Chapter X

Exhibition of Heliographs, &c.—Breach of etiquette—Sultan Mulai
Hassan—Refusal to be photographed—Phonograph—Ancestry of
Sultan—Exclusiveness—Business of State—Breakfast at the Kaïd el
Meshwa’s—Moorish architecture—Dinner with Bashaw of Fez—His
harem—The Prophet on women.

_Saturday, 24th April 1880._

To-day had been appointed for the exhibition of the scientific instruments to His Majesty. The telephone had been got into pretty good working order between the two tents on the grass walk of the garden, and one heliograph was to be sent out to a hill overlooking the palace, while the other was to be worked from the wall of the palace enclosure. As the hill was my destination, I dressed in plain clothes (the others whose presence was required at the palace being in uniform), much to my servant’s surprise, who “thought I had to go before the king.” Accompanied by the khalífa, and attended by an escort, and a man carrying one of the heliographic instruments on horseback in front of him, we rode out through the gate of the town, and up the slopes of the Jebel Zalag on the north side of the city. We took up a good position, and were shortly joined by Kaïd Maclean and M. Erckmann. Haynes in the meantime had placed his instrument on the battlements of the palace wall; but whether from the day being very cloudy, or from some branches of a tree having got in front of his mirror, the signalling was difficult to read. The first message which I got, “The Sultan is just coming,” obliged me to ask the French officer kindly to postpone an address on the working of their code, which he was delivering close to my ear for the khalífa’s and my benefit, and also to make the circle of soldiers keep their heads away from the front of the instrument. One of them, more inquisitive than his comrades, would continue to get in the light, so I turned the full flash, without warning, into his eyes, upon which he fled howling and terror-stricken from the spot, and did not turn up again during the séance. The first question the Sultan asked, after the system had been explained to him, was, “How many horses are there with you?” which question was at once followed by a mounted soldier galloping up to see if the “instrument” had spoken the truth. The sun behaved as was to be expected in a strict Mussulman country with infidels taking such liberties with it, and was frequently obscured by dark clouds hurrying past with a low flight on the strong westerly breeze. Sometimes my instrument was obscured, and sometimes my colleague’s, so signalling was tiresome and unsatisfactory, and I was glad of His Majesty’s final message, “The Sultan wishes you to come at once,” upon which I got on my horse and galloped down to the palace gate. An official had been sent to the entrance to frank me through, so I met with no opposition, and joined the other members of the Mission in the garden. They had finished with the telephone, and His Majesty, whose brain was fatigued by its unwonted exertion, had retired for a little to rest. In the meantime L. was busy putting into order the phonograph,—an instrument of his own construction, which he brought here to astonish the Moor, and which has procured him the title of the “kaïd with the devil in a box.” It had been taken into one of the rooms off the corridor which leads to the palace, and having only this morning undergone its journey thither, took some time to get into working order, and its performance even then was indifferent. The room we were waiting in had a piano, and some musical boxes—one with figures of performing animals—and was scantily furnished with, among other things, a large old-fashioned sofa; upon this Zouche and the doctor, thinking no evil, quietly seated themselves, but were quickly brought to their bearings by Síd Hamed ben Músa, the minister in attendance, and Síd Búbakr, who, rushing towards them, raised them up hurriedly but respectfully, saying, through Sir John, that it was a grave breach of etiquette for any one “to make use of His Majesty’s seat.”

Presently the approach of the monarch was announced, and quite unattended he walked in from the direction of the palace steps. Considerably over six feet in height, and broad in proportion, the Sultan, Mulai Hassan, has a fine and commanding appearance; his face, which is of a rich hazel colour, with slight black whiskers, moustache and beard, is decidedly handsome; his eyes, which are large and of a dark brown colour, have an expression of sadness, while his whole face has an anxious and _hunted_ look. His dress was quite simple, being almost entirely white, and his whole figure, including his head, was enveloped in a pure white haïk of beautifully fine texture. We are, of course, very anxious to obtain a photograph of His Majesty, and with a view to accomplishing this design the camera had been placed in a corner of the room all ready for the “assistant,” as we call Herbert White, to take a portrait while the Sultan was listening to Sir John’s description of the phonograph. On this little ruse, however, His Excellency put his veto, so the attempt had to be abandoned. His Majesty, as he entered, moved round to the farther side of the table on which the “box with the devil” was placed, facing the terrace; but before he bestowed a glance on the instrument, the camera in the corner caught his eye, and, divining its use, the look he gave it was one of anger and fear combined. He listened courteously, however, to His Excellency’s explanations of the phonograph, but turned his eyes every now and then uneasily towards the photographic apparatus, of which he clearly had heard the use. To illustrate the properties of the phonograph, His Excellency asked that a bugler might be sent for; but owing to some previous arrangement by the commander-in-chief, who heard that one would be wanted by the Nazarenes in connection with their experiments, none were forthcoming. The commander-in-chief is brother of the Grand Vizier, and like him a cordial hater of Christianity and its abominations. The musical capabilities of the instrument were therefore not brought into play except by a simple air its exhibitor favoured us with. A slave, too, who was in attendance outside was called, and ordered to “sing into it;” but whether from fear of the instrument, or awe in the presence of Majesty, his voice was so faint that hardly any sound came back.

Photography was next brought on the _tapis_, and a picture lately taken of Síd Búbakr was shown to the Sultan, who recognised it at once. He positively declined, however, to allow himself to be taken; but as he wished to see the process, the camera was taken out on the terrace, and the assistant took up a position in front of it to illustrate the effect. The royal head being put under the black velvet cloth, of course saw W. standing upside down, so was withdrawn at once to see if such were really the case. He seemed, however, to be only partially convinced by seeing the object standing in his natural position, and I think the apparition in the camera so startled him as to render abortive any further endeavours to get him to stand fire. Considering, however, that the process of portraiture is forbidden by the laws of the religion of which he is supreme head, one cannot really blame him for not violating them in his own person, though, according to the Koran, it seems to be the _artist_ who will suffer, and not the subject; for the dictum of the Prophet is that “any one making a picture will be asked at the day of judgment to endow his creation with life and soul, and if unable, shall endure the punishment of Hell.” A plate was presently got ready, and Sir John having inveigled the Eyebrow and Síd Búbakr to stand up beside him, they were photographed in a row, with some of us in the background, His Majesty being much tickled at the Chief of his Household being thus practised upon. After they were polished off, the camera was turned _accidentally_ to where Sir John was engaged in conversation with His Majesty; but the latter seeing how instantaneously the others had been taken, became alarmed for himself, and communicated his fears to the Envoy. His Excellency, though the chief promoter of the plot, so heartily vented his righteous indignation on the artists for the liberty they were taking, that His Majesty’s suspicions were allayed, the photographers disclaiming at the same time the sinister intentions attributed to them. The Sultan, then, having graciously thanked us through Sir John for all our trouble, and having been promised copies of the photographs taken in his “happy dominions,”[39] withdrew; and shortly afterwards we also took our departure.

The present Sultan only came to the throne seven years ago, having succeeded his father, Sídi Muhammed, in 1873. Their family have sat on the throne for about 240 years, and are of the race of Sharífs, or direct descendants of the Prophet (hence their title of “Sharífian” Majesty, which sometimes puzzles strangers), and this religious title and connection establishes their authority over some of their subjects much more firmly than any temporal sovereignty could do. Mulai Hassan looks about thirty-five years of age, and though very tall and powerfully built, has a curious shuffling way of walking, as if he was rather gone about the knees. He seems to shrink from publicity, and has only once been seen outside the palace by any of the Mission since our arrival. Having, however, some four hundred ladies in his establishment, his domestic duties probably confine him a good deal to the house, and, anyhow, one can scarcely be surprised at his not choosing the streets of his capital to ride about in. In his dress he eschews all show and colour, the only exception to this being a light blue silk cord, from which a leather bag or a dagger is suspended; of jewellery he has none, except a plain diamond ring set in silver—gold and other finery being forbidden by the Koran, the laws of which he has the credit of observing very strictly. The Envoy has already had several audiences of His Majesty, who always lends a ready ear to his counsels, as indeed have his father and grandfather before him. The latter monarch, Mulai Abd-er-Rahman, ruled Marocco for forty years, dying in 1860, when he was succeeded by Sídi Muhammed. In Mulai Abd-er-Rahman’s time a foreign envoy had to stand during the entire time of even a private interview with the Sultan; now he is accommodated with a chair, but he never enters beyond the threshold of the palace, and upon no occasion has the Sultan ever condescended to shake hands with a foreign ambassador.

As we left the palace to-day I noticed in the enclosure where our horses were waiting for us a number of people sitting down on carpets ranged along the foot of the wall, with canvas stretched over them as a protection from the sun. I had paid no attention to them as I passed an hour before on my return from signalling, but seeing the Grand Vizier and Kaïd Maclean among the number, I asked the latter, who joined us, who they all were. It seems this is the rendezvous for all ministers and members of the Court; in fact, every department of the State is here represented, and in this primitive council chamber is transacted the business of the empire. They meet every morning at six, and remain at their work or waiting the Sultan’s orders till half-past ten, when they are allowed to go. To-day, on our account, they had been kept till after twelve, which explained the black looks with which they favoured us; and I hear that seeing me ride up unattended, and being admitted without delay into the palace—an operation which takes them many hours and even days—had made me a special object of aversion.

_Sunday, 25th April 1880._

We rode in a downpour of rain to breakfast with the Kaïd el Meshwa, to whose house we had paid a preliminary visit some days ago.

If it were not for the ghastly cups of green tea on an empty stomach, which form a prelude to all these entertainments, they would be more endurable and less deleterious; but with such a preliminary shock to one’s nerves, it is trying to sit down to some fifteen courses of curiously compounded dishes, with the cold gray eye of the host, to say nothing of His Excellency’s, watching whether you do sufficient justice to the viands, and injustice to your interior. Another great drawback is being unable to say anything, except through an interpreter, who is rarely brought with us; consequently, the only conversation that takes place is between Sir John and our hosts; the latter always enquire minutely into the capabilities and antecedents of each member of the Mission—information which His Excellency is always ready to afford, and which he apparently accompanies by personal anecdotes of a piquant character, judging from the smiles he elicits from the enquirer.

The kaïd’s unfortunate son with the wounded leg was limping about the patio while we were at breakfast, and looking very unhappy. As he has steadily refused to allow the doctor to examine the wound, of course nothing could be done except to pretend to believe his foolish excuses. “Why do you not let the English doctor examine your leg?” asked His Excellency. “Well, curiously enough, as soon as the _tabíb_ spoke to me about probing it, the leg began to get better, and next morning the bullet fell out.” “Ah,” replied Sir John, “you are like the man with the toothache, who, just as the doctor was going to pull out the tooth, said all the pain was gone.” “Yes,” replied the youth innocently, “I am just like that man.”

Besides patients who came to our camp for advice, the doctor has a considerable practice in the town, and may often be seen going out on his errands of mercy attended by Tweedledee as interpreter and general assistant. The latter has a keen eye for the fair sex, and is as much disappointed as any of us in the strictness of the regulations, which prevent one seeing anything of a woman’s face, beyond two large and generally very beautiful eyes.

The other day he came to me, his simple and expressive countenance radiant with joy; “The doctor, thir, go to thee the thtomach of a merchant’s wife, who is ill; perhapth I thee more of her than the eye.” In the evening I said, “Well Mr. Náhum, and how about the merchant’s wife?” “Ah, thir, thee what bruth’s these Moors are; I go in with the doctor, then they put me behind the curtain, and make me tranthlate with my back! and I thee nothing.”

It had been arranged that some of us were to start in a day or two for Mequinez, joining His Excellency and the remainder of the party, who were to leave a few days later, at Rabât. Now, however, the Sultan has decreed that we must be entertained by his _Hájeb_[40] and by the governor of Fez, before leaving; so our start is delayed. In the meantime it has occurred to the heads of departments, including Síd Búbakr, that Mequinez being a very little off the road to Rabât, we had better, for the sake of comfort and safety, as the neighbourhood is one of extremely evil repute, all start together on Tuesday week—a plan of which we all approve.

Riding this afternoon in the neighbourhood of the town, we came upon a most enormous fig-tree, a specimen which would certainly “whip creation” in that department, and must be, as the Moors call it, “the father of fig-trees.” We also discovered a less inviting object in the shape of a huge mound outside one of the gates redolent with putrid bodies—camels, dogs, horses, donkeys—all thrown out there promiscuously, and left to rot. The stench was appalling, and we galloped past with our handkerchiefs to our noses, much to the astonishment of our escort, who seemed to notice nothing disagreeable in this golgotha.

We came back by the north side of the town, past an old quarry, from which most of the building material must have come; now it is disused, and laid out in little gardens. The old wall of the town seems a fine piece of work, and if it is four or five hundred years old, as they affirm, has lasted well. There must be about five miles of it in circumference, and the old Moorish arch which appears in all the numerous gateways is pretty and unique. Where repairs have been executed in any of these, the arch is replaced by a modern and ordinary one; but I notice the reproduction of the old form in most of their modern architecture, and even the wickets of the big doors of rooms, and the pattern of the velvet dados, perpetuate the ancient horseshoe shape.

To-night we were invited to dine with the Bashaw, or Governor of Fez. It is he who has been grinding down and squeezing our unfortunate friends at Beni Aamer, besides having been guilty of countless other acts of despotic cruelty and injustice. To some of these the Sultan’s eyes have apparently been opened, and a further tenure of two months of office is all the old villain is to have. What else may be in store for him, and whether ruin and imprisonment await him, it would be hard to say. Already the Sultan has made him pay large extra sums into the Treasury out of what he has extorted from the people; but he is fortunately unaware of the satisfaction we feel in his approaching downfall. Were he cognisant of it, something stronger than tea might have been provided for our benefit to-night! We were late in starting—about a quarter to eight; the night was dark and rainy, and our ride to the house took nearly an hour. Preceded by a guard of soldiers on foot and horseback, all carrying torches or lanterns, we rode for a long time through an intricate maze of streets, up and down hill, our horses sliding about in all directions. It was a curious and weird procession through the dark and deserted town, the silence of which was only broken by the yells of the Moors in attendance, and the curses, not loud but deep, of the Christians, as our heads came into too close proximity with the top of some dark subterranean passage, under which we had scarcely room to ride. At last we arrived at the gate of the Bashaw’s garden, which is situated some way out of the town, and must be large and well worth seeing, judging from what we could make of it by the light of the lamps which hung in clusters on the orange-trees. A stream ran through the grounds, working a huge Persian wheel which creaked and groaned ominously, as if protesting against this nocturnal incursion of Nazarenes. Two lines of soldiers and picturesquely dressed slaves, of whom he has about 800, were drawn up at the doorway at which we alighted, and after being led through a long passage, we were received by our host at the foot of a staircase, and taken up to a large room, along one side of which was arranged a row of chairs for us. The Governor having placed the Envoy on his right hand, pointed to the chair on his left, saying, “I suppose another of the principal guests will sit here;” but was a little discomposed at Sir John placing Miss Hay—who had been persuaded to accompany us—in it, and explaining that it was “the custom in Europe to give ladies a place of honour.” The Bashaw is an old man of nearly eighty, I should say, and, full of years and wickedness, is of course aware of the penalty which usually attaches to men in Government employ who have amassed large sums of money from the people, and which renders it a matter of wonder how any one can be got to take office under such a _régime_. His appearance is by no means against him, and there was something benevolent and venerable in his face, which bore the sad expression of one who is not only near his death, but knows he must give an account of his stewardship both before and after that event. Poor old man! I shall never see him again, but quite pitied him, notwithstanding his iniquities, when I thought how soon this lordly pleasure-house he had raised would become the property of another and more favoured retainer of the Sultan.

The centre of the room was occupied by a large table covered with sweetmeats, which within half an hour was twice cleared and laid again, owing probably to some mistake in the programme. Round two sides of the room there ran a broad and lofty passage supported on massive square pillars as high as the ceiling, and along this passage was seated a band of musicians, who kept up the most intolerable clangour; the worst property of their airs being a sort of barbarous harmony, which runs in one’s head for a long time afterwards. A number of Moors, too, guests of the Governor, were seated cross-legged against the wall, having been bidden to assist at the strange scene which was being enacted by order of their sovereign. In an adjoining room, which opened into and almost formed part of the one we were in, there were seated about thirty more natives, all in faultless costume and evidently belonging to the _élite_ of Fez. While the music, vocal and instrumental, was making the place re-echo with its barbaric strains, I noticed that all these gentlemen, in the intervals of tea-drinking and conversation, were occupied in telling their beads—a custom which I have remarked prevails only among believers of the upper class. His Excellency meanwhile discoursed pleasantly with our host on the subject of railways and telegraphs, to which remarks the Bashaw courteously listened, while in secret he was doubtless laughing at the improbable falsehoods with which he imagined he was being entertained. At the end of the room by which we came in there was a continual bustle and passing to and fro of slaves; occasionally one would bring a folded note to the Governor, or Síd Búbakr, who, it is unnecessary to say, was of the party, would cross the room and say a few words to him in a low, mysterious tone. Standing against the pillar directly opposite the Bashaw were two very handsome slaves, whose anxiety to anticipate any sign, and nervousness when speaking or listening to their master, were painful to witness, as indicating the style of discipline the old tyrant keeps up in his establishment. They always approached him with the lowest reverence, and the one to whom he addressed himself would kneel or stoop down in front of him, throwing back the corner of his flowing cloak over his shoulder, which manœuvre is considered a sign of the most abject submission. After being deafened for nearly an hour by the din of the musicians, we were relieved from the apprehension of having to eat our dinner with such a numerous gallery looking on, by our host leading the way upstairs to a most elaborately decorated room, the vaulted ceiling and arched doorways of which were the prettiest workmanship of the kind I have yet seen. The servants of the legation were there with our own knives and forks, and it was a sore trial to our gravity to watch our host, who sat at the head of his table between His Excellency and me, trying to make use of these unknown implements. He looked just like an old baboon unsuccessfully imitating the manners of a human being, as he raised a piece of meat between the point of the knife and fork—using both of them at once to shovel the morsel into his mouth. Apprehensive of an accident, Sir John entreated him to use his fingers, saying, “After all, Bashaw, our manner of feeding ourselves is a modern invention, and there can be no shame in using the means God gave us;” then, suiting the action to the words, His Excellency so vigorously applied these same means in dissecting a piece of fowl in front of him, that the Bashaw took courage by his example, and discontinued his hazardous experiments.

At this dinner, Sir John having previously asked permission of our host, Síd Búbakr was invited to sit at the foot of the table, and the Governor addressing him, said, “It is a great pleasure to me to obey my sovereign’s commands by asking the representative of a great and friendly power to dinner at my house; but all that I can do for him does not show half the regard my master has for the ambassador.” To this speech Sir John replied, “I have heard with pleasure the kind sentiments of His Majesty expressed by the Bashaw, and am glad to think they express the feelings the Moorish Government entertains towards the British, of which I am the humble representative.”

I fancied that as our host, who is a man of some culture and experience, endeavoured to make himself agreeable, and as dish after dish of really very edible viands made their appearance, we must have all felt a certain inward pity for the doomed man whose downfall we had lately heard was very near. His courteous manners and his high position made us for the time forget his misdeeds; and as our hearts warmed over his good cheer, we could not help thinking in how short a time all these evidences of wealth and luxury would be gone, and how the poor Bashaw, who did not see as clearly as we did the writing on the wall, would go forth unfriended and alone, to spend the few years left him more miserably perhaps than even some of those who had been the victims of his cruelty and oppression.

There were six glazed doors in the room we dined in, with curtains drawn down over them on the farther side. Noticing a slight movement at the foot of one of them, I observed a young lady lying at full length behind it, with her face against the glass, rapt in wonder at the strange sight she saw. I caught her eye—a very pretty one—and wholly unabashed she returned my gaze, seeming, in fact, to enjoy it rather; but afraid of getting her into disgrace with her owner, should he detect her levity, I only indulged in an occasional glance. It is distracting to live in the midst of so much beauty, and never to be able to enjoy it, and, with the Ancient Mariner, one feels inclined to cry, “Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink.” _Apropos_ of that element, some of us brought flasks of brandy in our pockets to-night, with which we liberally seasoned the water provided by our host, till at last, as His Excellency remarked, the room “smelt like the bar of a public-house.” It, however, served a double purpose in washing down the dinner and helping to soften our hearts towards the Governor.

Accompanied by the Bashaw and Síd Búbakr, who has a daughter married to the old reprobate, Miss Hay was taken to visit the harem, where one lively young lady, unaware that her lord and master was sitting behind a curtain near the door, said to her, “Now, suppose your father ordered you to marry a horrid old black man like the Bashaw, would you have to do it?”—a question which, under the circumstances, was rather embarrassing to answer. That the position of a lady in this old potentate’s establishment is by no means an enviable one, may be imagined from the fact of his having a habit, when out of temper and in want of amusement, of rushing about his harem on all fours, snarling at and even biting the inmates like a wild animal. But, besides being subject to such vagaries on the part of their owners, with whom love is a thing of the past, the life of many of these wretched girls, if they have any more ideas than an oyster or a cabbage, must be, according to our notions of existence, sad in the extreme. Given away at a very early age to some one they perhaps have never seen,—possibly for family reasons to a wretched old creature like our host of to-night,—they spend their best years as victims to his caprice, and at his death are disposed of like so many animals, as the Sultan or their immediate superior may think fit. It seems strange that among the many wise maxims of the Prophet there are so few which entail the showing of respect or honour to women, the more so as he was a devoted admirer of the sex, whom he holds forth as the chief reward hereafter of the orthodox believer. In one part of the Koran, however, he does, though rather doubtingly, assign to our female friends a place in heaven, where “it is not impossible we may meet them hereafter.”