Chapter I

Decision of Government to send an Envoy Extraordinary—Preliminary
arrangements—Presents for Sultan—Account of Tangier—Landing
there—Dance at Italian Legation—Departure of Mission—Market at Hadd
el Gharbía—Ad Mercuri—Wild flowers.

_British Legation, Tangier, 2d April 1880._

The British Government having, early in the year, decided to send an Envoy Extraordinary to the Court of Marocco, the Mission was appointed to start in the beginning of April for Fez, where, at that season, the Sultan, Mulai Hassan, and his Court, were residing.

The convenience of the Envoy and of the members of the Mission was not, however, the only thing which had to be taken into account, for the forms of Moorish etiquette on such occasions are stringent, and much correspondence and many couriers had to pass between Tangier and Fez from the time when the subject was first mooted until the final receipt of the Sultan’s permission for Sir John Hay to present himself, with his suite, at the Sharífian Court.

A descriptive list had also to be furnished to His Majesty of the individuals His Excellency proposed bringing with him, together with the approximate number of camp followers and baggage animals which were to form part of the invading force, all and sundry of whom would, according to the custom in Marocco, be entertained at the expense of the State during the whole period of their absence from Tangier.

Preliminaries were at last all arranged, and the ten Government tents required to supplement those belonging to Sir John and those provided by the Sultan, were sent across from Gibraltar on the 31st March, in order that all might start together on the following day, and the camp be pitched at the first halting-place out of Tangier, ready for the Mission to occupy it on Saturday, 3d of April.

I had for some time enjoyed the acquaintance and friendship of our minister at Tangier, and he, knowing my desire to visit the interior of Marocco, had kindly invited me to accompany him in the approaching Mission to Fez.

Sir John, having suggested to the Foreign Office that a telephone and set of heliographic instruments would be a suitable present to the Sultan from our Government, was anxious to know if I could undertake the task of explaining their use at the Court; and though I had to confess to only a limited knowledge of the former, I was glad that my services should be utilised in regard to the latter instruments.

The contingent from Gibraltar who were fortunate enough to be taken in His Excellency’s suite, were Surgeon-Major Will, medical officer to the Mission, and Lieutenant Haynes, R.E., sent in charge of the instruments; while the Hon. D. Lawless, R.B., and I accompanied Sir John in a private capacity. Though we were only four in number, exclusive of my servant, the Gibraltar authorities had the discernment to recognize our individual merits, and H.M.S. “Express” was accordingly placed at our disposal to take us across the Straits. At 10 A.M. on Friday, the 2d of April, we weighed anchor, and, after a pleasant crossing, brought up off Tangier about 2 P.M. Having a considerable amount of private baggage, to say nothing of the large boxes containing the scientific instruments destined to electrify Marocco, the convenience of having the gunboat to convey us and our chattels was not to be despised.

Probably many people have a personal acquaintance with the bay and town of Tangier, while most of those who only know it by name are aware of the position it occupies in English history; but for the sake of the few who are not included under either of those heads, I may mention that in the year 1662 the town became an English possession, being, as were also the town and island of Bombay, part of the dowry of Catharine of Braganza on her marriage with Charles II. Tangier had been in possession of the Portuguese for nearly two hundred years, and the national feeling of a certain party in Portugal was much against this part of the transaction, which, for all the benefit derived by our own country, might just as well have been left alone. After twenty-two years of misfortunes and mismanagement, during which time we got rather the worst of it at the hands of the Moors, the place was given up, and the magnificent mole—the only useful relic of English occupation—destroyed. Since that date Tangier has been in possession of its rightful owners; at first it was merely a refuge for pirates, a community who flourished in Marocco till 1817, but subsequently, owing to its being the only port with decent anchorage for vessels, it has become the chief outlet for the produce of the country, and is blessed, or the reverse, by the presence of all the foreign representatives. As soon as the farce, which, under the name of “Conference,” is about to be enacted at Madrid comes to a conclusion, the affairs of Marocco will not be long in appearing prominently before the world; and the foreign powers who sit like vultures, expectant, over the last throes of the victim, will take counsel together as to who is to possess the dainty portion of the carcase represented by the town, of which a brief historical sketch has here been given.

Apart from the official dignity of our approach to Tangier in a Government ship, there was a practical advantage, which will be readily admitted by any one who has arrived there in the ill-found and uncomfortable steamers from Gibraltar. The only substitute for the long-vanished mole is a rickety wooden pier running some 150 feet into the sea; on this it is possible to land at high-water, though even then it is a risky operation with an east wind and sea coming in upon the shore; at low-water, however, the boats can only get within a certain distance of the beach, and thither a crowd of lightly clad and yelling natives run out to meet the passengers. After a free fight has taken place over the person of their trembling burthen, the latter finds him or her self hoisted on to a pair of bare and slippery shoulders, to preserve equilibrium on which it is necessary to cling to the smooth shaven head which appertains to them. Cutaneous diseases being, however, rife in Marocco, it is only the absolute certainty of a ducking which overcomes the squeamishness of the traveller in availing himself of such a scorbutic _point d’appui_, which he is glad to relinquish, and to jump upon the sandy shore as soon as the _trajet_ is accomplished. Fortunately, none of these trials awaited us, as a large lifeboat belonging to the Custom-house came alongside and took both us and our goods ashore; the interpreter of the Legation, Haïm Secsú, being ready with a number of mules to carry up the luggage to its different destinations.

It is a favourite pastime of certain European Powers, whose dealings with Marocco will hardly bear a close inspection, but who hope to increase their influence by a display of force, to anchor large vessels of war off the town of Tangier, a nautical manœuvre[1] which will, they fondly imagine, strike terror into the heart of the Moor. At present there are two Italian ironclads in the bay, the aggregate tonnage of which is doubtless expected to add weight to the counsels of Italy in the approaching Conference. Properly speaking, the Italians should have about the smallest voice in these negotiations; their trade with Marocco is almost _nil_, and the number of Moorish subjects legally under their protection does not exceed ten; upon their “list,” however, and off it, there will be found an army of not less than one hundred, all of them ready to prostrate themselves before the representative of Italy, and to hail his presence with the adulation and servility so gratifying to the senses of some functionaries.

Rooms having been taken in various hotels for the members of the Mission, their baggage was conveyed there on the backs of Moors and other animals. With the scientific instruments and my own personal effects (the latter a by no means contemptible pile, His Excellency’s remarks on which I rather dreaded), I came to the Legation, where a room had been kept for me, and where I met another passenger for Fez, Lord Zouche, who had just come out from England to swell the Envoy’s train.

Before sunset we tried from the roof of the house to communicate with the signal station at Gibraltar by means of the heliograph, but a slight haze rested upon the rock, and there were, unfortunately, no means of replying to us.[2] It is expected that after the Sultan has seen the apparatus, and been convinced of its harmlessness, he will allow one to be put up here, so that a system of signalling may be established with Gibraltar.

In the evening some of us went to a ball to which the Italian minister had kindly invited us; the warriors of the ironclads had also been bidden to meet the beauty and fashion of Tangier, and poured, to the number of about forty, into a small and already overcrowded room. Dancing was rather a muscular effort, but what struck us strangers with astonishment was the extraordinary action of one of the sailors, who officiated as master of the ceremonies during a kind of country dance, and who certainly took care that no want of vocal power should be allowed to mar his part in the entertainment. Gliding about among the couples, he shouted his orders to them in a voice he would have used in hailing a man at the main-truck, and which, coming up with considerable exertion from the region of his boots, found an exit at the corner of his mouth, whence it issued in a continuous stream, drowning music, conversation, and all other sounds in one mighty roar. What rendered a naturally discordant voice even more disagreeable was the harsh and infamous accent of the French in which his directions were given; and it must have been a relief to all when the last order was pumped up to the surface, and the shout of “Messieurs, saluez vos dames,” proclaimed that for the time, at all events, the functions of Boanerges might be laid aside. Zouche and I made our escape home as soon as we decently could, but my feeling about that son of Italy is such that I felt bound to note down the above remarks in my diary before turning in, with impressions fresh on my mind, and his terrible voice still ringing in my ears.

_Camp, Kaa er Remel, Saturday, 3d April 1880._

Sleep in my room at the Legation became a matter of difficulty at an unconscionably early hour this morning, owing to the lane in front of the house being filled with camels and mules, each remonstrating after its kind against the loads which were being imposed; while the equally intelligible yells of the Moors inside the courtyard, where each of them shouted separate orders at the top of his voice, kept up a chorus of sound that was deafening and continuous. All lesser noises, however, were eclipsed about 9 A.M. by His Excellency, who, appearing on the scene like Jupiter Tonans, desired, in choicest Arabic, to know why some order relating to the luncheon-tent had been neglected. My knowledge of other Oriental languages enables me to testify to the great facility they afford for the powerful expression of thought, and the dead silence which followed the fluently delivered utterances of the Envoy, leads me to believe that Arabic is no exception to the rule. Breakfast in the quiet dining-room at the back of the Legation was a relief after the Babel that was going on in front, and a certain interest attached to the last meal we were likely to have for some time under a solid roof, accompanied by the luxuries of real china and silver forks; electro-plate, and metal cups and saucers lined with white enamel, being the fashion for camp work.

Everything at last was got under way, and a rendezvous for the scattered members of the Mission having been appointed in the market-place outside the town, they assembled there and waited for His Excellency.

The military escort, which had arrived from Fez about three days before, was drawn up in an open space at the foot of the principal street, and as close as practicable to the door of the Legation. It consisted of fifty men, wild-looking fellows, mounted on stout serviceable little horses, under command of their kaïd,[3] and included a standard-bearer, who rode a grey horse and carried in his hand the red banner of Marocco. I saw several well-known faces in the square—Mr. Benatár, the Jew dealer, who only expects 100 per cent on his Fez wares, now offering them at a slightly lower figure, as we were _en route_ to that city ourselves; and Hadj Kadór, the popular and, I believe, excellent guide to travellers, offering to “personally conduct” us all, escort and Envoy included, into the interior and back again, then wishing us, in his sepulchral voice, “Good-bye, gentlemens; hope you enjine (enjoy) yourselves at Fez, gentlemens.” One day this same Kadór was showing Colonel Macpherson of my regiment and me the 30-ton guns recently bought by the Sultan, and on our remarking, “What on earth is the good of these guns to you? you can’t even mount them!” he rather aptly replied—“English gentlemens buys Moorish curiosities; our Sultan he buy English curiosities—all fair, all fair.”

The main street was crowded with people, and the hill on which the market-place stands presented an unusually animated appearance. Not only were the natives assembled there in large numbers, but all the foreign legations and consulates had put in an appearance, and with the English visitors from “Bruzeaud’s,” the “French,” and other hotels, had taken up their position on the road to see the sight, and bid God-speed to the “Bashador” and suite. His Excellency was not long in making his appearance, with the red flag borne a few yards in front of him, and the escort, led by the kaïd, about the same distance behind. The members of the Mission, and a few friends who were to ride out to luncheon with us, tailed in as well as the crowding of the mob and the fighting of the horses would permit; and amid the buzzing of the Moors, and a hearty English cheer from the few throats which were capable of giving one, the cortége moved on “majestueusement fermé,” as a French newspaper afterwards described it, “par une litière,” which was carried on poles like a sedan chair between two mules, one in front and one behind, and in which Lady Hay was to accomplish the long and tedious journey to Fez.

Among other attentions on his part, the Sultan had sent four horses for Sir John’s use, upon which he mounted the Gibraltar contingent. One of these, a large white horse, as we got to a narrow bit of road a little way on, “went for” the horse nearest to him, and being pulled in, reared straight on end, falling backwards, with his rider, Haynes, apparently under him. It was as ugly a fall as could be seen, and no one could get near to help him on account of the fighting propensities of the horses. However, much to our surprise and gratification, both horse and rider picked themselves up, apparently none the worse, though how the latter escaped was one of those things no fellow can understand. I think some of us were a little saddened by the accident, as, being on strange mounts, no one knew whose turn might come next.

About five miles along the road we came to the luncheon-tent pitched on a small hill to the right, where, after an excellent repast, we said good-bye to our friends, who had come to see us so far, and after a further march of an hour and a half arrived at this our first camping place. The name Kaa er Remel, or Sandy Bottom, describes the nature of the soil. The camp is pitched on a high plateau, presenting, with its thirty-five tents, an imposing appearance. The flag of Marocco is furled on arrival, its place being taken by a large Union Jack planted in front of the Bashador’s tent. We were all much gratified, before turning in to-night, to hear that the gun—the signal for us to get up in the morning—is to be fired at seven A.M. to-morrow instead of six; and long, we hope, may this modification of arrangements remain in force. We crossed the Mharhar at Meshráa[4] el Sejra, just before getting into camp, and the distance marched was about twelve miles.

_Camp, Hadd el Gharbía, Sunday, 4th April 1880._

The camp at Kaa er Remel was too noisy after six A.M. to allow of any sleep; horses neighing for their breakfast (absolutely yelling for it, some of them), and Moors shouting at the top of their voices, in tones which make one think they are about to cut one another’s throats on the spot, were enough to banish the dull god. But apart from all this was the disturbing idea that His Excellency would not hesitate to carry out his threat of striking the tent over the head of any member of the Mission who did not show some signs of vitality and movement very soon after seven A.M. The “photographer,” too, had declared himself ready to do a picture by the instantaneous process of any one whose tent being thus summarily removed might be discovered in his bath, or in any other delicate position in which it would be equally unsuitable to be perpetuated. We breakfasted comfortably at 8.15, mounted, and left camp about nine, in advance of most of the baggage animals. The road for some time passed over level ground and fertile plains, where wheeled vehicles, were there such things in the country, could travel in safety, till, at the end of four miles, we came to the foot of a pretty steep hill, where a halt of a few minutes was called to get the escort together, and to allow of Lady Hay mounting her mule—a more secure method of progression, over rough and broken ground, than the litter. Up the winding, stony path, sometimes two abreast, and sometimes in Indian file, the party slowly advanced, the deep red of the ensign of the standard-bearer hardly showing in contrast with the rich colour of the sandstone track which glowed warmly in the light of the morning sun. A very impassive functionary is this same advanced trooper, never varying his pace, and never stopping save at the desire of His Excellency, conveyed through the venerable kaïd; his flag, always about twenty yards ahead, looks like a red phantom, the pursuit of which, for about five hours, has been allotted to us all for our daily task. From the top of this hill, which we are told is almost our last before reaching Fez,[5] the view was as beautiful as it was extensive. Below and behind us was the fertile valley of the Wad el Mharhar, which we crossed yesterday; away to the east towered the mountains which separate the Province of Tangier from the Rif country—that mysterious district, peopled by a handsome and warlike race, whose homicidal propensities render it impossible for any strangers, especially Europeans, to set foot therein with any chance of return. On the west were the woods which skirt the Awára territory, kept sacred to the wild boar and his pursuers, foremost among whom ranks the veteran sportsman under whose auspices we are about to enter the (to us) unknown tracts between here and the sacred city. Beyond Awára, again, was the wide Atlantic, whose waters, though apparently smooth as a mill-pond, were rolling in their waves of “perpetual surf” upon the sandy shore.[6]

At 10.30 we arrived at Nzala el Gharbía, where our luncheon tent had been pitched; el Gharbía is the name of the district we are in, and Nzala signifies a “guard” or “guardhouse.” There are many of these enclosures in the country for the use of people with droves of cattle or caravans of merchandise, who, on payment of a small sum to the custodians, are allowed to camp in them at night in comparative safety from the attacks of any neighbouring robbers. A small detachment of stalwart Arabs, armed with long guns, was drawn up to receive us, but no further demonstration in our honour was made. While strolling round the village later on I heard, proceeding from one of the tents, a low, wailing sound, with occasional hysterical sobs at regular intervals; and though, of course, I could not satisfy my curiosity at the time, I learned afterwards that there had been a death in the house, and the relatives were holding a kind of wake over the departed. We resumed our march about two o’clock, but our standard-bearer took us a long round, having missed the shortest road in consequence of no deputation having been sent out to show us where the camp was pitched. The Sheikh of the village, on being sent for to explain this apparent neglect, and also to account for some rough usage one of the grooms had received at the hands of a villager, protested his innocence, saying that since nearly all the people of the place were under the protection of one foreign consul or another, it was out of his power either to provide an escort or to execute justice on evil-doers. Though the Sheikh no doubt slightly exaggerated the facts, his statement was in the main true enough, and is only one instance among many of the evils which this system produces, ending, as it must inevitably do, in the total stagnation of the native administration of law and justice.

A large “sôk” or fair was being held in the neighbourhood, the chief object of interest to strangers being a professional bleeder, who sat outside his ragged little tent with a semicircle of patients in front of him waiting their turn to be operated upon in the following manner:—A small incision having been made somewhere behind the ear, a cupping-glass, or rather tin, was applied, filled and emptied three or four times, and the contents poured into a rapidly filling pool by the doctor’s side. The patient then deposited a small coin with the operator, and his place was taken by another. This practice of blood-letting is almost universal among the country people, who imagine that the removal of an ounce or two of extra blood before the hot season commences will render them less liable to be affected by the heat of the sun; as most of them go about not only bare-headed, but with their crowns closely shaven, no doubt some cooling process of this sort is necessary. The little scars caused by the above process, and which many of our servants bear on the back of the neck, had always been a puzzle to me; for though the Moor’s head is generally a mass of cicatrices, there is a certain form and regularity about these others which attracts one’s attention, and I am glad to have discovered their cause.

This camping ground is beautifully situated—sandy soil, high ground, and a magnificent view from it. There is a spring, too, with excellent water, not very far off, but the hard and fast rule that all our drinking water should be boiled first and filtered afterwards, is always kept in force, however attractive the outward appearance of the element may be.

Our “photographer,” who galloped into camp before us, took a view of the cortége, as it appeared coming to a halt before we dismounted; but owing to the escort not being properly closed into focus—the whole affair only occupying a few seconds—the effect is not as imposing as it might have been. On the right of the picture are the figures of two curious-looking people, who, like all the other natives, were quite ignorant of what was going on; the one on the mule, wholly enveloped in his haïk, or flowing white robe, with his head-gear twisted into the shape of an old wife’s mutch, is Sir John’s Arab scribe, a most intelligent and hard-working old gentleman. Every evening after our arrival in camp he may be seen, through the open door of His Excellency’s tent, squatted on the ground, absorbed in writing to his master’s dictation. He has been this road before, and is, I am sure, full of information which I would gladly extract, could he speak anything but his own barbarous tongue. The other figure of the old man in a skull-cap, seated on a pony, is that of one Ben Shittim, a Moorish Jew, and the headman of the village of Azîla, who, with his son, an extraordinary specimen of humanity in European costume, and who could speak Spanish, had ridden over to pay his respects to the Bashador.

A line of tents, seven in number, a quarter of a mile off, attracted my attention, and, hearing it was Colonel Gordon-Cumming’s party, I walked over there before dinner with Zouche. They are _en route_ to Rbat, having halted here for Sunday, an ensample of godliness of which we have not been guilty; His Excellency, however, put his veto on the use of the gun to-day, though he stood his ground under fire from the photographer, and would not have objected to the heliographers taking shots at each other from opposite hills, had those officers possessed sufficient energy to unpack their instruments for a little practice. Science, however, like cleanliness, is a nearer approach to godliness than is quail shooting.

We all visited the site of the ancient Roman town of Ad Mercuri—at least what we were encouraged to believe was such—but which would have been more interesting had the outlines not been wholly concealed by a heavy crop of barley. I am sorry, however, that we had no time to prosecute our researches, for I believe that on the eastern and western extremities of the plateau on which we stood, the _enceinte_ of the town and a wall in good preservation are clearly marked; whereas the huts and gardens of the Dshar[7] Jedid entirely hid the line of the ramparts in this direction. The beautifully clear spring above mentioned, which is partly surmounted by a massive stone arch, said to be the work of the Portuguese, was another object of interest we visited. Our archæological studies were, however, interrupted by signs of approaching night (we have no twilight to speak of in these latitudes), warning us that dinner-time was near. This same hour of dinner bids fair to be a not unimportant part of the day’s programme, for the Israelitish chef, Judico, is a master hand at field-cookery, so that his endeavours, and our appetites together, form a pleasing and successful combination.

His Holiness, the Sharíf of Wazan, High Priest of Marocco and all Northern Africa, who, with his attendants, has come out here to join in a boar-hunt we hope to have on Wednesday, is camped close by.

Wild flowers seem to be more abundant the farther we get into the interior, my tent being carpeted to-night with a luxuriant crop of wild mignonette, which, I suppose, is the ordinary “Reseda odorata,” though the scent is not so strong as the garden species at home. This plant is indigenous to Marocco, and was taken long ago from here to France, where it was christened “Mignonette,” and in 1742 made its first appearance in England. The weather is still charming, but the sun is, of course, daily gaining power, and our complexions are beginning to suffer proportionately. A nightly application of glycerine, which I have already begun, will, I hope, mitigate my sufferings, though, as former experience teaches me, it is not a becoming cosmetic, but induces, in time, a complexion like that of the Bengali Bábú. Beasts and creeping things, too, are on the increase; and, as I write, I hear enormous beetles, attracted by the light in my tent, hurling themselves with suicidal force against the walls.

The distance we marched to-day was about ten miles.