind host, the latter begged
and implored him to wait a little longer—only a few minutes,
he pleaded. After some demur, his earnest request was acceded to;
the carpets were again spread, and all sat down. The hospitable
villager hurried away, but soon re-appeared, followed by another man,
each bearing a bowl of smoking hot paste, resembling vermicelli,
boiled in milk. In the centre of each dish was a little pool of
melted butter. We rather dreaded tasting the food, after our late
experience of Moorish cookery, but were agreeably surprised, when,
having grouped ourselves round each bowl, using our own forks,
we tried the mess and found it excellent. The paste was delicate,
well boiled, and flavoured with some pungent spice, and the butter
exquisitely fresh and sweet. This form of food appears to have been
a staple dish with the Berbers since ancient times. We did justice
to this food, which was followed by a basket of hot cakes made of
rye, resembling scones, accompanied by a bowl of melted butter, and
those who had the courage to dip their bread therein pronounced it
good also.

‘Our host no longer made any objection when we again rose to
depart, only saying, when thanked for his hospitality, that not
having expected us to remain at his village he had been unable to
prepare better food at such short notice. He added that, should the
“Bashador” desire at any future time to travel in the Atlas,
he could do so in perfect safety—especially if unaccompanied by an
escort from the Moorish Government. “For,” he said, “your love
of justice towards all and the kindness shown by you to our poorer
brethren, when in distress in the North (of Morocco), is known to us
and we shall not forget. Come amongst us, you will ever be welcome;
remain several months, hunt with us and be our guest, and no injury
shall befall you or yours.”

‘Touched and pleased by this kindly speech from a native Sheikh in
a district where few Christians had ever penetrated, Sir John and
his party rode back towards the olive-grove. As we passed through
the narrow lanes, the women and children collected in some of the
orchards, smiling and beckoning, and were delighted when the ladies
lifted the thick white veils they wore and greeted them in return. The
women were fair-skinned, and many of them good-looking. Here and
there we observed really pretty, graceful girls; one in particular,
whom Sir John noticed as she leant against a doorway, was quite
handsome. She was dressed in a curious “haik,” stained in
patterns to represent a leopard skin, and hanging from her neck she
wore a quaint, square-shaped silver ornament, with a blue stone in
the centre.

‘The women’s heads were covered, but they made no attempt to
veil their faces. The men were generally draped in the “haik”;
but those who ran beside us, or climbed the heights, threw aside
this cumbrous garment and appeared in thin long shirts belted at the
waist. Wooden powder-flasks, covered with brightly coloured leather
and studded with brass knobs, gay little shot or bullet bags, and an
ornamented curved dagger hung by their sides from a broad strap over
the shoulder. A long gun was invariably carried by each man. Some
were bare-headed, others had a cord tied tightly round their shaven
skulls, but most of them wore a small white turban.

‘On arrival at the olive-grove, at which we had promised to halt
on our return, we were soon seated round an enormous flat dish full
of “siksu.” It would have been cold, but for the depth of the
contents; so that by digging down we reached some that was hot and
palatable. Our followers assembled in twos and threes about each
great platter and devoured the contents with the greatest avidity.

‘Several of the boys, who gathered about us, we observed busily
working at a curious frame composed of a hollow cane, up which a
number of coarse woollen threads were passed and secured at either
end. Under these, the cane was encircled by a ring which held the
threads away from the rod and enabled the little workman to deftly
weave in bright coloured worsted across the threads, his fingers
being employed without any shuttle, and a small piece of wood, cut
like a comb, used to drive down each cross thread into its place,
making various patterns as they went up the rod. On inquiring the
purpose of this work we were told they were belts. Though we offered
to buy any that were finished, none were forthcoming; but one of the
lads brought his work to be examined, and was much startled when
the “Bashador” on returning him his frame offered him a small
coin, evidently fearing an attempt was being made to buy his work,
frame and all. However he took the money readily, though shyly,
when convinced it was only a present.

‘We returned to Marákesh on the 20th; but, before leaving, received
a visit from some of the Jews who live amongst the mountain tribes
and who wished to consult the doctor attached to the Mission. They
came up as we were all seated, grouped under the trees about the
camp. The elders kissed the heads of those of our party who were
covered; the younger, their shoulders. These Jews were dressed
exactly like the Shloh amongst whom they live, with the exception
that they wore a black skull-cap. The Jewesses also were attired
like the Shloh or Arab women, but with a scarlet headdress. The
men were unarmed; but we were told that, further in the interior,
the Jews carry arms and join in tribal warfare; neither are they,
there, the oppressed people known to the lowlands of Morocco.’


Two of the stories related to Sir John on the march by the Sultan’s
stirrup-holder may be inserted here as exemplifying the manners and
customs of the officials about the Moorish Court, and especially
those of the military class. The first may be called ‘A Story of
a Moorish Prince.’


Mulai Ahmed, second son of Sultan Mulai Abderahman Ben Hisham, was
appointed by his father Viceroy of the districts of Beni Hassén,
Zair, Dukála, Shedma, &c. His residence was at Rabát.

This Prince was clever, and endowed with many good qualities, but
he was extravagant and reckless in his expenditure, and thus became
deeply indebted to the merchants and shopkeepers of Rabát; but no
man ventured to press his pecuniary claims on the wayward youth. His
debtors, moreover, had only to ask some favour by which they might
be benefited in their trade, and it was immediately granted by the
Prince; the favour thus conferred amply recouping them for their
unpaid goods.

On the occasion of a visit of the Sultan to Rabát in 1848, Mulai
Ahmed was still Viceroy. Various complaints had been brought by the
inhabitants to the Uzir, Ben Dris, against His Royal Highness for not
paying his debts; but the Uzir endeavoured so to arrange matters as
to avoid reporting the misconduct of the young Prince to his father.

One day, however, when the Sultan was going to mosque, an Arab from
the country called out, from a high wall—on which he had climbed
to avoid being silenced by the troopers who formed the escort of the
Sultan—‘Oh Lord and Master, Mulai Abderahman, my refuge is in
God and in thee! I have been plundered and unjustly treated during
this your reign.’

The Sultan, restraining his horse, desired his attendants to learn
who this man was; and, after hearing their report, sent for the Uzir
and directed him to inquire into the case and report thereon.

On the man presenting himself before the Uzir, the latter reprimanded
him for brawling in the streets for justice. ‘One would suppose,’
said Ben Dris, ‘that there were no longer governors or kadis in
Morocco! Whence are you? what have you to say?’

‘I am an Arab from Shedma,’ the man replied. ‘I had a fine
horse, for which I had been offered by the chief of my tribe three
hundred ducats, but I refused to sell; for, though a poor man, my
horse was everything to me; I would not have parted with him for all
the wealth that could be offered me. Some weeks ago I came to Rabát,
and Mulai Ahmed—may God prolong his days!—in an evil hour saw my
horse, and ordered his soldiers to seize it, sending me a purse of
three hundred ducats, which however I refused to accept. For forty
long days have I been seeking justice, but can obtain hearing neither
of Mulai Ahmed nor of any one else.’

The Uzir replied, ‘If your story be true, your horse shall be
returned to you; but, if false, you shall be made an example of for
daring to bring a complaint against the son of the Sultan.’

The Uzir then sent a messenger to inquire of Mulai Ahmed concerning
the matter, and by him the Prince sent reply that he knew nothing
about the horse. The Uzir was consequently about to order the Arab
to be bastinadoed, when the latter begged Ben Dris to send him,
accompanied by some of his—the Uzir’s—attendants, to the
stables of Mulai Ahmed, where he felt sure he would find the horse;
begging that his whole tribe might, if necessary, be called upon to
give evidence respecting the identity of the horse.

The Uzir accordingly sent the Arab, with a guard, to the Prince’s
stables to point out the horse, with directions that it should be
brought before him. He also sent to inform Mulai Ahmed that this
order of his father the Sultan must be obeyed.

The attendants took the Arab to the stable, where he immediately
recognised his horse, but had no sooner done so than he was arrested,
along with the Uzir’s men, by some soldiers sent by Mulai Ahmed,
and brought before the Prince, who had them _all_ bastinadoed and
dismissed.

On the return of the Uzir’s men, they reported to their master what
had taken place. The Uzir had them again bastinadoed for not having
carried out his orders, viz. to bring back the Arab and his horse
in safety. Then, mounting his mule, he rode direct to the palace,
where he recounted to the Sultan what had occurred.

His Majesty was highly incensed; his eyes flashed lightning,
and his voice was as thunder. ‘Dare any son of mine disobey the
orders of his father? Are my people to be robbed and ill-used at
his caprice? Summon the chief kaid of our guard.’

The officer appeared. ‘Take,’ said the Sultan, ‘a saddled mule
to the palace of Mulai Ahmed. Bind the Prince hand and foot. Conduct
him this day to Meknes, where he is to be imprisoned until further
orders. Let the Arab have his horse and an indemnity for the rough
treatment he has received. Let a proclamation be issued that all
persons who have been unjustly used by Mulai Ahmed are to present
themselves to me; for there is no doubt,’ added the Sultan, ‘that
is not the only case of injustice of which my son has been guilty.’

The orders of Sultan Mulai Abderahman were obeyed. The chief of the
guard appeared before Mulai Ahmed with a mule saddled and bridled,
and informed the Prince he was deposed from his position as Viceroy,
and that he was to proceed at once with him to Meknes.

At first Mulai Ahmed refused to obey his father’s commands, but,
on being threatened by the officers with fetters and manacles if
he showed any resistance, consented to mount the mule and start at
once on his journey. The third day they arrived at Meknes, where
Mulai Ahmed was confined in prison, whence he was not liberated for
five years.


Another story related by the stirrup-holder was that of Kaid Maimon
and the lion.


In the early part of this century, when Sultan Mulai Suliman reigned
over Morocco, Kaid Maimon was Governor of Tangier, and, according
to custom, had visited the Court at Fas to pay his respects to His
Sherifian Majesty. On his return journey to Tangier he was conveying,
in pursuance of His Majesty’s commands, a large lion in a cage
carried by four mules, as a present from the Sultan to the King
of Portugal.

One evening, after the tents had been pitched, and while Kaid Maimon
was reposing on a divan in his ‘kubba,’ he heard shouts of alarm
and the snorting and tramping of horses and mules which had broken
loose from their tethers and were fleeing from the camp.

The Kaid clapped his hands repeatedly, to summon his attendants,
but no one appeared. Being too much of a Moorish grandee to rise
from the divan and see with his own eyes what had happened—such a
proceeding would have been undignified—he remained seated, counting
the beads of his rosary and muttering curses on his attendants. After
a time he again shouted lustily for his slave ‘Faraji,’ with a
malediction on him and on all slaves.

The Kaid had barely finished these imprecations, when in walked his
huge prisoner, the lion, glaring fiercely at him.

Kaid Maimon was a man of undaunted courage: while realising it would
be folly for him to draw his sword and attack the lion, as he would
most probably be worsted in such a conflict, he was also aware that
even should he succeed in dealing the beast a death-blow, his own life
would be forfeited; as the Sultan would, no doubt, order his head to
be cut off, for destroying the royal gift entrusted to his keeping for
the King of Portugal. The Kaid therefore, looking as placidly as he
could at the intruder, thus addressed his namesake—for the lion had
also been given the name of ‘Maimon,’ or ‘the trustworthy.’
‘You are a brave fellow, Maimon, to leave your cage and take a
walk this fine evening. O judicious and well-behaved lion!’ he
added, ‘you do right to roll and enjoy yourself’—as the lion,
pleased with the voice of the Kaid, commenced rolling himself on the
carpet. ‘O bravest and most trustworthy!’ the Kaid continued—as
the lion, rising, rubbed himself cat-like against him, repeating
this very embarrassing performance several times, finally stretching
himself and lying down with his head on the Kaid’s knee.

Brave man though he was, Kaid Maimon perspired with horror at having
to nurse such a beast. He tried patting him on the head, but a lash
of the creature’s tail warned him that the lion preferred to take
his repose without such caresses.

Not a sound was to be heard in the camp, save now and then a snort
or struggle near the Kaid’s tent, from some terror-stricken horse
which, winding the lion, was endeavouring to break away from the
pickets which still held him—though most of the horses and mules
had broken away and fled, with their masters after them.

Kaid Maimon now began to consider what kind of severe punishment he
would inflict upon his cowardly attendants and his body-guard—if
the lion did not eat him! ‘Fine warriors,’ thought he; ‘two
hundred men to run away from a tame lion!’

At this moment the lion, having rested, awoke from his nap, and,
stretching himself, showed his long and terrible claws. ‘This
beast is not to be trifled with,’ reflected the Kaid; ‘yet if any
rascal had shot it—either in self-defence or to save my life—I
should have made him a head shorter.’

The lion now got up and, stalking towards the door of the tent,
lashed his tail; one switch of which caught the Kaid’s turban and
knocked it off. Calmly replacing it, the Kaid muttered to himself,
‘I hope this visit is now coming to an end. May it be the last of
the kind I shall have to receive in my life.’

The lion, looking out, espied the horse—still picketed near the
tent—which immediately recommenced its frantic struggles and at
last, succeeding in breaking away, was just galloping off, when the
lion, in two bounds, was on its back and brought his victim to the
ground—panting in the agonies of death, its whole side lacerated
and its throat torn open.

The Kaid, who had moved to the door of his tent, beheld this scene,
and thought it would be a favourable moment, whilst the lion was
enjoying his repast, to recall his cowardly attendants and troopers;
so going out at the back of the tent, unseen by the lion, he looked
around and finally espied his followers about half a mile off,
huddled together, with the horses and mules they had recovered.

The Kaid, on coming up to them, vowed he would bastinado every
cowardly rascal; but that the punishment would be deferred until the
morrow, as they must now return at once to secure the lion before
nightfall, adding—‘The first man who again runs away I will
bastinado until the breath be out of his body.’

The keeper of the lion was a Jew; since, in Morocco, Jews are always
appointed keepers of wild beasts, the Moors believing that a lion will
not attack a woman, a child, or a Jew—as being beneath notice. The
Jew was ordered to attach two long chains to the neck of the lion,
now bloated with the flesh of the horse, then to stretch the chains in
opposite directions and to attach them to long iron stakes which were
driven into the ground for the purpose. The trembling Jew, who knew
he would be cruelly bastinadoed should he fail to obey this order,
did as he was bid, and the lion, lying near the remains of the horse
he had been devouring, suffered the Jew to fasten the chains to the
rings on his collar, which was still about his neck.

When this had been done, a dozen powerful men were ordered by the
Kaid to fasten strong ropes to the chains, and by pulling contrary
ways to control and guide the lion to his cage, wherein a live sheep
was placed. By these means the lion was induced to enter his cage,
the door of which was then closed.

Kaid Maimon, who was well pleased at the recovery of the Sultan’s
present to the King of Portugal, forgave the conduct of attendants and
troopers, and, assembling the chiefs, related to them the incidents
of the lion’s visit to his tent.




                             CHAPTER XXI.

                        MISSION TO FAS IN 1875.


In 1874 Sultan Sid Mohammed died, and was succeeded by his son Mulai
Hassan. Sir John, writing to Sir Henry Layard on October 29 of that
year, says:—


I suppose the young Sultan intends to tread in the footsteps of his
ancestors and remain stagnant.

My belief is that these people, or rather this Government, will never
move ahead until the lever acts at headquarters continuously, by the
presence and pressure of the Foreign Representatives. So long as we
preach and pray at a distance, nothing will be done. On the other
hand, if the Foreign Representatives were removed to the Court,
there would no doubt be a rupture of relations, or some tragedy,
before twelve months elapsed.


Again, shortly after the accession of Mulai Hassan, Sir John writes
to the same correspondent:—


I shall make a fresh effort to induce the young Sultan to introduce
some reforms and improvements, but I have but faint hope of success,
as the Ministers and satellites of the Court are either rogues
or fools.

From my experience of Turkey and the Turks I confess I have little
confidence in the beneficial effect of any attempt to introduce
European grafts on the old Mohammedan stock. The tree which showed
signs of vigour has been cut down, and the fruit of the European
graft contains rather the evils than the virtues of both the West
and the East.


When this letter was written, Sir John was already on his way to
Fas. On March 3, 1875 he left Tangier, accompanied by several members
of his family, some personal friends[51], and the officers appointed
by the British Government to attend the Mission.

The reception at Fas was magnificent, some six thousand troops having
been sent to do honour to the Representative of Great Britain;
but what was more pleasing to him and greatly enhanced the effect
of the entry, was the presence of the citizens of Fas, who had come
to meet him in their thousands, bringing with them their wives and
children; to show, they said, their appreciation of his friendship
and love of justice. The shrill ‘zagharit’ continually raised
by the women as Sir John passed through the crowd, attended by his
staff and escort, completely drowned at times the sound of the brass
band which the Sultan had sent to play before the procession. Soon
after the instalment of the Mission at Fas, the incident occurred
which Sir John relates as follows:—


‘When on my mission to the Court at Fas in 1875, the Uzir had
selected the Kaid of an Arab regiment to command the guard of honour
which had been appointed to attend on our Mission.

‘Another Kaid, named Meno, being superior in rank to the Arab Kaid,
felt aggrieved that this post of confidence had not been offered
to him; moreover, he had rendered important service to the Sultan,
which he considered unrecognised, so he vowed vengeance on his rival.

‘The men of his regiment, all Berbers, were much attached to
Kaid Meno, not only on account of his famed courage in battle,
but also because whenever a _razzia_ took place, Meno did not, like
other chiefs, insist on having the lion’s share of the plunder,
but left all to his followers.

‘On hearing of my arrival and the appointment of the Arab Kaid,
Meno summoned a dozen stalwart men of his regiment and imparted to
them, secretly, a scheme to bring disgrace upon the Arab officer and
which they were to carry into execution. This was to the effect that
they should rob a horse from the orchard where the cavalry mounts
of my Tangier escort were picketed.

‘In this orchard was a summer-house where the English Medical
Officer who accompanied the Mission had his quarters; as also the
chief of our camp, a Moor from Tangier. The orchard was enclosed by
a high wall, and at the gate several of the Arab guard were posted
day and night.

‘“How are we to abstract a horse?” asked the Berbers. “Shall
we cut the throats of the guard at night, force open the gate,
and carry off the horse?”

‘“No such violence is required,” said Kaid Meno. “After
midnight, when all is quiet, take off your shoes, go in silence to
the path round the southern side of the wall, take pickaxes with
you, and choose the best spot for making a hole through the tapia
wall. I know the ground,” continued the Kaid; “you will find a
drop of five feet from the path to the orchard. Take plenty of rope
with you. Steal up to a horse—you will find several picketed—and
lead him to the aperture in the wall. Then cast the horse quickly
and quietly, bind his fore and hind legs firmly to his barrel,
hoist him over your heads, and push him through the hole.”

‘“What then?” asked the men; “where can we hide the horse? We
cannot take him out into the country, for the gates of the town will
be closed.”

‘“That is all settled,” replied Kaid Meno. “I have arranged
with a Berber cattle-lifter, who came to ask a favour of me this
morning, that he is to wait to-night, with four of his companions,
where the river passing under the walls enters the town.

‘“When a whistle is heard, a rope will be cast into the stream,
with a float and white signal attached. This rope will be taken
hold of by you and fastened to the horse, which, securely bound,
will be cast into the river. The men outside, on hearing a second
whistle, will haul the animal under the walls of the town through the
archway. A little water will not choke the horse, which will become
their property, and they will of course lose no time in making off
to the mountains before dawn.”

‘“To each of you,” he added, “I give four ducats; and if
the Sultan disgraces the Arab Kaid, I shall have an ox killed and
give a feast to our regiment.”

‘Meno’s orders were carried out. Some of my camp-followers
who slept in the orchard heard a horse moving about at night, but
supposed the animal had got loose.

‘In the morning the robbery was reported.—I visited the orchard
and saw the aperture through which the animal had been passed. The
wall was three feet thick, and the hole, five feet from the ground,
looked so small that it was a wonder how the poor beast had been
jammed through.

‘Early notice of the robbery had been given to the Governor of
Fas. The Arab Kaid was immediately placed under arrest, and orders
issued that the town gates should be kept closed and search made in
every garden and stable of a suspicious character. This was done,
but without result.

‘The Sultan “thundered and lightened,” as the myrmidons of
the Court told me, on hearing of the daring outrage that had been
committed within the grounds assigned by His Sherifian Majesty for
the quarters of the British Mission, and His Majesty vowed vengeance
on the perpetrators of the theft.

‘Later in the day, an Arab camel-driver reported to the Basha that
he had seen, early in the morning, a grey horse mounted bareback by
a Berber, who was riding with speed towards the mountains.

‘Cavalry were dispatched in pursuit, but the robber had escaped.

‘Suspicion then fell on the Kaid and men of the Berber regiment,
for words had been let drop which marked their glee at the disgrace
of the Arab Kaid.

‘One of the Berber soldiers was therefore seized and cruelly
bastinadoed until he offered to tell how the robbery of the horse had
been planned and carried out. His story was found to be true. The
unfortunate Kaid Meno was brought before the Uzir. Undaunted, he
denied the charge, in an insulting manner. The Uzir reported his
language to the Sultan, who ordered Meno to be disgraced and reduced
to the ranks. His horses and all his property were confiscated. It
was not until after I had left the Court that I learnt that the
horse I had received as a gift from the Sultan, a bright dun or
“snabi,” had been the property of Kaid Meno, the colonel of
the Berber regiment. In my reminiscences of boar hunting I tell how
gallant a hunter Snabi proved himself. His poor master must have been
attached to him, for Snabi was gentle with man and faithful as a dog.

‘The unfortunate Kaid Meno was, after a year, sent prisoner to
Tetuan, where he remained incarcerated until 1886, when, through my
intercession, he was released and the Sultan placed him once more
in command of a Berber regiment.’


During the stay of the Mission in Fas, the Sultan invited its members
to be present at a grand ‘lab-el-barod’ in which he personally
intended taking part; this function to be preceded by a picnic
breakfast provided for his guests in one of the royal gardens about
two miles from the town; and in accordance with this invitation the
members of the Mission and two of the ladies were present at the
‘lab-el-barod’ conducted by the Sultan in person.

The morning had been spent by the party in one of the beautiful royal
gardens in the environs of Fas, where the Sultan had ordered luncheon
to be served. As this picnic and the subsequent ‘lab-el-barod’
were regarded in a semi-official light, the Mission was escorted by
the Arab Kaid and cavalry who, as described in the story of Kaid Meno,
had supplanted that Berber officer and his men.

A message arrived, soon after luncheon, requesting Sir John and his
party to proceed to a palace situated about two miles from Fas. Here,
in a large court—or rather square—the performance took place. The
Sultan, who appeared much pleased to see his English visitors,
saluted them, after every charge in which he joined, by rising in
his stirrups and raising his gun, held horizontally to the level of
his turban, as he passed the spot were they were grouped.

When the ‘fraja’ (sight) was over, we rode back to Fas, through
a gay and wild scene. The whole plain was crowded with various
tribes, grouped separately, and each dancing their own form of
gun-dance. There was one tribe of Shloh, wearing white, with red
leather belts and white turbans; another, in brown; and another, all
dressed in blue. Troops of Sus jugglers and Aisawa snake-charmers
mingled with these, whilst crowds of women took advantage of every
mound or ruined wall whence they could watch their male relatives.

We were about half a mile on our way home, when one of our Arab escort
cursed a Shloh. Immediately, from the crowd, a stone was thrown
at the offender, and this was followed by another. The escort, who
had been riding in open order, at once closed up in expectation of
a row. The three Tangier guards present, pushed forward; the four
English gentlemen surrounded Lady Hay, who rode a mule near Sir
John; and Hadj Alarbi, the chief of the Tangier beaters—a gallant
little man—hurried his mule to Miss Hay’s side, uncovering,
at the same time, Sir John’s breechloader, which he was carrying,
as the gentlemen had been shooting in the Sultan’s garden in the
morning. Seeing him cock the gun, Miss Hay said, ‘Why are you
doing that? You know it is not loaded and you have no cartridges.’
‘No,’ said the Hadj, ‘but it looks well!’

The escort and the rest of the party, having now drawn closely
together, were preparing to press forward; when Sir John, who
was as usual riding in front, checked them, giving orders to
proceed as slowly as possible; progress therefore became almost
funereal. The crowd thickened about the party, curses were showered
on the Arab cavalry by the constantly increasing numbers of Shloh,
joined by all the idle folk and boys of the town, who united in the
abuse. Presently a bullet struck the ground near the Arab Kaid, and
a soldier of the escort was injured by one of the stones flung from
the crowd, but these missiles were well aimed, as—though members
of the escort were frequently struck—not one touched any of the
English party. Bullets now whizzed over our heads, or struck the
sand in front of us, sending it flying up in our horses’ faces,
but no one was injured. It was not a pleasant half-hour, as the
road was full of holes, and the horses fidgetty from the noise and
crush. On reaching the gates of Fas, it was found that some of the
miscreants had closed them, but the townspeople behaved well, and,
after a short pause, re-opened the gates to admit us, closing them
again immediately to exclude the mob; but after we had entered the
town, boys and other scamps ran along the high wall, still taunting
and insulting the soldiers.

That evening, a message was brought to Sir John from the Sultan,
by his ‘Hajib,’ to express His Majesty’s regret that such an
apparent insult had been offered to the Mission. The Hajib stated
that the Sultan had sent for the chiefs of the tribes and asked
for an explanation of their extraordinary conduct. They assured His
Majesty that no insult was offered to or intended for the Bashador,
but that some of the younger men of the tribes, excited by feasting
and with gunpowder, had taunted and tried to annoy the escort, who
had retorted; the Shloh had hoped to make the cavalry fly, as they
were accustomed to do on meeting them in battle, and thus prove that
the Arabs were unworthy to be guards to the British Mission.

The Hajib then continued, ‘Sidna says he cannot rest unless he
is assured that none of you are injured, and he suggests and begs
that you, your friends and family (meaning the ladies), will return
to the same spot to-morrow to witness the “lab-el-barod,” but
without the Arab escort, and attended only by your Tangier guard.’

Sir John agreed, and next day, accompanied by his younger daughter and
some of the gentlemen, rode to the palace outside the walls—attended
only by the six faithful Suanni men. As we left the city, each tribe
sent a body of armed men to perform the gun-dance before us.

We witnessed again the ‘lab-el-barod.’ The Sultan was,
at first, mounted on a coal-black horse—in token of his deep
displeasure—but changed soon to a chestnut, and, lastly, mounted
a milk-white steed. Afterwards we rode over the plain, mingling
with the tribes. They cheered wildly, calling down blessings on the
Bashador and on all the English—‘For they are brave and just,’
they cried.

The matters which Sir John especially pressed on the attention of the
Sultan’s advisers on the occasion of this visit were principally
those which, promised in 1873, had not been carried into execution,
in consequence of the death of Sultan Sid Mohammed. Amongst the more
urgent of these demands were the following:—

The placing of a light at Mazagan, to facilitate the entry of ships
into the harbour at night; the building of a pier at Tangier, and of
breakwaters in the harbours of Saffi and Dar-el-Baida; the erection
of more houses and stores for merchants at the ports; permission to
export bones; permission to import sulphur, saltpetre, and lead at
a ten per cent. duty, and the abolition of the Government monopoly
on these articles; the extension of the term placed on removal of
prohibition to export wheat and barley; inquiry into and punishment
of outrages on Jews; immediate settlement of all British claims. Most
particularly he pressed the importance of allowing a cable to be laid
between Tangier and Gibraltar. When he had previously obtained from
the Moorish Government permission for an English Company to lay such
a cable, one of his colleagues informed the Moorish Government that,
in case the concession was granted, he should insist on telegraph
wires being laid between Ceuta and Tangier overland, and hold the
Moorish Government responsible for the safety of the wires. The
Moorish Government, frightened by this menace, and aware that no
inland wires would be safe in the then state of Morocco, availed
themselves of the excuse to withdraw from their promise to Sir
John. On this subject he wrote to Sir Henry Layard:—


When I presented the proposition to my colleagues, I premised by
telling them frankly of past opposition, and I asked what would have
become of the network of telegraph wires spread throughout Europe,
Asia, Africa, and America, if the petty spirit which had prevailed
here had existed on the part of the Representatives of Foreign
Powers throughout the world. I ridiculed the advantages which it was
supposed we should derive in case of war and if the cable became
the property of the British Government. ‘Imagine,’ I said,
‘my informing my Government some day by telegraph that the Sultan
was about to send a force of 30,000 Moorish troops in the _Moorish_
squadron to act against Spain or France. Such a dream,’ I said,
‘would soon pass away, as any gunboat could cut the cable in this
defenceless bay whenever it pleased the officer in command. . . .

‘Once,’ I said, ‘the cable or cables introduced at Tangier,
the time would not be far distant when this Government and people
would follow the example of the rest of the world, and have telegraph
wires throughout this Empire.’


In a series of letters written to his sister, Mrs. Norderling,
Sir John describes various incidents of the Mission. The first of
these letters, dated April 24, gives an account of the flattering
reception the Mission had received:—


Though we are the _pets of the Harem_ we long to get away, but
a message has just been brought that the Sultan will not let us
go till May 1. Never have I met such a welcome at the Court as on
this occasion. Royal honours paid us everywhere, not a word, not a
gesture, not a look that could be called unfriendly. From the pompous
Basha down to the humble labourer, all vie in being civil to the
Englishman who has been, as they say, the friend of the Moor, and
who loves ‘justice.’ Even the women don’t hide their faces,
or run away from me, but smile brightly at my grey beard when I
peer over the terrace wall, though they are more shy when my young
friends attempt to have a look at them, in their smart dresses,
walking on the terraces.

I have had two private audiences of the Sultan[52] since the
public audience. He and I have become great friends. He is about
6 feet 2 inches high, very handsome, of a slim and elegant figure,
very dignified in his manner, but gentle, with a sad expression of
countenance. I think he is about twenty-seven years of age. His colour
about the same shade as that of Hajot[53]. Features very regular. He
has taken the greatest interest in the telegraph apparatus sent
to His Sherifian Majesty by the British Government. It has been
placed in the garden of his palace between two summer-houses. I
stood with the Sultan at one end, and a sapper, sent by Government
to work the instrument, and the Engineer officers at the other. The
first message he received in Arabic letters was ‘May God prolong
the life of Mulai Hassan.’ Several messages were interchanged. I
left the room to communicate with the officers, and the Sultan took
possession of the instrument, and, as the letters are in Arabic, he
sent one himself. The sapper was delighted with his intelligence. He
wanted to have wires put between the palace and my house to enable
him to talk to me, he said, but there is no time. He has agreed
to allow of a cable[54] being laid between Tangier and Gibraltar,
but not inland as yet, for he declares that his wild subjects would
destroy the wires. I have got, however, the thin end of the wedge
inserted for telegraphic communication. He agrees also to the Mole at
Tangier, and other improvements on the coast, and has removed some
restrictions on trade, so, after much negotiation, ‘un petit pas
en avant’ is made. He told me that he cannot introduce many of the
improvements he desires, from the fear of raising an outcry against
himself by some of his ignorant subjects. He also tells me that his
father, before his death, had followed my advice, to give salaries to
the Governors of the Southern provinces, and thus check the system
of corruption and robbery practised by these grandees in office to
enrich themselves. I hear that the inhabitants of these provinces
are happy and contented. His Majesty hopes to introduce the same
system into the Northern provinces, and he sent the Governor-General
of half his empire to listen to my advice.

This country is an Augean stable, and I cannot sweep it; but as the
Sultan is well disposed, we are doing our little best to aid him.

He invited us all to witness the feast of the Mulud—an unprecedented
favour, for even in Tangier the authorities think it prudent to
recommend Christians and Jews to keep aloof from the wild tribes
who assemble on such occasions.

The chiefs from the Arab provinces and the Berber mountains, with
their followers, amounting to several thousand men, had come to the
feast to bring presents to His Majesty. The Sultan, with all his
grandees and regular and irregular troops, proceeded to a picturesque
site two miles beyond the town.

The Sultan sent us a guard of honour and orders to the commander to
allow me and my friends to take up any position we liked. Each chief
with his retinue formed a line and advanced towards the Sultan,
bowing low from their horses. His Majesty gave them his blessing,
which was proclaimed by the Master of the Ceremonies, and then they
wheeled round, cheering, and galloped off. Some thirty governors or
chiefs were presented. The scene was beyond description. Imagine the
brilliant costumes of the Sultan’s troops; the flowing white dresses
of the wild Berber; the massive walls and bastions of Fas in the
distance, with minarets and palm-trees o’ertopping them; undulating
hills covered with castles and ‘kubba’-topped tombs, interspersed
with orange-groves, olive-trees, and luxuriant vegetation; a shining
river flowing at our feet, and the snowy range of the Atlas in the
distance, and you have a picture which was wonderful to behold.

No people can behave better than the ‘Fassien’ have this time,
and even the swarms of Berbers we meet are civil to us. The Sultan
sent a message to us (we were all in our ‘armour’) that he was
very glad we had come to the feast, as he wished to show all his
subjects that I was his honoured guest and friend.

This is a very chilly place. Last time I was here, in 1868, I had
dysentery, and now I have a frightful cold. Water everywhere; air
hot outside, but cold in the house.


After the Mission had returned to Tangier, he writes to the same
correspondent in July 1875, on the reforms which he was endeavouring
to introduce:—


Yes, we are sitting in Congress at the request of the Moorish
Government about the various improvements. The Representatives
(with the exception of the Don) support the Moorish Government. The
silly Spaniards like not that Morocco should improve and that our
young Sultan should become popular. They always talk (_sub rosâ_)
about Morocco as destined for a Spanish colony, and they fear lest
the Moors should become too strong for them, or that, by improving
the country and commerce, Foreign Powers should put their veto on the
petty system of menace and bullying to which the Dons have resorted
since the war of 1860.


Later on he writes to Mrs. Norderling about the Sahara scheme. A plan
had been proposed, and a company was to be formed, with the object
of flooding the Sahara by means of a canal cut on the West African
Coast, in the belief—it was said—of thus re-creating a great
inland sea in place of a sandy desert. On this subject he writes:—


The Sahara scheme appears to me to be a ‘chateau en Espagne.’
I had a letter from Lord Derby requesting me to aid McKenzie & Co.,
and to ask for the good offices of the Moorish Government. He might as
well have asked me to aid the Naval Expedition to the North Pole. The
Moorish Minister did not know the whereabouts of Cape Bojador, and
said the tribes south of Agadir would probably be more hostile to
the explorers if they heard that the Sultan encouraged them. Remember
Davidson’s fate, and that of the two Spaniards who have just been
ransomed for $27,000 after seven years’ captivity at Wadnun.

Bargash put a fair query: ‘If this inundation can really be carried
into execution, does the British Government intend to obtain the
consent of the chiefs or inhabitants of the oases of the desert
or neighbouring districts, and to offer them compensation? Or will
their claims be got rid of by swamping them?’

I have not, either in reply to Lord Derby or to McKenzie, who has
written to me, opposed the scheme; but I have warned them that it
will be natural to expect a strong hostile feeling on the part of
the tribes who inhabit the oases and borders of the desert, and who
have had, from time immemorial, the privilege of escorting caravans
and levying contributions on the traffic through the Sahara.

I should doubt that there would be any depth in the Kus. In my
ignorance I should say that the sea had withdrawn from that region
from the uplifting of the surface, and that even if there be parts
much lower than the Atlantic, it would be a sea too dangerous to
navigate from the risk of sand-banks. I don’t think you and I will
live to hear that the cutting has been made. Money will be raised,
and the engineers will fill their pockets—‘y nada mas.’




                             CHAPTER XXII.

                              1876-1879.


Sir John’s annual leave was generally taken in the autumn, for,
as he writes from Tangier to Sir Joseph Hooker,—


We visit England every year, but prefer going in the shooting instead
of _the_ season, as to us, barbarians, we find English society more
cordial in their ‘castles’ than when engaged in circling in a
whirlpool of men and women in the ‘season.’ Our stay therefore
is very short in town, and this will account for my not having given
you a hail in your paradise at Kew. We probably go home in July;
if so, and you are in town, I shall call either on arrival or return.


In the course of these yearly holidays he was entertained by many
royal and distinguished personages, with some of whom he had become
acquainted as their host at Tangier; but no record of any special
interest is left of these visits in his letters. Thus in the year
under notice, he was present at the Brussels Conference on Africa,
by invitation of the King of the Belgians, who as Duke of Brabant
had visited Tangier in 1862. In the following November he was the
guest of the Prince of Wales at Sandringham, whence he writes,
‘The children clustered round me, and I had to tell many stories
of the Moors. Captain Nares arrived and dined. We passed the night
on the Arctic Ocean, and found it most interesting.’

Sir John always returned to the South before the cold set in in
England. This was merely from dislike of a chilly climate, after
years of residence under a Southern sky, and not on the score of
health, as may be judged from the following letter to his sister:—


                                          Ravensrock, _June 24_, 1876.

Thanks for your good wishes on my entering the shady side of
sixty—_bright_ side I ought to say, for thanks to God I am as
hearty and strong as I was twenty years ago, though I have no longer
the speed of youth. Yesterday we had all the foreign society to play
at lawn-tennis, and I flatter myself, though only my third trial at
the game, on having been the best amongst the youngsters who joined
the fun.


Eastern affairs boded ill for peace in 1876, and Sir John, always
deeply interested in matters connected with Turkey, writes in July:—


The cloud in the East looks very threatening. I hope we shall not
do more than insist on _fair play_. If the Christian races are able
to hold their own, we ought not to interfere so long as they are
not placed under the sway of Russia or other Power antagonistic
to us. If the Turks succeed in quashing the insurrection, I hope
our influence will be exerted to prevent outrages being committed
by the Mohammedans. I do not believe in the resurrection of the
‘sick man,’ but I am convinced that Russia has done her best
to hurry him to death’s door. When the Blue Books are published,
we shall have much to learn, especially if our Foreign Office has to
defend its present menacing attitude before the British Parliament
and public. If England had looked on passively, we should probably
have been forced into war.


But the crisis was averted.


‘Lord Derby’s policy in the East,’ he writes, ‘has astounded
the foreigners. They all _without exception_ appear pleased to
see the old Lion growl and bestir itself, and Russia “reculer”
(“pour mieux sauter”). The policy of the latter was evidently the
system of administering slow poison. I don’t think we can prevent
paralysis of the patient, or his final demise, but we have done right
well in showing that we cannot allow a doctor, who prescribes poison,
to play the part of chief adviser to the patient. Let him live awhile,
and the course of events may prevent the balance tipping in favour
of our opponents in the East.’


Of Lord Derby Sir John entertained a high opinion. ‘I believe
him,’ he says in one of his letters at this time, ‘to be a
far better man and more thoroughly English than any of his Whig
predecessors—except dear old Palmerston.’

In the following year Sir Henry Layard, Sir John’s former
fellow-worker in Sir Stratford Canning’s time, was appointed
Ambassador at Constantinople, and he thus writes to congratulate
him on the appointment:—


                                                      _April 5_, 1877.

I rejoiced to hear that you go to Stambul pro tem.; for I have no
doubt the appointment will be hereafter confirmed, and the right
man will be in the right place.

As you say, it will be a very difficult post, especially as I fear
in these days an ambassador cannot look alone, as in the days of
Ponsonby and Redcliffe, to the course he deems would best serve the
interests of his country—and I may add of Turkey—but he must
seek to satisfy lynx-eyed humanitarians and others, even though he
may know that the real cause of humanity will not be benefited.

If vigilance, tact, and decision can gain the day, it will be yours.

I am, however, very far from rejoicing at your removal from Madrid,
and shall miss you much. Through you the evil machinations of the
Don have been thwarted. Had you been at Madrid in 1859-60 we should
not have had war in Morocco.


On the same subject he writes to his sister:—


Layard has gone to Stambul. He writes me that he has a hard task
before him; he will have to work in the teeth of humanitarians
who have done much against the cause of _humanity_ already, though
their motives are no doubt good. I have said from the first, Russia
won’t fight unless Turkey forces her. . . . Russia will get up
another massacre when she thinks the rumour suitable to her interests
and views.


And again later:—


I think Layard’s dispatch of May 30 excellent.

He has a most difficult task, but is ceaseless in his efforts to
prevent atrocities. I have no sympathy with the Turkish Government,
which is _detestable_, but I have for the Turks.

On the other hand, I consider the conduct of the Russian
Government—which has been sapping and mining for _years_ through
agents, Bulgarian and foreign, to bring about rebellion, revolt, and
even the very atrocities committed on Christians in Bulgaria which
she now comes forward as champion to avenge—as base, treacherous,
and detestable; her sole aim being conquest. Never shall I have any
sympathy for that treacherous and ambitious Power.


In the meantime Sir John, who still maintained his influence at
the Court, continued unremitting in his efforts to abolish abuses
in Morocco.

Just before going on leave in 1877 he writes from Tangier to his
sister:—


I feel sorry to leave this even for two months, but am glad to have
a rest, for as our young Sultan makes me superintend his foreign
affairs, I have no rest. We think of leaving on the 28th. I have
my leave, but I have so much work to get through I could not well
start before then.

I am striking at the _Hydra_, _Protection_, which is depriving
this Government of its lawful taxes and of all jurisdiction over
Moors. Lord Derby is making it an international question, and has
hitherto given me _carte blanche_.


Diplomatic operations proceed slowly in Morocco, and this question of
the protection extended by foreigners to Moorish subjects, which Sir
John had so much at heart, was no exception to the rule. To his great
regret his efforts to combat the abuse were eventually baffled. But
he foresaw from the outset that the prospect of success was never
very great, and says:—


I shall fight the battle, and if abuses are maintained, and this
Government is too weak and powerless to resist them, I shall fold
my arms and await events; I can do no more.


To the same subject he returns in a letter to Sir Henry Layard:—


The Moorish Government have very strong grounds for complaint and
for insisting on reform and the abolition of these abuses, which
are extending in such a manner that soon all the wealthy merchants
and farmers will be under foreign protection and refuse to pay
taxes. . . .

In my reply to Sid Mohammed Bargash, which I repeated both in French
and Arabic, I said that, though I had been thirty-two years British
Representative and was in charge of the interests of Austria, Denmark,
and the Netherlands, and though British trade with Morocco was greater
than the trade of all the other nations put together, I did not give
protection to a single Moorish subject not actually in the service
of Her Majesty’s Government, or in my personal service or that of
my subordinate officers.


The settlement of this question was one of the objects which induced
Sir John to remain at Morocco after his period of service, by the
new regulations at the Foreign Office, had expired. He writes to
his sister in the spring of 1878:—


I think I told you that I was informed by Lord Derby that my term
of service—_five years_ in accordance with decree of Parliament
about Ministers—had expired, but that the Queen had been pleased
to signify her desire that I should remain in Morocco, and hopes I
shall be pleased. . . . I only agree to remain until I have settled
the question of irregular protection.


The system of protection, as defined by treaty, was limited in
its operation. But, in practice, the system was extended beyond
all reasonable limits, and was capable of gross abuses and
irregularities. By the treaties of Great Britain and Spain with
Morocco, Moorish subjects in the service of foreign diplomatists
and consuls were exempted from taxation by the Sultan, and from the
jurisdiction of Moorish authorities. The same privileges of granting
exemptions were claimed by other Foreign Powers, and extended to
persons not in the employment of their Representatives. The results
were, that the Sultan was deprived of control over a large number of
his subjects; that many of the wealthiest traders, especially among
the Jews, were relieved from all contributions to taxation; and that
persons who were guilty of crime escaped from justice by obtaining
a place on the privileged lists of Foreign Representatives. To such
an extent was the abuse carried that, in Sir John’s opinion, the
Moorish Government was, by its prevalence, reduced to a dangerous
state of weakness. Moreover he felt that if the Foreign Powers
surrendered the privilege of protection or submitted to its careful
regulation, they would be enabled to bring the strongest pressure
on the Moorish Government to carry out much needed reforms in the
administration of the country. Unfortunately Sir John’s opinions
on this question were shared by only a portion of his colleagues,
and he saw that nothing in the matter would be finally achieved at
Tangier. He hoped, however, that a more satisfactory conclusion
might be arrived at, if a Conference could be conducted in some
other country.


‘I have suggested,’ he writes to his sister in June, 1877,
‘to Lord Salisbury that there should be no more palavering at
Tangier, where some of the Representatives have personal interests
in maintaining abuses, but that a decision be come to by the
several Governments, or by a Conference at some Court, a Moorish
Envoy attending. As the fate of Morocco will greatly depend on the
decision come to, and as its position on the Straits and its produce
must sooner or later bring this country to the front, I have urged
that my suggestion deserves attention.’


Sir John’s proposal was adopted, and a Conference was held at Madrid
on the subject of protection in Morocco. But the result was not what
Sir John had hoped, and he writes to his sister in June, 1880:—


There will be no use in my remaining to continue the imbroglio which
the Madrid Conference has produced.

The French policy has been _je veux_, and the silly Italians, who
really have no trade or interest in Morocco except to maintain its
independence, backed the French.

British and other foreign merchants claim now the same privileges as
the French, and they cannot be refused; so when each foreign resident
in Morocco appoints a rich farmer in the interior as his factor, and
this man is placed beyond the pale of the Moorish authorities and
solely subject to the jurisdiction of a mercantile consul, living
often at a distance of five days’ journey, you may imagine the
rows that will take place, as these factors cannot be selected from
angels, but from erring barbarians. However, as I said to a colleague,
‘My appetite has improved since I find my propositions have not been
accepted,’ for now my responsibility ceases, and when affairs take a
disastrous turn I shall say, ‘I told you so.’ It is sad, however,
for I had advised that when the Powers conceded the just demands of
the Sultan, it would be an opportunity for requiring that he should
introduce gradually reforms in the maladministration of this country.


In another letter he hints at a different grievance which he sought
to abate, but in this also old traditions and what may be termed
‘vested interests’ proved too strong for him and his allies:—


Lately we have had many meetings of Foreign Representatives,
and I have had to waggle my tongue, and my throat has suffered
accordingly. I have some trouble, being Doyen, and all the meetings
take place at my house. We are trying to get rid of abuses and of the
system of Foreign Ministers and Consuls riding roughshod over this
wretched Government and people and compelling them to pay trumped-up
claims. The German and Belgian are my coadjutors.


The commercial condition of Morocco showed signs, however, of
improvement, and the Sultan evidently intended to take steps for
giving security to the lives and property of his subjects. But these
signs of increasing prosperity were doomed to be only the heralds
of terrible disasters, as was foreshadowed in the following letter
to Sir Joseph Hooker dated February 23, 1878:—


‘We continue,’ writes Sir John, ‘to progress like the cow’s
tail, but one step has been made in the right direction. The Sultan
is forming a body of regular troops, and our Government is aiding
him by drilling squads at Gibraltar, who will act as instructors
to the “Askar” when they have been instructed and return to
the Court. With ten thousand regulars the Sultan ought to be able
to bring under subjection the wild tribes who only acknowledge him
as the Chief of Islam. There would then be better security for life
and property. This I hope would lead to the development of commerce
and resources of this country, but we travel at camel’s pace—I
may add, a _lame_ camel.

‘There has been a great lack of rain throughout Morocco. The usual
fall is between thirty and fifty inches; this winter since September
only three and a-half inches have fallen. The country is parched in
the South, all the crops have failed, and cattle are dying. In this
province the crops still look green, and a little rain fell last
night, but water will be as dear as beer in England if we have not
a good downfall. We fear there will be famine in the land.’


These fears were realised, and Sir John writes to his sister that he
had suggested to the British Government that his visit to the Court in
the spring should be postponed, ‘as minds of Moorish Government will
be preoccupied and my preaching and praying would be of no avail.’

In June he writes again:—


This country is in a very sad state. Robert[55] says the people
are dying of starvation round Mogador, and cattle and sheep by the
thousands. I see no prospect of warding off the famine, and fear that
misery will prevail for many years in the Southern districts, as there
will be no cattle to till the land. Sultan is said to be distributing
grain. Wheat and other provisions are imported from England and other
foreign countries. Bread here is dearer than in England, though the
crops in this district are good. Robert has appealed to the British
public through the _Times_ and Lord Mayor, but John Bull has doled
out his sovereigns so liberally for Indians, Chinese, Bulgarians,
and Turks, that I fear there will be very little for the Moor.

We have got up subscriptions here for the Mogador poor.


The famine was followed in the autumn of 1878 by an outbreak of
disease, and in a letter, written in October on his return from leave,
he says:—


Good health at Tangier; but cholera—or, if not cholera, some
dire disease—is mowing down the population in the interior. At
Dar-el-Baida, a small town with about 6,000 population, the deaths
amounted to 103 a day! but the disease is moving South, not North. The
rains and cool weather will I hope check the evil.

Great misery in the interior. There are reports that the starving
people eat their dead. This I think is an exaggeration, but they are
eating the arum[56] root, which when not properly prepared produces
symptoms like cholera.


The closing of the port of Gibraltar against all articles of trade
from Morocco had produced great distress amongst the poorer classes,
and the arbitrary measures taken by the sanitary authorities at
Gibraltar and the Spanish ports served to add to the miseries
of the population of Morocco. In addition to these calamities,
during Sir John’s absence the terrors of some of the European
Representatives led to the introduction of futile and mischievous
quarantine regulations at Tangier itself, which Sir John on his
return at once combated.


‘There is good health in Tangier,’ he writes in October, ‘but I
expect we shall have cholera before the spring. My colleagues during
my absence had run amuck and established a _cordon_ outside the town,
stopping passengers and traffic, fumigating skins, clapping poor folk
into quarantine exposed to the night air, and other follies. As I
said to them, “Why do you introduce _cordons_ in Morocco when you
don’t have them in other countries? It is only a source of bribery
and corruption. The rich get through and the poor starve outside. It
is a measure which only trammels traffic and promotes distress.”

‘A Spaniard, guard of a _cordon_ at Tetuan, was killed, and there
was nearly a revolution amongst the Mohammedans at Tangier. Then
an order came from the Sultan to remove _cordons_, and saying
Foreign Representatives were only empowered to deal in sanitary
and quarantine regulations by _sea_ and not inland. My colleagues
(except German—Belgian is absent) were furious and said it was all
my doing, and they have been baying at me ever since like a pack of
wolves, as the _cordon_ is taken off. The malady in the interior,
whatever it is, cholera or typhus, is on the wane, but deaths from
starvation are numerous.

‘Sultan is feeding some three thousand at Marákesh. Rain has fallen
in the South, but cattle are dead or unfit to plough, and the poor
have no seed. The ways and means of the Government are coming to an
end, and the little impulse lately given to trade and civilisation
will, I fear, be lost for years.’


On November 15 he writes again on the subject:—


The doctors at Tangier, Mazagan, and Mogador have now formally
declared that the prevalent disease is not _cholera asiatica_,
but that it has a choleraic character. The famished, weak, and poor
invalids are carried off, but if a person in comfortable circumstances
is attacked, a dose of castor oil, or even oil, cures them. This is
not _cholera asiatica_. There have been cases they say at Tangier,
but the mortality this year is _less_ than usual.

Gibraltar, however, continues its rigorous measures—thirty days
quarantine—and will not admit even an egg under that. I see no hope
for improvement until after next harvest. The poor must starve. These
quarantines increase the misery, for they check trade, and the poor
engaged in labour connected with commerce are in a starving state. The
German Minister and I are doing what we can to relieve about three
hundred people here. Robert relieves some 2,700 daily at Mogador.

It is pouring; what a blessing! All the wells in the town are dry. I
send a mile to get water: two mules at work, and my water-supply
must cost me two shillings a day.


Towards aiding the starving poor in the Moorish coast towns £2,600
were raised in London, and at Tangier in December Sir John writes:—


Last month six of the Foreign Representatives had a meeting, and
we decided on raising a subscription to aid these wretched people
to return to their distant homes. There are some four hundred. £60
was subscribed before the meeting broke up, and then we sent it on
to the Moorish authorities and the well-to-do folk—Christians,
Jews, and Mohammedans, and I believe the collection will amount to
£250. Clothes are to be supplied for the naked, provisions for the
road, and with money sufficient to exist on for a month, we send
them off to their distant homes.

We take this step to free Tangier from a crowd of wretched people
who have no homes, and who sleep in the streets under arches. You
can imagine the consequences in our little town, which had become
a model as far as scavenging is concerned.


Though in the Northern provinces the famine had sensibly abated,
in the South there was still much distress, and disease was rife
among all classes. On March 5, 1879, Sir John writes to his sister
with reference to his son, then Consul at Mogador, who had already
been dangerously ill:—


Again we have been alarmed by the accounts of R. The doctor who
attended him reports that he had a brain fever, which finished
off in typhus, brought on, as doctor said, by over-anxiety and
work in relieving the famished people. He was, thank God, on the
23rd convalescent: fever had left him very weak, and he is ordered
to proceed to Tangier as soon as his strength will permit him to
move. . . .

The Italian Vice-Consul at Mogador died of typhoid, the French Consul
was at death’s door. Poor Kaid Maclean is in a dangerous state at
Marákesh. Several Europeans at the ports have died of typhoid.

The atmosphere is poisoned by the famished people and bodies buried
a few inches below the surface or even left exposed.

We have sent off the poor, with aid from here, and as I happen to
be President of the Board this month, I am attending to hygienic
measures, and hope thereby to ward off the dread disease from
this town.


A curious incident connected with this time of anxiety was recorded
by Sir John. It is related here as printed in the _Journal of the
Society for Psychical Research_[57]:—


In the year 1879 my son Robert Drummond Hay resided at Mogador with
his family, where he was at that time Consul. It was in the month
of February. I had lately received good accounts of my son and his
family; I was also in perfect health. About 1 a.m. (I forget the
exact day in February), whilst sleeping soundly [at Tangier], I was
woke by hearing distinctly the voice of my daughter-in-law, who was
with her husband at Mogador, saying in a clear but distressed tone of
voice, ‘Oh, I wish papa only knew that Robert is ill.’ There was
a night-lamp in the room. I sat up and listened, looking around the
room, but there was no one except my wife, sleeping quietly in bed. I
listened for some seconds, expecting to hear footsteps outside, but
complete stillness prevailed, so I lay down again, thanking God that
the voice which woke me was an hallucination. I had hardly closed my
eyes when I heard the same voice and words, upon which I woke Lady
Drummond Hay and told her what had occurred, and I got up and went
into my study, adjoining the bedroom, and noted it in my diary. Next
morning I related what had happened to my daughter, saying that
though I did not believe in dreams I felt anxious for tidings from
Mogador. That port, as you will see in the map, is about 300 miles
South of Tangier. A few days after this incident a letter arrived
from my daughter-in-law, Mrs. R. Drummond Hay, telling us that my
son was seriously ill with typhoid fever and mentioning the night
during which he had been delirious. Much struck by the coincidence
that it was the same night I had heard her voice, I wrote to tell
her what had happened. She replied, the following post, that in her
distress at seeing her husband so dangerously ill, and from being
alone in a distant land, she had made use of the precise words which
had startled me from sleep, and had repeated them. As it may be of
interest for you to receive a corroboration of what I have related,
from the persons I have mentioned, who happen to be with me at this
date, they also sign, to affirm the accuracy of all I have related.

When I resigned, in 1886, I destroyed, unfortunately, a number of
my diaries and amongst them that of 1879, or I should have been able
to state the day, and might have sent you the leaf on which I noted
the incident.




                            CHAPTER XXIII.

                   THIRD MISSION TO FAS. 1879-1880.


In the autumn of 1879 Sir John writes, ‘State of Morocco better,
but the Government is such a wretched one that I am always finding
the stone I had rolled up, back again at the bottom! A vigorous
tyrant would be preferable to our good, well-meaning Sultan.’

He decided on undertaking his long-deferred visit to the Moorish
Court in the following spring, with a view of bringing his personal
influence to bear on the Sultan and stimulating him to attempt some
measure of reform. He was not, however, sanguine of success. In
February, 1880, he writes:—


Rain has fallen in abundance, crops look well, and Moors are holding
up their heads again, though the Government at Fas is as bad as bad
can be, the new Uzir having been selected because he is a relative of
the Sultan, and not for his fitness. I expect to have very uphill
work at the Court. A clever rascal is better than an ignorant,
corrupt dolt, which latter, I fear, is Uzir Mokhta.


And again in March:—


‘I have faint hope of doing much good when I have to deal with an
ignorant fanatic, and shall endeavour to treat direct with the Sultan,
who is intelligent but stupidly avaricious. I say stupidly, for the
system is pursued of killing the goose to get the golden eggs.’

‘I am overwhelmed with work,’ he writes on March 27, on the eve
of his departure, ‘as we are off on the 3rd. Sultan has sent us
handsome tents, led horses and mules, fifty escort and forty baggage
animals. We shall be at Fas, I suppose, on 13th or 14th. Some of our
party will return by the end of the month. I fear I shall be detained
till the middle of May. Moors, like all Orientals, try to wear out a
negotiation by dilatoriness, in the hope that one will accept half,
merely to get rid of the business one may take in hand.

‘This is an Augean stable. I have long flourished my broom on
the threshold, but with little hope of clearing away the muck which
has accumulated in centuries. There is now a dawn of hope that the
civilised world will take better interest in the destiny of this
fine country and people, who for centuries in Spain were in the van
of science, literature, and art.

‘_Entre nous_, I brought about the Conference at Madrid. I fear,
however, so many interests will clash that we shall not be able to
get rid of all the foreign vultures which prey upon Morocco, and
that no measures will be adopted for urging the Sultan to abolish
a system which is equivalent to preying on his own vitals.

‘The French are very active about the railway to the Sudan. As the
road will pass near, or even I believe through, a part of Morocco,
we may expect to hear of troubles which it is to be apprehended will
bring about a conflict. Of course Morocco will be crushed, though I do
not suppose either Great Britain, or other countries having interests
in the Mediterranean, will ever allow the Straits to be held by France
or any other Power. It is a disgrace, however, to the civilised world
if this wretched Government is allowed to drag on. Sultan must be
required to introduce reforms. I shall preach and try to rouse him;
but I shall have a nest of hornets about me both at Fas and Tangier.

‘N.B.—No cups of coffee to be drunk that have not been tasted
by my host first, or you will hear of a belly-ache!’


The Mission started on April 2, and on the 25th Sir John writes
from Fas:—


We had a pleasant journey here, and our companions are agreeable,
clever men.

Reception on entering Fas unusually demonstrative. The Sultan most
gracious; but he is surrounded by venal and ignorant Ministers whose
only aim is to fill their own pockets, so my preachings and prayings
will, I fear, not result in any radical reforms.

When my back is turned, Sultan will be deceived, and the progress
in cow-tail fashion will continue.


Some of the petty obstacles which beset his path and the way in
which he overcame them may be gathered from the following account
written by Sir John of an interview with the Uzir Sid Mokhta.


Having learnt that it was not the intention of the Uzir to return my
visit of ceremony on arrival, I sent a message to him to this effect:
‘On what day and at what hour will it be convenient for the Uzir
to return the visit of ceremony I propose to pay him?’

He replied that he could not return the visit of any person,
Mohammedan or Christian, as he was connected by marriage with the
Sultan. To this my reply was, through the interpreter, that I could
not admit such an excuse, for if he was connected in the female line
by marriage with Sultan Hassan, an ancestor of my family descended
in direct line from Queen Arabella of Scotland. Therefore, on the
same pretext of alliance with royalty, I could decline to call
upon him! After an interchange of many messages, this question of
etiquette was referred to the Sultan, who declared that the Uzir
was to return my visit the day after I had called.

This Uzir had also declined to introduce the word ‘Sir’ in his
letters to me, or to put the equivalent in Arabic, giving as an excuse
that it was contrary to the precepts of the Mohammedan religion to
address any Christian by a term which was, as he had been given to
understand, equivalent to ‘Sid,’ meaning Lord or Master.

To this I replied that unless he prefixed the title, which my own
Sovereign had given me and which was made use of in Her Majesty’s
letter of credence to the Sultan, it was out of the question to expect
that I should address him as ‘Sid’ or by any other title. The Uzir
offered to address me verbally, or in writing, by the Spanish word
‘Caballero.’ I replied that I was not a Spaniard, and therefore
declined to be addressed by a Spanish title; but if from a religious
point of view he persisted in declining to use the English word
‘Sir’ or a synonymous Arabic title in writing to me, I should,
in addressing him a letter, give him, in addition to that of Uzir,
the same title or preface that he granted to my name.

This question was also referred to the Sultan, who decided that the
Uzir should address me as the ‘Minister of the Queen of Great
Britain,’ without putting my name, and that I should in like
manner address the Uzir without putting his name. I told the Uzir,
when we met, that such a discussion was most puerile, and would be
so considered by statesmen and diplomatists, both in Mohammedan and
Christian countries; that it was not worth the waste of time and
paper, and I should let it drop, accepting the Sultan’s decision.

We then interchanged visits without further question; but a few
days after these visits of etiquette, having occasion to interview
the Uzir on business, I requested him to fix the hour and place of
meeting. He sent word to me that, as the weather was warm, he would
receive me in a ‘kubba’ in the garden of his palace, and named
the hour. I took a ride that morning, and arrived at the Uzir’s
house ten minutes before the time fixed for the interview. The
usher of the Uzir received me, and said that his master had not
yet arrived from the Court. I looked at my watch and told the
usher that I had arrived ten minutes before my time, and would
therefore sit down and await the Uzir. So he led me to a pavilion,
at the end of a long narrow path, where I saw two chairs placed,
apparently for the Uzir and myself. The one, facing the entrance,
was a very gorgeous arm-chair covered with beautiful damask; the
other, on the left of it, an ordinary rush-bottomed wooden chair,
evidently intended as a seat for the British Envoy. I heard at a
distance the heavy shuffling steps of the unwieldy Uzir, waddling
towards the spot; so without letting it appear that I was aware of
his arrival, I took possession of the gorgeous chair, to the dismay
of the usher; saying at the same time in a loud voice, so that the
Uzir might hear, ‘What have you done? You must be very ignorant in
matters of ceremonial forms to have placed such a shabby chair for
your master the Uzir by the side of this handsome chair, which you
have prepared for me. Take it away,’ pointing to the rush-bottomed
chair, ‘and bring for your master a proper seat.’

With an hysterical laugh the Uzir, seeing the man hesitate, said,
‘The Bashador is right: go and fetch another chair.’ I rose and
saluted the Uzir, saying, ‘We will converse standing until the
other chair is brought.’

I had an object in all this, for I knew that by pricking the wind-bag
of vanity and fanaticism of the Uzir I should better prepare him
to treat with me upon business and obtain satisfactory results;
and thus it proved.

In a private conversation with the Sultan one day, I alluded in
delicate language to the stupidity and unfitness of Uzir Mokhta. His
Majesty replied, smiling at my remark, that Alarbi Mokhta being the
chief of a powerful tribe, the ‘Jarmai,’ he had placed him in an
influential position, adding, ‘he is yet an unbroken “tsaur”
(ox), who in due time will be tamed by the yoke and will improve.’

The palace built by Mokhta since his appointment as Uzir is worthy of
his ancestors the Moors of Spain, who erected the splendid monuments
of architecture at Granada and Seville.

The arches, the designs in stucco, the wooden ceilings, all carved
and painted in elaborate arabesque, are as beautiful as those of
the ancient palaces I have seen in Andalusia.

The Uzir is said to have spent on this building upwards of $100,000,
money obtained by peculation, extortion, and other corrupt practices;
for, though the Sultan’s Ministers are not paid, the emoluments
derived from his official position by the Uzir far exceed the salary
of our Prime Minister at home.

Though Mokhta did not, and never could, like me, yet, as a proof that
my action and language took the nonsense out of him, the morning
I left the Court, when about to call on the Uzir to take leave,
I met him, and having mentioned my intention, he begged me not to
take the trouble to call, saying that he would have the pleasure of
accompanying me to the gates of the town (a mile distant). This he
did, and we parted apparently the best of friends.

Poison is said to be frequently employed at the Court to get rid of
obnoxious persons of rank. A cup of coffee is a dangerous beverage
when offered by a Moorish host, with whom you may not happen to be
on friendly terms. The effect of the subtle poison which can thus
be administered is rarely immediate; but weeks or months after,
the victim’s hair commences to fall off, and he dies gradually in
a state of emaciation.

On one occasion, after an angry discussion with Mokhta, coffee
was brought. I noticed that he took the cup intended for me,
put it to his lips, making a noise as if sipping,—but which I
thought sounded suspiciously like blowing into the liquid,—and
then offered it to me. Not fancying the bubbled coffee, I declined,
saying to the Uzir, ‘I could not drink before you; pray keep that
cup yourself’—helping myself, while speaking, to the other,
which I drank.

The Uzir put down the cup he had offered me, without drinking
it. This, after all, he may have done from tiff, and not because
there was really any poison in it.


After the return of the Mission to Tangier, Sir John writes:—


We all returned hearty and happy; A. the colour of mahogany, and I
of a saucepan. Our companions were charming. There was not a murmur
or a difference of opinion, except perhaps on politics.

Sultan was perfectly charming in my private interviews, and His
Sherifian Majesty enjoyed my jokes, for, you know, as the bubbles
rise in my empty head, I let them escape.

The Ministers were most attentive, and all the officers at the Court
vied one with another in their attempts to pay us honour and to be
hospitable. The Uzir is an ignorant fanatic. We parted good friends;
but I think I left him in a shaky position _vis-à-vis_ his master. I
observed to His Sherifian Majesty casually, ‘In other countries I
have found that Ministers are often wiser and better informed than
their Sovereigns. In Morocco I find Your Majesty far superior to
your Uzir.’

The Sultan has agreed that a revision of the Commercial Treaty of 1856
is to be entered on when his Minister for Foreign Affairs returns,
and steps are then to be taken to improve commerce. Prohibition placed
on the exportation of grain removed. A port in the Wadnun district
is to be opened to trade. Steps are to be taken to reform the system
of government, and at the Sultan’s request I gave him a list of
the Governors who are notorious for their tyranny and extortions,
impressing on His Sherifian Majesty that he should endeavour to modify
the evils of the existing system by a judicious choice; but that
the most careful selection would not avail to secure competent and
upright Governors so long as the uncertainty of their tenure tempted
them to secure it by corrupt influence for which extortion must find
the means: that this reform requires attention for the maintenance of
order, administration of justice, and the collection of the revenue.

I obtained also a royal order to Bargash, the Minister for Foreign
Affairs, to attend to all appeals of Jews who cannot obtain justice
from Governors in the interior. Then I obtained a settlement of some
fifteen claims of British subjects.

A mole is to be built at Tangier, and an order obtained for building,
or rather repairing, the mole at Mogador, which, in consequence of
the state of Moorish finances, had not been executed.

Works are also to be undertaken for the better supply of water for
Tangier when the state of finances permits.

The Sultan is well-disposed, clever, and intelligent; but my work is
only a quarter done, for the difficulty with all Eastern Governments
is to obtain the execution of royal edicts that have been received.

I tried to induce Sultan not to give me a horse, &c.; but His Majesty
was irate, and said that if he did not give me a public mark of his
goodwill, his subjects would be displeased and a wrong inference would
be drawn. So I had to accept the ‘white elephant’ and trappings,
sword and gun; all very beautiful. The three latter gifts I have
told Lord G. I accept on official grounds, and therefore wish to
present them to the Kensington Museum through the Foreign Office.

The gentlemen who accompanied me received handsome swords of honour;
A. and A., two beautiful dresses; the interpreters and Arab secretary,
mules.


In 1880 Sir John was promoted to the rank of Envoy Extraordinary,
and among his friends there was apparently some expectation that
he might be chosen to succeed Sir Henry Layard at Constantinople;
but in reply to a letter to that effect he says:—


My memory fails me and I quite forget if I have acknowledged several
pleasant letters from you, and amongst them one expressing a hope
that I might replace Layard. It is very good of you to say that I
should be a fit man for the post, but I cannot agree with you. Honest
and conscientious I am; but I have neither the pen nor the tongue
to conduct affairs upon which the fate of nations will depend.


The following letters from his former colleague at Tangier, Monsieur
Tissot, show that, whatever he might himself have thought of his
fitness for the appointment, he would have been cordially welcomed
by the French Ambassador.


                    Ambassade de France, Thérapia, _Juillet 11_, 1880.

Je n’ai vu Sir Henry Layard qu’au moment même de son départ. Je
ne puis pas dire que je le regrette: il me serait difficile de
souhaiter un collègue plus agréable que Mr. Goschen et il est
impossible que l’union entre les deux Ambassades soit plus intime
et plus confiante qu’elle ne l’est. Mais Mr. Goschen ne restera
pas à Constantinople et je vous demande qui lui succédera?

Je veux espérer que ce sera vous. Je vous ai toujours donné
rendezvous ici, vous vous le rappelez. Faites en sorte de me tenir
parole. Ce serait pour moi une joie bien vive, mon cher ami, que
d’aller vous recevoir à bord de l’‘Antelope.’ Il n’est
pas de jour où je ne vous regrette, et j’espère, encore une fois,
que nous recommencerons ici, côte à côte, nos travaux herculéens
du Maroc. L’‘étable’ est plus vaste et proportionnellement
encore plus sale que celle de notre ami Mulai Hassen (que Dieu le
rende victorieux).


The second letter from M. Tissot, written from Pera, is dated nearly
a year later.


MON CHER AMI,

Je m’empresse de vous remercier de votre affectueuse lettre:
votre écriture ‘torrentielle’ trahit toujours la vigueur et
l’activité enragée que je vous ai connue. Excellent signe! ما
شاء الله[58]

J’ai reconnu votre amitié à la façon dont vous avez bien voulu
me présenter à mon futur collègue: j’espère vivre avec lui
en d’aussi bons termes politiques qu’avec vous, bien que ce ne
soit pas toujours facile sur le terrain de Constantinople. Je suis
sûr, tout au moins, que nous nous querellerons aussi amicalement
qu’avec Goschen qui a emporté de moi, m’assure-t-on, le souvenir
affectueux qu’il m’a laissé. Nous n’avons pas toujours été
du même avis, mais notre intimité n’en a jamais souffert,—au
contraire, et notre estime réciproque s’est accrue de toute la
déférence qu’une paire de poings solides inspire à une autre
paire de même trempe.

Comme je ne connais pas encore Dufferin, j’ai le droit de
vous dire, mon cher ami, que c’est vous que je désirais ici
et que la nomination a même été une déception pour moi. Vos
instincts ‘rather pugnacious’ trouveraient ici matière à ample
satisfaction: Old Turkey (vous êtes libre à traduire ‘le vieux
dindon’) est plus fanatique et plus réfractaire que jamais à
l’influence européenne. De plus, il n’y a plus de Gouvernement
turc: le Sultan, ou pour mieux dire le Khalifa, comme il se plaît
à se désigner lui-même dans les notes qu’il nous adresse, a
tout confisqué et prétend tout faire pour lui-même, sûr moyen
de ne rien faire. La Porte n’est plus qu’un décor de théâtre
qui s’ouvre sur le vide.

Goschen a apporté ici plus d’illusions qu’il n’en remporte. Je
l’avais prévenu dès son arrivée.

Nous venons cependant, après une année du plus dur labeur, de
résoudre les deux questions Monténégrine et Grecque. Je vais
me reposer sur ce double succès. Je pars dans huit jours pour
Vichy _via Paris_ et je laisserai à mon Chargé d’Affaires le
soin et l’honneur de combattre à côté de Lord Dufferin dans la
question arménienne, ‘confound it!’ Nous avons sué huit jours,
Goschen et moi, à rédiger la fameuse note en faveur de réformes
arméniennes. La Porte s’en est émue comme d’une noisette.




                             CHAPTER XXIV.

                              1881-1884.


The monotonous tale of Moorish apathy is continued, only diversified
by occasional gleams of hope that he had succeeded in rousing the
Sultan to a sense of his position—a hope never fulfilled. Thus on
January 19, 1881, Sir John writes from Tangier:—


Things are looking better in the interior. The Sultan has addressed
energetic letters to all the Governors, rebuking them for the state
of misgovernment, and threatening his dire displeasure if murderers
and malefactors are not arrested and punished.

_Entre nous_, I have pulled this wire; but His Sultanic Majesty might
almost as well have addressed me a letter on the state of Ireland.

Now I am at work for the revision of our Convention of Commerce, as
instructed by the Foreign Office. Merchants of course expect much,
far more than I can obtain. I am communicating with some who are very
sanguine. I have pointed to the conduct of civilised Governments
who reject liberal measures, and ask how they can expect ignorant
folk like Moorish Ministers to introduce free trade.


And on April 7:—


I have worked up the Treaty, but cannot get the torpid Bargash to
respond. All must go to Sultan, and His Majesty will require two
months to consider.

The debt of Morocco to British Loan Contractors expires next
year. $30,000,000 have passed through my hand as Commissioner. No pay:
nothing has stuck. Alhamdulillah[59].


Returning from a brief holiday spent in Europe he found the old
state of affairs unchanged:—


                                                    _August 30_, 1881.

We are quiet in Morocco, but there are rumblings. If the French
make any rash movements towards Morocco territory we might have an
outbreak of fanaticism, and then the direst consequences may ensue.

The Sultan is still marching towards Marákesh, ‘eating up’
his indigestible subjects, and thus preparing them to welcome the
Nazarene.

Bargash has not returned, so nothing has been done about
Convention. These Moors understand the value of _vis inertiae_. I
am sick of them, and some day may strike work, for counsels are all
thrown away on such a corrupt torpid brute as the present Uzir.


                                           Ravensrock, _Oct. 9_, 1881.

I think the French will leave Morocco alone. They must bide their
time.

The world does not form a favourable opinion of the result
of the prospect they held out of introducing civilisation and
prosperity. Instead we have murders, robbers, and the fanatical
feelings of a quiet inoffensive people roused. A gentleman who
resides in Algeria describes the treatment of the Arab population
in the interior there before the insurrection, as being as hard as
that of the poor people in this country.

Hundreds extort money and grind down the Mohammedans. I dare say we
were as bad in India _years ago_.


Sir John was at this time more than usually despondent of the future
of Morocco, for another of his favourite projects for the improvement
of trade had met with a complete check. Ever since the Commercial
Treaty of 1856 he had continuously urged on the Moorish Government
the importance of allowing the exportation of grain. All his efforts
were, however, without result until 1881, when a half-hearted trial
of the new system was made. Unfortunately in this year a prolonged
drought, with consequent failure of crops, resulted in a famine,
and the superstitious Moors at the Court at once concluded that the
Deity was angered at the innovation, and they therefore refused to
renew the permission to export grain in following years.

The results of the famine were, in other ways, most distressing. The
peasantry, fired by the prospect of a larger market for their grain,
had greatly extended cultivation, and many square miles of land,
barren before, had been ploughed and sown, and, with the usual
improvidence of a poor and thoughtless race, they had raised money
from usurers on their ungrown crops. Thus with the complete failure
of these crops, nearly the whole population of the immense arable
plains of Morocco were reduced, not only to beggary, but to absolute
starvation.

Once more Sir John proceeded to the Court, and endeavoured to rouse
the Moors to action.


‘We are off to-morrow,’ he writes on March 28,
1882. ‘H.M.S. “Salamis,” takes us to Dar-el-Baida, then we go
to Marákesh by land. Sultan sends escort, &c., &c. to meet us. The
French have preceded us, Italian and Spanish Ministers follow. These
Missions are like locusts eating up the country, and, alas! no rain
falls, and failure of crops and consequent famine are menaced. . . .

‘A fierce stand has been made against modification of the scale
of duties by this stupid people. But I have other fish to fry at
the Court. Sysiphus will continue to roll up his stone to the last.’


Sir John in this letter refers to the system of ‘mona’ levied on
the provinces through which the Missions pass. In times of scarcity
the tax falls very heavily on the unfortunate peasantry. The Kaids
order much more than is required, and they and the dependants of the
Mission often divide the spoil. Sir John always did what he could
to mitigate this evil, fixing the amount of provision required, and
appointing one of his staff to watch the distribution. Any surplus
was sold by auction each day, and the proceeds given to the poor of
the district. The Spanish Minister adopted the same system on his
visit to the Court at this time.

The next letter shows him immersed in business at Marákesh.


                            Dar-Mulai-Ali, Marákesh, _April 21_, 1882.

I am so bothered with work that I hate the sight of a pen and ink,
even when writing to those I love.

It is getting very hot here. In the shade about 80° (Fahrenheit)
at 2 p.m.; but in our rooms, in this thick-walled house, 71°. We
are very comfortable.

The Sultan is most gracious and flattering, but he wants to keep me
until Dons and Italian Mission have come and gone. If so, we shall
be here for a month more. The French Minister went away pleased,
and thanked me for aiding him in getting satisfactory answers.

Nothing is decided about the new Convention. I find the greatest
opposition to any free trade suggestions; but I hammer away, though
I tell them my preachings and warnings have the same effect as the
efforts of a man who attempts to fill a bucket which has no bottom,
or at least a hole in it.

The Sultan has assembled twenty-five thousand men to go to Sus to open
ports, as we advised. Crops and all vegetation have failed there and
in other Southern provinces. We passed through stunted crops dried
up; no rain. It is most sad; for the Sultan, following my advice,
had encouraged agriculture—and in the grand rich province of
Shawía, through which we passed, we did not see two acres of land
uncultivated. Wheat is far dearer than in England; horses and cattle
are dying; misery everywhere. I am trying to dissuade the Sultan
from going to Sus, and urging him to await another year and better
harvest. His troops will desert him and a revolution will follow if
he should be compelled to retreat. _Nous verrons_ the effect of my
advice. Everybody, high and low, is begging me to stop the expedition.

I have settled some affairs and others are in progress. This is an
Augean stable, and I am tired of sweeping, as filth accumulates ten
times faster than I can sweep. I tell the Sultan as much.


The Palace of Dar-Mulai-Ali, in which Sir John was lodged in 1882,
has attached to it the following story.

Mulai Ali, the late owner, and uncle of Sultan Mulai Hassan, had
been a great favourite of the people of Marákesh. A student, kind
and just, he passed his time with the learned men of the city and
in the great mosque, the Kutubía; the grounds of the mosque and
the beautiful orchard belonging to Mulai Ali being separated only
by a wall, some six feet high, having in it a door of communication.

One Friday, not many months before our arrival, the Sultan, his Court
and the people of Marákesh were startled by hearing the ‘muddin’
cry from the minaret of the Kutubía—after the usual chant at
midday of ‘God is great and Mohammed is his prophet,’—‘Long
life to our Sultan Mulai Ali.’ The ‘muddin’ was seized and
brought before the Sultan, and though put to the torture, all he
would admit was, that God had inspired him and not man—and he
was thrown into prison. Mulai Ali was also questioned by his royal
nephew, but denied any knowledge of what had taken place—except
that he had heard the cry. A few days after the occurrence Mulai Ali
died suddenly—the Court said of apoplexy, but the people whispered
poison, and the Sultan confiscated his property.

The house was really beautiful, with a great marble court and
splashing fountain in the centre. The garden stood right under the
shadow of the Kutubía tower, and therefore it was considered a
special compliment that a Christian Envoy should be allowed to live
there, though of course the door of communication between the mosque
and Mulai Ali’s property was kept closed.

On the day of the public audience, Miss Hay rode with her father
to the gate of the palace. There, as on former occasions, she was
about to dismount, for, as a rule, no mounted person but the Sultan
is allowed within the palace court. But one of the chief ushers came
forward, and said, ‘Sidna (our Lord) desires you will remain on
horseback.’ He then led her into the great court, which was lined
with foot-soldiers, and ordering some of the men to stand back, placed
her in front of them; himself, with several subordinate officials,
standing as a guard before her.

Sir John, with the other members of the Mission, had taken up a
position in the centre of the court.

Then from the soldiers the cry arose of ‘Long life to Sidna,’
which was caught up and echoed and re-echoed throughout the whole
town of Marákesh. The large green gate, the private entrance to
the palace, opened, and the Sultan, riding a milk-white horse, with
his guard, umbrella-bearer and attendants, entered and rode up to
the Envoy. After the interview, he passed near where Miss Hay was
stationed, turned his horse so as to face her, and caused it to curvet
and rear slightly, while himself saluting her. She acknowledged the
salute, and the Sultan proceeded on his way to the palace.

This act of courtesy raised much comment among the Moors, as it was
the first time that the presence of a lady at a public audience had
been acknowledged by any Sultan. Next day the Uzir’s wife, a clever
and very pretty woman, congratulated Lady Hay and her daughter on
having won such a high mark of favour from His Sherifian Majesty.

On the return journey, Sir John writes from the camp at Kasba Jedída,
four hours’ march from Rabát, on May 30:—


All wondrous well. Actually cold to-day, with a fresh wind blowing
from the Atlantic: 74° in tent at 3.30 p.m.

Yes, some sneaking, jealous person put in the papers an unfounded
story about my being stoned. The members of the French Mission did
get into a row, and they had a lot of people arrested and flogged,
and a poor woman came crying to me to aid her in begging for release
of her husband. As to our party, all the Moors, high and low, wild
and tame, vie with each other in showing us attention, civility, and
hospitality. ‘Ingliz, you are just; you are kind; you are generous;
we look upon you as one of us.’ These are the expressions of every
one, including the Sultan.

My friend Diosdado[60] has gained golden opinions
everywhere. ‘Kindness and charity; honour bright.’ He has won
the good-will of the Sultan and his Court, and reversed the bad
policy that existed. He and I were like brothers.

I think I told you I was behind the curtain to arrange the question
between France and Morocco. . . . the chief object of my Mission
is accomplished.

The basis of the Commercial Convention is arranged, but nothing will
be done till the state of the country and prospects improve.

One hundred and two claims settled.


Señor Diosdado, mentioned in the foregoing letter, was the Spanish
Envoy, who was at Fas on a Mission to the Sultan at the same time as
Sir John. One of the members of this Spanish Mission was the Father
Superior of the Franciscan Brotherhood in Morocco, a very able man,
much beloved and esteemed by persons of all nationalities and creeds
throughout Morocco, and whom Sir John had always regarded as a good
and trusted friend.

When, after Sir John’s death, his elder daughter returned to
Tangier in the spring of 1894, the Father Superior called on her,
and expressed heartfelt sympathy with her and her family in their
bereavement, and his regret for the loss to himself of an old and
valued friend. He added:—


Your father always showed me great kindness and friendship, and never
shall I forget how much I owe him for a few words of encouraging
recommendation at a critical moment.

It was during my visit to the Court of Morocco, where I had gone
with the Spanish Envoy. Your father had preceded us there, also
on a Mission to the Sultan, and one evening, immediately after our
arrival, I called on His Excellency with the Spanish Minister and
some of his suite. Sir John happened to be in conclave with one of
the Sultan’s most influential Ministers, but their conversation
was suspended during our visit, and we were severally introduced
to this dignitary. When presenting me, your father said, ‘Let me
introduce my old friend Padre Lerchundi, and recommend him to you
as a good man, a friend to the Moors and kindly to all. Believe me,
you may put entire trust and confidence in him.’

This recommendation, added the Superior, assisted me more than any
representations could have done from other quarters.


Europeans, who were ignorant of the nature of the people with whom
Sir John had to deal, were prone to attribute the lack of progress
throughout the country to his apathy. An English Company had been
formed to carry out railway, telegraphic and other works in Morocco,
and Sir John was asked to use his influence to secure concessions. He
promised his aid and did his utmost; but, writing in 1883, after an
interview with one of the projectors, he says:—


During thirty-seven years, having unceasingly worked to obtain all
this for British subjects without success, I could hold out little
hope that the Company would succeed so long as the present form of
Government existed in Morocco and the Sultan’s venal Ministers
remained in power.

I said, however, that he should carry out his intention of visiting
the Court, and then he would be able to judge from all he heard and
saw whether there was any hope of success; for people in England
seem to be foolishly impressed with the idea that I uphold this
Government in its rejection of all improvements and reforms.

The state of this country becomes daily more hopeless, and I do
not see even a glimmering of hope for the future. Unjust claims are
daily pressed on them, and protected Jews concoct false documents
and extract thousands of dollars from the Mohammedans. I have warned
the chief Jews that, if the Sultan dies and there is a revolution,
the Mohammedans will not forget their wrongs, and there will be a
general massacre.

I am sick of Morocco and its affairs, and am thinking seriously of
taking off the galling collar; for I pull and pull, and the vehicle
only backs. . . .

One of the Company formed for regenerating Morocco has started for
the Court. I am glad; for the Company will learn, I expect, that it
is not Drummond Hay who stops the way.


In 1883 the forward policy of France was already producing serious
results in Morocco, which seemed in the near future likely to assume
still more formidable proportions. Writing from London on October 4,
Sir John expresses his fears of the effect of French machinations:—


The action of France appears to be that of paralysing all government
and authority of the Sultan by covert proceedings, and, when anarchy
takes place, then, perhaps, _la Grande Nation_ hopes to be asked by
the civilised world to step in and protest.


In the following spring matters looked very serious, and, after his
return from a week’s pigsticking at the ‘Lakes,’ he writes to
his sister on the subject, after a short allusion to his favourite
sport:—


                                           Ravensrock, _May 20_, 1884.

We enjoyed our camp life during the first week of May, though
for two days it blew an easterly hurricane, which spoilt our
sport. Nevertheless fourteen of the enemy were slain. J.’s fine
horse badly wounded; also the horse of the Basha’s son.

You will perhaps have seen in the papers contradictory reports
about the state of relations between France and Morocco,—telegrams
asserting that relations are broken off and flag hauled down; then
telegrams declaring that the most friendly relations exist. The
fact is Ordega has been blustering here and threatens to break off
relations, to march an army across the frontier, to send a fleet
and encourage the Sheríf[61] to raise the standard of rebellion
and march upon the capital, and that a French force would cross
the frontier and support him. All this to obtain the dismissal of
Jebar, the Khalífa of Wazan, who was unfriendly to the Sheríf, the
_protégé_ of France. Some one of Jebar’s dependants had called
the Sheríf’s son an infidel for accepting French protection;
upon which the latter seized the Moor and had him flogged and poured
boiling water on him. Naturally, a few days afterwards he died. Then
Ordega sent a Secretary of Legation to inquire about this, and
the Sheríf’s son brought his witnesses to prove that Jebar had
poisoned his own dependant[62]!

The Sultan refused to dismiss Jebar without inquiry. Then followed
menace upon menace, and finally Ordega left for Paris. The French
flag was hauled down, and all letters from Moorish authorities were
returned by the _Chargé d’Affaires_. The impression of course
left on the mind of the Sultan and of every one (except myself)
was that war was imminent. I telegraphed to my Government, and so
did my other colleagues. Lord G. telegraphed back that Ferry assured
him the Governments of Morocco and France were on the most friendly
relations, and that they had no desire to create disturbance. In
the meantime the Sultan appealed to the Austrian, British, German,
Italian, and Spanish Governments against the proceedings of Ordega
in affording protection to the Sheríf, his sons, and thousands
of dependants, and complained that he was fomenting insurrection
by sending emissaries to all parts of the Empire to call upon the
population to rebel against His Sherifian Majesty’s authority. No
reply has as yet been given to this appeal, and the conspiracy
continues, backed by the French. I think it probable, however,
that Ordega has misled his Government and declared that he has not
done what he has done; for he took care not to write his threats,
and when a letter was addressed to him containing a repetition of
all he had menaced, he would not receive it.

On his arrival in Paris an article appeared in the _Gaulois_ of
May 8, signed by the Editor, making calumnious charges regarding
the corrupt practices of all the Representatives (myself included)
except the German. Then on the 10th, in consequence of the demand of
a Spanish diplomat resident at Paris, the Editor retracted as regards
Diosdado. I telegraphed to Lord G. that I required retraction and
an apology to be inserted in the _Gaulois_: for the Editor openly
declares that he has reported the language held by Ordega to Ferry
on May 7, and subsequently communicated to him.

The Italian and Portuguese Ministers both wrote to their Governments
to demand satisfaction.

S. takes it up personally, and threatens to call out Ordega if an
apology is not offered.

Our days of Quixotism are passed; but my fingers tingle to box the
fellow’s ears. I do not know how he can return here amidst the
nest of hornets he has roused. . . .

Unfortunately, just at this crisis, i.e. on the 14th, appeared an
article in the _Times_ which declares that England has no commanding
interest in the political condition of Morocco, leading the reader to
believe that the action of France is beneficial to British interests.

This leader may have been inspired by those who desire to prepare and
mould the minds of the British public for the prosecution of their
undoubted future, if not immediate, design of becoming mistress
of the Straits and of the Mediterranean from Spartel to Tripoli,
and perhaps hereafter to Egypt.

Should France annex or establish a protectorate over Morocco, the
port of Tangier might be made a safe and well-fortified harbour
for torpedo vessels and the like craft, and other harbours could be
formed likewise to the eastward between Tangier and Ceuta. France and
Spain would probably be allied in case of war, and our shipping would
only pass by running the gauntlet. Gibraltar must fall or come to
be of little value as a harbour of refuge. Nelson said, ‘Tangier
must either remain in the hands of a neutral Power like Morocco,
or England must hold it.’ Of what avail is it that we took our
stand about the passage of the Dardanelles, and defended at such
cost our free passage through the Suez Canal, if this end of the way
to the East and to India can be stopped when it pleases France? Yet
the _Times_ says, ‘we have no political interest in Morocco.’

This article is based on a letter dated May 12, addressed to the
Editor of the _Times_ by the Secretary of the Anti-Slavery Society,
wherein he dwells, and with strong grounds, upon the state of
misgovernment, slavery, and other abuses in this country; but
Mr. Allen is not always correct, especially when he speaks of my
being ‘all-powerful,’ and yet intimates that I do not use my
influence to good purpose.

The leader in the _Times_ says that (in the case of the man murdered
at Wazan) ‘the action of France has on the whole tended to promote
the cause of civilisation, good government, and freedom in a country
which has long been a stranger to these blessings.’

Now I know not one single act of the French Government or its
Representative in this country which has been beneficial to the cause
of civilisation or introduced any reform or improvement in Morocco,
and I defy any Frenchman to state them. The compulsory payment by
the Moorish Government of numerous claims of French citizens and
protected subjects has certainly been obtained, but that can hardly be
regarded as beneficial to civilisation, unless the protection afforded
to the Sheríf can be considered beneficent. If the proceedings of
the Sheríf are not put a stop to, and civil war ensues, a state of
anarchy will be produced, and probably a massacre of the unfortunate
Jews in the interior.

This would benefit civilisation!

The form of Government in Morocco is the worst in the world. No
officials except the Customs Officers are paid. The consequence
is that all live by peculation, extortion, and bribery; or, in the
words of a Moor describing the system, ‘We are like fishes—the
big live by eating up the small.’ The population is reduced to
misery by the avarice of the Governors, and the latter, who have to
send twice a year large sums of money to satisfy the rapacity of the
Ministers, are constantly killing the geese (the farmers) to get the
golden eggs. No security for life or property, no encouragement to
industry—and it is only a matter of wonder that the whole country
is not allowed to lie fallow.

The people are a fine race; but, since the days when they were
ejected from Spain and returned to Morocco to be subject to the rule
of Sultans who are Pope-Kings, they have degenerated gradually and
become a degraded people.

I am described by Mr. Allen as being all-powerful. If so, the
inference naturally is that I have neglected to do my duty in
requiring the Sultan and his Government to introduce reforms and
improvements.

I have never ceased for nearly forty years to preach and pray, to
urge and beg. My archives are full of notes addressed to Ministers
of the Moorish Government, with suggestions and propositions for
improving commerce, introducing railways, roads, telegraphs, mining
operations, removal of restrictions on commerce, &c., &c. All this,
however, to little purpose, for the venal advisers of the Sultan
have no interest in reforms or improvements when they do not see a
direct means of filling their own pockets. Promises are frequently
made to me, but rarely fulfilled. I have lately received promises
that the prohibition on the exportation of barley and wheat, now
lying rotting in granaries, will be removed, and yet they hesitate
and delay; and so it is with everything.

Yet I may conscientiously declare that the few improvements which
have been effected in this country have been brought about through
my representations and acts.

I have worked hard of late to obtain the revision of the Treaty
of Commerce (of 1856), which has been agreed to by the Sultan; but
still the old story of promise, pause, postpone, and then leave the
matter alone.

I have frequently pointed out to my masters at home that if we
consider it desirable that the independence and integrity of a neutral
Sovereign like the Sultan should be upheld, so that the passage of
our shipping through the Straits should remain free in time of peace
or war, it is _our_ duty, it is the duty of _all_ those Powers who
desire to maintain the _status quo_, to take a more active and decided
part than they have done hitherto in requiring the Sultan and his
Ministers to introduce reforms and improvements, and that the people
of this country, who can be almost seen from the shores of Europe,
should not be allowed to remain in their present degraded state—a
disgrace to civilisation. But this is a totally different view of
the question from that of allowing France to become the mistress
of the great gut of commerce, where all our shipping must pass when
bound for the East or for India, and to say to us _Ne plus ultra_.


Again on June 13, 1884, Sir John returns to the subject of French
designs and British apathy:—


Papers will tell you much of passing events here, some correct,
others, especially French, full of mis-statements. Did you see the
_Standard_ of June 3?

It contains an admirable article and a letter from ‘One who
Knows.’

John Bull ought to know what our insidious neighbours are about,
though singing to our Government ‘Lullaby, lullaby,’ whilst
preparing the mine which will explode when it suits their purpose
to make themselves masters of the Straits and Southern coast of the
Mediterranean from Spartel to Tripoli!

You will have seen in the papers that Ordega returned in an ironclad
and demanded that the fort should salute the French flag with
twenty-one guns before his landing, and that the acting Minister
for Foreign Affairs and all the authorities should come down to the
pier to meet him. ‘To hear is to obey,’ with the heavy guns of
the ‘Redoutable’ pointed at this wretched town; and all asked
for was conceded.

Yesterday a squadron of eight ships (!) arrived here; they remain,
I am told, at the disposition of Ordega.

P.S.—Just as I closed my letter the French squadron left, and I
got a note to say some arrangement has been made about protection
to the Sheríf, and that the question of frontier is deferred. It
will come on, however, before long.


For the time the danger, as the following letter shows, was
averted:—


I said to a colleague the other day that man was prone to attribute
to the machinations of the devil anything that was adverse, whereas
the poor devil is the victim of his traducers; thus, I said, it is
with me. Whatever goes wrong in Morocco is attributed to that _bête
noire_—Drummond Hay.

I know not whether you have seen another clever letter of ‘One
who Knows’ in the _Standard_ of 30th ult.

With reference to the last paragraph, I have to say that a great
change has come over Ordega since the hurried departure of the French
squadron (ordered by telegraph). He has altered his tone with the
Moorish Government and the local authorities, and has told the Sheríf
he cannot support the tribes who seek for his protection against
the authority of the Sultan. The question of rectifying the frontier
has also been abandoned, and the most solemn assurances are given to
Italy, Spain, and England that France will not disturb the _status
quo_, unless a state of anarchy takes place in Morocco compelling
her to interfere. That is, however, the question. Insurrection has
been prevented, and the Sultan has given orders for the chastisement
of the disaffected tribes. This system of ‘eating up’ rebels,
which you can remember in the time of the old Sultan, renders of
course the Sovereign most unpopular with his unfortunate subjects.


With reference to the calumnious article in the _Gaulois_ to which
he had called Lord Granville’s attention, he writes from London
on October 18, 1884:—


I have just received a courteous private letter from Lord Granville,
saying he had delayed replying to my letter as he has been in
communication with Waddington; he asks to see me on Monday.


The result of the interview is given in a letter three days later:—


Lord Granville was very civil and kind.

Ferry shirked getting justice done by publishing a disclaimer. His
Lordship agreed that a question should be put in the House of
Lords. He only asked that Zouche should give him notice, and
promised to reply in a manner that would be satisfactory to me. I
gave him a full dose; outpouring all that was in my heart, both about
abuse and my having been passed over in the course of my career by
juniors—being told my ‘services were too useful in Morocco to
be dispensed with’—and now, I said, ‘the public press declares
that I am useless and stop the way,’ &c.

Lord Granville looked blandly at me, now and then making encouraging
remarks, such as, ‘_Your character stands too high_ to be affected
by the attacks of men like Monsieur Ordega, and that bankrupt
fellow,’ meaning ———.


Before the subject was mentioned in the House of Lords, Her
Majesty’s Government had given proof that they did not underrate
Sir John’s integrity and good service, thereby affording him
sincere satisfaction.


‘I think you will be glad to hear,’ he writes from Ravensrock
in November, 1884, ‘that I have just received a note from Lord
Granville announcing that Her Majesty has been pleased to confer upon
me the G.C.M.G., “in recognition of my long and good service.”
I confess I care little to add some letters of the alphabet after
my name, but I am pleased at the discomfiture of enemies who have
been plotting against me. My French colleague will have an attack
of the _English_ malady, “spleen.” He is now treating with these
unfortunate Moors at the cannon’s mouth.

‘An ironclad is in the bay to support his demands. He seeks for
revenge, on account of the humiliation suffered by his _protégé_
and dupe the Sheríf, who is now treated almost as an outcast by
the Moors of Tangier, and is called the Sheríf “francés.”’


The question to which Sir John referred in his interview with Lord
Granville was asked by a personal friend in the House of Lords. It
elicited replies which completely exonerated him from all the blame
which had been cast upon him, and was made the occasion for the
strongest expressions of satisfaction with his long and arduous
services. The following passages are taken from the _Times_ of
November 22, 1884:—


Lord Zouche asked Her Majesty’s Government whether any official
denial had been published by the French Government to an article
which appeared in the _Gaulois_ newspaper in the spring of this year
wherein the editor accused several of the Foreign Representatives at
Tangier of corrupt practices, and among them the British Minister,
Sir John Drummond Hay, stating that he (the editor) had obtained
this information from the French Minister at Tangier, M. Ordega,
who was at that time in Paris on leave of absence; and, as it would
appear that, owing to the fact of no denial having been given to
those grave charges, other accusations were made by French journals
which were referred to in English journals to the effect that Sir
J. D. Hay had obstructed British enterprise and commerce, and had
encouraged the Sultan of Morocco in his policy of resistance to all
reform and improvement, whether there were any grounds for such grave
charges having been put forward. Sir John Hay had been passed over by
many of his juniors, and had now been upwards of forty years in his
present post, and he and his friends thought it incumbent upon them
to have some sort of public contradiction of these most unfounded
charges and some sort of public vindication of his character.

Earl Granville.—My Lords, I think the noble lord has correctly
stated the facts of the case. The editor of the _Gaulois_, it appears,
accused Sir John Hay and his colleagues of most intolerable practices,
and gave M. Ordega as his authority. Now, I am not sure that if I
read such an article as this concerning myself I should not treat
it with contempt and trust to whatever character I had. But it is a
different thing when men serving their country in distant countries
are thus unjustly attacked, for, as in this case, the extract from
the French paper is copied not only into other foreign newspapers,
but into English newspapers. However, after what has occurred I
thought it necessary, at the request of Sir J. D. Hay, to make an
application to M. Ferry, in courteous terms, that M. Ordega should be
called upon either to substantiate, or retract, or to say that he had
not communicated the article to the _Gaulois_. M. Ferry, in the first
instance, said the _Gaulois_ was perfectly wrong, that no such report
had been circulated by Ordega himself, and that he thought that it
was hardly worth while to contradict a statement made in a newspaper
which was well known to be so strongly opposed to the existing French
Government. M. Ordega was, however, applied to, and he telegraphed
to Paris entirely denying that he had communicated or inspired any
such article in the _Gaulois_. M. Ferry took the view that a great
deal of time had elapsed, and that it was really better not to call
attention to the matter now. I have been in correspondence with Sir
J. D. Hay, and the last letter I received from him, only a day or two
ago, was to the effect that he was perfectly satisfied and that he
should trouble his head no more in the matter. I am glad to be able
to add that I believe there is no man in the diplomatic service more
honourable or more energetic in the discharge of his duties than Sir
J. D. Hay. The noble lord says that Sir J. D. Hay has been passed
over for promotion; but I remember instances where persons employed
in the diplomatic service have been, to use a homely phrase, kicked
upstairs to get them out of a place where they were doing mischief
instead of good. I believe it to be exactly the contrary in the case
of Sir John Drummond Hay. He is most fit for the post he has held, and
for that reason he has lost some chances of personal advancement. I
really can only repeat in the strongest way that Sir Drummond Hay
was quite justified in dismissing from his mind any imputation made
against him, and I have great pleasure in adding that a short time ago
the Queen granted him the Grand Cross of St. Michael and St. George.

The Marquis of Salisbury.—As the youngest and most recent of
the foreign secretaries the noble earl has referred to, I have
very great pleasure in joining with him in expressing the high
estimation which was always entertained for Sir Drummond Hay by his
superiors. Not only was the charge against him ridiculous, as it would
have been against any representative of the Crown, but he is a man
of singular integrity and patriotism, and a more able, progressive,
and intelligent adviser does not exist in the diplomatic service. I
always thought it a weak point in our diplomatic arrangements that
a class of men like Sir Drummond Hay, of whom there are several
in the service, who have special qualities for the particular post
they occupy, cannot be rewarded as they should be rewarded without
detriment to the public service, because by the rules of the service
their rank cannot be increased where they are, and because they
cannot be removed from the post they occupy without doing harm to
the public service. I think Sir Drummond Hay has been more than
repaid by the universal confidence with which he is looked up to and
the very high esteem in which he has always been held. I think it
is unnecessary to vindicate any English statesman against foreign
newspapers, because their statements are, as a rule, absolutely
phenomenal. I remember one statement in a foreign newspaper which
informed us that the noble duke for whose eloquence we are waiting
to-night was about to go abroad to spend the winter in the South
of France with his well-known greyhounds; and I remember another
such statement which informed us that a well-known statesman, and
English Lord Chancellor, was about to receive some high honour from
the Crown for his services as President of the Berlin Congress.

The Earl of Malmesbury and Lord Napier of Magdala also bore their
testimony to the high integrity and character of Sir Drummond Hay,
and,

The Earl of Derby said that he did not know any person in any branch
of the public service more utterly incapable of such conduct as that
imputed to him than Sir Drummond Hay. He had always known him as an
active and able public servant.

[Illustration: RAVENSROCK]




                             CHAPTER XXV.

                   LAST YEAR OF OFFICIAL LIFE. 1885.


Early in 1885 Monsieur Ordega was recalled by the French Government
and succeeded by Monsieur Féraud. Of the new French Minister Sir
John writes on March 30:—


Féraud has arrived, and is all that he has been described—very
friendly and desirous to please, liked by every one.

I gave him a dinner, and we have had many chats. He disapproves
entirely of Ordega’s proceedings, especially of his conduct towards
me and of his contributing venomous articles to journals regarding
me and my acts.

He is a first-rate Arabic scholar and even poet, a good artist,
a great archæologist, and is writing a work on Tripoli. In two
affairs I have tested his assurances of good-will, and have good
grounds for being satisfied.

I told him positively that there was no reason why there should not
always be a perfect ‘accord’ between us, except on one point,
viz. if either of our Governments desired to take possession of
Morocco. ‘Kick it out,’ I said, ‘into the Atlantic a hundred
miles, and then the sooner Morocco was colonised by a civilised
people the better.’


Subsequent intercourse confirmed the favourable impression. In a
later letter Sir John writes again of M. Féraud:—


I think I told you that Féraud complained the other day of inaccurate
and malevolent reports, about his doings, in local papers, and said
he hoped I did not believe them. I told him I was the last man to put
any faith in newspapers; that I had been the butt of their shafts,
which, at first, had stung; but I had grown so accustomed to abuse
that now, when not held up as the author of evil, I feel it and
wonder whether I have ceased to be of any importance in the eyes
of my revilers. ‘You,’ I said, ‘will soon be accustomed to
this also, and find it pleasant.’ ‘Charmes,’ the contributor
of _Débats_, who has been with Féraud to Fas, was in the room,
and had been introduced to me. Last year he wrote virulent articles
against me, inspired, I think, by Ordega. He was sitting on my right,
a little behind me, so I took an opportunity of letting go my shaft,
and added, ‘Why, even leading papers in France chose last year
to publish virulent and untruthful articles about me; but, far from
my having any rancorous feeling against the writers, I am grateful
to them. They drew public attention to me and my conduct in such
a manner that it was taken up in our Senate, and my conduct and
character were vindicated by the Ministers of all parties, and a
mark of Her Majesty’s approval conferred upon me. I am grateful
to my revilers in England and France.’

When leaving, I gave C. my hand, and my eye, I dare say,
twinkled. C. has lately written an article in the _Débats_ on the
policy of keeping the _status quo_ in Morocco and disapproving of
all the late policy. Féraud evidently inspired it.


In June, 1885, he writes:—


Now I am an _old_ man, having entered my seventieth year. How time
glides by. Next year, if I live till then, we shall be quitting this
for good. . . .

Féraud is still at the Court. He has made a good name by rejecting
the trumped-up and usurious claims of protected Jews. He denounced
them to the Sultan, and complained of public notaries who, in league
with claimants, had drawn up false documents.

Though he told me and other colleagues he had no affair of importance
at Fas, we know better. He aims at obtaining what France wants
by cajolery and presents. He eschews menace and force. He is more
dangerous and far more able than his predecessor. I shall, I think,
get on well with him; I cannot blame him for playing the game which
suits his country. If England had been as contiguous to Morocco as
is France, I think ere this we should have annexed this misgoverned
country; but it would never do for us that France should hold the
Straits—the gut of commerce, the passage to India and the East. It
is far more likely to be injurious than if she held the Canal. As
a sentinel of the Straits, I fire my gun, as a warning, when I know
of a move to obtain that object.

An article in _Débats_ says, with some reason, that England,
in consequence of her failures in the East, is no longer looked
up to by the Moorish Government as before, and Italy is the rising
sun. There is some truth in this. . . .

Oh! I shall be so glad to be at rest next year, if I live. I am
sick of this Government and its stupid, blind policy. As I said to
Torras[63], ‘What is the use of a fair lady saying she loves you
better than any one in the world, and yet, while refusing to allow
you to embrace her, she showers kisses on the man whom she declares
she detests?’ Moor shut up by the _sillygism_.


His letters become at this time to an increasing degree full of
expressions showing that he was weary of the hopelessness of his
task. Thus he writes:—


Every day as the time draws nearer I sing, ‘Oh be joyful!’ I am
sick of the bother, and the dirty work of British subjects that I have
to attend to. I am tired also of writing and talking to this fossil
Government, who cannot, or will not, understand their true interests.


The same note is struck in a letter written from Ravensrock on July 3,
and September 7, 1885:—


We are well. Air here delightful, only 78° up till now, in the
shade. Cholera striding fast in a deadly march on the other continent.

Weber[64] just left. This time next year I shall have gone also, and
go without a pang, except to leave this lovely spot and the kindly
peasantry who always welcome me with bright faces and affectionate
words. Civilised men are getting too independent to be demonstrative
of good-will and gratitude.


                                                            _Sept. 7_.

The Sultan has sent orders for the settlement of various long-pending
affairs, but nothing about the Convention of Commerce. Their
last _mot_ on this is, ‘How is it possible that the Sultan’s
treasury can be benefited by a reduction of duties on exports?’
and, ‘If we export all that the English Minister suggests, in the
revised Tariff, the price of food will rise and the Moslem will be
starved!’ These Moors are a parcel of children; but we can hardly
be surprised at their holding these absurd views when a restrictive
policy is pursued in commerce by the greatest nation in the world.

As to the cable between this and Gibraltar, the Sultan’s advisers
tell him that, once it is laid, ‘Every day some Representative
will telegraph for a ship of war!’ One does not know whether
to laugh or to cry at such tomfoolery. I think, however, jealous
folk drop poison in the ear of the Sultan, and din in His Sherifian
Majesty’s ears that England has fallen from her high estate, and
that she barks but can no longer bite. The French papers in Arabic
from Algeria sing this loudly.


The existence of slavery in Morocco called forth now and again
articles or letters which appeared in British journals, and in
this and the previous year the subject was much discussed in
the newspapers. At Sir John’s suggestion, all natives,—who as
_employés_ of the officials attached to the Legation or Consulates
enjoyed British protection,—were required to liberate their
slaves. He believed, however, the form of slavery in that country
to be lenient, and though always urging on the Moorish Government
the desirability of abolishing an institution so obnoxious to modern
ideas, he foresaw difficulties that might, and did, prove insuperable
in his day. The following extracts from his letters on this topic,
written at different times, will show the attitude which he adopted
towards the question:—


We have no Slave Treaty with Morocco.

The British Government has at times called upon me for reports upon
slavery. It is of the mildest description. There is no slave trade
by sea; five or six hundred slaves are brought yearly by land, I
believe. The men are bought for servants in the houses of wealthy
Moors, and the women as handmaids or servants. They are very kindly
treated, and when their masters die are given their liberty and a
portion of the estate.

With one exception, the only cases where I have been appealed to,
to intervene in behalf of slaves, have been to beg that the masters
should _not_ give their slaves liberty! They preferred, they said,
a comfortable home! Of course it is desirable that slavery should be
abolished even in Morocco; but it would be a hopeless task to urge
upon the Moorish Government the abolition of a domestic institution,
admitted by the laws of the Prophet, unless England had an opportunity
of rendering Morocco some great service, such as preventing her being
attacked by a stronger Power. Hitherto we have given her no _aid_
but _much advice_ in the hour of need, and then deserted her.

When England has done as much for Morocco as she has done for Turkey
and Egypt, by preventing unjust aggressions, &c., &c., then she may
hope to persuade the Sultan to abolish slavery. Do you remember the
long correspondence between our dear father and the Sultan on the
subject, which finished by His Sherifian Majesty quoting Scripture
in favour of slavery? I also have had a fling on the subject. But
slavery in Morocco exists in the mildest form. Slaves are not used for
agricultural purposes—not transported, like pigs, in vessels—and
are generally the spoilt children of the house.

I am not going to tell all this to the world, and thus appear to be
defending slavery.

However, I hammer away at the Moors on the subject, and in my last
note hinted that if they do not seek to satisfy public opinion by
abolishing the objectionable institution, _they_ may be _finally
abolished_—or something to that effect. . . .

The Anti-Slavery Commissioners came to me to say good-bye, thanked me
for courtesy to them, and volunteered to say, ‘You are much belied,
Sir John, but we have taken care to sift for truth and shall make
it known.’

The story about the Jewess who was flogged last year by the Governor
of Dar-el-Baida, in the presence of the native employed as British
Interpreter, is most exaggerated. I dismissed the Interpreter as
soon as I heard he had been present at the flogging of a woman.

Esther is a pretty girl of a dissolute character. The sons of the
Interpreter had been wasting their father’s patrimony on her, and
when the old father remonstrated with his sons, caught with Esther,
one of them fired a pistol at him, so the Interpreter rushed off to
the Governor to demand the arrest and punishment of the woman and of
his sons. The Governor arrested and flogged all three, in accordance
with the law of this country, but there was no brutal punishment of
the girl. What nonsense to talk about the Interpreter having left
without giving compensation! Who was to give it, and who receive
it? The Governor did his duty according to their tyrannical law. The
Interpreter did not punish the woman or his sons; it was the Governor;
and the Interpreter got dismissed by me from his employment, a very
severe mode of showing my disapproval of his being present at the
flogging of a woman. Subsequently I got the Sultan to abolish the
flogging of women by Governors for immorality, and to ordain that it
shall be inflicted by a Kadi only. Now a Kadi cannot order a woman
to be flogged for adultery unless six honourable men of _spotless_
character declare they witnessed her misdeed! So no woman will
henceforward be flogged in Morocco. This I obtained in black and
white, and Esther got a warming with a beneficial result to all
females of her class.

Féraud is to join the German Minister and me in negotiation. He
is one of the best Frenchmen I ever had to deal with. I expect the
Sultan will kick hard against the reduction of the Tariff.


Another subject with which Sir John was much occupied during the
closing years of his residence at Tangier was a scheme of prison
reform and the restriction of the period of incarceration for
debt. Writing on this point in March, 1886, he says:—


As to prisons, they are no doubt very bad; and so, Mrs. Fry tells
us, were ours fifty years ago. I obtained an order from the Sultan
for cleaning them, and for bread for those who have no means to buy
food; but such orders, though given, if they entail any expense, are
soon disregarded. At Tangier I send a soldier of this Legation now
and then to inspect the bread. The quality and quantity diminish,
and the profits go into the pocket of the person in charge, so I
have a constant battle with the authorities.

Unless the whole administration of the Government were reformed,
it is a hopeless task trying to sweep this Augean stable.

English humanitarians are shocked to find no beds provided for
prisoners. They do not bear in mind that the poorer classes can
always take up their bed and walk—their bed, i.e. a rug, or piece
of mat. They say how horrid it is that the prisoners should have
fetters. At Tetuan the fetters were removed; one hundred and fifty
prisoners rushed to the door, knocked over the guards, and fled
into the mountains. This has often occurred when prisoners are free
of fetters.

I have taken steps to put a stop to the arrest and imprisonment of
debtors of British subjects without trial. Great cruelties have been
practised upon debtors at the demand of the Foreign Representatives,
often for claims that are either fraudulent or unjust. There is an
outcry against me by British creditors because I do not back the
Government in extorting money from wretched debtors, too often the
victims of usurious Christians and Jews. I have just sent in a report
to the Government on this subject.

The Jews are certainly an oppressed race, but many of those who have
obtained protection conduct themselves in such an arrogant manner, and
are guilty of such infamous proceedings in forging false documents
about debts of Moors, or in putting forward preposterous claims
based upon the grossest usury, that the Mohammedans are exasperated,
and some day, when a revolution takes place or the Sultan dies,
there will be a massacre and pillage of Jews in the interior.

When the chief Jews of Fas requested Féraud, during his mission,
to obtain for them a grant of ground to add to the Mellah[65],
they especially requested that protected Jews should not be allowed
to inhabit the new quarter, as they said they expected some day an
onslaught of the Mohammedans on these persons, and they wished to
be separated from them. Féraud told me this.


The revision of the Commercial Treaty of 1856 might, perhaps, have
been forced upon the Moorish Government by the united Representatives
of the Foreign Powers. But, though on this point the various Ministers
joined hands, the hope entertained by Sir John that a Convention might
be framed which would abolish the system of irregular protection was
not realised. Under the terms of the Convention of 1882, protection
is still afforded to the numerous agents of European traders and
agriculturists, who therefore are not immediately amenable to
the jurisdiction of the Moorish authorities. On this point Sir
John had been defeated by the action of his colleagues. But the
wisdom of his proposals was abundantly justified by the course
which was taken by the negotiations for a new Commercial Treaty
in 1886. On the advantages of revising the Commercial Code of
1856 all the Representatives of Foreign Powers were agreed, and
made common cause together. But their efforts resulted in failure,
and this failure was principally due to their previous refusal to
surrender or restrict their privileges of protection. The Moorish
Government showed a natural reluctance to encourage European trade
by an improved treaty, fearing that a greater influx of European
merchants and agriculturists would only multiply the number of
irregularly protected Moorish subjects as agents, and remove more
natives from the direct control of the Moorish authorities.

Though Sir John might reasonably derive some satisfaction from this
practical proof of the wisdom of his advice to his colleagues, his
failure to obtain a revision of the Commercial Treaty deepened his
sense of the impossibility of reforming the Moorish Government. He
was weary of the hopeless struggle which he had carried on for more
than forty years. In spite of his personal regret at severing his
connection with Morocco, he longed to throw off the official harness
under which he had so often chafed. His letters in the summer of
1886 are filled with expressions of his delight at his freedom:—


July 2, 1886. Eve of departure. The Jews have sent a deputation
and address. Moors pour in with lamentations. Torras weeps in a
letter. Even British subjects join in the wail, whilst I continue
to sing, ‘O be joyful.’

Alas! dinners and lunches are the _dis_order of the day; and speeches,
which being pathetic about our departure, choke me and prevent a
fitting response.

July 4, 1886. Here I am, with my harness off, kicking my heels like
an old horse turned out to grass. So glad to send dispatches and
letters to my address to the _Chargé d’Affaires_.

I had a very flattering letter from Lord Rosebery’s private
secretary, Villiers, to say that his Lordship, in ‘recognition
of my long and distinguished services,’ will meet my wishes, &c.,
&c. . . .

We have been _fêted_ successively by the diplomats here, and
speeches were made laudatory of me. In a circular, each vied in
saying flattering things, such as that I had been looked up to
for my experience and clear-headedness as the guide, &c. of the
Diplomatic Corps.

We are on the look out for the s.s. Mogador. I think I told you the
Forwood Company have placed her at my disposal. . . .


Disgusted at the last proof of Moorish apathy and obstinacy, Sir
John declined to pay a formal visit of farewell to the Moorish Court,
and the Sultan’s Prime Minister addressed him a valedictory letter
on behalf of himself and his colleagues in office, a translation of
which is subjoined as a curious specimen of Oriental phraseology:—


Praise be to God!

The beloved and judicious Counsellor, who strives to promote good
relations between the two friendly Sovereigns, the Minister of the
exalted Queen of Great Britain and Empress of India, in the dominions
of Morocco.

We continue to make inquiries regarding you and regarding your
condition, and we trust that you may always be prosperous.

Which premised, we have received your letter in which you inform
us that, your term of office having expired, you are about to quit
this country, and you express your regret that you are unable to
have an audience of His Majesty, exalted by God, in order to take
leave of His Sherifian Majesty, and express your gratitude for the
marks of good-will, confidence, and friendship that His Majesty
has shown towards you, and you observe that you have served for
forty years in these happy dominions, and that our Lord and Master,
the grandsire of our present Lord and Master (assisted by God),
and our Master the sire of His Majesty (may God sanctify them
both), bestowed on you their confidence, friendship, and trust,
and that our Lord and Master (may God assist him) has likewise
held you in the same regard, and that the friendship between the
two Governments has remained in the same state as formerly, it has
neither altered nor been disturbed; and that you will never grow weak
in your devotion to the welfare of His Majesty and of his subjects,
for you are convinced of the friendship of His Majesty and of his
subjects towards you: you request us also to bid farewell in your
name to the Uzirs and chief officers of the Sherifian Court, whom
you name, and you further state that, should God prolong your life,
you will return to this country after the lapse of a year, and will
reside here for a time during the winter months, and that, should
it meet with Her Majesty’s approval and your Government grant its
consent, you would then visit the Court in a private capacity with
the view of taking leave in person of His Majesty, exalted by God.

I have laid your letter before our Lord the Sultan, and His
Majesty has taken into consideration all you state in it, and
(may God render him powerful) has commanded me to reply to it and
to state that your departure from these blessed dominions causes
great grief and sorrow, as it was sure to do, for you are one of
the wise and judicious persons of your illustrious Government, who
have from ancient times mediated between them and the Sherifian
Government with friendship, sincerity, and consideration, as is
known to all, and about which there can be no dispute, and which
at all times has been continuously renewed, proved, and confirmed
by the strength and power of God. And the fact that your exalted
Queen selected a sagacious person like yourself, of excellent social
qualities, pleasant to have relations with, and seeking to do good,
for service in this country for so long a time, is a proof of her
sincere friendship and of her desire to promote good feeling and to
strengthen the bonds of union between the two friendly Sovereigns,
and is a sign whereby is known Her Majesty’s extreme judiciousness,
wisdom, and judgment; for a person gives proof of his judgment
and condition by one of these things, viz. his envoy, his letter,
or his present. His Sherifian Majesty (may God render him powerful)
has commanded me to convey the expression of his sincere thanks and
best acknowledgments to your beloved Queen, and to yourself also, O
friend, and invoked on Her Majesty an increase of power, greatness,
dignity, and grandeur; and on you, blessings on yourself, on your
family, children, relatives, and posterity.

I am to add that what you state regarding the confidence that was
reposed in you by our Lord and Master, His Sherifian Majesty’s
sire (may God sanctify him), is true and well known to every one,
and His Sherifian Majesty (may God render him powerful) likewise
reposes confidence in you and regards you as a sincere friend, and
that your remark that the friendship between the two Governments
has undergone no change during the term of your office is also true,
for the friendship between the two Governments is the result of your
services, verifying the opinion held of you by your illustrious
Government, the soundness of their judgment and the accuracy of
their discernment regarding yourself, and it (the friendship) has
through your assistance increased in purity, constancy and growth,
in love and affection, in word and deed. And as to what you say that
you will not grow weak in your devotion to His Sherifian Majesty
and to his subjects, this is in accordance with the opinion formed
of you, and is what is confidently expected of you, for such is the
disposition of persons of a friendly and affectionate character,
whether they be near or far.

I have taken leave in your name of the Uzirs and officers of the
Sherifian Court whom you mentioned, and they all reciprocated your
affection and gave expression to it, and praised you, and invoked
blessings on you, and were not sparing in their expressions of
sorrow and grief at your departure, and recited the lines of the
ancient poet:—

‘Though severed in body we suffer no hurt; for our hearts are
united, welded by pure love.’

With regard to your statement that if God prolongs your life, and it
is agreeable to His Sherifian Majesty, you will visit the Sherifian
Court (exalted by God), and that, should your Government approve,
you would come with the object you mention, our Lord (may God make
him glorious) has commanded me to reply that he prays your life may be
prolonged by the power of God, and that you may continue in happiness
and health, leading an agreeable life; and if your Government sanction
your coming with this object, you are welcome, and such sanction will
be agreeable to His Sherifian Majesty (may God assist him), for it
(your Government) desires for you and for His Sherifian Majesty only
what is good, and you seek only to promote the welfare of them both,
and how indeed could your Government refuse to grant its sanction
for what is beneficial? Our friendship for you is everlasting, and
its freshness will never fade day or night. May God be gracious on
the leave-taking, and not forbid the meeting.

Finished the last day of Ramadan, 1303 (July 3, 1886).

                                MOHAMMED MEFADAL BEN MOHAMMED GHARRIT.


On his retirement, Her Majesty was pleased to make Sir John a Privy
Councillor, and, though no longer holding a responsible post, he was
constantly appealed to on Morocco affairs by the British Government.


‘The Foreign Office,’ he writes, in December, 1886, to his
daughter, Mrs. Brooks, ‘continue to send me dispatches about
Morocco to be reported on, and, when I make suggestions as to
actions, they are adopted. This is pleasing to me, and Government,
though they rather bother me with their consultations, flatter me
by their continued confidence in my counsels.’


The Emperor of Austria sent Sir John his portrait set in brilliants
on the lid of a golden casket or snuff-box, and by special permission
of Her Majesty he was allowed to accept the order of the Grand Cross
of the Danebrog from the King of Denmark—for whom as for Austria
he had so long acted as Agent in Morocco. The Danish order was the
only one he was permitted to accept of the many foreign decorations
bestowed on him during his long career.


Until the end of Sir John’s life, it may be added, his name and
personal influence retained their ascendency over the natives,
as will be seen from such passages as the three following extracts
from some of his letters, written from Ravensrock in 1891 and 1892:—


The Basha, Hadj Mohammed Ben Abd-el-Sadek, called to make known to
me an order he had received from the Sultan to tell me that His
Sherifian Majesty looked upon me as a true friend of himself and
of the people of this country, and the Basha said he was directed,
should any serious question arise, to ask for my advice, as His
Sherifian Majesty felt persuaded that I would always be actuated
by feelings of justice and friendship in giving counsels, as in the
time of his sire and grandsire.

I informed the Basha that I had withdrawn from intervention in
official affairs, and that some of the Foreign Representatives
might be disposed to resent such interference, even if my counsels
happened to be beneficial to them in bringing about settlements of
vexatious questions.

The Spaniards are making lime at the caves of Ashkar, and live
there. The caves are Government property, and the stone has been used
for making mill-stones for two thousand years. The poor villagers of
Medióna and Jebíla complained to me, saying that they are afraid
some day that mountaineers who visit Ashkar to buy mill-stones may
kill or rob these Spaniards, and then an indemnity will be demanded
by the Spanish Government, and they (the villagers) will be thrown
into prison. (I told the villagers to complain to the Basha.) . . .


Or again, in January, 1892:—


The ‘Thunderer’ remains here, as the mountaineers belonging to
the Tangier province have revolted against the Basha, and troubles
are expected. I think the Sultan will remove the Basha, who is unfit
to govern. Happen what may, I and mine are quite safe, for the Moors
on mountains and plains look upon me as their friend; and so indeed
have I been. I remained during the Spanish war, when every Christian
and Jew bolted, and no barbarian harmed me or mine. . . .


Or, once more, the following written in February, 1892:—


When you arrive, all will be settled with the tribes. The Fahs
are coming in with presents of oxen, &c. Jebála follow. The new
Basha, a good fellow, has written me a letter, received yesterday,
to say he is coming up here to pay me a visit as soon as all the
tribes have come in (and looks upon me as Baba[66]). The fact is,
I was appealed to by the tribes, &c. whether they should accept him,
as he is a relative of the late Basha. I said certainly—and told
them to come. Ships of war are leaving. All’s well that ends well.




                             CHAPTER XXVI.

                            OUT OF HARNESS.


Though Sir John had severed his official connection with Morocco,
he retained his villa at Ravensrock. Thither, after an interval,
he returned to spend the winters. During the first year of absence
after his retirement, on learning of the serious illness of the
companion of so many of his sporting days, Hadj Hamed, the chief of
the boar-hunters, he writes to his daughter, enclosing a letter to
be delivered by his little grandson to the dying man:—


                                          Wiesbaden, _March 31_, 1887.

Your letter of the 23rd has just reached A. I cannot tell you how
grieved I feel from the account you give of dear old Hadj Hamed, and I
fear much I may never see his kind face again. As I thought it would
please and cheer him if I wrote a few lines to him as an old friend,
I have written in my bad Arabic the enclosed note, which dear Jock
will perhaps deliver in person to him. It is merely to say I am so
sorry to hear from you he is ill, that I pray God he will keep his
health, and that we shall meet in October next and hunt together,
and that I look upon him as a brother and a dear friend.


In 1887 he returned to winter at Tangier, and though a septuagenarian,
was as keen a sportsman as ever. Writing in October he says:—


I have already bought a nag for myself, and, like myself, short
and dumpy, but with legs that will not fail or stumble with twelve
stone seven on his back, for if I fall I do not stot up as of old,
but make a hole in the ground and stick there.


The winter of that year found him riding hard after pig on his little
cob, and untiring in pursuit of game. He writes to his son-in-law
an account of one of these hunts in which he had a narrow escape
from injury:—


The hunt has been a successful one, and barring three wounded horses,
one dog killed, a couple of spills, and ——— rather shaken,
all’s well. Six or seven lances smashed—not by me, except one
dumpy lance, of which anon.

A. went off early on Monday the 12th to put the camp in order. I
followed her with mother. We lunched in the Ghaba Sebaita. At 3
p.m. I left her, so as to be early in camp to see that all was
right. On reaching the head of the lake, I met a hunter who told
me he had seen a very large boar come out of the cork-wood and lie
down on the border of the lake. I sent a messenger for the hunters,
who were returning, and awaited them on my ‘kida,’ _sine_
lance. When they arrived they also were lanceless; but the Sheríf
having come up with his lance, and Mahmud with him with another,
I induced the Sheríf to make Mahmud dismount and give his lance to
J. G. I took from a beater a short lance (five feet), and thus armed
we entered the lake. W., with a lance, was seen in the distance and
beckoned for; Colonel C., with his party, also arrived armed with
a lance. J. G. started the boar, and away we went in six inches of
water. As soon as J. G. approached, the boar turned and charged,
smashing his lance. Spying his horse coming up in the distance,
as it was being led to the camp, he galloped off and got the fresh
horse and his own lance.

Colonel C. followed the boar with me, and as soon as he neared
the beast, it turned and charged; but received a severe wound,
the lance remaining in the boar. Then, as no sound lance remained,
I presented myself. No sooner did the boar hear me in his wake than
round he came, at a hundred miles an hour, upon my short lance,
the point of which, being badly tempered and very blunt, bent to an
angle of ninety degrees. My gallant little horse leapt over the pig,
as he passed under his barrel. Up came J. G. with his fresh lance
and gave it hard, but still the boar went on, in deeper and deeper
water, making for Arára[67]. Some greyhounds of the Sheríf’s were
slipped, and the gallant boar fought them all. The hunters came up,
and the boar still moved towards Arára. I asked a Moor with a hatchet
to knock the brave beast on the head, but he declined the task; and,
as there was no second lance, the boar moved on towards Arára very
slowly, fighting the dogs. Finding that neither prayers nor abuse
were attended to by the hunters, I jumped off my nag into the water,
knee deep, and taking the hatchet advanced on the pig. He charged
when I got within five yards of him, and I broke the hatchet on
his skull and retreated; the greyhounds laid hold behind, and the
brave beast was done for. I got rated by J. G., who saw it, and
by A. afterwards; but mother is to be kept in the dark about this
‘tomfoolery,’ as A. says. The fact is, there was no danger,
for the greyhounds came to the rescue when the boar charged.


On another occasion, after a successful day’s pigsticking thirteen
miles from Tangier, he and his younger daughter, riding home in the
evening, saw two Bonelli eagles and six great bustards. The latter
allowed them to approach within forty yards. ‘This,’ he writes,
‘was too much for my old sporting blood, so I invited J. G. to join
me, and next day we went out to the site and viewed three ‘hobar’
(great bustards), and were after them twice, but could not get near
for a shot. I shot a Bonelli eagle from my pony, who, even after a
thirty miles’ ride yesterday, was very larky, but stood fire like
an old war-horse.’

Not only did Sir John retain to the end of his life all his love
of sport, but, like most sportsmen, he dwelt with pleasure on his
recollections of past encounters. Many of his reminiscences he put
together, now that he was comparatively an idle man, in the form
of articles which were printed in _Murray’s Magazine_ for 1887,
under the title of ‘Scraps from my Note-Book.’ Some of these,
supplemented with additions subsequently made by himself or with
details since gathered from his letters, are reproduced here,
though they for the most part belong to a much earlier date. Thus,
on the subject of boar-hunting, he wrote:—


The Moorish hunters are generally small farmers or peasants from
the villages around Tangier, who join the hunt solely from love of
sport. Some of them act as beaters, wearing leathern aprons and
greaves—such as the ancient Greek peasantry wore—to protect
their legs. Of these, some carry bill-hooks to cut their way through
the thicket, others long guns. They are accompanied by native dogs
(suggestive of a cross between a collie and a jackal), with noses
that can wind a boar from afar, and do good service.

As the thickets where the animals lie are for the most part bordered
by the sea on one side, and by lake or plain on the other, the boar,
when driven, generally make straight for the guns; and we were
wont to have capital sport, shooting on an average about fifteen
boar in two days’ hunting. There are also jackals and porcupine;
and, during a beat near Brij, a panther once took me by surprise,
jumping across the path where I was posted before I could fire. This
animal was shot afterwards on a neighbouring hill.

On one occasion on the promontory of Brij, which is surrounded by
the sea and the river ‘Taherdats’ except for a narrow slip
of sand on the northern side, sometimes flooded at high tides,
we found thirty-six boar in one beat, and killed fourteen. It was
an exciting sight to see the boar breaking from the bush across the
neck of sand about 150 yards broad. The herd did not break together,
but came separately and continuously. A large tusker who led the van
was wounded as he sallied from the bush pursued by dogs, and forthwith
charged the man who had fired; and then beaters, who ran up to the
rescue, were followed again by other boar, who, wounded in their turn,
pursued the beaters that were hurrying after the first boar; then
came dogs, pigs, beaters, more dogs and pigs. Volleys were fired, up,
down, and across the line, regardless of the rules of the hunt. Great
was the excitement; several beaters were knocked down by the boar,
but no one was ripped, though dogs and boar lay wounded on the sands
all around. I shot five boar: one great tusker, being wounded, sat on
his haunches in the defiant posture of the Florentine boar, so I ran
up, assassin-like, from behind and plunged my knife into his heart.

In one of the beats, a hunter named ‘Shebá,’ a veteran past
seventy, had just shot a boar, when the dogs came in full cry
after another, and he had only time to pour in the powder carried
loose in his leathern pouch, and to put the long iron ramrod down
the barrel, when another tusker came to the front. Shebá fired
and sent the ramrod like a skewer through the body of the boar,
who charged and knocked him over. Shebá fell flat on his face,
neither moving arm nor leg, whilst the boar stood over him, cutting
into ribbons his hooded woollen ‘jelab.’ He shouted for help,
exclaiming ‘Fire! fire!’ I ran up within a few feet. ‘I fear
to hit you,’ I said. ‘Fire!’ he cried; ‘I would rather be
shot than be killed by a “halluf” (pig).’

[Illustration: From a Photograph by Baron Whetnall.

_The last Hunt in 1886; Sir John on “E’dhem.”_

Walker & Boutall Ph. Sc.]

I stooped low, and raising the muzzle of my gun, shot the boar
through the heart. The huge carcass fell upon Shebá, who, when
released from the weight, got up and shook me by the hand heartily,
saying, ‘Praise be to God the Merciful! Thanks to you I have escaped
death.’ I withdrew the ramrod, which had passed right through the
body of the animal.

I had not at that time introduced the lance or spear, but when a boar
happened to take to the open I had frequently pursued on horseback
and killed with an ancient rapier I possessed.

Mounted on a little Barb, about fourteen hands three, I once pursued,
gun in hand, a large sow across the plain of Awára. We came suddenly
on a ditch formed by an estuary from the sea, about sixteen feet
broad. No bank was visible until I saw the boar suddenly disappear,
and before I could pull up, my nag tried to clear the ditch, but
failed, as the ground was soft on the brink, so in we plumped headlong
into thick mud and water, gun and all; but a pistol, loose in my
holster, by good fortune was cast high and dry on the opposite bank.

The horse, sow, and I wallowed for some seconds in the mud together,
each of us scrambling out about the same moment, for I had chosen
an easier ascent of the bank to clamber up than the sow had done. I
left my gun swamped in the mud, and, seizing hold of the pistol,
remounted. Away we went again. It was about a quarter of a mile to the
bush, where the sow would be safe. I came up alongside and fired, but
only wounded her; she turned and made a jump to seize hold of my leg,
but missed, passing her fore leg up to the joint in my right stirrup,
and there her leg and my foot were jammed. The hind legs of the sow
just touched the ground. She tried to bite my knee; I struggled to
release my foot and the sow her leg. I had no other weapon than the
exploded pistol, and my fear was that the stirrup-leather would give
way, and then, if I fell, the sow would have it all her own way. The
pain from my jammed instep was intense, but after a few seconds the
sow freed her leg and then turned on my horse, who cleverly leapt
aside as she charged.

The sow then entered the thicket, badly wounded, and when the dogs
came up we found and killed her. The hunters, who had viewed the
chase from the side of the hill, and had been hallooing joyously
on witnessing the pig, horse, and me tumble into the ditch, were
greatly amused in aiding me to remove the thick coating of grey mud
which shrouded my person, my gun, and the body of my horse.

On another occasion, when a very large boar, slightly wounded, was
making up the side of a rocky hill, bare of bush, a strange Moor,
with a long gun, who had joined the hunt, ran along the open to a
narrow path where the boar would have to pass, and squatted down
to pot him. I was about forty yards off, and shouted as the boar
made towards him, ‘Look out! Stand aside of the path!’—but
the stranger remained steady, fired, and then jumped up and ran.

The infuriated beast pursued and knocked him headlong over, ripping
his legs and body as he struggled to get up. I ran up with another
hunter, but boar and man were so mixed up I could not fire. The
boar, burying its snout under the man’s clothes, ripped his
body severely, then seizing his woollen dress in its mouth like a
bull-dog, knelt on his prostrate body. I dared not fire; so laying
hold of the hilt of a sword my companion carried, and finding the
point too blunt to pierce the ironclad hide, I told the owner to take
hold of the point, and putting the blade under the boar’s throat,
we sawed away until the beast fell dead, still holding the man’s
dress in his jaws. The wounded Moor, who was built like a Samson,
fainted away from loss of blood. We stanched his wounds, making a
tourniquet with handkerchief and stick, laid him on the pad of a mule,
and sent him into town to a room in my stable, where he was attended
to by a surgeon for three weeks and recovered. On taking leave of me,
he observed it was his first and would be his last boar-hunt. This
man, as I learnt afterwards, was a famous cattle-lifter. He told the
hunters, that out of gratitude for my care of him, he would never
rob my cows or the cattle of my friends.

We were wont to hunt for a couple of days every fortnight at Sharf
el Akab and Awára, but finding that the mountaineers from the hills
of Beni M’Suar and Jebel Habíb, who dwell about twelve miles
from this hunting-ground, had been in the habit of coming down in
large parties once a week to hunt and were destroying the game,
we determined, from a spirit of rivalry, to hunt more frequently.

There had been conflicts between my hunters and the mountaineers,
and during a beat for boar, when a number of these wild fellows had
joined our hunt, I heard bullets whizzing and cutting the branches
near to where I stood. One of these mountaineers was caught by my
party, and a vigorous bastinado was inflicted on the culprit, who
had been seen to take a deliberate shot at me.

In less than six months the boar at Sharf el Akab and Awára were
destroyed, except a huge ‘solitaire,’ who had made his lair on
the rocky hill of Bu Amar, then overgrown with impenetrable bush. He
was a very wary animal, who refused to bolt when bayed at by dogs,
frequently killing or wounding those that ventured to approach
his lair.

At that time a Spaniard had brought, much to the annoyance of the
peasants, a herd of tame pigs to feed in the cork-wood, for, as the
peasants reported, the ‘accursed animals’ not only fed on acorns
and white truffles, which abound there, but ravaged also their grain
crops, whither the Spaniard had been seen to drive the herd at night
to feed.

Complaints were made by the farmers to the Moorish authorities
regarding the havoc committed by the pigs, and I backed their
petition to the Basha. So the herdsman was ordered by the Spanish
Legation to remove the herd, which was accordingly done; but two
of the Spaniard’s sows were missing, and he offered a handsome
reward to any Moor who would bring them, dead or alive, declaring
that they had been led astray by a large wild boar, who had been
seen by him to come boldly amongst the herd some weeks before, had
attacked and ripped severely a tame boar, paying no attention to
the herdsman’s shouting, and had led off, as he declared, ‘Dos
cerdas muy hermosas’ (two very beautiful sows), not unwilling,
as he insinuated, to accompany their captor.

The Spaniard declared he had occasionally seen at dusk his two sows
with the boar, feeding in the plains; but as soon as the latter
winded man, he made off at a gallop with his captives.

A hunter reported this to me, mentioning that he had been offered
five dollars for each sow, dead or alive, and that he believed both
sows had large litters of wee striped pigs, evidently the progeny
of their captor.

I communicated with the Spaniard, and these two sows and their litters
were sold to me for about £6. I made known to the Basha of Tangier
how the sport at Sharf el Akab had been spoilt by the too frequent
hunting, both of my party and of the mountaineers; and related how I
had purchased the Spaniard’s two sows and their litters. I requested
that orders should be sent to the mountaineers who were under the
Basha’s jurisdiction to keep to their own hunting-grounds, and not
hunt at Sharf el Akab; and that the peasantry also of the villages
round Tangier should be warned not to shoot boar in that district
unless they joined our hunt, which had always been open to sportsmen,
‘Moslem or Nazarene,’ of low or high degree.

To all this the Basha agreed, whilst I offered to give compensation
to farmers whose crops might be injured by the ravages of my porcine
acquisition. I also made known to the Foreign Representatives the
steps I had taken, and requested them to give directions to the
subjects of their respective Governments not to shoot or hunt the
hybrids or any other boar in that district, as it was my intention
not to shoot boar in the preserved district, but to hunt with the
spear, after a couple of years, when I expected not only the hybrids
would have increased in numbers, but that they would be joined by
wild boar from the neighbouring hills.

My wishes were granted, and a document was signed to that effect
by the Basha and Foreign Representatives, and in 1868 I introduced
hunting on horseback with the lance—known in India as pigsticking.

The hybrids at first were not disposed to break from covert and give
a fair gallop in the open; but when the two ‘hermosas cerdas’ were
slain, their progeny behaved better, and now give capital runs across
country, and are more disposed to charge than the thoroughbred boar.

The mode of hunting with the lance is to drive a thicket where pig
are reported to lie, with beaters, dogs, and stoppers, towards the
marsh, plain, or cork-wood, where the pig knows that he can make for
covert in an opposite thicket. The chief beater sounds a horn when
a boar is on foot, firing gun or pistol should he come to bay. The
horsemen are placed down-wind, concealed as much as possible, with
directions to keep silent, and not to start until the boar is well
away in the open, so as to ride in the rear and check his turning
back to the thicket. It is a difficult task to prevent those who are
novices or not sportsmen at heart from breaking through these rules,
especially ardent youths who may view the boar break, and hope to
take the lead by an early start.

The boar, when aware that he is pursued, puts on pace. It requires
a fast horse to come up for the first quarter of a mile; but when
hard pressed, the boar gets blown, shortens stride, and begins to
dodge amongst the low bush.

One of the best gallops I ever had was in pursuit of a huge boar, who
took across the lake from a thicket of Arára. My son, a first-rate
rider, was with me; we did not carry spears, but had revolvers. After
a hard gallop we came up with the boar a few yards before entering the
cork-wood. We fired several shots, but the animal sped on at racing
pace, charging us alternately. The wounds which the boar received
(for blood poured down his flank) were not of a character to stop his
career, so away we dashed through the wood, dodging the cork-trees,
firing occasionally a shot, until the boar ringed back to the thick
jungle of Arára from which he had been driven, and there it was out
of the question to follow on horseback. Disheartened and greatly
disappointed, for the boar was one of the largest we had seen for
many years, we joined the hunters, and dismounted to give our nags
a rest, whilst our party lunched.

We had halted for an hour, and were again preparing to mount,
when a shepherd, all tattered and torn, ran up to me breathless,
saying a ‘halluf,’ black as a ‘Jin’ and as big as a bull,
had passed through the flock of sheep he was tending, knocking
several over; had charged his dog, and made for the sea, where, he
said, after rolling several times, the boar stood erect amidst the
waves, throwing water over his body. ‘This lad is a “kedab”
(a liar),’ exclaimed one of the hunters. ‘Who ever heard of a
boar bathing in the sea at midday?’

‘Make haste,’ exclaimed the lad; ‘it is about half an hour’s
walk, and if the boar is not still there, the tracks on the shore
will show whether I lie or not.’

So off the hunters started, guided by the shepherd. As we topped the
sand-hills which line the coast, a black form, such as the shepherd
had described, big as a bull, was viewed amongst the waves. My son
and I recognised the enormous beast that had given us the gallop,
who had evidently taken to the sea to cool his wounds. As our
party approached in line, to check any attempt of the boar to take
back to Arára, he came out of the breakers with bristles up, and
‘Volta feroce al inimico!’ (a word of command formerly used in
the Portuguese army), prepared to receive us.

Some of the hunters were about to fire, which I prevented, saying I
would approach on horseback, as we might have the chance of another
gallop. When I got within twenty yards, the beast charged. I fired my
revolver, missed, gave spurs to my nag, and was pursued by the boar
until the dogs, which had been held back, were let loose; he then
took out to sea, breasting the rollers gallantly, making due West
for the first port in the United States, with the hounds in his wake.

When the intention of the pig to emigrate became evident and he was
already some hundred yards out to sea, I cried ‘Fire!’ as his
black form topped a wave. Volley after volley followed, and the huge
carcass was washed back on shore. The boar was a hybrid, perfectly
black, with good tusks, and measuring about six feet two from snout
to root of tail, and three feet two from shoulder to hoof. I have
preserved the hide.

The largest boar I have ever seen measured six feet four from
snout to tail, three feet four at the shoulder, and weighed twenty
stone—clean. An old beater of eighty, whose dog had been wounded to
the death, when he came up to the monster lying lifeless, got upon
the body, took off from his shaven pate the red gun-cover which he
used as a turban, and throwing it on the ground, cried out, ‘Now
I can die in peace. The death of this “haisha,” (whale), who
has baulked us for years, is what I have longed for. At last! It
was written he should die before me,’ and the veteran performed
a wild wriggling dance on the carcass of the animal.

This old hunter, named Ben Isa, was still alive, aged a hundred,
when I left Tangier in July, 1886.

During one of our beats, a large boar was started from the low
bush near the beach below Awára, and two mounted Moors joined
me in pursuit. The country was open, and the ground good for
galloping. The pig went away at racing pace, bounding like a deer
over the low bushes. On getting near, I was astonished to see his
ears were cropped like those of a terrier. After a gallop of a
mile we speared him. Hadj Abdallah, who was one of my companions,
exclaimed, ‘Do you remember four years ago two “berakkel”
(squeakers) being caught by the dogs, and you and I carried them
in our arms and let them go near a thicket, where they would be
safe; but the little fellow you carried turned on you, when freed,
and tried to bite your legs, and you bid me catch him and turn him
loose again in the thicket? This I did, but he had shown such pluck
I thought I would mark him, so I cropped his ears and then let him
go, saying “We may meet again.” And here he is, and has given us
proof this day that he was as gallant a boar as he was a squeaker.’

Some years ago we had a good day, killing nine boar.

The camp was pitched at Awára, near the farm huts of the chief hunter
Hadj Hamed. A large party, both of English and foreigners, went out
to join in the sport. On the first two days several boar were killed,
though my favourite horse, ‘Snabi,’ was badly wounded. I chased
a tusker which took right across the burnt wood towards Awínats and
broke into the open on the side of the hill. There I overtook the
beast and transfixed him. He charged before I could extract the lance,
carrying it under my horse, and inflicted a deep gash between the off
fore-leg and chest. I had to dismount and send the poor suffering
beast into town. He was very lame for a twelvemonth. I had thought
of shooting ‘Snabi,’ but he was such a favourite with my family,
that a reprieve was granted. He was the best nag for pigsticking I
ever rode. He was not fast, but thoroughly understood the sport, and
would take his rider, without guiding, alongside of the pig at the
right moment for attack. He never swerved from a boar; no huntsman
knew better where the pig would be likely to break, as soon as the
shouts of the beaters and the horn were heard, and ‘Snabi’ would
be sure to view the animal before his rider, whenever it broke covert.

When desirous of showing sport to any friend who had never seen
pigsticking I mounted him on ‘Snabi,’ and my advice was to
let the horse take his own direction after the pig, and have his
own way when closing with the enemy. If his rider fell, or a hole
brought ‘Snabi’ on his head, the nag would get up and stand by,
putting his head down, and looking with anxious eyes, as if to say,
‘Get up quickly, the pig is making off.’—‘Snabi’ had
belonged to Kaid Meno, the Colonel of the Berber regiment of Askar,
and had often been in action when his master was sent by the Sultan in
command of a detachment to ‘eat up’ some rebellious tribe. There
were several scars on ‘Snabi’s’ dun coat—which, in the sun,
shone like gold. One ball could be distinctly felt in his neck.

On the evening of the second day we hunted the Haffa, a wood on the
south side of the camp. The lances were placed along the side of the
Awínats woods, and numbers of boar were found. But, pig-headed,
they refused to cross the plain, and took away out of sight over
the rough and open slope of the hill leading towards the sea; had
we foreseen which, we should have had long and hard runs.

One enormous fellow, the monster of the forest—described by Hadj
Hamed as being as big as my grey horse!—of a glistening grey
colour, and with tusks sticking out, as he said, like the horns of
a young bull, carried away in pursuit beaters and dogs towards the
lake. From the moment this beast was found, he charged dog or man
that he happened to sight. He took his time, leisurely moving off
at a slow trot, followed at a respectful distance by the beaters,
still charging any one who ventured to approach him. A messenger
was dispatched for us by Hadj Hamed and we started off in pursuit,
but arrived too late, the monster had entered the thicket.

Hadj Alarbi, the head beater, told me that he did not sleep a wink
that night from disappointment that the monster boar had escaped;
but he added, ‘I never should have allowed you to pursue the giant,
for he would have knocked over both horse and rider from sheer weight
when he charged. I should have asked some of those “Nazarenes”
(indicating the foreigners) to go to the front.’

On the third day it was decided to give a rest to dogs and
horses. Many of the party, therefore, went out snipe-shooting; but
about 2 p.m., a boar having been viewed by the Italian Minister
near the camp, Hadj Hamed proposed that we should have a beat of
the Haffa wood. I had hardly placed the lances along the rough
hill-side between the camp and the sea-shore, when a large boar was
viewed making towards the Shebenía. Away we rattled. C. W. led on
his fast horse, and, riding pluckily, got both first spear and a
second spear on a charge. J. M. got third, and the boar then took
to a thick clump of juniper. We left him there and returned to our
posts in time to chase and kill another boar.

Having selected half a dozen beaters with their dogs, we returned
to the clump of juniper and myrtle where the wounded boar had
retreated. This thicket, standing not far from the sea-shore, covered
a space of about two hundred yards square, with open ground on every
side. The dogs bayed at the boar, and the riders stood around the
thicket down-wind—awaiting his exit, in the hope that, when rested,
he would move; but three-quarters of an hour, big with expectation,
passed, and though the boar frequently charged the dogs to the brink
of the thicket, and occasional howls told us that mischief was done,
he never broke, but after each charge went back to the densest part
of the copse. I directed the beaters to halloo with all their might
and sound the horn, but in vain.

As it was getting late I dismounted, and spear in hand went into the
bush; but finding that with ten feet of bamboo in my hand I should
be at the mercy of the boar if he charged, I retreated.

In the open towards the sea I found two Moors, with guns, who had
come up from camp, standing near a boar-path in the hope of getting
a shot; for when a wounded boar takes to covert where horses cannot
penetrate, the regulation against using fire-arms is in abeyance.

Sunset was drawing nigh, and, fearing that the wounded animal might
die in the thicket before next day, I told the hunters to creep in
and shoot the boar. The Moor who had a long native gun declined,
saying he could not venture; for, if the boar charged in the bush,
through which he would have to creep on hands and knees, the animal
would probably be on him before he could fire. But he volunteered
to crawl along the top of the bushes, if stiff enough to support
him (he was a little wiry fellow), and thus perhaps he might get a
shot. The other young Moor had a smart-looking double-barrelled gun,
a muzzle-loader, so I challenged him to enter. He replied he was
not going to risk his life with such a savage brute still strong in
limb. ‘Hark!’ he cried, as a rush, followed by a piteous howl
from a hound, was heard. ‘You are a coward,’ I retorted angrily,
‘to remain passive whilst our dogs are being killed.’ ‘You say
that I am a coward,’ he replied, handing me the gun; ‘then show
that you are not!’

I hesitated, for though I had shot many wounded boar at bay or on
the charge, it had always been with my own trusty gun; but feeling
I had wronged the Moor by taunting him with cowardice, and that he
would have the best of it if I did not take up the glove, I inquired
how his gun was loaded. He replied, ‘with ball.’ The copper caps
looked bright and appeared to have been lately put on, so, kneeling
down and keeping the gun before me at full-cock, I crawled in. The
bush was too thick to stand up, for if I had squeezed myself into
an upright position, my legs would have been at the mercy of the
pig if he charged, which I knew the beast would, if he got a whiff
of me or viewed my legs. Moreover I could not have lowered my gun
suddenly in the thick bush to take aim.

On I crawled for about twenty-five yards, peering anxiously through
the bush. A dog which had been charged came close, and saluted me
with his tail and a whimper of satisfaction; then went back to his
companions, and no doubt informed them, in dog language, that a man
had come to the rescue, for they set up forthwith a chorus of tongue,
which again induced the boar to move and engrossed his attention;
so, crawling on, I got within ten yards and viewed him, ‘cassant
les noisettes,’ as French sportsmen say. Blood streamed down his
side and his bristles stood on an end.

I squatted, took deliberate aim behind the right shoulder and pulled
the trigger, expecting to see the beast roll over; but a fizz, a
faint report, and the sound of a bullet falling amongst the bushes,
sounded like my death-knell; for I knew that the boar would in a few
seconds be on me. With faint hope, however, that the second barrel
would not also contain a damp charge, I held my gun firm. On came
the huge beast, and when within three yards with his head towards me,
I aimed at his left shoulder; the explosion was faint, but the beast
dropped on his head, then rose, charging on to the muzzle of my gun,
which I continued to hold steadily in front, sent it flying over
my head, whilst I toppled backwards, and with the force of the blow
my legs were thrown straight up into the air, and in that position
I had sufficient presence of mind to remain, and could see through
my legs the grim monster’s head and tusks.

That moment appeared a lifetime, a thousand thoughts of past life
flashed through my brain, but the chief one was—My epitaph—‘A
fool killed by a pig.’ My last shot had broken his leg at the
shoulder, so that the movements of the boar were less active; but
on he came, whilst I kept my legs aloft. It is better, I thought,
to have my nether limbs ripped than more vital regions. So when
his grizzly snout was on me, I brought down with force my right
leg, armed with a heavy shooting boot, like a Nasmyth hammer on
his skull, which sent the boar, who had only one sound fore-leg,
on his knees; this was followed up by the left leg, and I pummelled
his head alternately with each foot as the boar tried to get in at
me. The right leg I managed to raise rapidly, so that it was not
cut; but with the left I was less successful, and it was ripped
in three places, as I found afterwards, for at the time I felt no
pain. ‘If no one comes to the rescue,’ I cried out, ‘I shall
be killed by the “halluf.”’ I had hardly spoken, when suddenly
there appeared standing on my left the brave beater, Ahmed Ben Ali,
with his hatchet raised in the air about to strike the boar, saying,
‘La bas,’ equivalent to ‘all right.’

The boar left me and went at him; the lithe fellow struck the beast
with his hatchet whilst he jumped aside. A shot within a few yards
followed. It was from the hunter who had kept his promise, having
crawled in a wonderful manner along the tops of the bushes close to
where we were, and putting his long gun down on the beast, killed it.

I lay prostrate, my legs and breast bespattered with blood from
the boar’s wounds and my own. Ahmed suddenly laid hold of me and
began to take off my nether garments. Angered at what appeared to
me an inexplicable liberty, I used some strong expressions, not the
blessings he deserved for saving my life. Upon which Ahmed said,
‘No time is to be lost: you have blood in front of your clothes,
and if the bowels are injured, the wound must be sewn up before the
air penetrates. I have needle and silk ready’ (carried by hunters
to sew the wounds of dogs). I apologised for my rough language,
and thanked the brave fellow for saving my life; then readjusting
my unmentionables, I said, ‘The boar has not wounded my body,
only my legs, I think,’ for I still felt no pain, but the blood
was trickling down, and I could feel my left boot was full of it.

Taking a handkerchief and a stick, I made a sort of tourniquet above
the knee, and then Ahmed dragged me out of the thicket. I felt faint,
night was approaching, there were fifteen miles to ride to Tangier;
but I decided it would be better to return to town than to go to camp
and next day find my wounds so stiff that I should not be able to
ride. I requested Ahmed to go to camp and send me a flask of brandy
by my groom, and tell the latter he was to accompany me to town. I
told the hunters, who assembled round me with anxious faces, that
I was not seriously hurt, but unfit for riding, and begged them to
remain for next day’s hunt, declining the offer of many friends
to accompany me to town.

It was a long, weary journey of fifteen miles. My horse stumbled
now and then over rocks and mud, for it became pitch dark after the
first hour, and I had constant proof of the malignity of matter, for
every branch or twig we passed seemed to take pleasure in knocking
against my wounds, causing me much pain, and yet I felt joyous,
and thankful to God I had not fared worse.

On arrival at the foot of the stairs of the Legation I gave a cheery
‘view halloo,’ so that my family might know I had arrived in good
spirits. I was carried upstairs and a surgeon was sent for, who sewed
up the wounds. The worst of them was a stab from a tusk, making a deep
hole without ripping the flesh, as in the other cuts. For three weeks
I lay on my back, though, as the surgeon observed, my flesh was like
that of a healthy child, the wound having closed without inflammation.

When the hunters returned from the camp, I sent for brave Ahmed Ben
Ali who had saved my life, and gave him a gun and a sword.

During the number of years I have hunted in Morocco, I have killed
with gun or spear upwards of five hundred boar, and only once have
I been wounded. But I have been knocked over frequently through
carelessness in approaching boar at bay down-wind, or in stalking
at night. The latter sport, especially when stalking a _solitaire_,
is very exciting: it requires skill, patience, and great caution.

I wear, when stalking, shoes with rope-soles, enabling me to tread
noiselessly over rough ground. I have stalked boar on a dark night
up-wind, when feeding in corn, until I have approached the animal
hidden by the crop, and have put the barrel of my gun within a foot of
his body before firing. When I heard the boar occupied in tearing off
a pod of Indian corn or munching grain, I advanced. When he stopped
feeding to listen, as they will cunningly do for several minutes,
I stood motionless also, until the munching recommenced.

One very dark night I managed to approach so noiselessly along
a narrow path through a copse which led to an orchard—where I
had heard from the windows of my villa at ‘Ravensrock’ a boar
eating apples—that I actually pushed my knee against the boar,
who had his snout in an opposite direction, before either of us
became aware that we were at close quarters. My gun was not cocked,
for I did not expect to have to use it until I entered the orchard,
where I supposed the boar to be still feeding. The leap I made
in the air was not more frantic than that of the boar, who jumped
into the thicket. We were both terribly startled. The boar had no
doubt in the still night heard me close the door of the balcony,
two hundred yards off from the orchard, and had hidden in the dark
path to listen and await events.

On another occasion, having observed during my rides on the hill
that boar came down at night to a rough field of barley, I took my
gun a little before sunset and rode to the ground. I left my nag
in charge of a Moor, about a quarter of a mile from the field, and
directed him to keep quiet, and not to come near the field until I
fired a shot. The crop of barley I had observed was poor and short,
so I felt sure I should see the body of any boar worth firing at.

I seated myself on a rock about three feet from the ground. In my
belt was a long Spanish knife, with a handle made to insert in the
muzzle of a gun, like a bayonet. The moon had set, the sky was cloudy,
and starlight very faint. I wrapped a piece of white paper as a sight
around the gun, a few inches from the lock, so that I could see it,
even though the night was very dark. Just as the nine p.m. Gibraltar
gun boomed across the Straits, I heard a rustling in the bush and
a grunt, warning me the enemy was nigh.

The wind was favourable; the boar had entered the field on a different
side from what I expected. I strained my eyes to view the beast,
whom I could hear chewing the ears of barley, but could not at first
distinguish him.

At length he approached within fifteen yards from the rock where
I was seated, and I could just see his head above the barley,
therefore I concluded, supposing the stalk was short, it was a sow
or only a two-year-old. I waited until the object advanced within a
few yards, and I could see a good patch of black body. I fired, and
heard the noise of the fall; then the boar rose, went a few yards,
and tumbled over, and I could distinctly hear what appeared to be
its death-struggles. Then all was still; I got down from the rock,
but did not reload, thinking there was no risk, and walked to the
spot where I heard the struggles.

In the short barley were several low palmetto bushes. Seeing
a dark object move, as I fancied, I aimed and fired. It was a
palmetto bush—the leaves shaken by the wind had rustled. Within
a few yards of this bush a large form suddenly rose and came slowly
towards me. Both barrels were empty. I had barely time to insert the
Spanish knife in the muzzle of the gun when I could see a grim head
and tusks glistening in the starlight. It was not, as I had supposed,
a sow or a pig; it was a tusker.

The ground was favourable, for I stood uphill above the boar. I held
the gun so that the knife should enter at the shoulder and not strike
the head. As the boar pressed on to reach me, I joyfully felt the
blade penetrate into its body up to the hilt, and expected he would
fall dead; but no, limping on one sound leg he continued to advance;
so I backed, nearly falling over a palmetto bush; then the boar
moved to one side to get round upon me, and I followed his movements,
dreading every moment that the knife, if the boar retreated, would
be withdrawn.

Again he came on with a rush, and I moved rapidly backwards until
my back came against a rock in the field about four feet from the
ground. I scrambled up it, pressing the knife and gun against the
boar’s body to assist me. He tried to follow, but, with his disabled
leg, failed and then moved away, carrying the knife in his body,
whilst I retained the gun. I reloaded safely on the rock, thanking
God for my narrow escape.

As the Moor came up with my horse I shouted to him to keep at
a distance, saying the boar was alive and close by. I then got
off the rock and advanced carefully, with both barrels loaded, to
the spot to which I fancied the animal had retreated. Up he got,
and came at me with a rush, receiving the contents of both barrels
in his head and body. I found the long Spanish knife had entered
the neck above the shoulder, and passed along the skin without
penetrating the body. The steel was not good, and had been bent
during the struggle. The boar proved to be a fine three-year-old,
with tusks which could have cut me into shreds. During my tussle
with this beast I had a vivid recollection of having heard that
a Moorish hunter, a short time before my adventure, had fired at
a boar at night in a field of Indian corn, and had followed up the
tracks of blood at dawn for some distance, when he came suddenly upon
the wounded animal, who charged before he could fire, knocked him
down and ripped his body severely. His family, finding next morning
he did not return, sent out in quest of him to the field of corn,
and there he was found in a dying state, wounded in the stomach,
just able to relate what had happened. Within a few yards of the
wounded man lay the tusker quite dead.

Some years ago an English official at Tangier, R———, a very
absent man, sallied out one night to sit for a large boar, which
was reported to pass every evening after dusk a path not far from my
stable at Ravensrock. Near this path in the bush was a rock, on which
my friend squatted with a double-barrelled gun to await the boar.

It was a very dark night, but the path of white sand in front,
contrasting with the green bush around, could be clearly seen, as also
any object moving along it. He heard the tread of a large animal,
and as it approached within a few feet he fired, but his horror and
dismay can be imagined when down fell a donkey with panniers and a
man on the top! Explanations ensued, with warm expressions of regret
on the part of R———, which were accepted good-naturedly by the
Moor, especially when the former put in his hands double the value
of the donkey and the panniers. The ball had passed through the top
of the skull of the donkey. Strange to say the animal recovered,
and was made use of in R———’s garden.

Boar during the fruit-harvest come down to the orchards near Tangier
and commit great ravages. When sufficient fruit is not scattered
on the ground, they will rub against apple or pear trees until the
fruit falls, or they will spring on the top of a trellis of vines,
tearing it down to the ground to get at the grapes. The Moors put
nooses of rope at the gaps in the hedge where boar enter, and fasten
the noose to a tree or to a bundle of branches. The animal is often
found strangled in the morning; but when the rope is fastened to
loose branches it is less likely to snap, and the boar will carry
off the bundle, until stopped by an entanglement of the rope with
some other object.

Being out one day with a party of hunters, I saw at a distance a thick
bush moving slowly, as by magic, along the top of a dense copse of gum
cistus. No horse or man could be seen. One of the hunters exclaimed,
‘a boar has been caught in a noose! See the bush to which it is
fastened moving along the top of the copse.’ We decided to take
the animal alive, so approaching the bush and long rope to which the
noose was attached, we laid hold of the rope and pulled it tight,
until the boar was half-strangled. We then gagged the beast with a
thick stick and string. He was dragged out of the thicket, put on
a pack animal and carried to a room in my stable, where the gag was
removed and food and water given.

Next day I invited a party of riders to see the boar turned loose in
the open, two or three miles away from the bush. The horsemen took
no weapons, and our motley pack of boar-dogs were held in leash by
hunters, who were directed to let go when I should give the signal
after the pig had a fair start of one hundred and fifty yards.

Some ladies joined us on horseback, but my wife, being nervous,
rode a donkey, and had a Moor to lead it and to take care of my
young son, who was in front. I placed them on a hillock about
two hundred yards off, where I thought they would be safe and be
able to view the boar. Telling the horsemen and Moors who held the
dogs in leash not to start until I gave the signal, I had the boar
conveyed to a high bank on a dry watercourse, and then removing the
gag and untying the rope, we dropped him gently down, thus giving
time for the men on foot to hide and me to mount before the boar
could charge us. He was only a two-year-old, so his tusks were not
very formidable. The boar bolted up the gulley, and on reaching the
top of the bank looked around, North, South, East and West, but saw
no cover. Viewing my horse about forty yards off he charged, and I
galloped away. The boar halted, looked around, and saw on the mound
an object with brilliant ribbons dangling in the wind, and then to my
great consternation made straight for my wife’s donkey. In vain I
rode full tilt, cracking my hunting-whip, trying to turn the beast,
and shouting to the hunters to let the dogs slip; but before they
came up, the boar got under the donkey, trying to rip it, whilst the
Moor, holding my son aloft on his shoulders, was kicking at the boar.

Up came the dogs, who drew off the boar’s attention, and away he
went; but being better inclined to fight than to gallop, the chase
was short, and he was pulled down by the dogs.

‘Take this knife,’ I said to a long Yankee official; ‘as this
is your first boar-hunt, you shall have the honour of giving the
death-blow.’ Knife in hand, the New Yorker fearlessly advanced,
and was inserting expertly the blade near the region of the heart,
when up jumped the dying pig, knocked over his lank antagonist,
and then fell never to rise again.

Boar when caught young become very attached to man, and will follow
like a dog. They can be taught cleanly habits when kept in a house,
but have no respect for flowers, and cannot resist rooting up any
object which is not firmly fixed in the ground or pavement. I had
a large sow as a pet, which followed me out riding for long distances.

When attacked by dogs on passing villages, the sow would turn
on them and fight gallantly, until I came to the rescue with my
hunting-whip. She became at length very troublesome, and would be
off on the loose into the town whenever the stable-door happened to
be left open. I had frequent complaints from bakers and greengrocers,
and had heavy damages to pay for robberies of bread, so I gave orders
that the sow was to be shut up in a yard.

One day, when the door had been left open, as the sow rushed
rapidly up the street towards a greengrocer’s shop in the little
market-place, where she was accustomed to rob, it happened that a
young mulatto woman, whose legs had been paralysed for some years,
and who gained her livelihood by begging, was crawling on her elbows
and knees along the streets, coming down towards the Legation. She
had never seen a pig in her life, so when she beheld a large black
animal rushing frantically, as she supposed, to devour her, thought
it was a ‘Jin[68].’

The shock was so great, that up she scrambled and ran off; the
paralysis of her legs had ceased. This miracle performed by the sow
was a source of wonder to all, especially to the Mohammedans, loth
to believe that ‘Allah’ should make use of the unclean animal
to heal the maimed. The next day the mulatto appeared at my gate,
walking upright, to petition that I should give her compensation
for the fright she had experienced, pleading also that the pig had
deprived her of the means of gaining her livelihood, for she was now
whole, and no one took pity and bestowed alms on her as before. I
gave her only my blessing, for she was strong and young, and could
work. The sow was presented by me to a gentleman in England, who
wished to introduce a cross of the wild animal.

The sagacity of the boar is greater than that of most animals. A
Moorish Sheikh dwelling in the mountains about forty miles from
Tangier, brought as a gift to the Basha a full-grown boar, that had
been caught when only two months old. The animal had become very tame;
it was brought tied on the back of a pack mule.

A few days after presentation the Basha’s sons carried the boar
out into the country and let it loose, slipping greyhounds to give
chase. The boar knocked over the hounds, charged and ripped two
horses, and got away. Next morning it was found feeding quietly in
the yard of its master’s house, forty miles off! I was glad to
learn that the owner, on hearing how his pet had been treated by
the Basha’s sons, kept the animal until it died.

In the present century lions have rarely been seen in the Northern
province of Morocco.

During a residence of many years I have only heard of two having
been seen in the woods between Tangier and Cape Spartel. I cannot
account for these lions having wandered so far from the Atlas
Mountains—where they are still to be found—except, as the Moors
of those regions relate, that when the winter has been unusually
cold and snow has fallen heavily, the wild animals which dwell in the
higher parts of the Atlas descend to the valleys and plains. Should
a thaw suddenly set in, and rivers and brooks become swollen, the
lions and other wild animals which seek to return to the mountains
are prevented repassing the rapid streams, and stray away from
the district, seeking for forest or for an uninhabited country,
and, moving along the chain of hills to the northward, reach the
district of Spartel—which is about seven miles square—bounded on
the western side by the Atlantic and on the northern by the Straits
of Gibraltar.

Early one morning I had a visit from several inhabitants of the
village of ‘Jamah Makra,’ not far from the site of my present
villa ‘Ravensrock,’ which stands on a hill, three miles out of
Tangier, surrounded by woods. The men came to request that I should
assemble my hunters and sally out in pursuit of a wild animal which,
they related, had lacerated with its claws the flank of a mare and
bitten it in the neck. They informed me that they had been roused in
the middle of the night by the tramp of horses galloping through the
lanes—snorting and neighing—and supposed that cavalry had been
sent to surround the village. But to their surprise they found their
own ponies (which are allowed to run loose on the hills when not
required for agricultural purposes, and live in a half-wild state,
never allowing man to approach them, especially at night-time) had by
instinct sought safety in the village, trying to penetrate even into
the huts. Amongst the herd was the wounded mare, in a dying state.

I assembled a party of hunters with their boar-dogs, and proceeding
to the spot we found round the village tracks of a large animal;
evidently of the feline race, as the footprints were round, with no
mark of nails, but had pads, as in the print of a cat’s foot. The
beast appeared to have avoided as much as possible the open path,
and to have walked near or amongst the ilex bushes, on which we found
long tawny hairs, showing it was a male lion. We also came across the
half-eaten carcasses of a boar and of a porcupine. There were marks
too as of a herd of boar making a stampede in a southerly direction,
fleeing from the dread monarch of the woods.

We turned our dogs into the thicket—where, by the tracks, we knew
the lion had entered—and placed two guns at each run. But the
dogs returned from the thicket and shrank behind their masters. They
had evidently come upon or winded the lion, and we could not induce
them to hunt. The beaters, after entering the thicket, firing guns,
and beating drums, refused to advance further; so we had to abandon
the hunt.

A woman whom we met informed us that, on going to a fountain in
her orchard to draw water, she had met a ‘jin’ (evil spirit),
evidently, from her description, a lion; that she became paralysed
from fright and could not move; that the ‘jin’ had eyes like
lamps, and after gazing at her had turned aside into the bush.

The Moors believe that lions will never attack a nude woman, such
is the magnanimous beast’s delicate sense of shame. Lionesses,
it is to be concluded, are less particular. The dame did not mention
that she had a knowledge of this, so we know not whether she dropped
her vestments to save her life.

There was a good moon; so I determined to sit for the lion,
safely perched on a rock, where, though it would be possible for
a lion to climb, yet I should have had a great advantage in an
encounter with gun and pistols. I passed the night in a state of
excitement—starting at every rustle made by rabbit, ichneumon,
or even rats—without seeing anything of the king of beasts. But
about midnight I heard what sounded from a distance like the deep
bellow of a bull.

A few days later, hearing that the track of the lion had been seen
at ‘Ain Diab,’ a wood near Cape Spartel, I collected the hunters
and rode to the ground, about eight miles from Tangier. There we
tracked the lion into a dense thicket. The dogs again refused to
hunt, as on the previous occasion, winding no doubt the lion. This
was good proof that he was at home; so posting the guns, I directed
the beaters to drive the wood from the foot of the hill and that
guns should occasionally be fired and drums beaten.

A few minutes after I had taken up my post a Moor hurried up to
where I was standing, in a great state of excitement, pale as death,
saying, ‘I have seen the man[69]!’ ‘What man?’ I asked. He
repeated, ‘I have seen the man! I had entered the thicket to look
at an olive-tree from which I thought I could cut a good ramrod;
there is a rock rising about twenty feet above the olive-tree,
and as I stooped to look whence I could best cut a branch, I saw a
great shaggy head, with fierce eyes glaring at me from between two
huge paws. I had laid down my gun to cut the olive stick; I dared
not turn to take it up again, so left it there and crawled back
through the bush to tell you what I have seen.’

The rock, which he then pointed out, was about two hundred yards from
where we stood. I collected the sportsmen and selected three of them
(my brother and two Moors upon whose courage I could depend), and we
determined to beard the lion in his den. My left arm was in a sling,
having been injured while playing cricket a few days previously. As
we advanced into the dense thicket I was prevented, by the pain
caused by the branches knocking against my arm, from following
quickly my companions. Carried away by their desire to slay the lion,
they rushed on headlong, regardless of wait-a-bit thorns and other
impediments; so I was left in the lurch. Feeling uncertain about the
exact direction they had taken, but hearing, as I thought, the sound
of some one passing in front of me, I shouted, ‘Where are you? why
are you returning?’ No reply. Yet it was evident the moving object
had approached me within a very few yards. Again I called, ‘Why
don’t you speak?’ Then I heard a rush, as I suddenly came to
an open spot of sandy soil, upon which I could trace the footmarks
of the lion who had just passed. The animal had evidently moved
away from the rock when he heard or saw the three men approaching,
and having no desire to attack man unprovoked, had doubled back,
passing close to me. All this flashed through my brain; I halted,
kept perfectly still, holding my breath, for I had not the courage,
alone and with an injured arm, to follow the dread beast. Moreover,
I could never have caught it up, at least I tried so to convince
myself, and thus to hush any feeling of shame at my cowardice.

My companions returned a few minutes afterwards, reporting that they
had reached the rock where the lion had been; but he had evidently
left on their approach, and they had tracked him through the bush to
the spot where I had stood when he passed. We followed the direction
the lion took for some time without success, and we supposed he must
have made off at a swinging trot.

The following day we heard that an ox had been killed on the hills
of Anjera between Tangier and Tetuan, and that the lion had gone in
the direction of the snow-topped mountains of Beni Hassén.

On each visit of a lion to the Tangier district the track of a hyena
had been seen to follow that of the sultan of the forest.

On one occasion, when there were rumours of a lion having been
heard of in the Tangier district, and we were out hunting boar in
the woods near Spartel, I heard several shots fired from the side
of a hill where I had posted the guns, and a beater shouting to me,
as I stood hidden behind a small rock in some low bush, ‘“Ya el
Awar!”—Oh ye blind! The lion to you!’ An instant after I viewed,
bounding over the bushes, a large shaggy animal. With its huge mouth
open and bristling mane, it looked very terrible; but I knew at
once it was not a lion; so I waited till the beast was within a few
yards and sent a bullet through its heart. It turned out to be a very
large Hyena rufus—striped, not spotted—larger than any specimen
of that animal I have seen in the Zoological Gardens or any menagerie.

The stench of the animal was overpowering; the skin was in beautiful
condition, and proved very handsome when preserved.

A grand lion was seen many years ago, standing in the early morning on
the sand-hills which line the beach close to the town of Tangier,
and causing great alarm. But it turned out to be a tame lion
which a ‘Shloh’ woman—who, as a Sherífa, was endowed with
a slight halo of sanctity—had brought captive from the Atlas
Mountains. She led it about with only a loose rope round its neck,
as she begged from village to village, and had arrived outside the
gates of Tangier the previous evening, after they were closed, and
she had laid down to sleep near the lion, which, during the night,
had strayed away. This lion was quite tame and harmless, and came
back to her from the sand-hills when she called it.

A Spanish gentleman told me that returning home late one dark night
from a party in Tangier, carrying a small lantern to light his way,
he saw what he fancied was a donkey coming towards him in one of the
very narrow streets of the town where two stout persons on meeting
can hardly pass each other. He turned his lantern on the object,
and, to his dismay, saw the glistening eyes and shaggy head of a
lion which he had already seen led in daytime by the woman through
the streets. The beast was alone, without its keeper. The Don said
he had never made himself so small as when he stood against a closed
door to allow his Majesty to pass; which he did quite pacifically.

‘Oh ye blind! The lion to you!’

This accusation of blindness is perhaps the mildest form of abuse
employed by the beaters, in the excitement of the hunt, to the guns
posted to await the boar. Sir John, as Master of the Hunt, shared
in the very liberal abuse indulged in by the men who had laboriously
driven the boar from the thick coverts towards him and his friends,
native and foreign, who waited to shoot the pigs as they broke. Every
possible term of abuse—and Arabic is rich in such—together with
imprecations such as only Oriental imagination could devise, would be
yelled at them as a warning not to miss. Strangers too would always
be indicated by any peculiarity in their appearance or dress. Neither
did the excited beaters, at such moments, put any check on their
rough wit. But the railing of Moorish sportsmen at each other,
however violent in the ardour of the chase, is never resented.

As a case in point, Sir John related the following story.

A former Governor of Tangier, a thorough sportsman, was out hunting
on one occasion, when a man of low degree who was acting as beater,
and, as is usually the case, had his own dogs with him, started a boar
in the direction of the Basha, who was sitting near the animal’s
expected path ready to receive him. The beater called out, swearing
lustily at the Basha, and using every opprobrious term he could think
of; adding that if he missed his shot he should never be allowed to
fire again!

The Basha fired and killed the boar.

Some little time after, when the beat was finished, the huntsmen
assembled as usual, and the Basha asked who it was that had started
the boar he had shot. The poor beater, feeling he had exercised
the licence of the chase rather too boldly, kept somewhat in the
background, but, on this challenge, came forward and acknowledged
that it was he who had done so.

‘And what did you shout out to me when the boar took in my
direction?’ asked the Basha. The beater, dismayed, was silent. But
on the question being repeated, acknowledged having called out,
‘The boar to you—oh blind one!’

‘Only that!’ exclaimed the Basha. ‘Surely I heard you abuse
me. Tell me what you said.’

In reply to this the beater, in desperation, burst out with all
the abuse he had uttered. Whereupon the Basha, taking from his
wallet four ‘metskal’ (then worth some three Spanish dollars),
presented them to the beater, saying, ‘Take this. I know you were
anxious on account of your dogs, and for the success of the sport. I
pardon your abuse of me.’


After his retirement from his official position, Sir John lived
little more than seven years, dividing his time between Morocco and
Europe, returning, as has been said, for the winter to his beloved
‘Ravensrock,’ enjoying his sport to the end, and at intervals
jotting down his ‘Scraps from my Note-book’ as a slight record
of his life. ‘I feel,’ he says, referring to the appearance
of some of his stories in _Murray’s Magazine_, ‘like a dwarf
amongst tall men. Never mind. If my relatives and friends are pleased
and amused, I shall continue to unwind the skein of my life till I
reach my infancy.’ Among the last of the notes made by Sir John
in his ‘Note-book’ was the following, which may be appropriately
introduced at the close of this sketch of his career.


                           _Body and Soul._

‘The death of the aged is always easy,’ said the F’ki Ben Yahia,
‘compared with the death of the young.’

‘This arises,’ continued the F’ki, ‘from the willingness
with which the immortal soul is glad to flee from an aged body,
corrupted by a long residence in this world, and from disgust at the
sin and wickedness into which it has been plunged by the depravity
of the body. Whereas, the young body and soul are loth to part;
for the soul rejoices in the innocent enjoyments of youth and the
harmless pleasures of this world, and to separate them is, as it were,
to separate the young damsel from her first pure love.’

‘Oh, merciful God!’ exclaimed the F’ki, ‘put away the
corruption of my body, and teach me to follow the purer inspiration
of the soul which was breathed into me by Thee, O Almighty and
Incomprehensible God!’


In Berwickshire, at Wedderburn Castle, a place then rented by him, Sir
John Hay Drummond Hay died on the evening of Monday, Nov. 27, 1893.

He was buried in the churchyard of Christ Church, Duns. A few days
after the funeral one of the family received a letter from a member
of the British Legation at Tangier, in which he mentioned that on
going to the Legation on the morning of Nov. 27, he was surprised
to see the British flag at half-mast, and, calling to the kavass in
charge, reprimanded him for his carelessness, directing him to take
the flag down.

The kavass excused himself, saying that, while hauling down the flag
the previous evening, the halyard had broken, and he had consequently
been unable to lower the flag further; but that he had sent for a
man to swarm the mast and repair the halyard and thus release the
flag. This however, the writer added, was not accomplished till
next morning.

Thus it happened that while the man was passing away who for forty
years had represented Great Britain in Morocco, the British flag
remained at half-mast.




                                INDEX.

                               * * * * *

  Abbas Pasha, 26.

  Abbotsford, 3.

  Abd-el-Hadi, 136.

  Abd-el-Kader, 69, 71, 72.

  Abd-el-Kerim, 227.

  Aberdalgie, 6.

  Aberdeen, Lord, 44, 66, 68.

  Acre, 30.

  Addington, H. C., 135; his letter to Sir J. D. Hay, 140.

  Agadir, 317.

  Agraz battle, 160.

  Ahal Kubla tribe, 297.

  Ahmed Ben Ali, 381.

  Ain Dalia, 79.

  Ain Diab wood, 392.

  Ain-Umast fountain, 122.

  Aisa, 228.

  Aisawa, or snake-charmers, 177.

  Aji, 236.

  Akba el Hamra hills, 85.

  Akhlij village, 292.

  Alarbi el Saidi, 184.

  Alcalá, 14.

  Alexandria, 24.

  Alfred, Prince, at Tangier, 203.

  Alhádari, 147.

  Alhucema, Island of, 148.

  Ali Bufra, 241.

  Alison, Charles, 49, 73.

  Allen, Mr., 347.

  Amar, Sheikh, 252.

  Andersen, Hans Christian, ‘In Spain,’ 222, 225; his description of
  the old Legation, 222; his letter to Lady Hay, 225.

  Anjera, 186, 393.

  Arab dance, 91.

  Arára, 366, 374.

  Argan tree, 122.

  ‘Arum arisarum’ or yerna, 325 _note_.

  Ashkar, caves of, 364.

  Assuad, Sultan, 99; inscription on his tomb, 99 _note_.

  Athol, H.M.S., 6.

  Atlas Mountains, 116, 272, 276, 289, 293, 390; valley, 290.

  Austria, Emperor of, 363.

  Awára plain, 185, 369, 371, 376.

  Awínats wood, 376.

  Azaila, 137, 242.

  Azamor, 169.

  Azdot, 142.


  Bab-el-Haddad, or the Smithy Gate, 99.

  Bab-el-Khemés, or the Thursday-gate, 111.

  Bab-el-Mahsen, or the Government-gate, 289.

  Bab Hamár gate, 107.

  Bab Khadár, or ‘the Green Gate,’ 112.

  Bakáli, Sheríf, 283.

  Ball, Mr. J., 88 _note_.

  Bankhead, Charles, 49.

  Bardlaiimi, 129.

  Barker, Mr. Burchardt, 16.

  Barnett, Colonel, 63.

  Barseset, Izak, 128.

  Basha Hamed, 223.

  Beehive, a Moorish, 195 _note_.

  Beheira u el Gintsor, 269.

  Bell, Dr., 23.

  Ben Abd-el-Sadek, 364.

  Ben Dawud, 275.

  Ben Dris, the Grand Uzir, 113, 301; conferences with Sir J. D. Hay,
  113, 115, 117.

  Ben Isa, 376.

  Ben Nasr, F’ki Sid Mohammed and Zarhoni, dialogue between, 81.

  Ben Nis, 283.

  Benabu, Governor of Tangier, 184; story of his arrest and death,
  184-192; his system of governing, 193.

  Beni Aros, 210.

  Beni Gorfet mountain, 242.

  Beni Hassén mountain, 393; tribe, 90.

  Beni M’suar mountain, 242, 371.

  Benibugaffer village, 144, 146.

  Benisargan, Jakob, 128.

  Benshiten, 131.

  Berbers, origin of the, 291.

  Besika Bay, 60.

  Beyrout, 30.

  Birra Burub pass, 269.

  Boar-hunting, 366-389.

  Bojador, Cape, 317.

  Bokhari guards, 119, 274.

  Bonelli eagle, 367.

  Borj Ustrak, 158.

  Bosco, his sleight of hand, 33.

  Briant, 43.

  Brij, 368.

  Brooks, Mr., 296.

  — Mrs., 363.

  Broussa, 51.

  Bu Amar hill, 371.

  Bubána river, 185.

  Buceta, Colonel, Governor of Melilla, 149.

  Buchanan, Mr., 208.

  Bugeaud, Maréchal, 79.

  Bulwer, Sir Henry, 68.

  —, Mr., 67, 68, 70, 71, 185.

  Buyukdere, 50.


  Cadiz, 225.

  Campbell, Colonel, 28.

  Canning, Lady, 47, 66.

  Canning, Sir Stratford, 47, 58, 66; appointed Ambassador at
  Constantinople, 49; his method of conducting business, 49; letter
  from Sir J. D. Hay on the state of affairs in Tangier, 68-71.

  Carstensen, Mr., 142, 223.

  Cartwright, Mr., 66.

  Castelar, Señor, 207.

  Cattle-lifting in Morocco, 193.

  Ceuta, its advantages over Gibraltar, 234.

  Chapman, Mrs., anecdote of Sir J. D. Hay, 164.

  Charmes, M., contributor of _Débats_, 355.

  Cholera, 23, 166, 325.

  Christ Church, Duns, 397.

  Christina, Queen, 11.

  Cockburn, Lord, 2.

  Commercial Convention, advantages of a, 168; basis of the Treaty,
  179; ratification, 182; revision, 338, 343, 348, 360.

  Constantinople, 30.

  Copenhagen, 66.

  Curzon, Robert, 49.


  Dad i Sirr Island, 292.

  Daha, 128.

  Dar Aklau, 85.

  Dar-el-Baida, 314, 340; number of deaths from cholera, 325.

  Dar-Mulai-Ali, 341.

  Davidson, 317.

  Denmark, King of, confers the order of the Grand Cross on Sir J. D.
  Hay, 71, 363.

  Derby, Lord, 317, 353; his Eastern policy, 319.

  Diosdado, Señor, 343.

  Doyle, Percy, 30, 49.

  Dra, 127.

  Drummond, Dean, Rector of Hadleigh, 5.

  Dufferin, Lord, 336.

  Dukála, Governor of, 105.

  Duns, 397.

  Dupplin Castle, 5.

  Dwarf, The, 40; his wife, 41.


  ‘Eating up,’ the practice of, 233.

  Edinburgh, 1.

  Egypt, plague in, 22.

  El Araish, 87, 136.

  El Kántara, 179.

  El Kra, a lake or marsh, 89.

  El Ksar battle, 241.

  El Kus river, 87.

  Eleg, 128.

  Erhamna district, 106, 266.

  Escazena, 112, 116.

  E’Sfi, or the pure, 285.

  E’Suizi, Governor, 93.

  ‘Etymons of the English Language,’ 5.


  Fairlie, 232.

  Falcons, hunting with, 266; legend, 267.

  Fas, 93; first mission to, in 1868, 236; second mission in 1875, 307;
  third mission in 1880, 329; the ladies of, 237.

  Fatmeh, 190.

  Féraud, M., 354.

  Ferguson, 3.

  Ferry, M., 345, 351.

  Ford, Sir Francis Clare, 11.

  —, Mr., his ‘Handbook of Spain,’ 11.

  Forde, Mr., 214.

  Forster, Henry, 20.

  France, relations with Morocco, 66, 133, 135, 345; demands of, 69.

  Franciscan Brotherhood, Father Superior of the, 343.

  Frost, J., 99 _note_.

  Fum Ajrud stream, 158.


  _Gaulois_, charges against the Foreign Representatives, 346, 351.

  Ghaba Sebaita, 366.

  Ghamára mountains, 158.

  Gharbía, Kaid Sheikh of, 85.

  Ghásats E’Nil, or the Garden of the Nile, 112, 118.

  Ghemáts river, 291.

  Gibraltar, question of the exchange for Ceuta, 233; measures against
  the cholera, 325, 326.

  _Gibraltar Chronicle_, extract from, on the Moorish loan, 220.

  Gla, a stream, 88.

  Glaui, heights of, 292.

  Glücksberg, Duc de, 68.

  Gordon, Captain, 6.

  Gordon, Hon. A., letter from Sir J. D. Hay on his mission to Sultan
  Mulai Abderahman, 76.

  Goschen, Mr., 336.

  Granville, Lord, interview with Sir J. D. Hay, 350; his defence of
  him in the House of Lords, 351.

  Green, Mr., 207, 226.

  Gregorio de Borgas y Tarius, Don, 7.

  Grey, Admiral, 233.

  —, Mrs., 9 _note_.


  Habor, 128.

  Hadj Abdallah Lamarti, 148, 376.

  Hadj Abdallah Tif, Governor of Rabát, 93.

  Hadj Abderahman Ben el Amri, 90.

  Hadj Abd Selam, 104, 109.

  Hadj Alarbi, 312, 378.

  Hadj Gabári, the jester, 116.

  Hadj Hamed Lamarti, 296, 376; illness, 365.

  Hadj Kassem, 100.

  Hadj Kassim, 161-164.

  Haffa wood, 377, 378.

  Haha, Governor of, 284.

  Hajara el Ghaghab, or rock of ravens, 224.

  Hajot, 315.

  Hall, Captain, 148, 152.

  Hamádsha, dances of the, 91, 177.

  Hammond, Lord, 20.

  Hara, or village of lepers, 107, 111.

  Hashef river, 85.

  Hassan, Mosque of, 92.

  Hastings, Marquess of, 5.

  Havelock, 4.

  Hay, Lady, 296, 312, 328; letter from Hans Christian Andersen, 225.

  —, Sir Edward, 6.

  —, Sir John Hay Drummond, birth, 1; at the Edinburgh Academy, 2;
  Charterhouse, 4; at Tangier, 7; under the tuition of Don Gregorio,
  8; meets José Maria, 11; proficiency in Arabic, 16; his ‘Western
  Barbary,’ 17; his fortune told by Leila, 17; appointed Attaché at
  Constantinople, 20; at Marseilles, 22; fear of the plague, 22;
  attacked by cholera, 24; at Alexandria, 24; purchases a gem, 26;
  at Constantinople, 30; his first dispatch, 30; life at the Embassy,
  42; at the Armenian banker’s, 45; effect of the narghileh, 47;
  selected confidential Attaché to Sir S. Canning, 50; sent to
  Broussa, 51; receives hospitality from a Turk, 52-57; obtains leave
  of absence, 58, 66; at Paris, 60; Egypt, 63; Stockholm, 66;
  Tangier, 67; his letter to Sir S. Canning on the state of affairs
  in Tangier, 68-71; appointed Political Agent and Consul-General in
  Morocco, 74; starts on his mission to Sultan Mulai Abderahman in
  1846, 77; an Arab serenade, 91; reception at Rabát, 92-96; attacked
  by a mob at Salli, 101; at Marákesh, 108; received by the Sultan,
  113, 118, 216, 217, 232, 270; conferences with Uzir Ben Dris, 115,
  117; his return to Tangier, 124; on the habits of the Moors, 124;
  the Jews, 125; promoted to the rank of Chargé d’Affaires, 134;
  his efforts to develop trade, 134, 140, 168; his ride from El
  Araish, 136; adventure with a Moslem, 138; his firm policy, 139;
  marriage, 142; influence over the natives, 142, 363; love of sport,
  143, 365; suppression of piracy among the Rifians, 144; his kindness
  during the famine, 164; on the advantages of a Commercial Convention,
  168; his second mission to Marákesh in 1855, 169; reception at Azamor,
  169; at Shawía, 171; result of his mission, 179; ratification of the
  Treaty, 181; created a C.B., 183; on the downfall of Benabu, 184-192;
  gift of a leopard, 199; on the outbreak of hostilities with Spain,
  206; his efforts to protect property, 208; attack of influenza, 213;
  his mission to Meknes, 214; terms of the proposed loan, 218; nominated
  K.C.B., 219; suffers from his eyes, 219; the British Legation, 221;
  ‘The Wilderness,’ 223; his summer residence, 224; acts of kindness,
  226; third mission to Marákesh in 1863, 230; at Rabát, 230; on the
  exchange of Gibraltar for Ceuta, 233; at Fas, 236; audiences of the
  Sultan, 238; proposed reforms, 238; Minister Plenipotentiary, 264;
  fourth mission to Marákesh in 1872, 264; legend of the falcon, 267;
  enters Marákesh, 269; dinner with Sid Musa, 272; the menu, 273; his
  final interview with the Sultan, 276-282; entry into Mogador, 284;
  crossing the bar at Saffi, 286; expedition to the Atlas mountains,
  289; mission to Fas in 1875, 307; proposes various reforms, 314, 317;
  reception by Sultan Mulai Hassan, 315; at the feast of the Mulud,
  316; on the Sahara scheme, 317; his annual holidays, 318; on the
  crisis in Turkey, 319; on Sir H. Layard’s appointment, 320; on the
  question of Protection, 321; famine, 324; cholera, 325; the
  quarantine regulations, 325; illness of his son, 327; third mission
  to Fas in 1879, 329; interview with Uzir Mokhta, 330-333; reforms
  agreed to, 334; promoted to the rank of Envoy Extraordinary, 335;
  letters from M. Tissot, 336; failure of his project for the
  exportation of grain, 339; at Marákesh, 340; on the state of Morocco,
  344, 347; on the relations between France and Morocco, 345, 349;
  charges against him, 346; interview with Lord Granville, 350; G.C.M.G.
  conferred, 350; exoneration in the House of Lords, 350-353; his
  impression of M. Féraud, 354; weariness of his work, 356; on the
  system of slavery, 357; prison reform, 358; fails to obtain a
  revision of the Commercial Treaty, 360; delight at leaving, 360;
  letter from the Sultan’s Prime Minister, 361-363; Privy Councillor,
  363; accounts of boar hunts, 366-389; introduces pigsticking, 373;
  hunting a lion, 390; death, 397.

  —, Mr. E. A. Drummond, 1, 5, 28, 293; appointed Political Agent and
  Consul-General in Morocco, 6; his mission to Marákesh, 66; illness
  and death, 68.

  —, Mr. R. Drummond, 293, 296; consul at Mogador, 324; illness, 327.

  —, Mr. R., 8.

  —, Mr. R. W., 139.

  —, Mrs., 4.

  —, Mrs. R. Drummond, 237, 328.

  —, Miss, 237, 240, 312; extracts from her diary, 284, 289; received
  by the Sultan, 342.

  —, Miss A., 266.

  —, Louisa, 9.

  Hiazna, Governor of, 72.

  ‘Hill,’ the, 224.

  Hitchcock, Major, 296.

  Hodges, Colonel, 21, 24.

  Hooker, Sir Joseph, letters from Sir J. D. Hay, 264, 318, 324.


  Ibdaua, Sheikh of, 87.

  Ibrahim Pasha, 30.

  Isly, battle of, 79.


  Jamah Makra village, 390.

  Jebar, the Khalífa of Wazan, 345.

  Jebel Habíb hills, 371.

  Jebel Kebír, 207 _note_, 224.

  Jebel Musa, 224.

  Jebíla hills, 105, 269.

  Jelab, torture of the, 186 _note_.

  Jewesses, the, 129, 271; dress, 130, 271.

  Jews, the, of Morocco, 125, 271; number of, 129; despotic rules,
  130; oath, 131.

  Jin, or evil spirit, 389, 391.

  João, the Portuguese Gunsmith, story of, 241-263.

  Joinville, Prince de, 67, 68.

  José, Don, 101.

  José Maria, the famous brigand, 11; account of his pardon, 12; his
  robberies, 13; his horse, 14; his death, 15.

  ‘Journal of the Society for Psychical Research,’ extract from, 327.

  Judah Azalia, 126; his memorandum about the Jews, 127-129.

  Judah El Hayugni, 129.


  Kab ghazal, or gazelle hoofs, 273.

  Kaddor, 109.

  Kaid Abbas Emkashéd, 161.

  Kaid Abd-el-Kerim, 77, 109; his account of the battle of Isly, 79-81.

  Kaid Ben Abu, 78, 98.

  Kaid Ben Tahir, Governor of Azamor, 169.

  Kaid Bu Aiesh, 269.

  Kaid ‘Bu Jebel,’ 78.

  Kaid-el-Meshwa, or High Chamberlain, 216.

  Kaid Erha, meaning of the term, 265.

  Kaid E’Susi, 96.

  Kaid Maclean, 327.

  Kaid Madáni, 112.

  Kaid Maimon and the lion, 303-306.

  Kaid Meno, theft of a horse, 308-311.

  Kaid Serbul, 87.

  Kasba Faráo, 214.

  Kasba Jedída, 342.

  Kenneth III, King of Scots, 267.

  Khamás mountains, 158.

  Kholj river, 85.

  Kinnoull, Earl of, 1, 5.

  Kubbats E’Suiera, or the ‘Picture Cupola,’ 112.

  Kus, 317.

  Kutubía Mosque, 106, 108, 111, 269.


  ‘Lab-el-barod,’ 311, 313.

  Lahleh, 128.

  Lalande, Admiral, 60; his message to Lord Ponsonby, 61; death, 63.

  Lamarti, Selam, 17.

  Lambton, Colonel, 296.

  Lane, E. W., his ‘Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians,’ 77.

  Lasakia, 129.

  Lasats, 129.

  Laurin, M., 27.

  Layard, Sir Henry, letters from Sir J. D. Hay on the exchange of
  Gibraltar for Ceuta, 233; on his reception by the Sultan, 288; on the
  accession of Mulai Hassan, 307; on laying a cable, 314; appointed
  Ambassador at Constantinople, 320.

  Leech, 4.

  Legation, the British, at Tangier, 221.

  Leila predicts Sir J. D. Hay’s fortune, 17-19.

  Lerchundi, Padre, 344.

  Liddell, Mr., 207.

  Lion and the lark, anecdote of the, 84; hunting a, 390.

  Lively, H.M.S., 264, 285.

  Loncarty battle, 267.

  Londonderry, Lady, 36; her interview with the Sultan, 37.

  Londonderry, Lord, 36.

  Lorimer, Dr., 23.

  Lynedoch, Lord, 1.


  Maada or sedge canoe, 89, 90.

  Mactavish, 49.

  Madrid, conference on the system of protection in Morocco, 323.

  Mahazen river, 243.

  Mahmud Canal, 25.

  Mahmud, Sultan, his dwarf, 40.

  Maimon, the leopard, 199.

  Malmesbury, Lord, 198, 353.

  Marákesh, 66, 105, 108; first mission to, in 1846, 77; second mission
  in 1855, 169; third mission in 1863, 230; fourth mission in 1873,
  264; in 1882, 340.

  Marcussen, Mme., letters from Sir J. D. Hay, 138, 139.

  Marseilles, 22.

  Marshan plateau, 268.

  Matra, James Mario, 221.

  Mauboussin, M., 60.

  Maule, William, 49.

  Mazagan, 264, 314.

  McKenzie & Co., 317.

  Mehemet Ali, 24, 44.

  Meknes, mission to, in 1861, 214.

  Melilla fortress, 144.

  Mesfíwa village, 106, 291, 292.

  Meteor, the, 124.

  Miranda, H.M. frigate, 148.

  Mishra-el-Hashef river, 137, 239.

  Mogador, Island of, 69, 123; famine in, 324.

  Mohammed Ben Abdallah, Sultan, 123.

  — Ben El Amrani, bastinadoed, 105.

  — Gharrit, letter of farewell to Sir J. D. Hay, 361.

  Mokhta, the Uzir, 329; questions of etiquette, 331; interview with
  Sir J. D. Hay, 332; his palace, 333.

  Mona, system of, 86, 340.

  ‘Moorish Prince, a story of a,’ 300-303.

  Moors, habits of the, 124; their reception in England, 135.

  Morocco, introduction of the plague in 1826, 24; famine in, 164;
  decline of trade, 167; population, 167; advantages of a Commercial
  Convention, 168; ratification of the Treaty, 182; cattle-lifting, 193;
  punishment of, 194; proposed loan, 214; terms of the payment, 218;
  final settlement, 220; slavery in, 357.

  —, Sultan of, 113, _see_ Mulai Abderahman.

  Mujáhidin or ‘Warriors of the Faith,’ 185.

  Mul Meshwa, or chief Usher, 71, 112.

  Mulai Abdelmalek, 241.

  Mulai Abderahman, Sultan of Morocco, 71, 72, 113, 144; receives Sir
  J. D. Hay, 113, 118, 180; appearance and dress, 114; harem, 119; his
  fondness for animals, 199, 202; death, 205.

  Mulai Abderahman Ben Hisham, Sultan, 300.

  Mulai Ahmed, 242, 300-303.

  Mulai Ali, 129, 341.

  Mulai Hashem, 129.

  Mulai Hassan, Sultan of Morocco, accession, 307; reception of Sir J.
  D. Hay, 315, 330, 340; appearance, 315.

  Mulai Ismael, 119.

  Mulai Mohammed, Sultan of Fas, 241.

  Mulai Sliman, 274.

  Mulai Soliman, 110.

  Mulai Yazid, tomb of, 110.

  Mulud, feast of the, 316.

  Murray, Mr. H., 68.

  —, John, 4.

  _Murray’s Magazine_, Sir J. D. Hay’s reminiscences, 367.


  Napier, Admiral Sir Charles, 30, 145.

  —, and Ettrick, Lord, 49, 73.

  — of Magdala, Lord, 353.

  Nares, Captain, 318.

  Nelson, Lord, 235.

  Nicolas, Commander, 218.

  Nion, M. de, 68.

  Norderling, Mrs., letters from Sir J. D. Hay on his reception from
  Sultan Mulai Hassan, 315; on the Sahara scheme, 317.


  Ofran, 128.

  Ordega, M., 345; recalled, 354.

  Oriental phraseology, specimen of, 361.

  Orléans, Duc de, at Tangier, 203; his letter to Sir J. D. Hay, 203.

  Oscar, King of Sweden, 66.


  Palmerston, Lady, 75.

  —, Lord, 17, 20.

  Peñon fortress, 144, 148.

  Pisani, Etienne, 49.

  —, Mr. Frederick, Chief Dragoman of the Embassy, 31, 49, 73.

  Plague, the, in Egypt, 22, 24.

  Ponsonby, Lady, 33, 42, 75.

  —, Lord, 25, 30, 42; his address to the Sultan, 32; entertains Bosco
  at dinner, 33; charm of manner, 43; his policy, 44; reply to Admiral
  Lalande, 63; his letter to Sir J. D. Hay on his appointment in
  Morocco, 74.

  Pontet, M., 44.

  Poole, Stanley Lane, his ‘Life of Sir S. Canning,’ 73.

  Porter, Commodore, 63.

  —, Mr. George, 64.

  Protection, system of, 322; Conference on, 323.


  Rabát, 62, 217, 230.

  Raeburn, 1.

  Rahma, 247.

  Ras-ed-Daura lake, 89.

  Ras-el-Ain fountain, 129.

  ‘Ravensrock,’ Sir J. D. Hay’s summer residence, 224.

  Reade, Mr., 207.

  Reshid, Governor of Shawía, 171.

  Reshid Pasha, 36.

  Rif country, 144, 158; population, 158; inhabitants, 159.

  Rifians, piracy of the, 144, 146; costume, 152; parley with Sir J. D.
  Hay, 153-157; industry, 159; courage, 160; morality, 160.

  Robinson and Fleming, Messrs., 220.

  Roche, M., 95.

  Rosebery, Lord, 360.

  Russell, Lord John, 205; his defence of Sir J. D. Hay, 207.


  Sabbatyon river, 131.

  Saffi port, 285, 292, 314.

  Sahara scheme, 317.

  Sahel or plain, 242.

  Salamis, H.M.S., 340.

  Salisbury, Lord, 322; his estimation of Sir J. D. Hay, 352.

  Salli, 100; Governor of, 102.

  San Stefano village, 64.

  Sawle, Captain, 296, 298.

  Scott, Sir Walter, 3.

  ‘Scraps from my Note-Book,’ 367, 396.

  Sebastian, King of Portugal, 241.

  Sebu river, 238.

  Senya el Hashti, or Spring of Hashti, 223.

  Serruya, Mr. J., 92.

  Seville, 11, 225.

  Sharf village, 193.

  Sharf el Akab, 371.

  Shashon, Sheikh, 243.

  Shawía district, 104, 170.

  Shebá, 368.

  Shebenía, 378.

  Shedma district, 122.

  Shella, 99.

  Sherarda, Governor of, 214.

  Sheridan, 4.

  Shirreff, Miss, her recollection of Sir J. D. Hay’s early home, 8.

  Shloh tribe, 291; the women, 295, 299; hospitality, 295, 298.

  Sicsu, Mr. David, the Interpreter, 88, 109, 131, 216.

  Sid Abd-el-Malek, 78.

  Sid Alarbi Mokta, 113.

  Sid Bel-Abbas, tomb of, 110.

  Sid Ben Yahia, 88.

  Sid Buselham, 136.

  Sid Buselham Ben Ali, 68.

  Sid Dris Ben Yamáni, 275.

  Sid Mogdul, 123.

  Sid Mohammed, Sultan of Morocco, 79, 216; reception of Sir J. D. Hay,
  216, 231, 237, 270; final interview, 276-282; his entry into Rabát,
  230; method of quelling a rebellion, 233; death, 307.

  Sid Mohammed Bargash, 321.

  — — Ben Dris, 72; manner of his death, 72.

  — — Khatíb, 180, 181.

  Sid Musa, the Hajib, 272, 289.

  Simpson, Dr., 90, 101, 103.

  Slavery in Morocco, 357.

  Smith, General, 30.

  ‘Snabi,’ 376.

  Spain, question regarding Ceuta, 68; declares war with Morocco, 205;
  peace concluded in 1860, 213; claims indemnity, 214.

  Spanish chapel, protection of, 208-211; ‘three-decker,’ model of a,
  192.

  Spartel, Cape, 192, 390.

  St. Leger, 89, 112.

  Stockholm, 66.

  Stopford, Admiral Sir Robert, 62.

  Stunmer, Baron, 36.

  Suanni, 78, 148.

  Suánnia, 105.

  Suiera, 123.

  Sus, 122, 291.

  ‘Sweet Waters,’ 39.

  Symes, 2.


  Tafilelt, 128.

  ‘Taherdats’ river, 368.

  Taheret, 129.

  Tait, Archbishop, 3.

  Takulebat, 129.

  Tama, history of the son of, 82.

  Tamista plain, 242.

  Tangier, 7; condition of, 68: arsenal, 192; bridge, 193; quarantine
  regulations, 325.

  Tápia, 99 _note_.

  Taza, 289.

  Telin, 128.

  Tensift river, 106, 269, 292.

  Tetuan, 144, 180.

  Thackeray, 4.

  Thala, 128.

  Thomson, Captain J., 5; his ‘Etymons of the English Language,’ 5.

  _Times_, leader in the, 346; extract from, 351.

  Tissot, M., 288; letters to Sir J. D. Hay, 336.

  Torras, 355, 360.

  Torribat, 129.

  Trafalgar, battle of, 192.

  Tres Forcas, Cape, 144.

  Tsemsalla village, 243.

  Turkey, the Sultan of, receives Lord Ponsonby and suite, 31;
  interview with Lady Londonderry, 37.


  Uhara, 86.

  Ujda, 69.

  Uríka, 289, 293.

  Urquhart, Mr., 99.


  Vaden, 127, 128.

  Vakka, 128.

  Valenciennes, 1.

  Veneno, 13; kills José Maria, 15.

  Vesuvius, H.M.S., 180.

  Villiers, 360.

  Vismes et de Ponthieu, Prince de, 5.


  Wad el Halk river, 192.

  Wad Nefis, 67.

  Wadan, 127.

  Wadnun, 317.

  Wales, Prince of, 318; his visit to Tangier, 203.

  ‘Washington, Mount,’ 207.

  Wazan, Sheríf of, 345.

  Weber, 356.

  Wedderburn Castle, death of Sir J. D. Hay at, 397.

  ‘Western Barbary,’ 17, 86 _note_, 177.

  Winton, Major de, 296.


  Yaden, 127.


  Zacchian, 129.

  Zarhon district, 160.

  Zarhoni, Ben Taieb and Ben Nasr, dialogue between, 81.

  Zebdi, Governor, 93.

  Zerhóna, the, 214.

  Zinat Kar Mountain, 292, 296.

  Zinats village, 196, 228.

  Zouche, Lord, 49; his defence of Sir J. D. Hay, 351.


                               THE END.


                          OXFORD: HORACE HART
                       PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY




FOOTNOTES:


[Footnote 1: Henry Cockburn, one of the Senators of the College of
Justice, and a leading member of the literary and political society
in Edinburgh of that day.]

[Footnote 2: Mrs. Grey.]

[Footnote 3: Mrs. Norderling.]

[Footnote 4: It was thought improper to speak about any woman to
the Sultan.]

[Footnote 5: Sultan Mulai Abderahman was renowned for his
extraordinary strength.]

[Footnote 6: _Life of Stratford Canning_, by Stanley Lane-Poole,
vol. ii. p. 116.]

[Footnote 7: His uniform.]

[Footnote 8: A species of shad.]

[Footnote 9: See description of Shemis in Hay’s _Western
Barbary_. According to Tissot, in his _Itinéraire de Tanger à
Rabat_, 1876, scarcely a trace of these ruins remains.]

[Footnote 10: According to Mr. J. Ball the ‘Elaeoselinum
(Laserpitium) humile.’]

[Footnote 11: Tápia is a kind of cement formed of lime, mixed
with small stones, beaten down in blocks by means of large wooden
cases. The Moorish castle at Gibraltar is built with tápia, and
still looks as solid as if new.—J. H. D. H.]

[Footnote 12: The Sultan Assuad referred to was the seventh of his
dynasty. He was buried at Shella, where his tomb bears an inscription,
of which the following translation has been kindly supplied by
J. Frost, Esq., British Vice-Consul at Rabát:—‘This is the tomb
of our Master the Sultan, the Khalifah, the Imam, the Commander of
the Muslims and Defender of the Faith, the Champion in the path of
the Lord of the worlds, Abulhasan, son of our Master the Sultan, the
Khalifah, the Imam, &c., &c. Abu Said, son of our Master the Sultan,
the Khalifah, the Imam, &c., &c., Abu Yusuf Ya’kub, son of ’Abd
al-Hakk, may God sanctify his spirit and illumine his sepulchre. He
died (may God be pleased with him and make him contented) in the
mountain of Hintatah in the night of (i.e. preceding) Tuesday, the
27th of the blessed month of Rabi ’al-Awwal, in the year 752,
and was buried in the Kiblah of the Great Mosque of Al-Mansor,
in Marakesh (may God fill it with His praise). He was afterwards
transferred to this blessed and sainted tomb in Shella. May God
receive him into His mercy and make him dwell in His paradise. God
bless our Prophet Mahammad and his descendants.’]

[Footnote 13: Zizyphus lotus.]

[Footnote 14: Elaeodendron argan.]

[Footnote 15: 2 Kings xviii. 9.]

[Footnote 16: Dra.]

[Footnote 17: Akka.]

[Footnote 18: ? Flirgh.]

[Footnote 19: An orange dye.]

[Footnote 20: The White Fast.]

[Footnote 21: Tiseret.]

[Footnote 22: The French Representative.]

[Footnote 23: In consequence of the immunity he had claimed under
protection of the horse.]

[Footnote 24: The population of Morocco have never accepted, like
other Mohammedans, the Sultan of Turkey—who is not a descendant
of the Prophet—as ‘Kaliph Allah.’]

[Footnote 25: No attempt was made to land troops, neither was a
gun fired.]

[Footnote 26: Afterwards General Buceta, a very distinguished
officer.]

[Footnote 27: Written in 1887.]

[Footnote 28: ‘Cedrus atlantica.’]

[Footnote 29: Term generally applied to Europeans.]

[Footnote 30: Term used for horses of great speed, fed on dates.]

[Footnote 31: The torture of the wooden jelab is only resorted to
in extreme cases to extort a confession about wealth supposed to be
hidden. The instrument of torture is made of wood, and resembles the
outer hooded garment of a Franciscan friar. It is placed upright,
and the victim is squeezed into it in a standing position; points of
iron project in various parts preventing the inmate from reclining
or resting any part of his body without great suffering. There he
is left upon bread and water, to pass days and nights, until he
divulges where his wealth is hidden.]

[Footnote 32: Mohammedans believe that dates of all deaths are
written in a book by Allah.]

[Footnote 33: Fatmeh is dead. He was a spendthrift, and the bags of
gold were soon squandered in dissipation.]

[Footnote 34: There are no remains of houses or other buildings
within the solid walls which were erected on the north and west side
of this small arsenal. There are two wide gates adjoining each other
through which the galleys were hauled up and placed in safety. The
gateways are of beautiful solid brick masonry; the north wall is
of stone; on the south-eastern side high ground rises from this
enclosure. On the top of the hill there are the remains of a rude
‘Campus Aestivus.’ About a mile up the river are the ruins of
a Roman bridge leading to Tangier, the Tingis of the Romans; the
chief arch of this interesting monument fell in 1880. The date of
the arsenal and bridge is, I believe, the year 1 A.D.]

[Footnote 35: About twenty miles from Trafalgar.]

[Footnote 36: House of succour.]

[Footnote 37: Readers may be shocked that such barbarities are
practised by the Moors; but they are a thousand years behind the
civilised world, and surprise can hardly be felt when we remember
that a sentence of mutilation was carried out in England little more
than 300 years ago. Camden’s _Annals_ for the year 1581 contain an
account of the mutilation of one Stubbs, for publishing an attack upon
Queen Elizabeth’s proposed marriage with the Duke of Alençon. The
historian was an eyewitness of the scene, which has been utilised
by Sir Walter Scott in the _Fortunes of Nigel_, chap. xiii.]

[Footnote 38: A Moorish beehive is made from the bark of the
cork-tree. In the summer months, when the sap rises, a vertical
incision about four feet long is made through the cork to the inner
bark, and the part to be removed, having been cut above and below,
is hammered with a heavy mallet. The cork is separated from the
stem of the tree, and being elastic, is taken off entire. Two
circular pieces of cork are inserted in the orifices at each end
and fastened with wooden pegs. The bees close with wax the cracks
which may appear. The hive is warm, and keeps out both wet and sun.]

[Footnote 39: Mr. Reade was Consul, Mr. Green Private Secretary. The
latter, as Sir William Kirby Green, succeeded Sir John Hay as Minister
to the Court of Morocco in 1886.]

[Footnote 40: Jebel Kebír, now known as ‘The Hill.’]

[Footnote 41: These were troops from the seat of war not yet
disbanded. The Sultan evidently desired to impress Mr. Hay with the
strength of his army.]

[Footnote 42: The duties on the export of wheat and barley were
never added to those noted above, in spite of Sir John’s constant
and unceasing endeavours.]

[Footnote 43: In allusion to the manner in which, in ancient times,
Jews and Christians in Morocco were put to death. The victims were
suspended by large iron hooks through the flesh of their backs;
one of these hooks was still to be seen on a gate of the city of
Marákesh in 1846; or a spit was run through their bodies, and they
remained transfixed till death put an end to their tortures.]

[Footnote 44: The late Sultan Sid Mohammed, the descendant of Sultan
Mulai Ahmed, was a good mathematician, and also very clever as a
mechanist. He mended and cleaned his own watches. When I presented
H.M. with a breech-loading gun, and at his request took it and the
lock to pieces, I bungled in putting them together. H.M., taking
the gun from me, at once re-adjusted it.—J. H. D. H.]

[Footnote 45: On the site now occupied by the chief mosque.]

[Footnote 46: Pauper, or holy man.]

[Footnote 47: A delicate paste, partaking of the nature of Italian
paste, but round in form, the best being no larger than dust shot.]

[Footnote 48: Ovis musimon.]

[Footnote 49: Cedrus Atlantica and Callitris quadrivalvis.]

[Footnote 50: Yet, according to Marmol, it may be inferred that by
this pass the ‘Almoravides’ entered Western Barbary from Numidia.]

[Footnote 51: On this, as on all his other Missions, the members
of Sir John Hay’s family and his ‘private friends’ were his
_personal_ guests, the ‘officials’ travelled at the expense
of Government.]

[Footnote 52: Sultan Mulai Hassan.]

[Footnote 53: A white but much sunburnt Moorish servant of Sir
J. H. D. H.]

[Footnote 54: Though this permission was then granted, the laying
of the cable was delayed until 1886-87.]

[Footnote 55: His son, then Consul at Mogador.]

[Footnote 56: The ‘arum arisarum,’ called ‘yerna’ by the
Moors, is used by the inhabitants of Western Barbary as an article
of food in times of great scarcity, though it is held by them to
be poisonous without careful preparation. The tubers when collected
are cut up in small pieces, which they wash in many waters and then
steam, as they do their ‘siksu,’ after which they pound them
into meal, of which they make cakes, mixed if possible with a little
‘dra’ (millet) meal. They also make this arum meal into a kind
of porridge. This food appears to contain few nourishing qualities,
and those who are reduced to live on it suffer much in health.]

[Footnote 57: _Journal of Society for Psychical Research_, March,
1891, p. 40.]

[Footnote 58: Mashallah.]

[Footnote 59: The loan referred to was that raised in England in
1862 to enable the Sultan to pay the Spanish war indemnity. See
chapter xv. p. 218.]

[Footnote 60: Then Spanish Minister in Morocco.]

[Footnote 61: Sheríf of Wazan.]

[Footnote 62: Though Ordega acknowledged that the dead Moor had
received two hundred lashes.]

[Footnote 63: Moorish Minister for Foreign Affairs.]

[Footnote 64: German Minister.]

[Footnote 65: ‘Mellah,’ the Jewish quarter in all Moorish towns.]

[Footnote 66: Baba, father.]

[Footnote 67: A large covert a short distance off.]

[Footnote 68: Evil Genius.]

[Footnote 69: Moors have a superstition that in hunting the lion
the man who first reports having seen the ‘S’ba’ (lion),
and mentions the word, will be the first victim.]




Transcriber's note:


  pg x Added comma after: flourished in the environs of Tangier

  pg 87 Changed: the Luxis of the ancients to: Lixus

  pg 103 Paragraphs starting with "On March 28" and the following
  one formatted as being from the Editors' perspective

  pg 180 Paragraph starting with "Ten days later" formatted as _not_
  belonging to the surrounding quoted correspondence

  pg 270 Changed: admit the _cortége_ to: _cortège_

  pg 344 Changed: formidable porportions to: proportions

  pg 356 Changed: she decares she detests to: declares

  Minor changes in punctuation and quotation mark placement have been
  done silently.

  Other spelling errors or inconsistencies have been left unchanged.