Chapter XIX

Return of Síd Búbakr—His house in Marocco—Precautions when from
home—Mehdía—Portuguese defeat—Râs ed Dúra—Whited sepulchres—Arab
girl—Chamomile and Borage—Cork woods—El Araish—Well-to-do
Jews—Passage of Wad el Kús—Remains of Moorish fleet—Insect
life—Azîla—Irregular protection—Fording tidal rivers—_Lex talionis_.

_Camp, on the Râs ed Dúra,
Thursday, 20th May 1880._

“Síd Búbakr arrived; Sultan d—d if he will reform.” Such, I see, is the concluding note of my diary of Tuesday night, which was brought to a sudden termination by my candle being extinguished and knocked over by an errant beetle. But the words, though terse, express the situation admirably, as the faithful Síd did in fact turn up that afternoon from Fez, but without the Sultan’s much-hoped-for signature to certain papers. His Excellency is greatly annoyed, but a special courier has been sent off to the Court, and the documents may yet be forwarded straight to Tangier. In the meantime Síd Búbakr has left for Marocco, where he lives, and where his wife and her attendants await him, securely locked into the house during his absence, the key being in his own possession. His house is large and commodious, but the top of the patio is grated with iron bars, and no one can get at the fair prisoners, with whom, however, he leaves a sufficient supply of food, &c. This habit of the Síd’s was once nearly proving awkward to Mrs. B., for having been detained by floods some days longer than he expected, he found his wife, who is enormously fat, had been improvident in her management, and was reduced to a skeleton. On this occasion, too, the door was not only locked, but built up with bricks and mortar.

Our march from Sla to Mehdía, where we hit off the Sebú again, was a pleasant one, the road taking us along the top of the cliffs overlooking the sea. Far away on our right lay the Mamora forest, and close to our camp at Mehdía were two small lakes, with palm-trees between them. In maps of the last century the place is generally given as Mahmora, a name by which it is now unknown, while that of Mehdiya appears as far back as 1154 in the book of El-Bekri, and was doubtless given to the town by the Sultan Abd-el-Moumen “en souvenir de son maitre Ibn Toumert el Mehdi.” By Hanno and Scylax it is called Thymiateria, though it obtains little mention from ancient writers, standing as it does at some distance from the road from Tingis (Tangier) to the Sala Colonia. It is now almost entirely in ruins, but must once have been a place of great strength, having been built, according to some writers, in the twelfth century, as a defence to the mouth of the Sebú, since when it has changed hands many times. In the “yeere of the Hegira 921,” _i.e._ about A.D. 1540, it was made famous by the “slaughter of the Portugals, whose bloud dyed the sea three days, blushing to see the barbarous barbarian shed so much Christian bloud.” A historian of that period, who was a witness of this battle, estimates the slain Christians at ten thousand. The quantity of storks, young and old, to be seen in Mehdía is astonishing, and their being held sacred by the Moors renders them very tame.

The crossing of the Sebú lasted from 5 A.M. till 10 A.M. It is about a quarter of a mile wide where we crossed, and twice that distance from the sea. From the hill, about 400 feet high, on which the town stands, we had a good view of Rabât and the camp of the Udaiah, near the Mamora forest. From the north side of the Sebú Mehdía has a most imposing aspect, as its ruined state is not apparent; and the strong sea-wall, about 300 yards in length, finished off by a small circular fort at the extremity, gives the place a look of great strength and solidity. In the fort were a lot of copper guns, and two long iron ones, half-buried, lay longitudinally across the entrance to the town. It is said that large granaries once existed behind the sea-wall, and that great quantities of corn were exported. We marched in an easterly direction along the right bank of the Sebú, and from our mid-day halting-place saw Kontra about five miles off. Lying about in the grass there were a number of rusty cannon-balls—about nine to sixteen pounds—probably relics of Portuguese and Spanish invasions in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. At Síd Muhammed ben el Kheir, where we camped yesterday, we got into the district of Habassi once more, and an escort under the shy youth, whose acquaintance we made _en route_ to Fez, arrived to protect us.

Our road now lies parallel to the sea, and about a mile and a half from it. Between us and the shore is a low range of hills, and on our right hand a large marsh, which occasionally develops into a succession of lakes, known by the general name of Râs ed Dúra, and in winter forming one big sheet of water. This appears to have been laid down by Pliny as the original mouth of the Sebú, but the configuration of the land is incompatible with such a hypothesis, and his arguments, though adopted by some geographers, are successfully refuted by Tissot.[85] The Saint houses—or kúbbe—are thickly dotted over this country; occasionally they are built of red brick, but are usually the regulation “whited sepulchre.” One of each pattern was near where we halted for luncheon to-day; the white one had three domes in good repair, and is erected to the memory of one Síd Hamed ben Mansor. I always try to make out the names of these buildings, as they would be one’s chief landmark and guide if revisiting the country, but oftener than not I hear different names for the same place, and Tweedledee, who is always willing to cater for information, cannot find out whether the red brick kúbba is “Síd Muhammed ben el Kheir” or “Síd Abd-er-Rahman ben Drís.” The labours of a geographer here must certainly resemble those of Sisyphus.

While strolling near the luncheon tent I found Lady and Miss Hay talking to a pretty little Arab girl about twelve years old. We brought her to the tent, but her dread of the soldiers was intense, and she clung to Miss Hay for protection, looking round every moment as if she would escape. Her awe of the Bashador was great, and she knelt down before him very reverently, but soon gained confidence, and was delighted with his watch, and still more with a whistle which he gave her. She was evidently the belle of the little camp where she lived, and was covered with pretty jewellery. I rather coveted a necklace and brooch she wore, which she said I might have if her mother would allow it. That lady appeared presently with some milk and other offerings, and Hadj Abdullah, a servant of Sir John’s, having valued the article, I paid the mother for it, and it was handed to me by little Rahmah, who carried off a silk handkerchief of Miss Hay’s, a knife of mine, and several other souvenirs of her visit.

The weather is much improved, and to-night is still and warm. No habitation of any kind is within miles of us, except two or three Arab tents, near which the young kaïd of Habassi has pitched his. The lake of the Râs ed Dúra, calm and beautiful, lies stretched out before us, and from its shores comes the roaring of myriads of frogs, whose conversation becomes more boisterous as night advances. A Saint house on the borders of the lake bears the ponderous title of Dár Síd Abd-el-Káder ben bú Kaïb,—at least so Mr. Náhum informs me; but I believe he invented the name to check further enquiry.

The lake is full of eels, which the Moors catch in traps very like what are used in England for that purpose. They have canoes (_ma’día_), or rather rafts, made of rushes, upon which they punt themselves about to different parts of the lake; the prow sticks straight out of the water like that of an ancient trireme, and helps to counteract the weight of the occupant, who uses his long pole standing on the stern. About a mile from this lake is a smaller one, El Zerga. They are said by some geographers to communicate, but from the lie of the land I should say this was impossible, even during heavy floods. The smaller and more northerly of the two seems to have a narrow channel through into the sea; at least this was my impression, but there was not time to ride round and make a close inspection. This channel, if existing, must interrupt the coast line, which would otherwise be the best route, though Rohlfs, who travelled that way in 1861, mentions no such obstacle. It is curious how partial the distribution of flowers and shrubs has again become in these plains; for two days they were white with chamomile flowers, which, with wild oats ten feet high, entirely obliterated the path; at other times, the whole country round is covered with borage, giving one the impression that the earth was reflecting the deep blue colour of the sky. If these two plants could be utilised, the prosperity of Marocco would be ensured; but as the cattle will not eat chamomile, and the Koran forbids the use of claret cup or other mediums for the consumption of borage, His Majesty’s treasury is no way enriched by either.

_Camp, el Araish, Saturday, 22d May 1880._

Yesterday we crossed a river, the Wad el Dráder, at a ford called Meshráa el Háder, where there was also a bad marsh to be encountered, and close to our camp at Soueir, last night, another stream, the Wad el Soueir. We have been travelling since we left Rabât as if the avenger of blood were behind,—no time to take notes, photographs, or collect one’s ideas in any way,—and the state at which the unfortunate mules and ponies with sore backs have arrived is horrible.

We have now come into the country of cork woods once more, and halted to-day for some hours in one near here, arriving outside this town at 4 P.M. We are camped on the side of a hill, from which, if the rain comes on again, we shall be inevitably washed into the Atlantic, over which we have a glorious view. The shore below is strewn with huge boulders rounded off by the action of the waves, and looking like projectiles on a battlefield of giants. The market-place in the town is worth seeing, being surrounded by an arcade prettily supported on red sandstone pillars, the work, probably, of Christian, not of Moorish hands; for, like most other Morescan ports, this one has had a chequered career, and served many masters in its time. It was for long a Spanish possession, and still savours more of an Andalusian than a Moorish town, but was recovered from them by the famous—and infamous—Mulai Ismael in 1689.

In 1765 the French fleet advanced too far up the Wad el Kús, on which the town is situated, when “they were surrounded by superior numbers, and fell victims to their own impetuosity.” At the mouth of this river—the Lixus of the Romans—is said to have been the site of the island which contained the beautiful gardens of the Hesperides; but there is no trace now of any such place, except a small sandbank visible at low tide, and the configuration of the coast must have greatly changed since those times.

The Jews, of whom the place is full, are all in their Saturday’s best, and, luxuriating in the twofold comfort of wearing shoes and riding mules, present a great contrast to their barefooted and black-robed compatriots in Fez and Mequinez. One or two Moors who have taken advantage of our escort to travel this way for the first time, are much astonished at this license, and young Hassan, the khalífa’s new valet, has already assaulted two Israelitish boys, to the effusion of blood, for presuming to appear in coloured garments and slippers near our camp.

_Camp, Azîla, 24th May 1880._

We were ferried across the Wad el Kús at 9 A.M. yesterday, a large concourse of the people of El Araish assembling to witness the operation. While waiting on the bank, a woman burst through the crowd, and rushing up to Lady Hay, implored her intercession for her son, who was in prison. One of the soldiers seizing hold of her, said, “Are you mad to speak to the Señora?” “Yes,” replied the poor woman, still kneeling beside the litter, “I am mad because my son is chained in the prison, and I cannot see him.” His Excellency enquired into the case, and the Italian Vice-Consul, who had himself been robbed by the youth in question, promised to ask the authorities to deal gently with him.

There was a strong flood-tide running up as we and old Kaïd Ali, who always prays without ceasing on these occasions—and probably not without reason—crossed in a big flat-bottomed boat, from the bow of which waved the red flag of Marocco. The kaïd of the harbour—a fine-looking old fellow, dressed completely in red—superintended the crossing, and had provided rugs to sit on, and an awning, now become very necessary to keep the sun off. From the north side we had a good view of the town and its strong fort, which is built on the extremity of the rock at the river’s mouth. In addition to this are several stone batteries and other defences, all of which, however, would be useless against an attack by ironclads, which, in good weather, could bring up outside the bar and knock the place to pieces. From the fact, however, of the town standing high, and not being commanded by hills within range, a better defence might be made on the land side. We saw the last remnants of the fleet of Marocco, which was destroyed by the Austrians in 1829, in the form of some ribs of sunken ships sticking out from among the sand on the river bank,—a ghastly relic of a more prosperous and enterprising period. The country immediately to the north of El Araish was so flat that the Wad el Kús almost forms a figure of 8 as it winds away to the east. Leaving it behind us, our path took us across a succession of low sandy hills, among which the heat of the sun was excessive, and made us look with longing eyes at the snow-capped mountains far away towards the Rif country. Some of the party went off in search of the site of the ancient Phœnician colony of Lixus; but whether from the great heat overcoming them, or from some other cause, I have my doubts if they ever found the ruins in question; at all events, the addition they brought back to our store of archæological information was infinitesimal. Before getting to Sebt, our road lay through a wood of small cork trees, half-way up the stems of which there was a thick undergrowth of yellow cistus. This lasted some miles, after which we descended through a dense grove of lentisk into the valley below; it was difficult work making our way along, and some miles from camp we came on one of my mules which had tumbled down, with Norton waiting beside it for assistance to get it up. This was rendered by the standard-bearer and some soldiers; but some of the other baggage did not arrive till seven o’clock, and the mona having been sent by mistake to Síd el Yemáni, some miles off, there was no food for the horses, though fortunately, except bread, we had enough for ourselves. Our camp at Sebt was a really lovely spot—a small plain shut in by hills covered with lentisk and other shrubs, and the whole of the level ground, on which our tents had been pitched, thickly carpeted with a deep purple bugloss (_Echium angustifolium_), the wonderful richness of the colouring being varied and intensified by the red glow of the sun, which was just setting behind the hills as we arrived. We have got rather to dread that orb in these latter days of our wanderings, not so much on account of our complexions, which, indeed, are a thing of the past, but from the fact that the intense heat after the rain has called into existence all manner of insect life, and creeping things innumerable. This morning when I awoke there was a huge grasshopper, couchant, regarding me with curious eyes from the side of the tent just above my head; while a spider of fabulous dimensions sat on the ground close by, as if ready to catch him should he miss his spring. The caterpillars, too, are of a size and colour which augur well for the beauty and proportions of the butterflies which follow.

A little way from this place we were met by the Governor’s brother—the same man whose striking appearance attracted my attention at Síd el Yemáni six weeks ago. The two Beni Shittim also, _père et fils_, came out to welcome us back again. Some of us paid a visit to their house, and had a look at the town, the ancient Zilia of the Carthaginians, which, in its fortifications and the curious windows of its ruined buildings, shows many traces of Christian occupation. About 1000 years ago it is said to have been an _English_ possession!—after which the Moors and Portuguese alternately held it till the middle of the sixteenth century, when it passed finally into the keeping of its rightful owners. Throughout the length of the little town runs a broad “Calle réal;” no Melha is to be found in it, Jew and Gentile all pigging it together; but the Christian element is not represented. Outside the gate and close to our camp is a small kúbba, quite a gem of its sort, of which a successful photograph was taken. We are now within twenty-five miles of Tangier, the light of Cape Spartel is once more visible from my tent door, and civilisation stares us in the face.

Returning as we have done by the sea-coast, I have been often struck by the difference in the comportment of the Jews in the seaports from what is observable in the sacred cities of the interior. Here in these towns the Moorish Jew may carry his head as high as he likes, and clothe his feet in whatever _chaussure_ suits him best. The protection extended to him in these parts by the foreign representatives is unlimited, and, if not restricted, the Government of the Sultan in these towns will lapse into the hands of a few foreigners representing the different European Powers. What the Sultan very justly complains of is that the treaty rights, which restrict protection to the persons and families of people in the actual service of ministers and consuls, are altogether perverted from their original intention. Now, trading agents are appointed in the interior, who again enter into partnership with others, whether Jews or Moors; and thus a numerous class is formed of intriguing and too often unprincipled persons, who, scorning all native authority, rob, pillage, and oppress in the name and under the protection of the Government whose adopted children they are. It is absurd to urge in defence of this system that these offenders will be dealt with and punished by the consul of the Power which happens to protect them; for, living as some of them do far in the interior, they are entirely beyond the ken or control of the consular authorities on the coast, and except in the seaport towns such authorities do not exist. Suppose, for instance, that a protected subject in the interior, agent of some firm, commits a murder or a robbery, the mere distance between the scene of the crime and the court by which it has to be investigated makes justice difficult of attainment, and the consul obviously cannot leave his duties to hunt up outlying cases of crime and injustice. No doubt, cases occur of cruelty and tyranny exercised upon the Jews in the interior by their Moorish fellow-subjects. It must be remembered, however, that the spirit of ill-will and hostility which manifests itself against the Jewish population is partly caused, and much increased, by the unfair and irregular character of the protection accorded. The fact is, that only some eighteen hundred of them are under the protection of Christian Governments, and these eighteen hundred do not consist of the poor and the oppressed, but of the more wealthy members of the community, who are willing to pay—and without doubt in many cases do pay—for the accommodation. It is from the reports furnished by these persons that the various societies for the protection of the Jews in London and elsewhere are instructed, and it needs but little perception to see what powerful motives they must have to give a pretty strong colouring to their reports. The question now before the Conference at Madrid is not the “Abolition of Protection,” as the cry of the Hebrew states it to be, but the restriction of protection within its legitimate and treaty dimensions. The 200,000 odd Jews in Marocco gain nothing by the protection of the favoured few, but, as shown above, rather lose by it, as they bear the burthen of the unpopularity of their more favoured co-religionists. The Sultan of Marocco is willing enough to introduce reforms in this matter, but he can hardly be expected to take the initiative until the present abuse of irregular protection is redressed. In any united European action it is also highly desirable to bear in mind the primitive and backward condition of the country, and the necessity of proceeding with caution in coercing Mussulmans in any matter which even distantly affects their religion. Are we not also somewhat too apt to judge of these people by our English nineteenth century standard, and, _à propos_ of the murder and burning of the Jew lately in Fez, to forget that it was not so very long ago that innocent people were burned _alive_ on charges of witchcraft in England?—while up to within eighty years ago I should have been sorry to guarantee the life of a Jew who had been caught in the act of outraging an Englishwoman.[86] Better than any coercive measures to improve the condition of these people will be the steady encouragement of trade and civilisation generally in Marocco; and that these influences will surely be felt in the fulness of time there can be no doubt.[87]

_Camp, near Kaa er Remel, 25th May 1880._

There being two tidal rivers to cross to-day, an early start was necessary, and we were all roused shortly after 6 A.M. by the powerful exhortations of His Excellency, who, aided in his designs by Hadj Hamed, got us all up in time. With my servant’s assistance I am usually able to keep that functionary and his freigíahs[88] at bay; but Zouche having a less able auxiliary, they began striking the tent to-day over his very lightly attired person, greatly exasperating that nobleman, but affording us much gratification as we sat at breakfast, _al fresco_, on the plain. The Wad el Aïsha, which we came to first, had a muddy bank, and a shifting bottom of big stones, with water up to our horses’ girths, and here several mules and ponies came to grief; the second one, the Wad el Kharrúb, was deeper, but we crossed it in a diagonal direction with much success. The poor old Tálib,[89] on his brand new mule, presented by the Sultan, tried a shorter cut, and both mule and scribe were speedily engulphed. I came on him later in the day, standing in buff behind some bushes, on which he was drying his kit.

We were joined two days ago by a son of Hadj Hamed, whose antecedents interested me much. It seems that some time ago a French-protected Moor quarrelled with and killed an uncle of this lad. The French authorities being applied to, took no notice of the crime, so the nephew, in company with a cousin of his, waited for and slew the man just inside the gate of Tangier; they then fled to a sanctuary at the foot of the hills, thirty miles off, and remained there till the two bereaved families agreed to cry quits over the matter. Hadj Hamed then sent his son on a pilgrimage to Mecca, from whence he has just returned purged from all offence. He seems a cheery youth, with the same hearty laugh as his father and two uncles, who have been with us during the expedition.

The place at which we are halting to-night is close to Kaa er Remel, our first camp out of Tangier some seven weeks ago, and to-morrow will see us back in sight of Europe once again. Our dinner party is already reduced by one, the medico having taken his departure along with Mr. Haïm Secsú, the interpreter, whose anxiety of late to clasp Mrs. H. S. to his bosom once more has been most affecting to behold. Tweedledee, however, still remains to us, and has just told me a touching story of how he was “thleeping in a catele enclosure,” which is close by, “and a littel foal come to me in the dark and thuck my ear; the foolish thing think I am her mother.” I am sorry not to have preserved more of the simple sayings of this Israelite, in whom, during all our intercourse with him, we have failed to discover the least symptom of guile,—and the more sorry as, to his shame be it spoken, the photographer has failed in placing his portrait before the public.