Chapter XI

Breakfast at the “Eyebrow’s”—The late Síd Músa—Second
sight—Death of Grand Vizier—Moorish customs—Marocco at
Chatham—Cursed by a saint—Professional Story-teller—Shallow
graves—Slave-market—Treatment of slaves.

_Tuesday, 27th April 1880._

We had breakfast this morning at the house of Síd Hamed ben Músa, the lively and bustling little courtier whose title is Hájeb, or “Eyebrow,” of the Sultan. Our guide led us a long way round, apparently for the sole purpose of making us pass the very unsavoury heap, outside the town, that I described before, the smell of which, under the action of the hot morning sun, was pleasant and _appétissant_ to an empty stomach. Dismounting at the gate of the Eyebrow’s garden, we heard that he had just been sent for by the Sultan, so we sat down and awaited his return. The room into which we were shown was curiously furnished—French four-posters, Buhl cabinets, artificial flowers, and last, but not least, no fewer than thirteen clocks! Till our host came we were entertained by an elderly man with a long grey beard and finely cut features, who, we were told, had spent some time in England, having returned from there six years ago. He had also travelled all over Europe. Now, I thought, is an opportunity of getting some ideas first hand, without the medium of an interpreter. But I was disappointed in my man, whose reasons for not speaking in any language but his own were decidedly Moorish. “I used to understand English and to talk it,” he explained through Sir John; “but since I came home I noticed the ugly accent with which Moors at Tangier speak that language, so gave it up at once, and shall never express myself in anything but Arabic again;” and certainly no entreaty would make him break through his singular resolve. The little Hájeb presently arrived, and made his excuses in the most touching manner. “I am glad I am late,” he said to the Envoy, “as now I find you all at home in my house; so I will be your guest, and you shall be my hosts.” Síd Hamed ben Músa is the son of the late Grand Vizier, Síd Músa, who died about a year ago, and who, besides being a man of commanding appearance and advanced views, was respected by the Sultan as one of his ablest advisers. A curious story is told about him, which I noted down at the time it was translated to me. It appears Síd Músa, like many Moors, had a firm belief in what we in Scotland call second sight, and shortly before his death sent to a hill tribe for a man who was reputed to possess this gift. The sage having been brought in fear and trembling before the great man, was asked if he could tell him what the future had in store for him. “Do you want to hear the truth, and will you pardon me, whatever it is?” “Yes,” replied the minister; “I want to hear all you can tell me.” It was some time before the answer came, hesitatingly, but as pleasantly worded as the circumstances would allow. “Within three weeks you will be embracing the houris in paradise.” Soon after this Síd Músa was taken ill with a sort of low fever, and whether the words of the hill-man affected him, so that he could not shake it off, it is difficult to say, but at all events he soon felt that his end was at hand. Therefore, being a hereditary bondsman of the Sultan, and knowing that the enormous property he had amassed would pass to him at his death, he sent for his favourite women, and giving them each a parcel containing jewels and money, took leave of them. Being too ill to move, the Sultan at his earnest request came at night to see him, and to bid farewell to one who had been his best friend and counsellor. “I hope at my death,” said the Vizier, “your Majesty will not appoint my son successor in the office; he is clever and intelligent, but unfit to govern.” “It shall be as you wish,” replied the Sultan, who at the minister’s death made the son “chief of the household,” in which capacity he entertained us to-day. The dying statesman then continued, “I am your Majesty’s bondsman, and all I have is yours. I have amassed one and a half million dollars and a quantity of jewels, besides much property, of which here is a list I have made out.” “The money and jewels,” said his master, “having been gathered from my governors and people, will, as is the custom, revert to my treasury, but all your other property shall go to your son.” This was an act, in this country, of great liberality on His Majesty’s part, as besides houses and land, Síd Músa had over a thousand slaves in his establishment at the time of his death. He died the day following this interview with his lord, and within a month of the time he had consulted the man with second sight. He was succeeded by the present Vizier, a man far inferior to him in talent; but as it is unbecoming to speak evil of dignities, especially during their tenure of power, I will let my former description of him suffice. There was nothing unusual about our breakfast at the “Eyebrow’s,” except that Sir John, being out of sorts, ate nothing, and Síd Hamed, to keep him in countenance, or because he felt nervous about tackling a knife and fork, did the same. This is probably our last Moorish feast, and I can confidently say that from a careful study of their mode of eating and of living generally, there is no comfort to be found in any of the habits of these people, so far at least as I am acquainted with them; nor does their great divergence from the principles of what we call civilisation procure for them greater pleasure in life than is enjoyed by less barbarous nations. They get up at unearthly hours, and associate, except when in their harems, with no one but their own sex, of whom they must get very tired, and whose converse with each other must be robbed of almost all interest and reality by the national and inbred practice of lying and deceit. Then, even the society of their womenkind, though they know that, as far as human precautions go, they must be sole possessors of their hands if not of their hearts, must be very wearisome after a little, utterly ignorant as the women are, except through the gossip of slaves and eunuchs, of what is passing in the outer world. Unable in almost every case to read and write, they spend their whole time in eating, sleeping, and quarrelling with each other—uninteresting companions for a man of any intellect or culture to associate with; and in point of fact, no such companionship is ever expected from them. The way of eating, too, to which I alluded, and about which they are very conservative, is the acme of discomfort. They even argue on the excellence of their own system as opposed to ours, as I noticed at breakfast lately at the Grand Vizier’s. “See,” said the Vizier, with an idiotic grin of superiority, “all of us three eat with our fingers, while the Bashador is obliged by English custom to use a knife and fork; we have the advantage of you.” “Well,” replied the Envoy, “the superior cleanliness of my way of eating is manifest; here am I ready to shake hands with any one who may come in, write a note if necessary, or open one, while you are all up to your wrists in mutton fat.” “At all events, you have a ready answer for us,” interposed His Majesty’s chief treasurer, who was of the party; and as a matter of fact His Excellency generally has.

One of the three officers who has gone through a course at Chatham came to me to-day for a lesson on the heliograph. I must say the result of their two years’ studies there does them great credit, as they not only had to master English thoroughly as a preliminary, but made such good use of the time that remained that they seem a fair imitation, at all events to one who has not the advantage of belonging to that scientific corps, of the ordinary article turned out at Chatham. It would be unjust, however, to include the attainments of all three in the same category; two are moderately intelligent, plodding sort of men, who, by their own account, worked hard and lived very quietly when in England; the third, though more highly gifted by nature, abandoning the precepts of the Prophet and allying himself with Satan and the British officer, seems to have had an idle though pleasant time of it. The first part of his name, Síd Drís, is followed by a high-sounding and sonorous affix, “Ben Abd el Wáhad,” which being interpreted signifies “son of the slave of the one (God),” hardly applicable to the individual in question, whose chief topic of conversation relates to “les femmes, le jeu, et le vin,” in which he indulged in the Modern Babylon. Síd Muhammed Gavass, another of them, is a painstaking, quiet individual, but has some obliquity of vision (physical, not moral like his friend’s), which makes him a bad pupil in the art of heliography. He seems anxious to know our opinion of Marocco, and is glad to hear we like the country. He quite appreciates the misfortune of so much of it lying waste, though I hardly credit the reason he assigns for this, viz. that the soil will not bear crops two years running. He cannot account for their not using manure in the fields, as he says they always do in their gardens—a fact to which the good vegetables we get testify. A “patent-point-protected pencil,” with which I was making out a Morse-Arabic alphabet for him, excited his admiration, and as he said “the Sultan was anxious for one,” I gave it him for the purpose of presentation to His Majesty, perfectly aware, as was he, that it would not get nearer that destination than his own pocket.

They are all forgetting their English very rapidly, and I am afraid their other accomplishments will, in time, follow suit. I never can grasp the name of the best linguist of the three, it is something between a cough and a sneeze; he answers among us, however, to the patronymic of “Skirritch,”[41] which he may or may not have received from his godfathers and godmother, and has been wonderfully quick in learning the adjustment of the heliograph.

In an afternoon ride with Miss Hay, the khalífa, and Zouche, we came upon a bridge which crosses the Sebú, about four miles below the town. The river there is about 70 yards across, with a swift current; and the bridge is well built, and of solid masonry. It is not of Roman work, so must have been built by a Sultan of some bygone age, when the use of stone in building was better understood than now; it is in good repair, and on the track of the caravans going and returning from Tafilet and Timbuctoo. Near the river we met a beggar man, who turned round and cursed us so volubly that even the ire of the khalífa, who is slow to wrath, was roused; and two of our escort, seeing that the compliments were understood and appreciated by him, galloped after the man, with a view to chastisement. Presently they came back and reported that the offender had got away among some rocks, and eluded them; but I am inclined to think there was an odour of sanctity about him which made the soldiers lax in their pursuit. We kept outside the town as much as possible on our way back, to avoid the Scylla of narrow streets and nauseous smells, but encountered a Charybdis in the shape of numerous graves, dug very shallow, and from which emanated a most sickening odour. This was being thoroughly enjoyed by a crowd of people who were listening to a professional story-teller, who holds forth every evening to a large audience seated among the graves. There must certainly be something intrinsically healthy in this place to counteract the effect of the awful nuisances, chiefly in the way of neglected carcases and scantily-buried bodies, which surround us everywhere, and which would otherwise sow disease more broadcast than they do. One advantage in the system of shallow graves in a country where burial follows very quickly on death, is the facility for disinterring yourself, should your friends have been a little premature in their final arrangements. As they only wrap their dead in a white cloth, with no restriction in the way of coffins; and as the grave is barely two feet deep, in loose sandy soil, there is little to prevent a person of ordinary energy from rejoining his friends, should he find himself a victim of too precipitate sepulture. Our native servants have got a story just now of a man who was buried “accidentally” a few Sundays ago, reappearing unexpectedly at the public sôk the following Monday. I cannot vouch for the truth of it; but _se non è vero è ben trovato_.

I have paid two visits to the slave market, the first time accompanied by Zouche and the medico, with Tweedledee as guide, interpreter, and friend, as usual; on the second occasion, with only the latter worthy and a couple of soldiers. There is less twaddle talked about slavery in Marocco than is the case elsewhere, by the Exeter Hall community, possibly because it is known that the only petitions sent by slaves here to British representatives have been, so I am told, to request that the institution may not be done away with; and certainly, judging by the well-fed and cheerful appearance of all the slaves one sees here, there can be little hardship in their lot.[42] Notwithstanding our being aware of this fact, I fancy that we three Christians (Tweedledee is an Israelite), as we rode along through the miserable alleys to the spot where the “abominable traffic” was carried on, were not quite free from the idea—I was on the point of writing hope—that, on turning the corner into the yard where the market was held, we should see a batch of victims fastened by the neck to an iron bar, while savage “drivers” with long cowhide whips, _Kúbba la_ Uncle Tom’s Cabin, would be keeping them in order. This, of course, is what ought, according to sensational ideas on the subject, to have met our view. What we did see was half a dozen people selling grain, about fifty idlers loafing about, or looking at a few mules which were for sale; while, in a corner, under a sort of shed, sat a couple of black women chatting together and with the bystanders; while in front of them squatted a negro, with a surly expression of countenance, but well clad, and in excellent condition. These three individuals were the only slaves there for sale; but as we were a little early, and trade in Fez, as elsewhere, is dull, we determined to stay a short time, and see what happened. Although there was nothing in the appearance of the parties chiefly concerned to denote any dislike to the system, it gave us strangers rather a turn to see one’s fellow-creatures—one of them in this case young and pretty—put there for sale, exactly the same as the mules in the opposite corner, though at a lower figure. Nor was it pleasant to watch intending purchasers eyeing them over like cattle, and drawing down the veil from the face of one of the girls to examine her teeth, in much the same way as a man was doing to one of the said mules on the other side. The loss or badness of teeth is considered not only as a blemish, but as likely to interfere with the digestion, and in consequence, the general health of the “article.” Slaves are, for the most part, as black and ugly as all other negroes from the interior, though some of the women have pretty brown complexions and pleasing features. They are brought from the Soudan by Moorish traders, a common mode of catching them being by scattering sweetmeats, or, in hard times, corn, outside the villages. This is continued in a line to some covert close by, just as a poacher at home entices pheasants with raisins, when the children (they are mostly young when abstracted) are pounced upon and carried off by the trader. One of the ladies—I think a wife—of the Grand Vizier, owes her present position to this ingenious device; and many men have risen to lucrative and honourable posts who commenced life in Marocco as slaves, and subsequently obtained their freedom. Not many cases of ill-usage occur; if they do, the victim can complain, and claim redress. He has to bring his case before the Kádi, who, if he finds real cause for complaint, orders the slave to be sold by auction, the former master being in no case allowed to buy him in. Another regulation which tends to mitigate the misfortune of their condition is that, if they wish to do so, they may save money earned by extra work, and purchase their freedom. An acquaintance of mine was once asked for a contribution towards this end, and he gave it; but I question if the act was any more legal for a British subject than that of buying a slave for the purpose of setting him free; which latter proceeding, as calculated to encourage slavery, is severely punishable by law. The Koran contains very strict rules regarding masters and slaves, with their powers and rights respectively. One of the most important is, that if a female slave bear a child to her master, both mother and child are _ipso facto_ freed; though, as my informant, who is the possessor of many slaves, told me, a man may have a child by his friend’s slave without any such penalties attaching, the child in fact becoming the property of its mother’s owner.

Owing to some suspicion on the part of the authorities, either of us or of the soldiers with us, they would not put a slave up to auction while we were there. Some people I asked said it was “harámi”[43] to sell a slave to a Christian, and that they were afraid I should outbid them, and insist on removing my purchase; others, that the superintendent of the market knew that the English disliked slavery, and thought we were there for the purpose of getting their Government into trouble. Whatever might be the reason—and we knew it was improbable they had given us a true one—we saw they were determined our curiosity should not be gratified; and one might as easily move a mountain as a Moor who has made up his mind. When unaccompanied by cruelty, and properly looked after, as the sale of slaves here seems to be, the system is not so very unlike that which prevailed till recently in Scotland at “Feeing Fares,”[44] where farm labourers, male and female, used to be exposed for hire by people looking for servants.

My second visit to the market was equally fruitless as regards seeing the actual auction, and the way the people mobbed one was very trying. As we rode in there were not twenty people there, but in five minutes the place was full, and we the lonely centre of a gaping crowd. If our persecutors had only been of the buying class, we should have felt we were benefiting trade by attracting them to the market; but they were chiefly boys and idlers, who contented themselves with execrating us as we rode away. “The brute-th that they are!” said Tweedledee; “why to thtare tho at us?” and although, as regards myself, I am quite of Tweedledee’s opinion, I cannot help feeling I should turn and take a second look at _him_ if seeing him for the first time in the street.

The slavery of Christians was abolished in Marocco by treaty in 1814, but in the year 1721 there were no fewer than eleven hundred Christian slaves in Mequinez, the property of the aged Sultan Mulai Ismael. Of these about three hundred were English, who had been in confinement there many years, and subjected to the most revolting cruelties. An interesting account of their ransom and release is to be found in Windhus’s “Journey to Mequinez,” the author having accompanied Commodore Stewart’s embassy to Marocco, which sailed from England in September 1720, for the redemption of the captives.

The price of negro slaves in Fez at present is, for a girl of sixteen or eighteen, from 100 to 150 dollars, and for a lad of the same age, from 70 to 120 dollars. They seem to make capital servants.