RO
HAT WA
GIFT OF
Morocco that Was
MULAI ABDUL AZIZ.
Morocco that Was
BY
WALTER B. HARRIS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
William Blackwood and Sons
Edinburgh and London
1921
'
CONTENTS.
THE MOORISH COURT —
I. THE ACCESSION OF MULAI ABDUL AZIZ . . 1
n. LIFE AT THE MOORISH COURT ... 32
HI. THE ROAD TO RUIN „ .... 65
IV. THE BEGINNING OF THE END ... 91
V. THE LIQUIDATION OF THE SULTANATE . . 119
VI. THE SULTAN AT HOME 140
VH. THE SULTAN IN FRANCE V . . . 160
RAISULI .... . . . . 179
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS .... 265
CHANGES AND CHANCES , . . 291
495010
ILLUSTRATIONS.
MULAI ABDUL AZIZ Frontispiece
MOUNTAIN-TOPS, ATLAS .... Facing p. 10
From photo by Author.
COURTYARD OF PACHA 'S PALACE, MARRAKESH „ 38
From photo by Felix, Marrakeeh (Maroc).
MARRAKESH ,,60
From photo by Felix, Marrakeeh, (Maruc).
THE WALLS OF FEZ ,,64
From photo by Service des Beaux- Arts, Morocco.
TROOPS GUARDING THE AUTHOR'S VILLA AT
TANGIER ,,76
From photo by Author.
GATE OF MANSOUR EL-ALJ, MEKNE*S . . „ 101
From photo by Author.
MEDERSA OF ATTARINE, FEZ . . . „ 110
From photo by Service des Beaux-Arts, Morocco.
MULAI HAFID „ 120
FEZ FROM THE SOUTH . . . . „ 136
From photo by Service des Beaux-Arts, Morocco.
Vlll
ILLUSTRATIONS
RABAT
From photo by Service des Beaux- Arts, Morocco.
BERBER TRIBESMEN OF THE MIDDLE ATLAS
From photo by Service des Beaux-Arts, Morocco.
THE AUTHOR, EL AOUFI, AND RAISULl'S
BRIGANDS
From photo by Madame de Beaumarchait.
THE AUTHOR MEASURING THE WALLS OF
THE RUINS OF RAISULl'S HOUSE .
From photo by Madame de Beaumarchais.
MY CARAVAN CROSSING THE ATLAS
From photo by Author.
COURT OF KAmOUIN MOSQUE, FEZ
From photo by Service des Beaux-Arts, Morocco.
A FRENCH " POSTE " IN THE ATLAS .
From photo by Service des Beaux-Arts, Morocco.
AN ATLAS CASTLE
From photo by Lord Loch.
ROOM IN THE PACHA 'S PALACE, MARRAKESH
From photo by Felix, Marrakech (Maroc).
. Facing p. 160
194
220
232
272
290
304
322
MOROCCO THAT WAS.
THE MOORISH COURT.
THE ACCESSION OF MULAI ABDUL AZIZ.
MY first introduction to the Moorish Court was
in 1887, only a very few months after my arrival
in Morocco, when I was invited by the British
Minister, the late Sir William Kirby-Green, to
accompany his special Mission to the Sultan.
Mulai Hassen was then at the zenith of his
power. He was a " strong " Sultan, probably
cruel, and certainly capable. His energy was
never-failing, and he maintained order amongst
his lawless tribes and stamped out the constantly
occurring revolts by an almost unceasing "pro-
gress " through the country, accompanied by his
rabble of an army. He seldom spent six months
together in any of his several capitals, and the
Moors had a saying, " The Imperial tents are
never stored."
The great labour, the enormous transport that
these journeyings necessitated, is difficult to appre-
A
2 MOROCCO THAT WAS
ciate. Not only was the Sultan accompanied by
his numerous ladies and all his viziers and their
families and suites, but he had with him as well
some ten thousand soldiers and a rabble of camp-
followers. A large number of native merchants
also joined the throng, for trade flowed to the
region in which the Court was residing.
Some idea of the results upon the country
passed through can be imagined from the fact
that the very name of these expeditions in Arabic
is " Harka," " the burning." No matter whether
the tribes were in incipient rebellion, in open
revolt, or in peace, they had to provide the food
and fodder of this great horde, whose ravages
more nearly resembled those of a flight of locusts
than the passing by of human beings. Not only
such " legal " taxation as could be extorted was
collected, but the viziers and the Sultan's entour-
age had to be bribed and paid as well, while
every soldier and every camp-follower pillaged on
his own account. On receiving the news of the
coming of one of these Imperial expeditions, as
many of the population as could, or as dared,
fled to other regions ; and the Sultan often passed
through a deserted country, except that the
Governor and tribal representatives had to be
there to pour the little wealth of the countryside
into the royal coffers.
Morocco was still an almost unknown country
in those days. Europe paid little attention to
what was passing within its boundaries, and so
long as the Sultan's actions didn't threaten to
THE MOORISH COURT 3
complicate international questions, he was allowed
to go his own way. The rivalry of Great Britain
and France was its outstanding feature, together
with the constantly recurring quarrels and petty
local wars of Spain with the tribes that surround
her " Presidios " on the northern coast. Morocco
lived its life apart. True, it was at the very gates
of the Mediterranean, but it might have been in
the Pacific for all the attention that it attracted.
From time to time the European Governments
despatched special Missions to the Sultan — gigantic
picnics to one or other of the capitals, during
which the pending claims would, or would not,
be settled ; a commercial treaty was possibly
discussed ; eternal friendship was sworn where
only hatred on one side and indifference on the
other really existed, for in those days the general
feelings of the Moors toward the Europeans and
Christians amounted to hate.
Sir William Kirby-Green's special Mission pro-
ceeded by sea to Mazagan, conveyed by a British
warship, and thence overland to Marrakesh, the
Sultan having, as the custom was, sent an escort,
transport, and tents to the coast for this
purpose.
However rotten the state of Morocco may have
been at that time, Mulai Hassen's strong hand
held its fabric together, and presented to the
outside world a front of great dignity. The
British Mission travelled amongst the tribes in
perfect security, and was received with all honour
and with pretended rejoicings. Compliments
4 MOROCCO THAT WAS
flowed as fast as mountain streams — happy in
their wording, sonorous in their utterance, and
absolutely insincere.
And then, in mingled dust and sunshine, the
entry into the southern capital ; the threading
of its narrow streets ; the throng of onlookers ;
the almost hopeless crush of horses and mules
and men ; and our arrival in the great garden
of olives and oranges which surrounded the kiosks
of the Maimounieh Palace, in which the Mission
was housed during its stay at Marrakesh.
The reception of foreign envoys by the Sultan
formed a pageant of much magnificence. Only
a very few years later the whole formality was
changed, and the representatives of the Govern-
ments of Europe were no longer received as vassals
bringing tribute. But as long as the old etiquette
lasted, there could be no question about the
splendour of the ceremony. It may have been
derogatory, and no doubt was, for the represen-
tatives of the Great Powers of Europe to stand
bareheaded in the sun while the Sultan, under a
crimson parasol, remained on horseback ; but no
one could dispute the picturesqueness of the scene
or its oriental dignity.
The great square of the palace, covering many
acres, in which the reception took place, was
surrounded by yellow walls, here and there pierced
by gateways. At one end, above these walls,
appeared the flat terraces and green-tiled roofs of
the palace, at the other extremity the cypress-
and olive-trees of the great park of the Agdal ;
THE MOORISH COURT 5
while away to the south, towering high into the
morning sunlight, rose the snow-covered peaks of
the Atlas Mountains. A fitter mise en scene for
a great pageant could scarcely be imagined.
The great square was lined with troops, ragged
and parti-coloured, some in uniform and some
out of it, and some in uniform so ragged that
they were as much out of it as in it. Others,
again, in brilliant costumes of every colour, evi-
dently made and served out for the occasion.
In detail much was wanting, perhaps ; in general
effect it was a rainbow. Into the centre of this
square the British Minister and his suite were
ushered by high white-robed functionaries of the
Court, while close behind the little group of
uniformed Europeans were piled the cases of
presents sent by the British Government to His
Shereefian Majesty. In fact, the whole traditional
ceremony was based upon the reception of vassals
and the offering of tribute.
A blast of trumpets, and the great green gates
of the palace are hurled open, and a hurried
throng of Court attendants, in white robes and
crimson-peaked fezes, emerges. A band of shrill
music — pipes and drums — bursts into noise. Ban-
ners and wand-bearers and spear-bearers follow,
and black grooms leading horses, saddled and
caparisoned in gay silks and gold embroideries,
which prance and neigh at the dust and noise.
Then the Sultan, a stately figure in white, on a
white horse trapped in green and gold. Over his
head is borne the great flat parasol of State, of
6 MOROCCO THAT WAS
crimson velvet and gold, while at his side attend-
ants wave long white scarves to keep the flies
off his sacred person. After him follow his viziers,
portly gentlemen swathed in soft white hanging
garments, and then more Court attendants and
slaves.
As the sacred presence of the Sultan passes into
the public square a great shout rends the air,
and the bowing crowd cries, " May God protect
the life of our Lord."
As the procession approaches the group of the
British Mission it divides to right and left, and
the Sultan advances, accompanied only by his
Chamberlain and one or two attendants, and
followed by his viziers. The members of the
Mission bow and salute, and the Chamberlain
presents the Minister to His Majesty, who bids
him welcome. Sir William Kirby-Green then read
his speech, and handed his credentials to His
Majesty, wrapped up in silk. The Sultan took
them, holding the folds of his cloak between his
sacred fingers and the infidel documents ! The
suite is presented, and after another word or two
of welcome on the part of the Sultan, His Majesty
turns his horse and retires again to the precincts
of his palace, amid the cries of his people, the
booming of cannon, and the shrill blast of native
music.
It may not be out of place to give here a brief
account of how this ceremony came to be abolished.
I was attached, in 1902, to Sir Arthur Nicolson's
special Mission to the Sultan Mulai Abdul Aziz at
THE MOORISH COURT 7
Rabat. There had for some time been a strong
feeling on the part of the European Governments
that some new ceremonial should replace the
traditional form of the reception of the represen-
tatives of the Powers, and I was sent to Rabat,
a week in advance of the Mission, to urge upon
the Sultan the expediency of this change. I was
at that time upon very intimate and friendly
terms with His Majesty, and had ample oppor-
tunity to put these views before him. Mulai
Abdul Aziz always had, and has, the true instincts
of a great gentleman, and he agreed readily that
the form of reception in vogue at his Court was
derogatory to the position and dignity of a special
envoy from the Sovereign and Government of
Great Britain. At the same time, he main-
tained that it was extremely difficult to introduce
radical changes in Court etiquette without creat-
ing a hostile feeling amongst the people, or at
least running the risk of much criticism. For
a few days he hesitated ; but the evening before
the arrival of the Mission he authorised me to
inform Sir Arthur Nicolson that the old cere-
monial would no longer be carried out, and that
his reception would take place in a room in the
palace. In order to explain the change of pro-
cedure, it was allowed to be whispered in the
town that His Majesty was a little unwell, and
unable to stand the fatigue of the great function
in the open air.
The reception accordingly took place in an upper
room of the palace. The young Sultan was seated
8 MOROCCO THAT WAS
cross-legged on a pale blue Louis XV. sofa, the
greater part of which was covered by his out-
spread robes. At his side stood his Minister of
Foreign Affairs and his viziers. The Chamberlain
introduced the British Minister, who read his
speech in English, the interpretation being made
by an official of the Legation. The Sultan whis-
pered his reply to the Foreign Minister, who spoke
it out aloud.
The scene was attractive, and of course much
more " intimate " than the great ceremonial of
the past, but was never lacking in dignity. The
" audience," confined strictly to the reception,
lasted only a very few minutes, when the Minister
and his suite retired. As we were proceeding
down the staircase, I was hurriedly called back
into the Sultan's presence. He had thrown ofT
the great white cloak in which he had been almost
enveloped, and discarded his heavy turban of
State for one of much less weighty dimensions.
His viziers and courtiers had departed. Calling
to me to come quickly, he cried, " Climb up here
with me, on to the back of the sofa ; we shall
be able to see the Mission ride out of the palace
square" ; and he clambered up and stood on the
gilt carving of his throne, whence, by pulling him-
self up by his hands, he could just see out of a
little window high up in the richly-decorated wall
of the room. Following his example, I mounted
beside him, and together we watched the Minister
and the Mission mount their horses and depart
from the palace, to the booming of guns.
THE MOORISH COURT 9
At the time of my first visit to the Court, Si
Ahmed ben Moussa, better known as Bou Ahmed,
was the predominant figure amongst the native
officials. He held at this time the post of Cham-
berlain, one of great importance and influence,
as its holder was in constant contact with the
Sultan, and could gain his private ear. He was
undoubtedly devoted to the Sultan's interests, and
served him faithfully and well. His father had
been a palace slave, and he himself was very
dark in colour, and of most unattractive appear-
ance. He was a man of no particular intelligence,
but of indomitable will, and cruel. He made no
pretensions to understand the foreign relations of
Morocco; and except in so far as he was anti-
European, more from political than religious
motives, he seems to have had no fixed policy.
Even later, when he became, under Mulai Abdul
Aziz, Grand Vizier, he was content to leave the
discussion of all affairs of foreign policy to the
other viziers, though no doubt he took part in
the decisions arrived at. Mulai Hassen's Foreign
Minister was Sid Fadhoul Gharnit, a wily and
intelligent gentleman, who is still living. When
the Government of which he was a member fell
— and the falls of Government in those days often
meant the falling of heads too — Sid Fadhoul
Gharnit was seized by a stroke, and disappeared
into the recesses of his house. For years he was
supposed to be paralysed, and was no doubt in
bad health ; but another change of Ministry came
about years afterwards, and he emerged again,
10 MOROCCO THAT WAS
miraculously cured and looking younger and more
xspry than ever, to become Grand Vizier for a time.
He has now retired from public life, and resides
in Fez. No doubt his paralysis, real or feigned,
saved his family from ruin, his fortune from con-
fiscation, and probably himself from prison or
even death. Difficult as was the work, great as
were the responsibilities of Cabinet Ministers in
Morocco, they were not pestered by an Opposi-
tion, for if — rarely — any members of the outgoing
Government survived, they were always in prison.
In 1893 Mulai Hassen determined to visit the
desert regions of Morocco, including far-off Tafilet,
the great oasis from which his dynasty had origi-
nally sprung, and where, before becoming the ruling
branch of the royal family, they had resided ever
since their founder, the great-grandson of the
Prophet, had settled there, an exile from the East.
Leaving Fez in the summer, the Sultan pro-
ceeded south, crossing the Atlas above Kasba-el-
Maghzen, and descended to the upper waters of
the Wad Ziz. An expedition such as this would
have required a system of organisation far in
excess of the capabilities of the Moors, great
though their resources were. Food was lacking ;
the desert regions could provide little. The water
was bad, the heat very great. Every kind of delay,
including rebellion and the consequent punish-
ment of the tribes, hampered the Sultan's move-
ments ; and it was only toward winter that he
arrived in Tafilet with a fever-stricken army and
greatly diminished transport.
{Photo by Author,
MOUNTAIN TOPS, ATLAS.
THE MOORISH COURT 11
Mulai Hassen returned from Tafilet a dying
man. The internal complaint from which he was
suffering had become acute from the hardships he
had undergone, and he was unable to obtain the
rest that his state of health required, nor would
he place himself under a regime. For a few
months he remained in the southern capital, and
in the late spring 1894 set out to suppress a
rebellion that had broken out in the Tadla region.
While camping in the enemy country he died.
Now, the death of the Sultan under such circum-
stances was fraught with danger to the State. He
was an absolute monarch, and with his disappear-
ance all authority and government lapsed until
his successor should have taken up the reins.
Again, the expedition was in hostile country, and
any inkling of the Sultan's death would have
brought the tribes down to pillage and loot the
Imperial camp. As long as the Sultan lived, and\
was present with his expedition, his prestige was
sufficient to prevent an attack of the tribes —
though even this was not unknown on one or two
occasions — and to hold his forces together as a
sort of concrete body. But his death, if known,
would have meant speedy disorganisation, nor
could the troops themselves be trusted not to
seize this opportunity to murder and loot.
It was therefore necessary that the Sultan's
demise should be kept an absolute secret. He
had died in the recesses of his tents, themselves
enclosed in a great canvas wall, inside which,
except on very special occasions, no one was
12 MOROCCO THAT WAS
permitted to penetrate. The knowledge of his
death was therefore limited to the personal slaves
and to his Chamberlain, Bou Ahmed.
Orders were given that the Sultan would start
on his journey at dawn, and before daylight the
State palanquin was carried into the Imperial
enclosure, the corpse laid within it, and its doors
closed and the curtains drawn. At the first pale
break of dawn the palanquin was brought out,
supported by sturdy mules. Bugles were blown,
the band played, and the bowing courtiers and
officials poured forth their stentorian cry, " May
God protect the life of our Lord." The procession
formed up, and, led by flying banners, the dead
Sultan set out on his march.
A great distance was covered that day. Only
once did the procession stop, when the palanquin
was carried into a tent by the roadside, that the
Sultan might breakfast. Food was borne in and
out ; tea, with all the paraphernalia of its brew-
ing, was served : but none but the slaves who knew
the secret were permitted to enter. The Chamber-
lain remained with the corpse, and when a certain
time had passed, he emerged to state that His
Majesty was rested and had breakfasted, and
would proceed on his journey — and once more
the procession moved on. Another long march
was made to where the great camp was pitched
for the night.
The Sultan was tired, the Chamberlain said.
He would not come out of his enclosure to trans-
act business as usual in the " Diwan " tent, where
THE MOORISH COURT 13
he granted audiences. Documents were taken in
to the royal quarters by the Chamberlain himself,
and, when necessary, they emerged bearing the
seal of State, and verbal replies were given to a
host of questions.
Then another day of forced marches, for the
expedition was still in dangerous country ; but
Mulai Hassen's death could no longer be con-
cealed. It was summer, and the state of the
Sultan's body told its own secret.
Bou Ahmed announced that His Majesty had
died two days before, and that by this time his
young son, Mulai Abdul Aziz, chosen and nomi-
nated by his father, had been proclaimed at Rabat,
whither the fleetest of runners had been sent with
the news immediately after the death had occurred.
It was a fait accompli. The army was now free
of the danger of being attacked by the tribes ;
and the knowledge that the new Sultan was already
reigning, and that tranquillity existed elsewhere,
deterred the troops from any excesses. Many
took the occasion of a certain disorganisation to
desert, but so customary was this practice that it
attracted little or no attention.
Two days later the body of the dead Sultan, -
now in a terrible state of decomposition, arrived
at Rabat. It must have been a gruesome pro-
cession from the description his son Mulai Abdul
Aziz gave me : the hurried arrival of the swaying
palanquin bearing its terrible burden, five days
dead in the great heat of summer ; the escort,
who had bound scarves over their faces — but even
16 MOROCCO THAT WAS
dishes of cooked meats, or what was left of them,
had been removed, there remained great plates of
fresh butter, the very first of the season, hard
and rolled into large balls. The learned tutor of
the Sultan's sons stated that it was much to be
regretted that such splendid butter should be
wasted by being eaten by the palace slaves and
attendants, and forthwith he tore off a length of
his fine white turban, rolled up one of the large
balls of butter, and replaced the package in the
crown of his high-peaked fez, which formed the
foundation of his headgear.
One of the slaves told Mulai Hassen what had
occurred, and he determined to amuse himself at
the expense of his sons' tutor. He entered the
great chamber where the guests were assembled
and bade them welcome, paying a few compli-
ments to each. When it came to the turn of the
learned man, the Sultan congratulated him on
his great attainments, adding, " He shall be speci-
ally honoured. Bring rose-water and incense."
Now, it is the custom at Moorish feasts to
sprinkle the guests with rose and orange-blossom
water, and to perfume their robes with incense.
So the long-necked silver bottles and the brass
incense-burner were produced. From the latter,
laid upon red-hot charcoal, the burning sandal-
wood diffused its smoke in delicious clouds.
Having received the regulation sprinkling, the
incense-burner was placed before him. Lifting
his wide sleeves, the slaves held the censer below
them, allowing the smoke to permeate his volum-
THE MOORISH COURT 17
inous garments. Then drawing the hood of his
" bernous " over his head and face, the customary
perfuming of the turban was begun. But the
slaves held tight, and instead of the performance
lasting half a minute, it was unduly prolonged.
At first it was only the richly-perfumed smoke of
the sandalwood that entered his nose and eyes ;
but presently the delicious odour changed, for the
butter concealed in his fez, melting under the
applied heat of the red-hot charcoal, was begin-
ning to drop into the incense-burner, giving forth
a penetrating and unpleasant odour of cooking.
From drops to a trickling stream took a very
little while, and soon the whole room was full of
the smoke of burning butter, while the aged scholar
presented the most pitiful sight — half -blinded,
choking, and dripping all over. When he had
been washed and cleaned up the Sultan had
gone.
Mulai Abdul Aziz was, at the time of his suc-
cession (1894), about twelve or thirteen years of
age. He was a younger son of the late Sultan,
for Islamic thrones do not necessarily descend by
primogeniture. It is not unseldom a brother who
succeeds, and at times even more distant relations.
The throne is almost elective inside the royal
family, though, as a matter of fact, a Sultan
generally nominates his successor. The descent
from the common ancestor — who in this case of
Shereefian families is the Prophet Mohammed —
is of far greater importance than the relationship
of the deceased and succeeding Sultan. After the
B
18 MOROCCO THAT WAS
abdication of Mulai Hafid in 1912, his half-brother,
Mulai Youssef, was "chosen" to fill the throne,
and accepted without hesitation. His choice has
been amply justified by the dignified manner and
the constant tact that he has always shown in
his very difficult position.
The mother of Mulai Abdul Aziz was a Turkish
lady, brought from Constantinople to Morocco.
Report states that she was a woman of great
intelligence and considerable force of character.
She was certainly a most devoted mother. It is
even said that she played a part in the politics
of the country, and that she was consulted on
affairs of State by her husband. That she must
have possessed a remarkable personality is clear
from the fact that she maintained her influence
over the Sultan till the day of his death — no easy
task amidst a host of rivals — and so assured the
succession of her son. Her great friend and com-
panion in the harem was another Turkish lady,,
the mother of the reigning Sultan Mulai Youssef.
It is curious that these two " strangers in a foreign
land " should both have been destined to become
the mothers of Sultans.
It was only natural that the succession of a
minor gave rise to every form of intrigue at Court.
There were two great factions in the palace — the
party of Bou Ahmed, the powerful Chamberlain,
on the one hand, and that of the Grand Vizier
and Minister of War on the other. These two high
officials belonged to the aristocratic and powerful
family of the Ulad Jamai, and were respectively
THE MOORISH COURT 19
Haj Amaati and Si Mohammed Soreir. Now Bou
Ahmed was the son of a negro slave, and there-
fore could count on no tribal or family influence.
His rivals, on the contrary, were Fez aristocrats,
highly born, and supported by the influential
population of the towns. They came of what is
known as a " Maghzen " family — that is to say,
a family who in the past had held Government
posts, and had a sort of traditional claim to high
employment. It was evident that jealousy must
exist between these two factions.
Bou Ahmed's position of Chamberlain gave him
constant access to his sovereign, whose extreme
youth brought him little into contact with his
viziers. No doubt, too, Bou Ahmed could count
upon the influence of the Sultan's mother. He
had been the constant and trustworthy confidant
of her husband, and instrumental in putting her
son on the throne. His own fate, too, depended
upon his keeping him there, and there can be
little doubt that Mulai Abdul Aziz's mother and
Bou Ahmed worked in connivance.
As soon as the new Government was organised
sufficiently for Mulai Abdul Aziz to travel, the
Court left Rabat for Fez — the real capital of the
country. No Sultan can count upon his throne
as being safe until he has been accepted by the
religious and aristocratic Fezzis, and taken up his
residence in the city; for Fez is the centre of
religion and learning — and also of intrigue — and
the influence of its population upon the tribes is
very great. It was therefore very important that
18 MOROCCO THAT WAS
abdication of Mulai Hafid in 1912, his half-brother,
Mulai Youssef, was "chosen" to fill the throne,
and accepted without hesitation. His choice has
been amply justified by the dignified manner and
the constant tact that he has always shown in
his very difficult position.
The mother of Mulai Abdul Aziz was a Turkish
lady, brought from Constantinople to Morocco.
Report states that she was a woman of great
intelligence and considerable force of character.
She was certainly a most devoted mother. It is
even said that she played a part in the politics
of the country, and that she was consulted on
affairs of State by her husband. That she must
have possessed a remarkable personality is clear
from the fact that she maintained her influence
over the Sultan till the day of his death — no easy
task amidst a host of rivals — and so assured the
succession of her son. Her great friend and com-
panion in the harem was another Turkish lady,,
the mother of the reigning Sultan Mulai Youssef.
It is curious that these two " strangers in a foreign
land " should both have been destined to become
the mothers of Sultans.
It was only natural that the succession of a
minor gave rise to every form of intrigue at Court.
There were two great factions in the palace — the
party of Bou Ahmed, the powerful Chamberlain,
on the one hand, and that of the Grand Vizier
and Minister of- War on the other. These two high
officials belonged to the aristocratic and powerful
family of the Ulad Jamai, and were respectively
THE MOORISH COURT 19
Haj Amaati and Si Mohammed Soreir. Now Bou
Ahmed was the son of a negro slave, and there-
fore could count on no tribal or family influence.
His rivals, on the contrary, were Fez aristocrats,
highly born, and supported by the influential
population of the towns. They came of what is
known as a " Maghzen " family — that is to say,
a family who in the past had held Government
posts, and had a sort of traditional claim to high
employment. It was evident that jealousy must
exist between these two factions.
Bou Ahmed's position of Chamberlain gave him
constant access to his sovereign, whose extreme
youth brought him little into contact with his
viziers. No doubt, too, Bou Ahmed could count
upon the influence of the Sultan's mother. He
had been the constant and trustworthy confidant
of her husband, and instrumental in putting her
son on the throne. His own fate, too, depended
upon his keeping him there, and there can be
little doubt that Mulai Abdul Aziz's mother and
Bou Ahmed worked in connivance.
As soon as the new Government was organised
sufficiently for Mulai Abdul Aziz to travel, the
Court left Rabat for Fez — the real capital of the
country. No Sultan can count upon his throne
as being safe until he has been accepted by the
religious and aristocratic Fezzis, and taken up his
residence in the city; for Fez is the centre of
religion and learning — and also of intrigue — and
the influence of its population upon the tribes is
very great. It was therefore very important that
20 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the young Sultan should reach Fez at as early
a date as possible. His journey through the tribes
to Meknes was very successful. He was well
received on every side, and on his arrival at the
old capital which Mulai Ismail, a contemporary
of Louis Quatorze, had built, the population of
the city accorded him a popular welcome.
Meknes is some thirty-three miles from Fez,
and there remained only this last stage of the
journey to be accomplished.
Bou Ahmed fully appreciated his position. He
knew that once in Fez his influence must decrease.
His rivals could count upon the support not only
of the townspeople, but also of the Sultan's rela-
tions in the capital. To the Fezzis he was an
upstart, and there would be no peace from their
intrigues to bring about his fall, and no pity when
he fell. It was a case of now or never for Bou
Ahmed.
There were no signs of the coming storm. The
Ulad Jamai brothers were no doubt waiting till
their arrival amongst their own people in Fez to
begin a more active intrigue, and Bou Ahmed
himself was courteous and a little obsequious to
the influential viziers. A few mornings after the
Sultan's arrival at Meknes, the usual morning
Court was being held. Haj Amaati, the Grand
Vizier, surrounded by his white-robed followers,
rode into the palace square, amidst the bowing
officials and the salutes of troops. He was imme-
diately summoned into the Sultan's presence.
Mulai Abdul Aziz was alone with Bou Ahmed
THE MOORISH COURT 21
when Haj Amaati entered. He prostrated him-
self, and waited for the Sultan to speak. In a
rather frightened voice Mulai Abdul Aziz asked
him a question. Haj Amaati' s answer was not
found satisfactory, and Bou Ahmed burst forth
in a string of reproaches against the Vizier, and
accused him of disloyalty, avarice, extortion, and
political crimes. Suddenly appealing to the Sul-
tan, he asked for permission to arrest him. Mulai
Abdul Aziz inclined his head.
A few minutes later a dishevelled, cringing,
crying creature, amid jeers and laughter, was
dragged through the palace square amongst the
crowd that only so short a time before had been
bowing to the ground. His clothes were torn,
for the soldiers were rough, and his turban was
all askew. As he passed through the gate, dragged
by the soldiery, the sentry at the door seized
the Vizier's clean white turban and set it on his
own head, replacing it by his own duty fez cap.
A shout of laughter greeted this act.
The Vizier's brother, Si Mohammed Soreir, the
Minister of War, had not yet left his house for
the palace. He was arrested at his own doorway,
and did not attempt to resist, but allowed himself
to be led to prison.
The subsequent history of these two men forms
perhaps the blackest page of Mulai Abdul Aziz's
reign. They were sent in fetters to Tetuan, and
confined, chained and fettered, in a dungeon. In
the course of time — and how long those ten years
must have been — Haj Amaati died. The Governor
22 MOROCCO THAT WAS
of Tetuan was afraid to bury the body, lest he
should be accused of having allowed his prisoner
to escape. He wrote to Court for instructions.
It was summer, and even the dungeon was hot.
The answer did not come for eleven days, and all
that time Si Mohammed Soreir remained chained
to his brother's corpse ! The brother survived.
In 1908 he was released after fourteen years'
incarceration, a hopeless, broken, ruined man.
Everything he had possessed had been confis-
cated ; his wives and children had died, the result
of want and persecution. He emerged from his
dark dungeon nearly blind, and lame from the
cruel fetters he had worn. In his days of power
he had been cruel, it is said — but what a price he
paid !
He settled in Tangier, where I saw him almost
daily. He was in absolute poverty ; but all his
friends assisted him — and he wanted so little. An
old slave woman of the family, who had survived
in some out-of-the-way corner, came to look after
him, and used to massage his tortured wrists and
ankles. At length he died.
Two days before his death I saw him for the
last time. It was clear that a very little span
of life remained for him. I sat with him a long
time, and as I rose to leave him, he said : " Listen.
When they have washed my body for burial, I
want you to see that my chains and fetters are
put back upon my limbs. I desire to appear
before my God as I spent those fourteen years
of my life, that I may appeal to Him for the
THE MOORISH COURT 23
justice my Sultan refused me, that He in His
great mercy and forgiveness may open to me the
gates of Paradise."
It was impossible to replace the chains and
fetters, but I believe a link was sewn up in his
winding-sheet. With the cruellest cynicism he was
given an official military funeral, attended by all
the native authorities and functionaries — f or after
all he had been Minister of War !
Sir Ernest Satow represented Great Britain in
Morocco at the time of Mulai Abdul Aziz's succes-
sion. On learning of Mulai Hassen's death, the
news of which Kaid Maclean — who was with the
Moorish army — had managed to send to Tangier
with almost incredible rapidity, Sir Ernest sent
for me and told me that he proposed to send
some confidential agent to Fez upon a mission,
which would certainly be difficult and very likely
dangerous, for, as the news of the Sultan's death
spread, there would no doubt be disturbances on
every side. I naturally volunteered to go, and
my offer was accepted. The same night at twelve
o'clock I left, accompanied by one of my men,
both of us well mounted and armed. I am averse
to carrying arms in such countries as Morocco,
and have very seldom done so ; but the occasion
was unusual, and bands of marauders might be
looked for. I was dressed as a native mountaineer,
my head shaved except for one long lock of hair,
which I, native fashion, wore at this period of
my life ; my legs bare, and my feet thrust into
yellow slippers. A rough brown-hooded cloak
24 MOROCCO THAT WAS
covered my scanty clothing. I, no doubt, looked
a brigand — my companion was one. Luckily I
had good horses in my stable, and we chose the
two most likely to stand the fatigue. It was most
important to start at once and travel fast, in
order, if possible, to keep ahead of the news of
the Sultan's death, which was now publicly known
in Tangier. I could not take the direct route for
Fez, for part of my mission was to visit certain
influential Shereefs en route to whom I was per-
sonally known, and to exhort them to use all
their influence in the interests of peace, law, and
order.
It was midsummer, and dawn was early ; but
before the sun had risen we reached Arzeila,
twenty-six miles from Tangier. Here I break-
fasted with the Shereef of Abrish, a brother-in-
law of the famous Raisuli, and himself a man of
considerable renown. He promised to exert all
his influence to keep the tribes quiet. After a
short halt I left the town, and at night arrived
at Alcazar, having covered, by the route we had
travelled, well over sixty miles. From Alcazar to
Wazzan was a matter of some eight hours' ride,
and I reached the holy city of that name early
the next afternoon. I was most cordially received
by the very influential Shereefs who inhabit that
little mountain city, so rarely visited by Euro-
peans, as it is holy ground. It was a feast-day ;
but in spite of that the Shereefs at once got to
work, sending numerous letters to the tribes to
remain quiet. This work kept me at Wazzan till
THE MOORISH COURT 25
the middle of the following day, when I started
once more, reaching the Maizerieh, a village on
the hills above the Sebou Valley, that night.
Here we slept, to start again before daylight.
It was clear that the tribes here had learned
the news of the Sultan's death, for all night long
there was desultory firing, and in the early dawn
we could distinguish groups of horsemen in the
valley below. A general wiping out of old scores
had begun, combined with organised pillage.
Avoiding as far as possible the districts where
firing was taking place, my man and I rode on.
The situation was uncomfortable, and I forgot
for a moment what brigands we ourselves must
have looked ; but on suddenly coming upon a
long line of laden camels, the half-dozen caravan
men in charge took to their heels and ran for
their lives. We soon, however, reassured them,
and rode on. The fourth day's travelling after
leaving Tangier I arrived in Fez, having by our
detours covered from 190 to 200 miles. My horses
were tired, but not done up. At midday I pre-
sented the British Minister's despatch, and my
verbal message, to a council of the native authori-
ties sitting in the house of Amin Haj Abdesalam
El-Mokri, the father of the well-known Grand
Vizier, Haj Mohammed El-Mokri, perhaps the
most intelligent and capable of all the Moorish
authorities of to-day.
I remained in Fez for several weeks. Mean-
while, Mulai Abdul Aziz had reached Meknes,
where, at the moment of the arrest of the Grand
26 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Vizier and the Minister of War, I arrived, return-
ing to Fez with the young Sultan.
I have always looked back upon that period
with great pleasure. I was engaged upon a mission
of some delicacy, and I was thrust into the very
midst of native affairs. With that hospitality for
which the Mokri family is so well known, I was
a guest in their great house, one of the sights of
Fez, with its terraced gardens and its many foun-
tains. It required no little courage in those days
to harbour a " Christian," and I think this was
the first time on which a European had ever
been made welcome to stay in one of the great
Fez houses. I wore the native dress — I had, of
course, arrived without even a change of shirt —
and lived in the company of the sons of the family,
and was treated as one of them. My wants were
amply supplied from the voluminous wardrobes of
my hosts.
My mission was a success. On 14th July Sir
Ernest Satow wrote me agreeing to my request
to be allowed to return to Tangier. His letter is
before me now : —
" The Foreign Office has much approved of my
having sent you to Fez, and will not be unmindful
of the services you have rendered on the present
occasion. I sent copies of the greater part of
your long report (which I copied out myself) to
Sanderson, and Lord Kimberley read it with great
interest. I will only add now that I feel myself
under a great obligation to you for having under-
taken an important and, to all appearances, peril-
THE MOORISH COURT 27
ous mission. But I felt you were the man to
accomplish it. ... Many thanks for all you have
done. It has been most successful."
My mission had lasted many weeks, and necessi-
tated riding several hundreds of miles in the great
heat of midsummer in discomfort, and often in
danger. The British Government remunerated my
services by presenting me with a cheque of £100.
I did not complain, nor do I now, for it has been
so unusual to be paid at all when employed upon
these unofficial missions, that it seemed almost
extravagant. Only on one other occasion during
my whole Morocco career have I ever been paid
even my out-of-pocket expenses for tasks under-
taken at the request of the British authorities.
I never realised myself the extent of the work
I have done in this connection until I began to
write this book, when I unearthed the voluminous
correspondence that a succession of British Minis-
ters had addressed to me, and which seem to
treat of every mortal question pertaining to
Morocco.
I have quoted Sir Ernest Satow's letter, not
from any desire to boast of the utility of my
work, but because it represented one of the very
few marks of appreciation and encouragement that
I ever received from official sources, or, rather, I
should perhaps say, in which the credit of my
work was allowed to me. It was only years later
that I learned that from the day of Sir Ernest
Satow's departure from Morocco, over a period
of many years, all my work went home anony-
28 MOROCCO THAT WAS
mously — that is to say, contained in official de-
spatch as " I understand," or " I am informed."
In my own particular case it didn't matter much ;
but I confess that it hurt a little to be told long
afterwards that the mass of information that I
obtained — often by undertaking journeys at the
direct instigation of the British authorities, often
by my own personal relations with the tribes, and
always at my own expense — went home without
its origin being disclosed, and without identity.
I have quoted Sir Ernest Satow's letter ; I will
give one or two quotations from those of his
successors.
" I want you particularly to find out and let
me know the following things . . ." "It would
be interesting, as you are in that part of the
country, if you would go a little farther and
visit ..." "I want you to impress upon the
Sultan the importance of . . ." " I would like
you to return here as soon as possible, to consult
you about the . . . question." " You are the
only authority on the . . . tribes and what is
passing there. Could you therefore return . . ."
" I hope you will arrange not to be long away,
as I want to consult you about ..." " Please
give the Sultan clearly to understand that we will
not . . ." " You are the one and only authority
on these questions." "When you have time
would you make me a full report on ..." "As
a private individual it will be easier for you to
get the Maghzen [Government] to agree to . . ."
" I bow to your superior knowledge on all these
THE MOORISH COURT 29
questions, and now agree with you that ..."
" Do come back. I am lost without having you
to consult." These are a few extracts of what
was written ; the verbal instructions and requests
were naturally far greater.
I am glad of having been able to be of use,
and would not hesitate to act again as I acted
in the past ; but the policy of depriving the
unofficial and unpaid workman of the little crumbs
of credit is wrong. It ought rather to be the rule
to tempt young men of adventurous disposition
to live the life I led, and, if necessary, to assist
them — not to use them perpetually and keep them
outside the pale. It is contrary to human nature
to be absolutely disinterested in the personal suc-
cess of one's work, and the suppression of its
origin — more particularly when its origin is a life-
time of travel and of study, as well as a proficiency
for making friends amongst such people as the
Moors — can only tend toward discouragement. In
any branch of life but that of diplomacy such
action would be considered incorrect.
Since 1912, when the French Protectorate was
declared, and even before that date, from the
time when England had abandoned all political
aims in Morocco except to assist French policy,
my information became of more value to the
authorities of our friend and ally than to our-
selves. I was invited to accompany more than
one French special Mission, and have on many
occasions been consulted on questions of great
confidence, not only by French Ministers in Tan-
30 MOROCCO THAT WAS
gier, but also by the highest authorities of the
French Protectorate. My little dossier of French
official correspondence compares very favourably
with that of our own people. Sir Ernest Satow's
letter, which was quoted, is the one and only
expression of appreciation I ever received from
the British Government, while I have a dozen
letters of thanks, simple and full of appreciation
and encouragement, from Paris. My duties as
' Times ' correspondent often brought me into more
or less acute discussions with the Spanish Govern-
ment, but this has not deterred their high authori-
ties from expressing to me on several occasions,
in letters which I much appreciate, their thanks
for information given, and their satisfaction at the
large and fair way I have treated certain diplo-
matic questions, not only in the ' Times ' but also
elsewhere.
In such a life as I have led there have been
necessarily moments when one has been disheart-
ened and depressed, perhaps owing to fever, per-
haps to events. In my case, happily, they have
been few and far between, and I look back over
those past years in Morocco as a period of great
pleasure ; but there have been moments when a
little word of encouragement, a few lines to say
that one's work had been appreciated at home —
another letter, for instance, like Sir Ernest Satow's
— would have been so welcome and have done so
much. I can honestly say the occasions have not
been wanting.
I have enjoyed throughout the confidence of
THE MOORISH COURT 31
our representatives, and a very intimate and much
appreciated friendship with them all. I have had
every opportunity of seeing the inner workings of
their diplomacy, and I can state that Great
Britain has been fortunate in her Ministers in
this country. Some left Tangier to fill more
important posts elsewhere — Sir Ernest Satow, Sir
Arthur Nicolson, and the late Sir Gerard Lowther,
the best and kindest of men. One, perhaps the
most brilliant of all, rests here for ever, the last
British Minister to Morocco, Sir Reginald Lister,
whose loss to his country was so great, and to
his friends irreparable.
II.
LIFE AT THE MOORISH COURT.
MULAI ABDUL Aziz's stay in Fez, the northern
capital, in 1894, was not of long duration, for it
was important that the Court should move to the
south to consolidate his throne in those regions.
While Northern Morocco has always been the un-
restful and most seditious part of the country, it
has never presented such a serious danger as the
south is capable of becoming, for the northern
tribes are poor, numerically in no great force, and
always at war with each other. But in the Marra-
kesh region it is different. The rich agricultural
land, and the great harvest reaped from it, render
the tribes affluent ; they are well horsed and well
armed, and very prolific. Again, beyond the
plains, the great range of the Atlas Mountains is
inhabited by spirited and warlike Berber tribes,
to all intents and purposes unconquered. Fortun-
ately for the welfare of a long succession of Moorish
Sultans, these great tribes, governed by hereditary
chiefs, were nearly always on bad .terms with one
another ; and one of the most important results
accomplished by the French Protectorate Govern-
THE MOORISH COURT 33
ment in the last few years has been to form a
league of the southern tribesmen. Any one who
knew the old Morocco could scarcely believe that
the great chiefs — the Glaoui, the Mtougi, the Gin-
dafi, and the Rahamna Kaid — would ever join
hands, even in the interests of the country. But
to-day it is so. ,
Mulai Abdul Aziz was able to leave the north
in a state of peace and security. New Governors
had been appointed, and Bou Ahmed's firm hand
had made itself felt, and it was indispensable that
the Court should move south : there were already
signs of unrest that could not be ignored.
The arrival of the Sultan in the southern capital
had a tranquillising effect, and Bou Ahmed set
to work to restore order amongst the restive
tribes and to build himself a palace — at the public
expense. For six years he continued building,
and every available workman and artist was
employed. The result was grandiose, and the
building now forms the " Residency " of the
French Protectorate Government. The " Bahya "
— that is to say, " The Effulgence," as the palace
is called — consists of a succession of handsome
courtyards, one planted with cypress, orange,
lemon, and other fruit trees and flowers, lead-
ing one out of the other. These courts are
surrounded by arcades, on to which the great
rooms open. Everywhere are fountains and tanks
of water. This palace must cover many acres of
land, and though quite modern, is a building of
singular interest. There is one courtyard which
c
34 MOROCCO THAT WAS
is particularly beautiful, where the Moorish archi-
tect based his art on the traditions of the past.
The walls are higher ; the woodwork is not painted,
as is usual, in polychrome; while the court itself
is not nearly as large as some of the others. The
rooms themselves are perhaps less interesting than
the courtyards into which they open, though in
many cases the elaborately carved and painted
ceilings are very good.
On a very recent visit to Marrakesh I was able
to wander at leisure over this great palace, accom-
panied by a native who was in charge, and who
knew its every corner and turret, for he had been
employed on its construction. I had seen it years
before — or, rather, a portion of it — for I had twice
been entertained at dinner by its owner, the fam-
ous Bou Ahmed. I recall now one of those even-
ings : the hot, jasmine-scented air of the courts,
for it was late in spring, and the great dinner
served in one of the saloons, while a native band
discoursed anything but soft music just outside ;
and Bou Ahmed himself — short, dark, and of
unprepossessing appearance, but none the less an
excellent host. He has been dead now for twenty
years, and his property, confiscated by the Sultan
on his death, has passed into other hands. His
name is only a memory of the past. In Morocco
it was not, " How are the mighty fallen ! " but
" How are the mighty falling ! " for almost month
by month some great Kaid, some Vizier, or some
Prince fell — and fell far indeed.
Bou Ahmed had other things to think of besides
THE MOORISH COURT 35
his house. There was grave dissatisfaction amongst
some of the tribes, particularly amongst the
Rahamna, whose extensive territory lies imme-
diately to the north of the city of Marrakesh.
A leader, Taher ben Suleiman, had arisen, and
under his influence the tribes revolted. The local
authorities were murdered or driven out, and the
rebellion became general. Its suppression took
long, and cost much in lives and money. On one
occasion the rebels arrived at the walls of Marra-
kesh and took possession of the northern suburbs
of the town, but were driven back. Bou Ahmed
showed considerable ability in the suppression of
this revolt : not only was his energy unceasing,
but he knew also how to utilise the jealousy and
mistrust that always exists among the rebels. He
worked tribe against tribe, and division against
division. The Maghzen, by its superiority of
organisation, and by the means at its disposal
to obtain men, arms, and ammunition, prevailed.
The Rahamna rebellion was repressed, and hun-
dreds of square miles of country were given up
to fire, the sword, and pillage. The tribe was
almost wiped out ; hundreds died in prison ; the
women and children became the prey of the
soldiery, and were sold or driven away to starve,
and devastation reigned supreme. A few years
later I travelled through the Rahamna country.
It was still deserted, and the fields were grown
over with thick weeds and thorn-bushes. Only
a few most miserable black tents, with half -starved
inhabitants, remained where once the rich and
36 MOROCCO THAT WAS
flourishing Rahamna tribe had dwelt. Taher
ben Suleiman was captured. He was imprisoned
in a cage made of the barrels of his partisans'
rifles — a cage so small that he could scarcely
move in it, — and was exhibited to the public
of Marrakesh, to be spat upon and reviled. He
died in prison.
As long as Bou Ahmed lived the young Sultan
remained in the palace. True, he appeared at
ceremonies and celebrated the religious feasts in
public, but he was a nonentity. Bou Ahmed alone
governed Morocco.
In 1900 he died. I was in Marrakesh at the
time of his last illness, when he lingered on day
by day, kept alive by inhalations of oxygen. No
one cared, unless it was a few of his personal
followers and attendants, who would naturally
suffer by his demise. As for the rest, there was a
general indifference. He had never been popular,
and the immense fortune he had amassed and
great palace he had constructed awoke the jealousy
of others who had the same desires but not the
same opportunities. He was feared certainly, for
his will was indomitable, and he was cruel. A
sort of superstitious reverence had encircled his
life, but it disappeared when sickness laid him
low ; and when he breathed his last, the pent-up
feelings of the people burst forth, and they rose
up and cursed him.
The death of a great personage in Morocco is
terrible, and for several days as the Vizier lay
expiring, guards were stationed outside his palace
THE MOORISH COURT 37
waiting in silence for the end. And then one
morning the wail of the women within the house
told that death had come. Every gateway of the
great building was seized, and no one was allowed
to enter or come out, while within there was
pandemonium. His slaves pillaged wherever they
could lay their hands. His women fought and
stole to get possession of the jewels. Safes were
broken open, documents and title-deeds were ex-
tracted, precious stones were torn from their set-
tings the more easily to be concealed, and even
murder took place.
While all this was proceeding within the strictly
guarded walls, Bou Ahmed's body was borne out
and buried. The Sultan, weeping, followed the
bier of the man who had put him on his throne
and kept him there through those difficult years
of his youth. He must, indeed, have felt himself
alone as he stood beside the grave of his Vizier,
who, whatever may have been his faults, however
great may have been his extortions, had been
loyal throughout. When Mulai Abdul Aziz, still
weeping, had returned to his palace, his first act
was to sign the decree for the confiscation of all
Bou Ahmed's property. It was now organised
loot, for officials and slaves were turned loose to
carry out the royal commands. For days laden
baggage animals, half -concealed under great masses
of furniture, heaped with carpets and bedding, or
staggering under safes, bore Bou Ahmed's pro-
perty into the Sultan's palace. His women and
his slaves were made to give up their loot, and
38 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the house was left empty and its owners penni-
less. A few days later nothing remained but the
great building — all the rest had disappeared into
space. His family were driven out to starvation
and ruin, his slaves were taken by the Sultan to
be kept or sold, and his vast properties passed
into the possession of the State. It was the
custom of the country. The belongings of all
State functionaries passed at death to their lord
and master the Sultan. I see Bou Ahmed's sons
now and again. They are in complete poverty,
and accept as presents with real gratitude the
little sums which an upper servant in England
would despise.
The accepting of small presents of money is, in
Morocco, not considered by any means derogatory,
much less the accepting of large sums. I remember
well a great-uncle of the reigning Sultan, a man
who had been Viceroy in his time, who regularly
toured the country with a slave or two, collecting
alms. He was a pleasant genial old gentleman,
and had no hesitation in asking any one he met
to help him, or in accepting the smallest of coins.
On one occasion he arrived at the residence of a
native ex-official of the Moorish Court, who lived
in Tangier. There was a tennis-party going on,
and the guests, amongst whom were a certain
number of the representatives of the European
Powers, were at tea. His Highness called me aside
and asked who all these Europeans were. " They
are," I replied, " largely the Ministers of the
foreign Powers." " Aha," said the Prince, " they
THE MOORISH COURT 39
ought to be good for a pair of shoes if not for a
cloak. Rich people, rich people." I was able to
deter him, much to his surprise, by explaining
that it was not the custom in Europe for members
of the royal families to ask total strangers for
coats, or even shoes, and I added that if he would
wait a little I would see what could be done.
I mentioned the Prince's request to a few of my
friends, and we subscribed between us the six
francs necessary to purchase a pair of yellow
slippers, the only footgear of the country. He
was graciously pleased to accept them with the
dignity of a Prince of the Blood.
The death of Bou Ahmed naturally brought
about changes at Court. Whatever jealousies there
may have existed amongst the viziers, and no
doubt they were many, they realised that common
action was necessary. Each might have, and
probably would have, to defend his own particular
position from the others, but collectively they had
to defend their united positions from all the world.
They must either succeed or fall together, and
they determined to succeed.
The Sultan was now about twenty years of age,
and might at any moment desire to assert himself ;
and the self-assertion of young monarchs of auto-
cratic power and no experience is dangerous. The
viziers realised that in all probability the dis-
appearance of the strong hand of Bou Ahmed
would tempt the young Sultan to become more
independent, and it was necessary to come to some
arrangement as to how he should be led to think
40 MOROCCO THAT WAS
and act. Certainly it must not be in the direc-
tion of affairs of State — those the viziers meant
to keep to themselves. An occupation must be
found for the inexperienced and hitherto secluded
monarch.
It was the exact reverse of all the traditions of
Morocco ; but the situation was an unusual one,
for there had never been a Sultan in a similar
position. The viziers felt that should influence
be brought to bear to keep him in his palace he
might rebel against this enforced seclusion, and
rid himself, and probably in no gentle manner,
of the men who had instituted it. No ; it was
clear the Sultan must be amused, and his amuse-
ments must be so numerous and so varied that
his entire attention would be distracted from
affairs of State. Morocco itself could not supply
the novelties that would be required. Such plea-
sures and such luxuries as the country could
produce were his already — women, horses, jewels,
and the whole paraphernalia that goes to make
up an oriental potentate's surroundings. For
further distractions appeal must be made to
Europe. It was not made in vain. It was the
beginning of the great debacle, of the reckless
extravagance, of the follies and the debts that led
to foreign loans, and step by step to the loss of
Morocco's independence.
A strong and good adviser might have prolonged
the life of an independent Morocco, for although
possessed of no great attainments or will-power,
Mulai Abdul Aziz was thoughtful, intelligent, and
THE MOORISH COURT 41
desirous of doing well. It was no easy matter,
however, at Marrakesh, the southern capital, where
the Court was at this time in residence, to keep
the young Sultan amused. Situated 100 miles
from the nearest port, which itself was 300 miles
down the Atlantic coast, communication with
Europe was necessarily very slow, and the Sultan's
ever-increasing orders of European goods took long
to carry out. Often, too, the heavy Atlantic swell
rendered communication impossible between the
ships and the shore for weeks together.
The Sultan's caterers were at their last resources. v
Fireworks were played out ; bicycle tricks had led
to bruises and sprains ; and even photography
had lost its pristine interest. At this critical
moment came word of a belated circus at one of
the coast towns. It must naturally have been a
very poor circus ever to have found itself at that
dreary little port, but its advent was welcomed
as enthusiastically as if it had been Barnum's
entire show. Imperial letters were directed to the
local Kaids and Governors, agents rushed wildly
to and fro, and eventually the circus, bag and
baggage, consisting of a dozen people and three
or four horses, started out across the weary plains
of Morocco to obey the royal command. It all
took time, and meanwhile in Court circles it was
the absorbing topic of conversation. One or two
serious rebellions among the tribes, and an acute
quarrel with the Government of a European Power,
passed into temporary oblivion.
Now, the proprietress of this circus was an
42 MOROCCO THAT WAS
extremely stout Spanish lady of uncertain age,
on whose corpulent body the rough jogging on a
mule for more than a hundred miles had left almost
as painful an impression as the discomfort, heat,
and worry of the journey had upon her temper.
She herself took no active part in the perform-
ance, and it was on this account, to her intense
indignation and wrath, that she was refused admit-
tance to the court of the palace in which the
Sultan was to witness the show. His Majesty's
orders were that none but the actual performers
should be allowed to enter.
So the fat lady and one or two of the employees
of the circus remained in an outer courtyard
adjoining the enclosure in which the Sultan, seated
under a gorgeous tent, was witnessing the per-
formance. A wall some twenty feet in height
separated these two courts ; and in the outer one,
where the fat lady found herself, the Sultan had
been building some additions to the palace, and
a pile of stone, mortar, and other material reached
almost to the top of the wall. The lady was both
angry and bored, nor were a herd of gazelle and
a few fine specimens of mouflon — Barbary wild
sheep — that roamed about the enclosure sufficient
to keep her amused.
To have received a royal command to come all
that way to the Moorish capital, and then to be
deprived of the glory of seeing her own circus
performing before a real Sultan, was more than
she could bear, and she straightway began to
climb the great heap of building material that lay
THE MOORISH COURT 43
piled against the wall. It was hard work, nor
was her figure suited for such mountain-climbing ;
but she was to receive assistance from a source
undreamed of. Affected, no doubt, by her slow
progress in a sport of which he himself was so
proficient, the old ram mouflon lightly bounded
after her. Balancing himself for a moment on
his hind-legs, he lunged forward and butted the
fat lady so successfully from below that her ascent
was materially assisted. In a series of repeated
bounds, owing to no voluntary action on her own
part, she found herself pantingly grasping the top
of the thick wall.
Meanwhile the performance of the circus was
progressing to the Sultan's satisfaction. Suddenly,
however, an expression of wrathful consternation
became visible in his face, and, speechless, he
pointed at the wall. There, far above, was the
agonised and purple visage of the fat lady, peering
down at the Sultan and his Court. In a moment
the officers of the suite were shouting and gesticu-
lating to her to retire. But the only reply they
received was a sudden vision of a considerable
portion of her immense body, as a playful mouflon,
himself invisible, gave her another hoist up. At
last all her body was on the wall, to which she
clung for dear life with arms and legs, as she lay
extended on its summit. It was at this moment
that the mouflon appeared. With a majestic
bound he leaped on to the summit, stood for a
moment poised on his hind-legs, then suddenly
dropped, and with a terrific prod from his wide
44 MOROCCO THAT WAS
horns, butted the fat lady at least a yard
along the wall. He was evidently intent upon
taking her round the entire circuit of the court-
yard.
For a few moments there was turmoil. The
Sultan sat silent and amazed, while the Cabinet
Ministers all shouted to the lady to disappear,
which she was certainly most anxious to do. The
slaves, more wisely, pelted the mouflon with stones,
and drove him from his point of vantage. Then
slowly the lady disappeared — the fat legs first,
then the heaving mass of body, and finally even
vfche purple face was seen no more.
It was in 1901 that I became personally ac-
quainted with the young Sultan. I had seen
him once or twice, for I had accompanied Sir
Arthur Nicolson's special Mission to Marrakesh in
1896 ; but at that time the Sultan had not emerged
from his shell of reserve. He was still a young
boy, evidently very shy, and entirely under the
thumb of Bou Ahmed, the famous Grand Vizier.
One audience that we had with him on that occa-
sion was not without interest. We had ridden
far into the depths of the great Agdal gardens
to a summer-house, where His Shereefian Majesty
was waiting to receive the British Minister. A
tangled jungle of orange-trees ; vines climbing
over broken trellis, and clinging in festoons to
great cypresses ; here and there a broken marble
fountain or a tiny stream — such were our sur-
roundings. With our escort of white-robed Moorish
cavalry, led by the Master of the Ceremonies, we
THE MOORISH COURT 45
rode through the great garden to dismount before
a kiosk of arches and pillars, of green-glazed
tiles and red geometric frescoes on a yellow wall.
Everywhere the tangle of vegetation had over-
grown its borders. The cypresses shot up, pillars
of dark green, above the building, while vine,
jasmine, and geranium strove for the supremacy
below. Outside the building, and out of sight of '
its occupants, sat a row of Moorish officers, the
Sultan's attendants. At the door of the one room
that the kiosk contained — for it seemed all
arches and pillars without — stood Bou Ahmed, the
Vizier, a dark, stout, short man, showing his black
origin in every feature.
Within, opposite the doorway, on a Louis Seize
settee, was Mulai Abdul Aziz. He was seated
cross-legged, with his hands folded in his lap and
half -hidden in his soft white raiment. I remember
being particularly struck with his pale complexion
and his evident shyness. At the side of the divan
was a chair, where the British Minister was in-
vited to be seated, while we who were in attend-
ance stood around the door. The Sultan himself
said little, and that little was addressed to his
Vizier in almost a whisper, and repeated by him
to the British Minister. In a few minutes Mulai
Abdul Aziz had largely recovered his self-posses-
sion, and was busy taking in every item of the
uniforms worn by the Minister's suite. He could
scarcely keep his eyes off one man — the present
Lord Loch — whose six feet five, capped by an
enormous busby, was of evidently entrancing in-
46 MOROCCO THAT WAS
terest to His Majesty. Four years later, talking
to Mulai Abdul Aziz in the intimacy of personal
friendship, I reminded him of this episode. He
laughingly replied that he had certainly been more
struck with his height and uniform than anything
else on that Mission, and requested me to ask the
British Minister whether it would not be possible
for Lord Loch to accompany a second embassy
that was to start a few months later. This message
duly reached the authorities at home, and in
January 1902 Mulai Abdul Aziz, no longer shy,
had the pleasure — and it was an evident pleasure
— of once more welcoming Lord Loch at his Court.
I little thought at their first meeting, when I
watched the young Sultan's shy interest in the
big Guardsman, that a few years later I should
witness the same Guardsman instructing the same
Sultan in the mysteries of " tip-and-run " in an
enclosure of the Shereefian Palace.
My first private audience with Mulai Abdul Aziz
was in the summer of 1901. After a considerable
delay, largely owing to the discussion of the kind
of obeisance I was prepared to make in entering
His Majesty's presence, I was honoured with a
private audience. I found His Majesty courteous,
pleasant, and intelligent. He was easy to amuse,
and by my departure from the austere etiquette
of the Court in not confining my remarks to
replies to His Majesty's questions, although at first
it seemed a little to surprise him, I succeeded in
gaining his attention and amusement. I had been
told that my audience would be very formal and
THE MOORISH COURT 47
last a few minutes. It lasted over an hour. The
Sultan was seated, and I remained standing the
whole time — to which I could not very well object.
In any case, I had overcome the difficulty of my
reception by refusing point-blank to go down on
my knees and to touch the floor with my fore-
head— a form of salutation which was being prac-
tised by the Europeans in His Majesty's service,
for already he had begun to increase his Christian
entourage. I had stated that I was prepared to
enter the Sultan's presence in adopting the same
formalities as I did in the presence of my own
sovereign, and the Sultan had accepted that
formula. Almost the first question he asked me
was if I had ever been received in private audience
by my own King. I replied that I had experienced
that honour. He then asked what obeisance I
had made. I replied that I had bowed on enter-
ing the room, and again on approaching His
Majesty's person. The Sultan seemed surprised,
and demanded why it was the Englishmen in his
service carried out the Moorish form of etiquette
by kneeling and touching the floor with their
foreheads ? I could only protest that I didn't
know, except to surmise that, as they were in the
service of a Moorish Sultan, they probably thought
they ought to adopt the traditional Moorish form
of obeisance. The Sultan gave orders that it was
to be discontinued, though, as a matter of fact,
the Europeans in his service still continued to use
it on the great feast-days of the year until the
end of his reign. A few years later, on one of
48 MOROCCO THAT WAS
these occasions I saw a long line of Englishmen
drop on to their knees and bow their foreheads
to the ground as the Sultan approached. It is a
matter of personal option, based on prejudice. It
seems to me that any human being has a right
to act in such matters just as he thinks right.
That he demeans himself or his country by so
doing appears to me ridiculous. An Englishman,
and much less England, cannot be demeaned by
any fantastic gymnastics. I preferred not to do
it solely for the reason that it seemed to me to
be absurd, just as half the ceremonies at a British
coronation would appear absurd and meaningless
to a Moor. Nearly all etiquette is ridiculous, only
we are more or less accustomed to it, and have
largely modified its eccentricities. I have experi-
enced things nearly as absurd as this Moorish
custom in other Courts. Some years ago, on one
of the very hottest days of a hot summer in a
country of Southern Europe, I had the honour to
be received by the sovereign. I arrived at the
palace at half-past ten in the morning and left it
at one o'clock. The king in question was dressed
in the heavy blue uniform of an admiral ; I was in
a frock-coat. The thermometer, even in the room,
must have been in or very near the nineties.
Yet we stood the whole time— for two hours and
a half. At half-past two I was summoned back
to the palace to complete this long but interesting
audience. With a sigh of relief His Majesty said,
" I think this time we can sit down." And we
did. Why on earth we hadn't sat down in the
THE MOORISH COURT 49
morning during all those perspiring hours Heaven
only knows. I could have understood a king
sitting and his visitor being made to stand, but
mutual discomfort and fatigue in such a case and
for such a length of time appears to me to be
almost childish folly.
The Moorish protocol would have compared
favourably with this European etiquette. The
Moorish visitor would have made his lowly obei-
sance to the sovereign, but this done he would
have squatted down, more or less comfortably,
in his Sultan's presence, and remained seated till
the end of the audience. It seemed to me to be
preferable. But etiquette is all a question of
custom and habit. Take kissing, for example.
How well every man must remember how, when a
small boy, he feared that his mother might kiss
him in the presence of his schoolfellows. In after
years, when it is too late, how he would have
treasured those lost kisses were they now obtain-
able ! What amusement, too, the kissing of foreign
men on the railway platforms of the continent
has caused us ! But witness the meeting of two
great Morocco chiefs — the stately approach, the
last few more hurried steps, and the graceful em-
brace as each bends forward and kisses the other's
shoulder. I have seen the meeting of great men
in Morocco in the hour of sorrow, when they
have fallen upon each other's necks and wept.
How few soldiers know that the origin of the
salute they give to-day comes from the East, and
is really no more than the movement of the sub-
D
50 MOROCCO THAT WAS
ject to shield from his eyes the effulgent glory of
his sovereign, only to-day it applies equally to
the effulgent glory of his second lieutenant as well.
Habit is everything, and prejudice scarcely less.
These were the first days of the toys and fire-
works at the Moorish Court. For a time the
t latter were paramount, and almost nightly the
southern capital was illumined by the reflection
of Catherine-wheels and startled by the flashing
of the many colours of marvellous rockets. A man
was brought especially from England to show and
prepare the fireworks, and he became a permanent
member of His Majesty's suite. The natives were
partly amused, partly shocked. Thrifty as the
Moor is by nature, he could not overlook the
wild extravagance of this manner of spending
money, and the fireworks by the time they had
arrived in Marrakesh had cost a pretty price.
Freight, insurance, and the long caravan trans-
port from the cost had to be added to the original
cost, and there was an item known as commission.
They were certainly very beautiful fireworks and
very expensive. I was present at a display given
to amuse a British Minister, who highly dis-
approved of this extravagance, but could not
refuse the invitation. There was a set piece of
an enormous elephant, and the show concluded
with a waterfall of fire in a new shade of pink,
just discovered, and accordingly of elevated price.
It was certainly very beautiful, but it was very
useless and very dear.
One afternoon the Sultan informed me that
THE MOORISH COURT 51
there would be a display that night in the palace
grounds, but that it was for the " palace " — that
was to say, the ladies — and no men would be
invited ; but if I went up on to the roof of the
house in which I was living, I should no doubt
be able to witness something of it. I watched
the beautiful rockets of every colour rise in their
streaks of fire into the wonderful sapphire blue
of the sky of the southern night, to burst with
their thousand stars, filling the whole scene of the
flat house-tops of the old city with the pale glow
of greens and pinks and yellows. In the " Jumma
el-Fenaa " — the open place that lies in the centre
of the city — the crowds stood and watched the
rockets as they rose over the high walls of the
palace half a mile away.
The next day the Sultan asked me what I had
thought of the display. I spoke of its beauty, and
hinted at its waste. I mentioned the crowd in
the square. " What did the people say ? " asked
the Sultan. " I didn't hear much," I replied ;
" but on several occasions some one would cry
out, ' There goes another thousand dollars of our
money.' 3
Mulai Abdul Aziz had expected to hear his own
praises sung for having presented the brilliant
spectacle to the people of his city, and my answer
surprised him. It was, however, not without
effect, or perhaps he was growing tired of coloured
fires, for there was a great diminution in these
displays, although the professional exhibitor re-
mained for some time later at the palace.
52 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Throughout the many months that I spent at
the Moorish Court, I always felt that a catastrophe
must eventually happen. The Sultan was evidently
being led upon the road to ruin, and near him as
I was, all my efforts to persuade him of the fact
were in vain. On more than one occasion, par-
ticularly towards the end of 1902, I implored him,
in language which he smilingly told me no one
had ever ventured to address to him before, to
pull himself up in time. He was kind, thanked
me for being so outspoken, and continued his
pro-European proclivities and his extravagances.
Had he at that time dismissed the greater number
of his European employees, leaving only his doctor,
an engineer or two, and any one who had been
in his father's employ, and ceased spending his
money, the whole future of Morocco might have
been changed.
His afternoons in Marrakesh were given up to
play. More than once, always accompanied by
Menebhi, the Minister of War, and some of his
European employees, we rode in the immense
wilderness of gardens of the Agdal Palace. At the
edge of a great square tank we would dismount,
and sometimes went for a row in one of the various
boats that he kept there. On one occasion His
Majesty and his Minister rowed — very badly in-
deed— while I, the only other occupant of the
boat, steered. The Sultan, who rowed bow, caught
several crabs, and splashed poor Menebhi all over.
The Minister of War rowed about one hundred
short strokes to the minute, whilst the Sultan,
THE MOORISH COURT 53
struggling with his oars, rowed about ten extremely
long ones. But both were hugely delighted with
the performance, and our spirits were of the
highest.
" We are both boatmen, and you are the pas-
senger. We are crossing a Moorish ferry," cried
the Sultan.
Entering into the Sultan's little joke, I replied
" that they were the worst ferrymen I had ever
seen, and that on landing I should complain to
the authorities of their incapacity."
" Oh, you will, will you ? " replied Mulai Abdul
Aziz. " Then all I can say is, we won't put you
ashore until you pay us."
" Then I'll stop here."
" All right," replied the Sultan ; and he promptly
began to splash me with all his might and main,
though poor Menebhi was getting as wet as I was.
" Will you pay ? " asked His Majesty.
" Willingly," I laughed. " How much ? "
" Half a peseta each " (about 4d.), answered
the Sultan, and they duly pocketed their fee.
It was the first time in my life I had tipped a
Sultan and a Minister of War.
In the autumn of 1902 I was invited to accom-
pany the royal progress to the northern capital,
Fez.
The Sultan's departure from Marrakesh, where
he had now been in residence for some six years,
had been expected earlier in the autumn ; but
constant delays occurred, and although the im-
perial tents had been for some time pitched out-
54 MOROCCO THAT WAS
side the city gates, it was not until late in November
that a start was made. Early one morning, sur-
rounded by all the characteristic pomp pertaining
to the Sultanate of Morocco, Mulai Abdul Aziz
left his palace in the southern capital for the first
camp of his northward march.
There is no necessity to describe day by day
the Sultan's progress. The etiquette and formali-
ties of each were almost identical, though the scene
was an ever- varying one, changing with the nature
of the country traversed. An account of one day,
picked out at hazard, will be sufficient to give
an idea of the whole. Long before daylight the
great camp was astir, and when, soon after 3 A.M.,
the morning gun was fired, a number of tents
had already been struck, horses saddled, and mules
and camels packed for the march. In the moon-
light and early dawn the scene was one of great
beauty — an indistinct medley of white tents, here
silvery in the moonlight, there ruddy with the
glow of camp-fires, whose tall red columns of
smoke rose pillar-like into the still air. In and
about the tents passed the shadowy forms of men
and animals. As if by magic the scene was ever
changing, as tent after tent silently fell to the
ground, until with the first glow of dawn there
remained of the great encampment only the canvas-
walled enclosure containing the Sultan's tents, and
a plain covered with horsemen and thousands
upon thousands of baggage mules and camels.
Already the cavalry were massed near the Sultan's
enclosure, the horsemen forming an open square,
THE MOORISH COURT 55
in the centre of which, surrounded by the Ministers
of State, lay a crimson-curtained palanquin with
its couch of turquoise blue. From the entrance of
the Sultan's tents to the square of cavalry a
double line was formed by white-robed, red-capped
officials, awaiting His Majesty.
A bugle sounds clear in the still atmosphere,
and a moment later a great cry rends the air.
There is a beating of drums and a sound of trum-
pets, as a solitary white figure, erect and dignified,
walks slowly through the bowing lines of officials,
enters the square of horsemen, and seats himself
upon the blue divan. Again arises the cry of wel-
come, as, bending forward, the tribes greet their
Sultan with the salutation, " May God prolong
the life of our Lord."
The sun has risen now, his first rays falling upon
the gold-orbed banners, heavy with brocades and
silks that wave high above the heads of the
cavalry ; then upon the wild horsemen themselves,
their saddles of brilliant reds and greens, half-
hidden in the heavy folds of their long white
garments, and the scene becomes one of indescrib-
able beauty. One by one the Sultan's tents are
struck, and the great canvas-walled enclosure
vanishes under the hands of hundreds of skilled
tent-pitchers. Sometimes His Majesty gives an
audience to an official, a local governor of a tribe,
who, barefoot, approaches the Sultan, falls upon
his knees, and three times touches the ground
with his forehead, remaining crouched before
his lord and master during the few seconds that
56 MOROCCO THAT WAS
such audiences last. Again a bugle ; and through
the line of horsemen run dusky soldiers leading
saddled horses, trotting them past the Sultan
that he may choose upon the back of which
he will perform the day's march. With a slight
motion of his hand the choice is made, and the
honoured steed is led up to the palanquin. Some-
times it is a white, saddled and trapped in tur-
quoise blue ; sometimes a grey, decked in rose-
coloured silks ; sometimes a black, his head half
hidden in primrose-yellow tassels.
As the Sultan mounts, the scene becomes for a
few minutes one of wild confusion. The banner-
bearers, the spear-bearers, the cavalry, the scarlet-
and-blue mounted infantry, the high officials on
their saddle-mules, the artillery, even the Sultan
himself, seems hopelessly mixed in a struggling
crowd. It is only for a very little while, and then
from the medley emerges the royal procession,
forming into order as it proceeds. The vanguard
is formed of an escort of cavalry, headed by the
standard-bearers, carrying flags of every hue and
colour, the poles topped with glittering balls.
Next come the artillery, the guns carried upon
the backs of mules, and after them a troop of
mounted infantry. Two mounted men, carrying
long slender spears, precede the led horses, five
or six of which, trapped in rich silks, always form
a feature of the procession. Riding alone is the
Grand Master of the Ceremonies, a dark man of
fine presence, wand of office in hand. Then, after
a space of some forty yards, the Sultan, a solitary
THE MOORISH COURT 57
white figure on horseback. At his side run negroes,
waving long white scarves to keep the dust and
the flies off his holy person. Immediately behind
His Majesty rides a soldier, bearing aloft, so as
to shade the Sultan from the rays of the sun,
the Imperial parasol of crimson and gold. The
red palanquin, borne by sturdy mules, follows,
and behind it a long wide line of standard-bearers,
the banners rich in gold thread and brocaded
silks, and the poles of one and all crowned with
gilded orbs. Immediately behind the flags ride
the viziers and great officers of State, followed by
a rabble of smaller officials and soldiery, of black
slaves and tribesmen from all over Morocco.
There are no roads, and the procession of men
and animals spreads widely out over the plains
and undulating hills. Often as far as the eye can
reach one can trace the great migration stretching
from horizon to horizon, a rainbow of colour upon
the green plains. Sometimes to cross a valley the
procession narrows in, to spread out again in the
open country beyond, till the whole land is dotted
with horsemen and mules, and slow-gaited lumber-
ing camels.
Now and again a tribal governor, with his escort
of horsemen, comes to sahite his sovereign. Drawn
up in a long line they await the Sultan's approach.
At his approach the governor dismounts from his
horse and prostrates himself before his lord, to
rise again at a signal from His Majesty. Bending
low, he approaches and kisses the Sultan's stirrup,
then mounts again, and with a hoarse cry of
58 MOROCCO THAT WAS
welcome the tribesmen dig their spurs into the
flanks of their barbs and gallop pell-mell hither
and thither, now singly, now in line, firing their
guns the while, until the horses are brought to
a sudden standstill in a cloud of smoke and dust.
These tribesmen are not the only people who
come from afar to greet the Sultan on his march.
There are beggars and representatives of all the
dervish sects, from cymbal-beating negroes from
the Sudan to the Hamacha of Meknes, who cut
open their heads with hatchets. There are snake-
charmers and acrobats, and men with performing
apes ; little deputations of country Jews and
Jewesses ; groups of white-robed scholars from
local mosques, bearing white flags ; veiled Arab
women, uttering shrill trembling cries of welcome,
and offering bowls of milk ; lepers with their
faces swathed and wearing great straw hats, bear-
ing bowls of wood to collect alms in, for none may
touch them — a thousand scenes of human life,
with all its pleasures and all its tragedies.
On the sixth day's march one of the largest
rivers in Morocco, the Oum er-Rebia, had to be
forded. Fortunately the autumn rains had not
yet fallen, and the river presented no great obstacle
to the passage of so large a caravan. Almost the
first to ride across was the Sultan, his horse sur-
rounded by negroes on foot, while a line of expert
swimmers were held in readiness, linked hand in
hand, stretched from bank to bank. For over
three hours the procession steadily waded through,
and though many a mule fell and many a man
THE MOORISH COURT 59
and pack were soaked, no serious accidents oc-
curred. It was a scene of wild confusion as the
horsemen and laden animals climbed down the
steep bank to the water's edge and entered the
swiftly-flowing river ; but in the end all got across
in safety, and great were the rejoicings and many
the congratulations that night in camp, for it is
seldom that a Sultan and his vast following have
crossed the Oum er-Rebia without paying a toll in
human lives.
Usually a ride about four hours brings the
Sultan to his next camping-ground. A quarter
of an hour before reaching the selected spot the
bands commence to play, and the tribesmen, the
cavalry, and mounted infantry gallop ahead, form-
ing into two lines, between which His Majesty
rides into a square of horsemen drawn up in the
same formation as that of the early morning.
The crimson palanquin is quickly unharnessed, the
blue divan arranged, and Mulai Abdul Aziz seats
himself in solitary state to await the pitching of
his encampment.
No tent might be raised in the camp until the
gilded globe which surmounts the Sultan's prin-
cipal tent is in position ; but it required only a
very short time for the skilled tent-pitchers to
pitch the great mass of canvas crowned with its
glittering orb. It is a signal to the rest of the
camp, and almost as if growing from the ground
arose the white canvas town. There was no con-
fusion, no noise. Every one knew the right posi-
tion to pitch in, and the whole system worked
60 MOROCCO THAT WAS
without a hitch. Probably the Moors are alone
in the pitching of these great camps ; it seems a
hereditary trait in their characters. Sultan after
Sultan, ever since the Empire of Morocco first
came under the dominion of the Arabs, had
travelled in exactly the same manner as that in
which Mulai Abdul Aziz was making the journey
from Marrakesh to Rabat. In no detail had it
changed. The very shape and decoration of the
tents had never varied, and to such an extent
had conservatism been maintained, the Sultan
told the writer, that, so far from travelling with
all the luxury that one could imagine, he was
forbidden by the unwritten laws of tradition to
cover the floor of his State tent, except for three
small carpets. The rest of the floor-space must
consist of the soil of the country, and this, on the
day which His Majesty narrated the fact, was
perhaps four inches deep in almost liquid black
mud. Outside his tent he may lay down straw or
matting, or any covering he may please, but
within there must be nothing.
The Sultan's principal tent once up, the tent-
pitchers turned their attention to the remainder
of his camp, consisting of some half-dozen large
marquees, the whole — an acre perhaps of ground
— being enclosed with a nine-feet wall of white
canvas, decorated in patterns of dark blue. This
private encampment of His Majesty formed the
centre of the camp, which stretched away on all
sides, often for nearly half a mile in every direc-
tion. At the outer extremity were pitched the
THE MOORISH COURT 61
tents of the infantry, so close to one another that
entrance and exit to the camp was only possible
at certain intervals, where spaces were left for the
purpose.
The greatest interest naturally attached to the
immediate surroundings of the Sultan's tents. No
one but his ladies and their female slaves might
enter the walled enclosure, with the exception of
one small portion of it divided off from the rest,
retained for unofficial audiences. His Majesty
transacted all his affairs of State outside the en-
closure, in a tent of scarlet and green cloth, pitched
at the end of a large open square, and visible from
a considerable distance. Here before the eyes of
the public His Majesty received his Ministers,
attended to his correspondence, and sealed official
documents. Near this tent, known as the " Si wan,"
were two large marquees, one used as a mosque,
the other the office of the viziers. In this quarter,
too, were the offices of the other Ministers of State
and high officials. Behind these were the private
encampments of the more important personages,
often consisting of several very large tents leading
to one another by covered passages of canvas.
Directly opposite, on the farther side of the Sultan's
enclosure, were the royal stables, where a quantity
of fine barbs were tethered, their number con-
stantly being added to by the presents brought
to His Majesty by the tribal governors.
As soon as his tents were ready, the Sultan
remounted his horse, and amidst the playing of
bands and the shouts of the tribesmen, rode into
62 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the seclusion of his private camp. It was generally
not long after His Majesty's disappearance from
view that a long line of white-robed and veiled
women, mounted upon mules, passed silently
amongst the tents and entered the royal precincts.
As they filed through the camp every man turned
his head away from the mysterious white pro-
cession. Usually the whole camp was pitched by
midday, and not long after that hour the neigh-
bourhood of the Government quarters became astir
with life. The white-robed viziers sought their
offices, while soldiers kept order amongst the
throng of people that were always crowding near
the tent doors awaiting audiences with the Minis-
ters of State. Only the " Siwan " was deserted,
but not for long. A bugle sounds. There is a
hurrying to and fro of officials and soldiers, and
again the cry, " God prolong the life of our Lord,"
is heard, and the solitary white figure, round
whom all this great camp revolves, is seen slowly
entering under the shadow of the tent of scarlet
and green.
His Majesty usually gave some two or three
hours a day to the consideration of affairs of State,
though, on the occasions on which the great cara-
van did not travel and no journey was made, a
considerably longer period was put aside for public
business. Meanwhile, in another quarter of the
camp, provisions and fodder were being distri-
buted to the vast concourse of people who follow
His Majesty upon these royal progresses. Yet, in
spite of the fact that some thirty thousand persons
THE MOORISH COURT 63
and probably twenty thousand horses and mules
had to be fed, the commissariat worked without
a hitch, and food and fodder were supplied in an
incredibly short period of time to all those who
had a right to receive it. The local tribes alone
were dependent upon their own resources, and,
with this exception, the Sultan feeds the whole
camp. Up till the time of this journey of Mulai
Abdul Aziz the march of a Sultan through a dis-
trict was sufficient to bring ruin upon the people,
so extortionate were the demands made upon
them. But he would have none of this, and
most of the provisioning was paid for, not by
local taxation, but from the Imperial Treasury,
and His Majesty showed throughout solicitude for
the welfare of his subjects. He allowed them to
approach him, and listened attentively to their
complaints against the local officials.
At sunset gunfire, His Majesty prayed, and
retired to his tents for the night, though almost
every evening he gave unofficial audiences to his
friends in the divided-off portion of his private
encampment reserved for this purpose. As night
fell the camp became dotted with the little lights
of lanterns, often gaily decorated with coloured
glass, while here and there a camp-fire showed up
ruddily amongst the tents. Now and again could
be heard the tinkling of stringed instruments and
the soft murmur of a singer, who seemed afraid to
raise his voice in the stillness that pervades every-
thing,— a stillness only broken now and again by
an order to the guards and sentries — of whom
64 MOROCCO THAT WAS
400, shoulder to shoulder, encircled the Sultan's
enclosure — or by the long-drawn accents of the
mueddin as he called the Faithful to prayer.
The " last post " — and as the note of the bugle
dies away, a wonderful silence fell upon the moon-
lit camp.
III.
THE ROAD TO RUIN.
BY the end of 1902 Mulai Abdul Aziz had returned
to Fez, desirous of introducing reforms, and reck-
lessly extravagant. His intentions were the best ;
but if there was one thing his viziers did not
desire to see introduced it was reform, for their
livelihoods and their fortunes depended upon a
continuance of the state of corruption which they
had every interest to see prolonged. So they
closed their eyes to the young Sultan's extrava-
gances, watched him waste his own and his coun-
try's money on every sort of folly, and shared in
the profits.
All sorts of rumours and stories were current
amongst the tribes as to what went on in the
palace. For instance, the Sultan, finding the white
walls of one of the interior courtyards too dazzling
for his eyes, had them painted blue — an innova-
tion unheard of at a Court where tradition ruled.
Now the walls of this courtyard were visible from
the hills above Fez, and the patch of bright blue
soon attracted the attention of the tribesmen
attending the local markets. To them, as it was
E
66 MOROCCO THAT WAS
contrary to Moslem tradition, it must be of Chris-
tian origin, and a story was soon being circulated
that Mulai Abdul Aziz had lost his fortune playing
cards with his Christian friends, and was now
staking the various parts of his palace in lieu of
money. He had lost this particular court, which
the Christians had taken possession of and painted
blue. As a matter of fact, at this period playing-
cards were unknown inside the palace, and with
all his extravagances Mulai Abdul Aziz never
showed the least propensity to gambling. All play
for money is forbidden by the Moslem religion,
and the young Sultan was strict in the observances
of his faith.
The rumours of Christian influence spread fast,
and were soon taken advantage of. The Moors
are essentially opportunists, and one, Omar ez-
Zarhonni, was more opportunist than the rest.
He was an educated man who had been a scribe
at Court, but a forgery had put an end to his
career in the precincts of the palace. For a time
he was a sort of secretary to Hammou el-Hassen,
the Berber Kaid of the Beni Mtir tribe, when I
knew him. In 1901 he left the Kaid and dis-
appeared into the country. Amongst other useful
attainments he was a skilful forger, and knew a
certain number of rather ordinary conjuring tricks.
He possessed as well a most fluent tongue. By
the aid of these accomplishments he was able to
make a living, travelling from tribe to tribe on
a she-donkey, from which fact he became known
along the countryside as " Bou Hamara " — liter-
THE MOORISH COURT 67
ally, the "Father of the she-donkey." It was
amongst the simple tribesmen of the Rif that he
met with his principal success. Starting with the
idea of merely earning a livelihood, he soon saw
the possibilities of a career on a larger scale. His
conjuring tricks, his wily tongue, and his forgeries
— to say nothing of the she-donkey — encircled him
with a sort of religious prestige ; and one day he
suddenly declared himself to be Mulai Mohamed,
the first-born son of the late Sultan Mulai Hassen,
and therefore the elder brother of the then reigning
sovereign, Mulai Abdul Aziz. For a time he did
not discard his donkey, and the humility of this
means of transit added attractions to his prestige
in the eyes of the devout.
In the late autumn of 1902 Mulai Abdul Aziz
left Fez for Rabat. His departure had been de-
layed on account of this incipient rebellion of Bou
Hamara's ; but affairs seemed to have quieted
down, and the departure of the Court took place
in November. An army had been meanwhile sent
in the direction of Taza to put down the rebellion.
The choice of a Commander-in-Chief for this army
was typical of Morocco of those days. The situa-
tion was critical, and the future depended largely
upon the success of His Majesty's troops. The
Sultan was leaving North Morocco, and by this
fact alone his position would be weakened ; but
the tradition of corruption — accepted and per-
mitted— was too great. I asked the Sultan, for
I was at Fez with him at that time, whom he
had chosen as Commander-in-Chief. To my aston-
68 MOROCCO THAT WAS
ishment he replied, " My brother, Mulai el-Kebir."
" But he is still a boy," I replied, " and has never
been a soldier." " True," replied the Sultan, " but
my other brothers have all commanded expedi-
tions. It is Mulai el-Kebir's turn. He has never
had a chance of making a little money." The
making of a little money was, of course, the
abstraction of the soldiers' pay and extortion
everywhere. I accompanied the Sultan when he
left Fez in November. The Court proceeded, with
all its pomp and majesty, to Meknes, where we
stayed a few days, and then on into the Zimmour
country, where rebellion was rife. It is impossible
to say of how many people the rabble which
accompanied the Sultan consisted, but we were
probably 18,000 or 20,000 in camp, with at least
half perfectly useless for warfare. A number of
Fez merchants, who followed the Court from
capital to capital, accompanied the Sultan, and
each had his family and retainers with him.
Amongst other strange groups were hundreds of
beggars, for the most part blind, who also migrated
with the Court.
There was some fighting in the Zimmour country,
but still more in the Sultan's camp. The incidents
which occurred were typical of the time and
country. The Zimmour tribesmen decided to re-
sist the Sultan's progress at a deep ravine which
crossed the plains at right angles to our line of
march. This ravine was perhaps 400 feet in depth,
a few yards wide only at the bottom, where a
little river flowed, and half a mile across at its
THE MOORISH COURT 69
summit. Aware that the army was likely to meet
with resistance at this spot, a halt was called on
the edge of the valley. Half-way up the steep
slope on the opposite side was an open ledge of
green grass, on which was a group of black tents
and thatch huts of the Zimmour villagers. From
the thick brushwood opposite a few rebel shots
were fired at the army. The Sultan's artillery and
machine-guns were brought up to the edge of the
ravine, and began firing promiscuously into the
brushwood. It was soon clear that the valley
was not strongly held. The Zimmour tribesmen
are horsemen, and their attack was more likely
to be made on the plain across the ravine, at the
moment when the army was extricating itself from
the precipices and brushwood.
A regiment — the Doukkalas — was ordered to
clear the valley in preparation for an advance,
and started down the steep hillside with much
noise and singing. A few shots were fired at them
as they descended. The river crossed, they began
the ascent, and soon reached the little deserted
village. Here temptation was too strong, and
instead of mounting higher they began to loot.
The villagers had carried off all their movable
property, but their stores of grain remained, and
grain is valuable in the Sultan's camp. The ques-
tion was how to transport it. The Moorish soldier
is not easily foiled, and the brave Doukkala regi-
ment was quite up to the occasion. In the presence
of the Sultan and of the whole army they laid
down their rifles, took off their baggy uniform
70 MOROCCO THAT WAS
breeches of bright blue cotton, tied up the holes
through which the legs ordinarily protruded with
string, and filled the rest with wheat. This done,
they loaded up their booty on their backs, picked
up their rifles, and started to return to the army.
Nothing would make them go on : bugles were
blown, signals made, orders shouted ; but the
Doukkalas felt that their day's work was done,
and steadily climbed homewards. In exasperation
the Abda regiment, equally famous and equally
brave, was sent to support them, and to see if
they couldn't be persuaded to turn once more in
the direction of the enemy and abandon their
loot.
With music and singing the Abda regiment set
out. They met the Doukkalas struggling up under
their heavy loads near the river-bed. A collision
was inevitable, and the Abda charged. The Douk-
kalas threw down their loads and commenced
firing, and in a few minutes a little battle was
raging far down below us in the ravine between
the two loyal regiments. A ceasing of the firing
bespoke a compromise. The two bodies of troops
fraternised, the Doukkalas temporarily abandoned
their breeches' loads of grain on the river-bank,
and returned barelegged to the Zimmour village
with their comrades the Abdas. Once there it
was the latter's turn to step out of their nether
garments, and the Doukkalas assisted them to
load up the remaining grain. This done, the two
regiments, except for a few killed and wounded,
returned together, every man bearing on his back
THE MOORISH COURT 71
his voluminous baggy blue breeches stuffed to
bursting-point with wheat and barley. I shall
never forget the sight of these troops struggling
up the steep slope, puffing and perspiring, dressed
in the scarlet " zouave " coats, with just a fringe
of shirt encircling their waists — and nothing else, —
and on the summit the enraged Sultan and his
Court and the rest of the army, impotent to change
the course of events. The afternoon was well
over, and all thought of crossing the ravine
that night was out of the question, so the camp
was pitched on the side we were on.
I have passed many strange disturbed nights in
Morocco, but this one was perhaps unique, for
the Doukkalas and Abda regiments quarrelled
over the division of the spoil, and fought on and
off all the night through. Bullets were flying in
every direction, and one had to lie as low to
ground as possible. Eventually things quieted
down, and one of my servants came and announced
to me that "it is all right. The army is now
being flogged," — which was a fact, for the energetic
Minister of War had managed to arrest the sur-
vivors of the two regiments concerned, and was
having them individually severely flogged one after
the other by soldiers of other regiments and slaves
and volunteers.
We never crossed that ravine. The next day
the news reached the Sultan that the army under
his brother had been defeated by Bou Hamara
near Taza. In all haste we turned back, and
proceeded once more to Fez. That return journey
72 MOROCCO THAT WAS
over the track of our advance brought to light
many things of which nothing apparently had been
known, or at least cared about, in camp. The
road was strewn with dead — stragglers from the
Sultan's army who had been cut off by the rebel
Zimmours; for woe betide any one who lagged
behind. We found in the precincts of a country
mosque a dozen corpses, decapitated and muti-
lated ; and even the blind beggars on foot, whose
afflictions made it almost impossible to keep up
with the army, fell a prey to the tribesmen, and
not a few were found stripped of their poor belong-
-\ings and with their throats cut. Woe betide the
wounded, too — left to die where they fell — for the
Sultan's army possessed no hospital installation of
any kind, and no ambulances. Every effort of
the few doctors who from time to time were
employed at the Moorish Court was almost in
vain. Only if a fallen soldier's comrade chose to
carry him to the camp did he escape death on the
field of battle ; but the question of his transport
and of his subsequent care rested entirely with his
comrades, and the Moorish soldier's comrades were
not always prepared to make sacrifices for a
wounded " pal." Often they waited his death in
order to steal his clothes ; often they stole his clothes
and left him to perish without awaiting his death.
In camp, if there was a doctor, medical attend-
ance was given, but it was given almost without
any encouragement or any help from the Maghzen,
but none the less given whole-heartedly. Even
when the whole army was attacked with malaria,
THE MOORISH COURT 73
it was often the doctor who supplied the entire
quantity of quinine required out of his own pocket.
The idea of the value of their men's lives never
seems to have entered into the heads of the
authorities.
Often the soldiers, if they took the trouble,
buried the wounded alive, to prevent their heads
being carried off as trophies by the enemy. I
remember being told, while spending an evening
with some of the riff-raff of the army — who, in
spite of their characters, were often the most
jovial and cheery of companions — the story of a
recalcitrant wounded comrade who didn't want
to be buried alive. The incident had happened
the same day. The man was badly wounded, the
camp was a long way off, and his " pals " didn't
mean to have the trouble of carrying him there.
So they dug his grave, and began to push him in.
He naturally protested. " I am not dead," he
cried ; " don't you see I am living ? " "Be
quiet," said a companion ; " you were killed at
least an hour ago. Don't you realise that you are
dead ? " The poor man still cried out till the
earth covered him and put an end to his protesta-
tion and his life. The soldier who narrated the
incident added, " The Moorish soldier is an un-
grateful and unbelieving individual. This man, for
instance, had no confidence in us, his comrades,
when we assured him he was dead. I hate in-
gratitude,"— and he filled up his little "kif " pipe
and handed it to us for a whiff.
Life was of no value, but the Moorish soldier is.
74 MOROCCO THAT WAS
I have seen him often under all circumstances ;
and in spite of all his faults, I have an admiration
and a liking for him. He considered his "pal's"
life as nothing, and his own almost as valueless ;
and yet on my many journeys I have often
experienced kindness, and never rudeness, from
these outcasts of the old regime. Murderers often,
generally thieves, and always blackguards, yet
there existed amongst them the undercurrent of
the pride of race, and a sense of honour in their
dealings with a sympathetic European, which they
would have considered quite unnecessary with a
compatriot. In all life and on all my journeys
in Morocco I have made a point of trusting every
one, and seldom, if ever, have I been disappointed.
I have put natives taken from the wild mountain
districts into positions of confidence ; I have given
them every facility to rob, but I have trusted to
their honour, and they have not failed me. I am
often told I have been and am foolish, and that
some day ! — but that some day has not come yet,
and my life has been rendered far easier and far
happier by the mutual confidence that has always
existed, and still, I am glad to say, exists, between
the people of this country and myself. I start
out on my journeys with this certain knowledge,
that wherever I choose to go I am known at
least by name and sure of a welcome.
A few days after taking the hurried decision to
return, the Sultan reached Fez, where he remained
for several years, unable to leave these disturbed
regions where revolution was rife. In the summer
THE MOORISH COURT 75
of 1903, having returned to Tangier meanwhile,
I was captured by Raisuli's tribesmen, and spent
three weeks in captivity at Zinat and in the
Anjera mountains. My experiences are narrated
in the chapter which deals with the famous brigand
and his doings.
In 1904 an arrangement was come to between
France and England regarding Morocco. This
book does not in any way pretend to be a history,
and important as this event was, it need only
be referred to here in a few words. France was
permitted by this agreement to intervene in
Morocco, on the condition of not changing the
political status of the country, and was given a
free hand to preserve order and to grant such
assistance for the introduction of certain reforms
as might be required. France at the same time
agreed to come to terms with Spain. All British
commercial rights and privileges were to remain
intact.
Raisuli was all this time in communication, if
not in league, with Bou Hamara, who remained
in the Taza and Oujda districts. While I was a
prisoner of Raisuli's in 1903, 1 managed to abstract
from a secret cupboard in the room in which I was
confined a number of documents of considerable
interest. One of these was the " dahir " of the
Pretender appointing Raisuli Governor of the
mountain tribes of North-West Morocco. This
dahir is stamped with the great seal of the Pre-
tender under the name of Mohamed ben Hassen.
No doubt Raisuli, who was at this moment Mulai
76 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Abdul Aziz's Governor in the same districts, was
keeping this alternative appointment up his sleeve
in a case of the necessity arising of having to
proclaim the Pretender as Sultan.
It was only natural that this Anglo-French agree-
ment should bring about a general spirit of unrest
in the country, and in May 1904 Raisuli captured
Mr Perdicaris and his stepson, Mr Varley. They
were released seven weeks later against a ransom
of £14,000 and political advantages for Raisuli,
who obtained from the Sultan, Mulai Abdul Aziz,
his own appointment of Governor of the north-
west tribes as one of his terms.
Meanwhile the situation in the interior became
so serious that all Europeans were withdrawn to
the coast, and even at Tangier security was threat-
ened. In December my country villa was attacked
during the night, and I narrowly escaped a second
capture. The soldiers guarding my house were
seized and disarmed in the verandah ; but the
brigands, under a young chief called Ould Bak-
kasha, failed to force an entrance into the house.
The telephone wire was cut, but I had just time
to get a message through, and a few hours later
troops arrived. Our total losses were one soldier
killed and one wounded. I had to abandon my
villa and come and live nearer the town.
Ould Bakkasha, the chief of this new band, was
killed a few weeks later. He was a young man,
of attractive manner and appearance, who evi-
dently wanted to become a second Raisuli ; but
fate was against him. During a raid which he
THE MOORISH COURT 77
and his men made upon a village, he was shot.
He was forcing his way into a house, the owner
of which was holding the door on the inside.
Unable to leave the door, the owner of the house
called to his son, a mere boy, to bring him his
rifle, which was hanging on the wall. The boy
in hurrying to his father fell, and the rifle went
off. The bullet pierced the closed door, and killed
Ould Bakkasha, who was attempting to force an
entrance from without. The band fled, leaving
their chief's dead body on the threshold.
The year 1905 saw the famous visit of the
Kaiser to Tangier, the result of the Franco-British
agreement of the previous year, and of the sub-
sequent action of France in sending a special
Mission to Fez to insist upon the introduction of
reforms. It was on 31st March that the Kaiser
landed. At the last moment he had hesitated to
come ashore, partly on account of the roughness
of the sea, and partly perhaps because he may
have appreciated the far-reaching effects of this
hostile demonstration to France and indirectly to
England, and partly because he feared assassina-
tion at the hands of anarchists.
The Emperor looked nervous as he rode through
the decorated streets to the German Legation.
Immense crowds of natives, who had been told
that this visit meant the saving of the indepen-
dence of their country, had gathered on the open
market-place in front of the Legation, and volley
after volley was fired by them as the Emperor
arrived and left. Many of the guns and rifles
78 MOROCCO THAT WAS
contained bullets, one of which, in its downward
course, struck and indented the leather helmet of
one of the suite, but fortunately no accident
occurred. I was in the room while the diplomatic
corps and the native officials were presented to
the Kaiser, and heard both his words to the
French Charge d' Affaires, Comte de Cherisy, and
to the Moorish authorities. To both he announced
x^y his intention of considering Morocco as an in-
^j\dependent country, and of treating its Sultan as
an independent sovereign.
Fez became a few months later the scene of
action, for three special Missions — a British under
Mr (afterwards Sir Gerard) Lowther, a French
Mission under Monsieur Saint Rene Taillandier,
and a German under Count Tattenbach — visited
the capital. The French Government was insisting
on the acceptance of its reform proposals by the
Sultan, and every assistance was being rendered
by the British Government to obtain this desirable
result ; but German influence was too strong, and
the Sultan Mulai Abdul Aziz definitely refused the
French proposals on 28th May, only a day or two
before the arrival of the British Mission in Fez.
The moment was cleverly chosen. Mr Lowther's
Mission was en route to the Court, and only learned
of the Sultan's decision on his arrival at Fez. He
was too late to influence the Sultan, and too late
to abandon his Mission. This check to France led
indirectly to the fall of Delcasse and the agree-
ment to hold an International Conference on the
subject of Morocco.
THE MOORISH COURT 79
Meanwhile there was no improvement in the
interior situation of Morocco. Bou Hamara main-
tained his rebellion in Eastern Morocco, and Raisuli
governed in north-eastern tribes. Everywhere
there was insecurity, and two British officers,
Captain Crowther and Lieutenant Hatton, were
captured in October on the shore of the An j era
coast, where they were employed in the salving
of H.M.S. Assistance, which had gone ashore there.
The brigand who made this coup was the Shereef
Ould Boulaish, an important Anjera tribesman.
Their release was fortunately obtained without
much difficulty.
The Court had lost its prestige. The Sultan was
openly scoffed at and despised, and anarchy
reigned on every side.
This final stage of the history of independent
Morocco had begun and ended in the early years
of this century, when the young Sultan, Mulai
Abdul Aziz, entered upon that period of his reign
which may be deservedly known as the years of
the commis voyageurs. It was a pitiful period and
one best forgotten, except that every now and
again some incident would occur worth recording
on account of its perfectly unintentional humour,
which only rendered more pitiful still the depress-
ing interludes. It was the last decadence of the]
decadent Moorish Court. The Treasury was fast
being emptied, the revenues were being wasted,
foreign loans were being raised, and the palaces
of the Sultan were littered with packing-cases,
the contents of which the British Press once seri-
80 MOROCCO THAT WAS
ously described as " evidences of Christian civilisa-
tion at Fez." Everywhere it was packing-cases,
and even to-day on some of the tracks from the
coast to the interior lie the wrecked fragments of
machinery and other rusty forsaken goods, which
the weary camels could transport no longer.
Of what did these " evidences of Christian civil-
isation " consist ? Grand pianos and kitchen-
ranges ; automobiles and immense cases of corsets ;
wild animals in cages, and boxes of strange theatri-
cal uniforms ; barrel-organs and hansom-cabs ; a
passenger lift capable of rising to dizzy altitudes,
destined for a one - storied palace ; false hair ;
cameras of gold and of silver with jewelled buttons ;
carved marble lions and living macaw parrots ;
jewels, real and false ; steam-launches and fire-
works ; ladies' underclothing from Paris, and
saddlery from Mexico ; trees for gardens that
were never planted, or, if planted, were never
watered ; printing-presses and fire-balloons — an
infinity of all that was grotesque, useless, and in
bad taste. As each packing-case gave forth its
contents they were looked at, perhaps played with,
and the majority speedily consigned to rust and
rot in damp stores and damper cellars. It was,
indeed, a glorious period for the commis voyageurs,
but it was the " agony " of Morocco. Every
incident in Europe was seized to push their wares.
The coronation of King Edward VII. brought
crowns to the fore. The Sultan was told he must
have a crown. He objected. It was contrary to
his religion to put gold or jewels on his head.
THE MOORISH COURT 81
But escape was impossible. A coloured oleograph
was spread out before him representing King
Edward in his coronation robes, standing by a
small table, with his index finger lightly resting
on the summit of the Imperial Crown. This at
least was a purpose to which the Sultan, without
infringing the tenets of Islam, could put a crown.
So the crown came.
The crown, it was rumoured, came from Paris ;
but the State coach was British, and London's
best, built by a famous coach-builder, and of fine
workmanship. The afternoon that it arrived,
transported in packing-cases carried on platforms,
which in turn were slung between camels, the
Sultan was playing bicycle-polo with some of his
European suite, which included at this period an
architect, a conjurer, a watchmaker, an American
portrait-painter, two photographers, a German
lion-tamer, a French soda-water manufacturer, a
chauffeur, a firework expert, and a Scottish piper.
All these enjoyed the personal friendship of His
Majesty, and the entree into the presence of the
ruler who, with the exception perhaps of the
Grand Lama of Thibet, should have been the most
exclusive and the most secluded of sovereigns.
It is no wonder that the tribesmen looked askance
on the high palace walls.
It was a gorgeous coach, of crimson lacquer,
with gilded ornamentation. The inside was lined
with rich green-brocaded silk, and the hammer-
cloth was of scarlet and gold, and bore what were
supposed to be the Royal Arms of Morocco— as a
F
82 MOROCCO THAT WAS
fact, non-existent. Like the coach itself, the
purple harness, with its gilt fittings, was of the
very best ; and together they formed an ensemble
as expensive as it was utterly useless, for there
were no roads in Morocco.
The bicycle-polo ceased, and the Sultan invited
the Consul of a great foreign Power, who hap-
pened to be at the Court, and the writer, to come
and inspect his newest purchase. In the centre
of an immense field of swampy grass, surrounded
by high crenellated walls, stood the scarlet car-
riage. In this field of many acres were opened
all the packing-cases which were too large to pass
through the gateways that led into the interior
courts of the palace ; it served also as a grazing-
ground for His Majesty's menagerie. In a wide
circle at some little distance from the State coach
stood a ring of zebras, emus, wapiti, Hindu cattle,
apes, antelope, and llamas, with a background
of more timid flamingos and strange storks and
cranes — one and all intent on examining, from a
position of safety, the extraordinary scarlet addi-
tion to their numbers which had suddenly appeared
among them.
The Sultan was evidently pleased. As usual,
he said little ; but he called to one of his officers,
and ordered four horses to be harnessed to the
coach. It had to be explained to him that no
horse in the Imperial stables had ever been in
harness, for the Sultan's previous purchases of
carriages and hansom-cabs lay rotting idle and
neglected in stores and cellars. But His Majesty
THE MOORISH COURT 83
was not going to be deprived of the pleasure of
seeing his coach in movement. Men — soldiers and
slaves — were harnessed and told to pull. Slowly
the lumbering, useless, expensive but glorious State
coach began to move.
" We will ride in it," said the Sultan ; and,
beckoning to the Consul of a Great Power to get
up behind, he himself mounted to the scarlet-and-
gold seat of honour on the box. The writer rode
inside. When all were seated, the vehicle started
on its first and last progress of State. The soldiers
and slaves sweated and puffed as the wheels sank
deeper and deeper into the swampy ground, and
the " progress " was slow indeed. Slow, too, were
the paces of the procession that followed us, for,
doubting but fascinated, the whole menagerie was
in our wake, led by an emu whose courage had
already been proved by an unprovoked attack
upon the Scottish piper, and by having danced a
pas-seul on the prostrate form of the expert in
fireworks a few days previously. Close behind
the emu followed a wapiti — with the mange — and
then in turn the zebras, the Hindu cattle, the
apes, gazelles, and lastly, the timid llamas, with
their great luminous eyes and outstretched necks.
Away in the background half a dozen cranes
were dancing and performing the most absurd
antics.
It rained that night, and the next day the little
lake of water in which the State coach stood was
purple from the dye of the harness, and the beau-
tiful hammer-cloth of scarlet and gold flapped
84 MOROCCO THAT WAS
limp and ruined in the wind. Inside there was a
pool of water on the green-brocaded seat.
The great fault, or misfortune, of Mulai Abdul
Aziz was his extravagance. He was never able
to realise the value of money. He spent, in the
few years since he emerged from the seclusion of
his palace to take up the reins of government, not
only the whole revenue of his country, but also
the savings of his predecessors. And what had
he got for it all ? A lot of rubbish, bought at
fabulous prices, which was lying rotting and rust-
ing in the gloomy cavernous stores of his various
palaces ! He was to blame for this extravagance,
no doubt, but others were to blame still more.
Those to whom he looked for advice left no stone
unturned to exploit him. They made their for-
tunes, and left a broken unhappy Sultan, whose
whole country was in rebellion, whose Treasury
was exhausted, to bear the brunt of their sins.
Mulai Abdul Aziz, full of the vigour of youth,
anxious to learn, anxious to reform his country,
anxious to do what was right, had a future be-
fore him of much useful work. His advisers took
his education in hand — and his education cost
him dear, for his fortune, his influence with his
subjects, and his reputation had all gone. He
was weak and young and sometimes stubborn ;
but no man ever lived whose intentions were
better ; but these intentions were warped and
frustrated by his advisers. The Sultan had no
disinterested person about him ; no disinterested
advice was given him. He was told, when he
THE MOORISH COURT 85
spent his money in ordering useless goods from .
the various European countries, that it gave satis- I
faction to the Governments of those respective I
countries that he made his purchases in their/
markets.
Few of the things that he bought gave him any
pleasure. Photography amused him for a time ;
but even this was made a means of exploiting
him. A camera of gold at £2000 came from
London ; 10,000 francs' worth of photographic
paper arrived in one day from Paris. His Majesty
once informed me that his photographic materials,
not including cameras and lenses, for one year
cost him between £6000 and £7000 ! He natu-
rally did not know what was required, and left it
to his commission agents to purchase the " neces-
sary " materials. They did, with a vengeance.
But it must not be thought that the Sultan
lived no other life except this. His frivolity was
of short duration — an hour or two perhaps every
day ; but at other times affairs of State took
up his attention, though scarcely as much as
ought to have been the case. He could, too, on
occasion be remarkably serious in his conversa-
tions ; and as he possessed a quick intelligent
mind, much prone to speculation, his talk was
often exceedingly interesting, and there were many
occasions when, alone with him for an hour or
two at a time, he let his words flow on from sub-
ject to subject. On the question of religion he
was by no means a fanatic, though in every way
a strict and orthodox Moslem, in spite of many
86 MOROCCO THAT WAS
stories to the contrary. His faults have been
against the traditions of his predecessors, and
never against his religion, though the two are so
indissolubly mixed in the minds of the people
that they are incapable of distinguishing one from
the other, and so the untrue rumours which were
spread broadcast all over Morocco appeared as
based on fact. He would never have attracted
attention and suspicion had he been a little better
advised. The men who bought him European
boots and European saddles, to their own profit
and to his unmaking, were almost guilty of high
treason. The men who ordered fancy European
uniforms for him in the European capitals, as well
as the men who photographed him in them, and
allowed his photograph to appear in the illustrated
papers of Europe, could almost have been tried
for attempted regicide. From the newspaper to
the picture post-card, the " Commander of the
Faithful," the religious head of Islam in North-
West Africa, was exhibited in a variety of
costumes in the Tangier shop windows and sold
for a halfpenny: and this in a country where
pictures are considered as contrary to religion.
That Mulai Abdul Aziz was weak there is no
doubt ; but how easy it is to be weak in such
circumstances, for every one was pushing him on,
helping him day by day to become more and
more unpopular, seeing his authority and his
country slipping away from him — " educating "
him, in fact, for so they called it, until in the
end they left him with an empty Treasury to
THE MOORISH COURT 87
bear the brunt of the coming crisis. Every com-^\
mission agent had his vizier-partner, who recom-
mended that particular agent and his goods, and
shared the profits. There was no one, actually no
one, who could make his voice heard in the sur-
roundings of intrigue and — " education."
Had the men who really influenced him pressed
him to stop buying instead of to buy, he would
have done so, but such was not their obj
They kept back from him the state of the country,
and made little of the rebellion which was smoulder-
ing all around him. The one man who realised
more than the rest how badly things were going
was the only man of energy at the Moorish Court,
Sid Mehdi el-Menebhi, who had been a special <
ambassador at London and Berlin. He ventured
once or twice to speak seriously, but the mass of
intrigue against him was too great. I remember
one incident so well. It was in December 1902.
I was leaving Fez in the course of a few days
for Tangier, when I received from an unknown
country Moor news that the Pretender's forces,
which, my informant said, were very numerous,
were on the point of attacking the camp of
the huge disorderly army which Mulai Abdul
Aziz had sent out of Fez a day's march
to the eastward. I had reason to believe this
news then, and I have reason to believe to-
day that it was sent me in order that I might
leave Fez, for the Pretender at that time intended
to follow his attack on the camp with a march
on the capital. My informant, an uneducated
88 MOROCCO THAT WAS
countryman, mentioned, as a guarantee of good
faith, an incident which had happened some years
before at Meknes, in which I had apparently been
able to render some small service to a Moor whose
name at that time I did not know. It was Jilali
Zarhouni, the Pretender himself, who four years
afterwards, mindful of my little act, sent me this
word of warning.
I reported the whole matter to the Sultan, whom
I saw alone that night, but I could make no impres-
sion upon His Majesty. He laughed at the rebel-
lion and at my fears for his troops, at the Pre-
tender and his reputed forces. " Go," he said, " to
Menebhi, and tell him from me to give you a
good dinner, with musicians and ' kooskoosoo,'
and don't worry yourself. Your fears are ground-
less." Menebhi gave me the good dinner, but he
knew my fears were not groundless. We sat late
into the night talking — he was Minister of War at
the time — and I think he was persuaded that
some steps must be taken. Before we parted we
had further evidence of how serious things were
becoming, for a Shereef, who had relations at
Taza, had received news which confirmed my
estimate of the Pretender's forces, though not of
his proposed attempt to attack the Government
troops.
The next day I bade farewell to Mulai Abdul
Aziz. He was standing under a great archway in
the palace. He tried to persuade me to stay, but
for many reasons I had to be back in Tangier in
eight or ten days' time. We stood there a while
THE MOORISH COURT 89
talking, and nothing could have been more kind
than he was.
" I shall miss you much," he said ; " good-bye,"
and with a shake of the hand he left me. I turned
and watched his tall figure, draped in white, until
he disappeared into the palace through a gate in
the garden wall. It was Monday, 22nd December
1902. That very evening, some forty miles away,
his whole army fled in a panic before the Pre-
tender's forces, leaving their entire camp, artillery,
stores, ammunition, money, and transport in the
hands of Bou Hamara.
The commander of the Sultan's forces that
suffered this severe defeat was Mulai Abdesalam
el-Amarani, His Majesty's uncle. He was an
elderly and much-respected member of the royal
family, who, with a brother, Sid Mohamed el-
Amarani, had played a considerable and worthy
part in Moorish politics. That he possessed any
military capacity is doubtful ; but his name and
his already proved political influence rendered him
a suitable person to command such expeditions,
on which diplomacy was always, if possible, pre-
ferred to fighting.
On my next visit to Fez, Mulai Abdesalam
el-Amarani described to me the attack of Bou
Hamara's forces upon the camp of the Sultan's
army. His description of his own terror was
pathetic. " I had no time," he said, " to collect
my valuables, but there were two things I did
not want to leave behind — a sack of money and
the pills Dr Verdon had given me for my indiges-
90 MOROCCO THAT WAS
tion. The money was beside my bed, the pills
under the mattress, and I couldn't find them at
once, and between this loss and my terror and the
sound of firing in the camp I had to flee. It was
not until I was on my mule that I discovered that
in my excitement I had forgotten both the money
and the pills."
IV.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
IN spite of his extravagances, the life which the
Sultan led was a very simple one. He rose early,
and after prayers at dawn left the privacy of his
palace for the buildings in which he held his
Court. Here he took his seat, generally upon a
settee or divan, in a private room, a little way
removed from the great courtyard in which his
viziers carried on then: business. This courtyard
was surrounded by a colonnade on to which opened
a number of small rooms. In these were seated
the various viziers and their secretaries, while
without in the shade of the colonnade sat those
who sought interviews with the various Secre-
taries of State. A gateway, guarded always by
gatekeepers, led from this courtyard to the Sultan's
private offices, and messages and letters passed
to and fro. From time to time he would summon
one or other of the viziers to his presence on affairs
of State, and discuss with them what course it
might be best to pursue. It can be understood
from this slight intercourse that His Majesty held
with the outside world, for he seldom had more
92 MOROCCO THAT WAS
than this, how easy it was for the people of his
entourage to withhold from him all reliable in-
formation, and to paint the existing state of affairs
in the colours that might suit their own views, or,
more often, their own pockets.
" Court," which commenced in the early morning,
was finished by noon, and the Sultan retired into
the palace, where he dined. He ate always alone,
and, as is the custom all over Morocco, with his
fingers. This habit, which seems almost revolting
to Europeans, is by no means an unclean one,
for the hands are washed in warm water both
before and after the meal, and the food is
always cooked in such a way that it can easily
be broken. A habit of our own, which we con-
sider far more cleanly than eating with our fingers,
is looked upon by the Moors as filthy — that is,
washing our hands or face in a basin, and, still
more, taking a bath where the water is not running.
The cleaner we become, they say, the dirtier the
water we are washing with must necessarily be,
and eventually we step forth as cleansed from
water which is no longer clean. A Moor to wash
his hands has the water poured from a vessel over
them, and never by any chance dips them into
the dirty water. The same way in their baths :
the water is thrown over their bodies out of bright
brass bowls, and flows away through holes in the
marble or tile floor.
His midday meal over, the Sultan would rest
for a while, generally issuing from the palace
about three o'clock. There was no afternoon
THE MOORISH COURT 93
" Court," and on this account Mulai Abdul Aziz
was free to spend the rest of the day as he pleased,
and generally did so in the company of his Euro-
pean employees and friends. Bicycle-polo, cricket,
and tennis were the order of the day.
One evening, after a longer game of tennis than
usual, we commenced to take in the net, as rain
seemed probable. His Majesty had just retired
into the palace, but had left his pocket-handker-
chief tied to the top of the net, where he had
fixed it, as the light was waning, and it was diffi-
cult to distinguish the net's height. I unfastened
the handkerchief, but feeling something large tied
up in a corner of it, I examined it more carefully.
It was a cut diamond, about the size of a small
walnut, which His Majesty had lately purchased.
Carefully secreting the handkerchief and its valu-
able contents in my pocket — for there is no means
of getting at the Sultan once he has, entered the
recesses of the palace, where women only are
allowed — I proceeded to leave the precincts by the
usual exit. I had crossed one courtyard and was
near the outer gate when I became aware that
some one was pursuing me. I took in the situa-
tion and ran ; but I was no match for the Sultan,
who, stirred to more than usual activity by the
loss of his valuable jewel, came down upon me
like a whirlwind. Almost before I realised that I
was caught, I was lifted off my feet and thrown
to the ground, while Mulai Abdul Aziz, his knees
pinning down my elbows, was rifling my pockets.
He soon discovered his diamond, still tied in the
94 MOROCCO THAT WAS
handkerchief; but, not content with that, he de-
prived me of a pocket-book, a ring I was wearing
on my watch-chain, a necktie-pin, and a cigarette-
case. He let me go at last, laughing at the adven-
ture, but I never saw my property again.
On another occasion I was present when one
of the Court officials came to offer his respects to
the Sultan on receiving a high appointment. This
man was the now famous Haj Omar Tazzi, the
present vizier of Government domains.
I was standing talking to His Majesty alone in
a courtyard along one side of which were situated
the cages of the Sultan's wild beasts, when Haj
Omar entered. Prostrating himself barefoot on the
marble floor, he touched the ground with his
forehead. The Sultan, scarcely heeding him, made
a few formal remarks, and then turning to me,
asked abruptly, " Do you know this man ? "
I scarcely did, but aware of His Majesty's love
of humour, I thought I saw the opportunity for
a practical joke upon Haj Omar, whom, being a
Fez town Moor, I rightly guessed to be a
coward.
" I know him well," I replied. " Only to-day
he was at my house begging me to ask a favour
of your Majesty on his account."
Haj Omar, who was still prostrate on the ground,
looked uneasily in my direction, not understanding
what was passing.
" His favour is granted," replied the Sultan,
to whom I had made a slight signal to allow me
to continue.
THE MOORISH COURT 95
" He asked," I went on, " that this afternoon,
when summoned to your Majesty's presence for
the first time in his new position, he might be
allowed to give some proof of his fidelity."
" Certainly," replied Mulai Abdul Aziz.
" He proposed," I continued, " with your
Majesty's permission, in order that his fidelity
and courage might be put to the test, to spend
half an hour in the lions' cage."
Haj Omar, still prostrate before the Sultan,
squirmed uneasily, and lifted a fat pasty face
toward the Sultan and myself.
" Certainly," replied the Sultan.
" If your Majesty bids me die, I am ready to
do so," came a feeble voice trembling with emotion
from the ground.
" Call the slave who has the keys of the lions'
cage," replied the Sultan, and at the same time
he moved in the direction of the wild beasts,
Haj Omar following him on all-fours.
The slave arrived ; but Haj Omar's terror was
now so evident that the joke could no longer be
kept up. Seizing me by the hand, the Sultan led
me away, and Haj Omar fled.
We played another joke on Haj Omar before
I left Fez, and on this occasion Menebhi was my
accomplice, if not my instigator.
Haj Omar was pointing out to the Sultan the
arrangement of a new flower-garden then in course
of construction. His Majesty stood somewhat in
advance, and the rather stout, pompous little
courtier a little behind him on his right. Menebhi
96 MOROCCO THAT WAS
and I, who had wandered a short distance in
another direction, soon made a discovery — a pump
and a long hose ! Standing the pump in the
water-tank, I proceeded with the hose till I reached
Haj Omar, and just as I put the nozzle down the
back of his neck, Menebhi began to pump. The
rich Moors never wash with cold water, and the
voluminous stream which began to flow down Haj
Omar's back nearly caused him to have a fit.
The water poured out of his baggy trousers into
his yellow slippers, but he daren't say a word,
for His Majesty was addressing him. " It shall
be done as your Majesty commands," he replied,
when the Sultan had ceased speaking ; but his
voice was so trembling, so truly pitiful, that Mulai
Abdul Aziz turned hurriedly to see what had
happened. It was a sad object that met his view
— Haj Omar Tazzi standing shivering and dripping
in a pool of water. Etiquette forbids the Sultan
to laugh in public, but etiquette couldn't help him
covering his face with the long sleeve of his jelab
to hide his merriment, and walking hurriedly in
another direction.
The mention of etiquette recalls to my mind
one or two of the " traditions " of the Moorish
Court. In comparison with the barbaric splendour
of the Sultan's State appearances in public, when,
in the shade of the crimson-and-green velvet
umbrella, he receives his tribesmen, his private
life is simple. There is perhaps no more pic-
turesque sight in the world than one of these
Morocco processions. The ragged troops in blue
THE MOORISH COURT 97
and red, who, with a background of crumbling
yellow walls, line the palace squares ; the blue
sky above ; the led horses in their gorgeous trap-
pings of coloured silks; the white-robed Court
officials on foot ; the splendour of gold-embroidered
banners ; and in the centre of it all the Sultan him-
self, swathed in flowing white robes, the only
figure on horseback — all help to form a picture
that, once seen, can never be forgotten. Then
suddenly a great cry rends the air, " May God
bless the life of our Lord the Sultan ! " and the
motley company bow low as His Majesty, still
shaded by the great umbrella of State, rides into
their midst. Compared in picturesqueness to this
gorgeous pageant, European State ceremonies are
poor indeed. But in his private life the Sultan is
simple enough. No man, of course, crosses the
precincts of the inner palace, where women only
are allowed to enter ; but Mulai Abdul Aziz on
several occasions spoke to me of the boredom of
his domestic life. He recounted one or two facts
which show that, autocratic monarch as he is, his
actions are much restricted by precedent. One
of these referred to his bedroom, which must be
furnished in the greatest simplicity, and one colour
alone must be used, a deep, beautiful, indigo blue.
The silk hangings are made and dyed in Morocco,
and no European material must be employed.
Curtains, bedcovers, carpets, and wall-hangings
must all be of this one colour and manufacture.
Again, when out in camp his sleeping-tent must
contain but three carpets, and he must sleep on
G
98 MOROCCO THAT WAS
a mattress on the ground, and not on a bedstead.
His viziers and courtiers cover the floor of their
tents with straw, over which they lay matting
and piles of rich carpets ; but the Sultan may
have nothing but the bare earth and the tradi-
tional three small carpets. In wet weather he is
obliged to wade ankle-deep in mud, while slaves
wait to wash his feet as he steps on to the rug on
which the mattress is spread. No doubt this
simple sleeping-tent owes its origin to days when
constant dangers threatened the Sultans on their
camping expeditions, and when they were liable
to be called up at night to lead their troops into
battle ; but however it may have originated, the
custom — a particularly uncomfortable one — re-
mains unchanged to-day. During the daytime the
Sultan may spend his time in other tents, where
no restrictions are placed upon his luxuries and
comforts.
There is a certain room in the palace at Fez
to which a recognised tradition pertains. The
construction dates from a remote time, and there
is supposed to exist, somewhere built into its
walls, a certain charm. The purport of this charm
is that as long as this particular chamber in the
palace remains intact, no Sultan will die in Fez,
and, curiously enough, no Sultan has died in Fez
since the room was built. His Majesty described
the chamber to me, for it is situated in the interior
of the palace, where no men may enter. It is a
large hall, richly furnished with its original rugs
and divans, and every night special slaves, whose
THE MOORISH COURT 99
duty it is, light the many candles that are sup-
ported in the chandeliers. Two huge candles,
brought from Mecca once a year, are the only
ones that are lit more than once ; all the others
are replaced nightly. Nor may European candles
be used — they must be of Fez manufacture.
The ceiling, rich in carving, still exists, but the
roof above has been replaced again and again,
one layer above another, without ever removing
the underneath ones, lest the "charm" should be
destroyed. In the same way the walls have been
strengthened from the outside, until their thick-
ness is immense. So exactly has this room been
left in its original state that in one corner of it
stands a ladder which has never been removed,
while skins for holding water are still hanging
upon the walls, little left of them but their gold
spouts and pendent cups.
Mulai Abdul Aziz was an expert bicyclist, and
there were often great games of bicycle-polo of an
afternoon in one of the courtyards of the palace.
The only other Moor who played was Menebhi,
then at the height of his power and influence.
The Sultan was a plucky but careful rider, seldom
coming to grief, and handling his machine with
the most perfect judgment. Menebhi was equally
plucky, but much more excitable, and I have seen
him, in pursuit of the ball, charge at full speed
into the palace wall, to be rescued from what
looked like a lot of broken umbrellas a minute
later, as he shouted wildly for a new bicycle. As
the Sultan was always supplied with the most
100 MOROCCO THAT WAS
expensive articles that could be purchased, most
of his bicycles were of aluminium, and therefore
not suited to bicycle-polo ; but the more that
were broken the more were required, and his
commission agents reaped their harvest. The
record, I think, was taken by a young secretary
of the British Legation, who successfully smashed
six in one afternoon ! But it was not at polo
alone that Mulai Abdul Aziz was a skilful bicyclist,
for he could perform a number of tricks that would
almost have done honour to a professional. I
have seen him myself ride up a steep plank laid
against a packing-case, then along another plank
forming a bridge to another packing-case, and
down an incline at the end again. On one of these
occasions he fell, and lodged on his head ; but
after being stunned for a minute or two, remounted
his bicycle and successfully accomplished his object.
I only once saw him annoyed, and it was with
myself. We were standing on the summit of an
old outer wall of the palace. Immediately beneath
us, in the shadow of the wall, were a dozen or so
ill-clothed, half-starved members of what was in-
appropriately called the Moorish Army. Many of
the little group were evidently suffering from
fever, very prevalent in Fez in summer, and alto-
gether they formed a pitiful sight.
I spoke, perhaps, too warmly of the neglect
with which the soldiers were treated, of their
stolen pay, of their abject misery, and I failed
to notice that the Sultan was not in a mood at
that moment to listen to my complaint.
THE MOORISH COURT 101
" It isn't my fault," he said pettishly.
" It is," I replied. "Your Majesty doesn't take
the trouble to see that your orders are carried
out."
The blood rushed to the Sultan's face, and he
drew himself up. " Remember," he said, " you
are speaking to ' the Commander of the Faithful,' '
referring to his most coveted title.
" I do," I replied, " remember it. It is your
Majesty who forgets that these men are ' the
Faithful.' "
Alas ! as far as he is concerned, but few of
them were any longer faithful.
He bore me no grudge for what I said, and his
look of anger passed into one of great sadness.
For a little while he stood looking over the great
plain that lay before us, then turned and said
very gently, " You don't know how weary I am
of being Sultan," and tears stood in his eyes.
On one occasion while visiting Meknes with the
Sultan, I took the opportunity to go to the Jews'
quarter of the town, to call on an Israelite family
who had often hospitably entertained me at a
feast on previous visits. The lady of the house
was an extremely portly dame, one might almost
say of gigantic proportions, but as kind-hearted
asjshe was large. I was received with open arms
by my host and hostess, their children and grand-
children, and after the usual salutations they
began to pour out their woes. The Jews' quarter
had been raided by Berber tribesmen, and my
friends' house and stables had been broken into
102 MOROCCO THAT WAS
and robbed. Could I obtain justice for them ?
Now, in spite of the Sultan's good intentions,
justice was about the only thing in the world
unobtainable in Morocco. The Sultan, I knew,
would order the damages to be repaid by the
responsible authorities, but my friends would
certainly receive only a very small portion of
what they had lost ; the rest would disappear
en route. I therefore determined to obtain justice
from the Sultan by a little ruse. I told the portly
lady that His Majesty would make his State
entry into the town the following day, and bade
her climb on to the pedestal of one of the great
marble pillars of the famous gateway of Mansour-
el-Alj, and there to await his passage. Immediately
she saw the Sultan appear from under the gateway
she was to cry, " Will my Lord the Sultan allow
me to die in misery ? Will my Lord the Sultan
not protect me ? " I told her to look as fascinat-
ing as possible — she was well on for sixty years
of age — and to put on all the finery of gold lace
and velvet to which the Israelite ladies of the
Moroccan towns are so partial, and which forms
their national gala dress.
She promised to carry out my instructions, and
I laid my plans accordingly. An hour or two later
I was received by the Sultan, and ventured to
remark that I had experienced a curious dream
the night before. The Sultan asked me to relate
it, and I replied that I had dreamed that I was
accompanying His Majesty on his State entry
into the town, and that just as we passed under
THE MOORISH COURT 103
the famous gateway an enormously fat Jewess,
in gala attire, clinging to one of the marble columns,
cried out, " Will my Lord the Sultan allow me to
die in misery ? Will my Lord the Sultan not
protect me ? " The Sultan was by nature super-
stitious, and wondered what my dream could
mean. Needless to say, I didn't inform him.
Everything occurred as I had planned it, with
one ludicrous addition. The Sultan emerged from
the gate, and there, on the high pedestal of the
column, embracing the marble pillar, was my stout
friend, shouting out her petition. The Sultan,
struck by the coincidence, turned to see if he could
catch my eye, and I naturally looked as astonished
as he did. But the lady's anxiety to be heard led
her to lean too far forward, her hold on the marble
pillar was relaxed, and the last I saw of her was
taking a header into the midst of scarlet-and-blue
soldiers who lined the gateway. An hour later
messengers hurried me into the Sultan's presence.
I found His Majesty all excitement at the incident,
and I explained that no doubt my extraordinary
dream was a revelation in order that the woman
might receive justice. The Sultan asked me if I
knew who she was.
" I have seen her more than once," I replied.
" Go immediately," said His Majesty, " and find
out what she wants."
The delight of my friends can be imagined when
I entered their house and, on behalf of the Sultan,
asked for a " statement of claim." I fully reported
the matter, and Mulai Abdul Aziz sent for one of
104 MOROCCO THAT WAS
his own relations, Amrani Shereef, and ordered
him to see that the family were immediately re-
funded for what they had lost, and that their
house should be guarded in future. In this manner
I knew they would get their money, which they
certainly would not have done had the matter
passed, in the usual course, through the hands of
the viziers. The next day they were paid, and the
day after I confessed my plot to the amused
Sultan.
The year of the Algeciras Conference (1906) I
was back in Fez again after an absence of three
years. Everything was changed, for the days of
prosperity and " packing-cases " were over, and
the Maghzen had fallen upon evil times. Tribe
after tribe had thrown off their allegiance. The
robbery and pilfering and corruption were worse
than ever. Famine reigned in the city.
The " campaign " which I, as ' Times ' corre-
spondent, had carried on in the ' Times ' during
the preceding year or two, rendered me no persona
grata to the Sultan and his Court, and even accom-
modation was refused me and the palace gates
hermetically sealed. I stayed for some months,
and enjoyed, as I have never enjoyed before or
since, the goodwill of the people of Fez. They
knew what had happened. They knew that the
' Times ' had called the attention of the world to
the plight of their co-religionists and fellow-country-
men in Morocco, and in their suffering and misery
they showed an appreciation that was at once
most marked and most valued. They knew that
THE MOORISH COURT 105
the Sultan had refused to receive me, and that
the doors of the viziers' palaces were closed to
me ; and they knew, too, the reason — that I repre-
sented a great newspaper, the columns of which
have always been open to the cries of distress of
ill-used and neglected peoples, and that their
plaints had already reached the British public —
and the world's public — by these means. I shall
never forget the sympathy and kindness shown to
me by the mass of the inhabitants at Fez at this
time. And what was this change that was so
evident ?
It was famine — that was all ! Bread at seven-
pence a loaf, and the loaf the size of a railway-
station bun. Famine, because a few of the viziers
•and officials had taken advantage of last year's
poor crops to " corner " wheat, by buying it
before it entered the town, and selling it at any
profit they liked ; famine, because the same little
coterie regulated the price at which even meat
might be sold, and alternately robbed the poor
and the butchers ; famine, because every neces-
sary of life had to pass through their hands before
it reached the public ; famine, because even
charcoal, without which no cooking can be done,
was " cornered." And the caravans of camels
which should have been bringing grain from the
coast to feed the starving people were comman-
deered to transport marble for the floors of the
viziers' palaces, built with the proceeds of foreign
loans — and of famine.
Yes, three years had brought about a change
106 MOROCCO THAT WAS
in Fez, and it was not a change for the better.
Life and energy seemed to have disappeared.
The hang-dog starving soldiery, in rags of course,
and paid, when they were paid at all, sufficiently
well to buy half a small loaf of bread a day, prowled
to and fro in the streets, — such few, that is, as
were left of them, for the greater part had long
ago deserted to the Pretender, who fed his men, or
had sold their rifles to the nearest buyer, and gone
back to spread sedition amongst the tribes. Really
no one can blame them, and those that remained
would have gone too, shaking the dust of Fez
off their shoes — only they had no shoes, and most
of them no strength to walk the distance. The
streets were full of starving and half-starving
people, many of whom begged only with their
eyes, too pitiful to look upon unmoved. For a
short time the proceeds of a public subscription
did something to relieve these sufferers, but the
funds disappeared — into the brick and mortar of
palaces, it is said — and by, perhaps, more than a
coincidence, the date of the conclusion of the
Algeciras Conference was also the date at which
the Maghzen ceased attempting to feed the poor.
Could it have been that the eyes of Europe were
no longer fixed on Morocco, and therefore the poor
might starve again ? The long lines of suffering
humanity cringed back against the walls of the
narrow streets to make way for the camels, and
mules and donkeys, laden with marble and mosaics
for the palaces which the Court favourites were
building — with the money of the people, with the
THE MOORISH COURT 107
proceeds of famine. Before, the people bore their
sufferings — for even then they suffered enough
from the exactions of the Maghzen, but consoled
themselves by saying, " Our Lord the Sultan does
not know." Now it was different. Famine had
rendered them a little — a very little — more cour-
ageous, and they said, " Our Lord the Sultan does
not care." After all, there is only the difference
of one word. In the country districts they went
a little — just a little — further, and said, " There
is no Sultan." It was not true, of course, for
within the crumbling battlements of the expanse
of palace, Mulai Abdul Aziz, bored by everything,
but still kind-hearted, still with the best intentions,
wandered from court to court and from garden
to garden, giving orders that he knew would never
be carried out, weary with trying to do better
things, and content to await a change — any
change — of circumstances, with implicit trust in
God and a lurking mistrust in Europe. He, too,
had lost his energy. It was not altogether his
fault perhaps ; for at one time he really tried,
and circumstances had been against him. Too
much good nature and too little determination
had led to his failure, until he had handed over
everything to men far less capable and far less
well-intentioned than himself, and allowed them
to rob him as they pleased. He saw no one, and
went nowhere, probably because, with his nature,
he could not but feel the ignominy of his position
and the degradation of his country. The palace
itself resembled the palace of a dream, haunted
108 MOROCCO THAT WAS
by ghosts. Yet even as such it was more fitted
for the residence of a Moorish Sultan than the
palace of three years ago, when the courtyards
were strewn with useless European goods, unsale-
able for the most part in Europe, and piled with
packing-cases — empty and full — and littered with
straw. Probably most of this refuse remained
there still — a poor return, after all, for what was
expended on it.
The scene in the great courtyard, surrounded
by its columns and arches, in which the Maghzen
held its daily Court, was changed too. Under
their respective arcades the viziers sat, sleepily
transacting what they called business — that is to
say, putting off till to-morrow, or longer, every-
thing that they ought to have done to-day. There
was no life, no movement, in this Court now.
Where were the soldiers, who, slovenly as they
were, added a touch of colour to the scene ?
Where were the country governors and kaids and
their escorts ? Where were the officers of the
Court in their white robes and red-peaked fezes
— where were they all ? And where that active
lithe figure whose quick stride and energetic
movements, whose keen eyes kept the whole
fabric together — El Menebhi, where was he ?
Gone, faded away like phantoms, leaving to a
handful of incapable and self-seeking men — whose
voices were mocked almost in their own hearing —
the misgovernment of their country. What wonder
that the people all over Morocco said, " We have
no Sultan." What wonder that they disobeyed
THE MOORISH COURT 109
and ridiculed the Shereefian commands ! What
wonder that the Pretender and Raisuli and a
score of others had arisen all over the country !
No, the only wonder is that the population had
not rebelled in a body. But they had no need to
do so. They paid no taxes and acknowledged no
government. As to the townspeople, years of
extortion and suffering had crushed their spirit
— though they knew that all the present regime
was giving them was famine. ^
And Mulai Abdul Aziz, knowing something of
all this — knowing, anyhow, enough to make him
desirous of knowing no more — still talked of what
he intended to do for his people, still poured
out plans for their betterment into the ears of
men whose one object was to frustrate them,
and wandered aimlessly from court to court and
from garden to garden inside the palace precincts
— a kind intelligent gentleman, too good in many
ways, and too weak in many more, for the arduous
position he had been called upon to fill. If the
Pope was a prisoner in the Vatican, the Sultan of
Morocco was doubly so in the palace of Fez.
Yet these changes, such as they were, could be
apparent only to those very familiar with Fez in
former days. To all others the city must be the
same as ever, with its narrow tortuous streets
overhung by, and tunnelled through, the high
projecting houses ; full of gloom and mystery ;
with glimpses, here of orange-trees peeping over
a high wall ; there, of tiled minarets and the
green roofs of mosques and tombs — a city that
110 MOROCCO THAT WAS
extends not a yard beyond the walls that encircle
it. Within, a tortuous maze ; without, mile upon
mile of open country dotted by the thatch huts
and tent villages of the tribes. Yet close to the
walls, along the banks of the river that flows in
so many channels through and around the town,
have sprung up gardens of oranges and olives, of
mulberries, apricots, and vines, that form a setting
of richer green to the grey white city that meanders
down from the plain to the valley of the Sebou,
following all the way the form of the depression
in which it lies.
There is scarcely a view of Fez that is not
beautiful, scarcely a glimpse that is not sad.
Its very colouring, or perhaps lack of colouring;
its amazing alleys into which the sun never shines ;
its ruined mosques, rich in fast-falling mosaics
and wood-carving, in rotting arabesques and grass-
grown roofs ; its damaged drinking fountains,
from the broken tiles of which the water still
splashes to where once a basin caught it, but now
only to form a channel of mud in the narrow
thoroughfare ; its stately caravanserais with their
galleries of arches and trellis of wood that has
turned purple and grey with age ; its garden
quarter from which rise the modern palaces of
the viziers, built with the people's money and the
people's food — all add a mysterious charm to a
city that stands alone as an unspoiled example of
former prosperity and existing decay.
So it is with the people. They wore the de-
spondent sad expression that came from years of
[Service des Beaux- Arts, Morocco.
MEDERSA OF ATTARINE, FEZ.
THE MOORISH COURT 111
oppression — hopeless of the future, forgetful of
the past, and yet with one solace left to them,
and one only : that God had ordained it so.
Nothing would shake their belief that all was
predestined, unalterably predestined and inscribed
beforehand, hi their book of life. "It is written "
— and for them that was enough.
While the Powers of Europe had been almost
on the verge of war over Morocco, while the eyes
of the world's public had been fixed upon the
Conference of Algeciras, while there still lay
before the country a future that was unknown,
while one-fifth of the land was in the hands of the
Pretender, while the Sultan's authority scarcely
extended outside a few walled cities — Fez had
remained unmoved. Fatalists one and all, the
Sultan and his viziers, the townspeople and the
starving poor had scarcely given a serious thought
to the future — to the crisis through which their
country had passed, and was still passing. Mulai
Abdul Aziz wandered from garden to garden and
court to court inside the palace walls. His viziers
still frustrated the good intentions of His Majesty
— there was but little majesty left except in name
— and the people still starved ; and one and
all, firm in their unshakable belief, said "It is
written."
The results of the Conference of Algeciras and
of the " Acte " which promulgated its decisions
were what might have been expected. All Europe
sent its delegates to the pleasant little Spanish
town lying a few miles from Gibraltar, and every
112 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Government had an axe to grind. They poured
new wine — vinegar most of it — into old skins, and
the result was inevitable. While the special
Ambassadors, whose titles fill a couple of pages
of print in the tiny volume that contains the
*" Acte," were discussing Public Works, Inter-
national Police, the State Bank, and the differences
between " fusils rayes et non-ray es " — and a host
of other things — Morocco was sinking deeper and
deeper into a state of anarchy, rendered more
hopeless than ever by the rumours which were
circulated amongst the tribes as to what was
occurring on the other side of the Straits of
Gibraltar. From the hills above Algeciras on at
least one occasion the smoke of burning villages
in the Tangier district — the result of this anarchy
— was clearly visible. Raisuli was supreme in the
north, while to the east of Fez the Pretender,
Bou Hamara, still held his own.
4 Bou Hamara was a native of the Zarhoun tribe,
who had been employed at one time as a scribe
by a high native functionary of Meknes. His
conduct, however, had rendered him quite un-
suitable to be maintained as a secretary, for he
not only, so rumour says, forged his master's
signature, but also caused a replica of the Imperial
Seal to be made, by which he obtained a consider-
able grant of money. He had also in his spare
moments learned a few simple conjuring tricks.
Already known as a scholar and a devout Moslem,
these other acquirements stood him in good stead.
But he was found out, and left Meknes hurriedly.
THE MOORISH COURT 113
Living on his wits, he made for the Taza districts,
situated between Fez and the Algerian frontier,
and there acquired, from his scholarship and his
conjuring, a very considerable prestige. Almost
unconsciously he was accepted as a " leader,"
and eventually declared himself to be Mulai
Mohamed, the eldest son of the late Sultan,
Mulai Hassen, and therefore the elder brother
of the reigning monarch, Mulai Abdul Aziz. He
caused a great Seal of State to be struck, and was
proclaimed as Sultan. Mention has already been
made of the defeat the troops of Mulai Abdul Aziz
suffered at his hands in December 1902. His
prestige had now reached its zenith, and caused
the greatest anxiety to the Moorish Court. He
ruled Eastern Morocco for several years with
scarcely varying success. At times, it is true, he
was driven back into the mountains of the Rif
when Taza was captured by a Moorish army under
El-Menebhi, the active young Minister of War ;
but Bou Hamara was always able to reassert his
authority and regain his lost possessions. In spite
of every effort of El-Menebhi to maintain an
adequate force, the corruption and incapacity of
the Court was such that even his energy could
avail nothing. The soldiers' pay failed, and the
Sultan's troops melted away. It was not until
Mulai Hafid had come to the throne in 1912,
after the abdication of Mulai Abdul Aziz, that Bou
Hamara was captured and brought to Fez. Con-
fined in a cage carried on the back of a camel,
the famous Pretender was brought into the
H
114 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Sultan's presence. The interview was protracted.
For several days Bou Hamara, squatting in the
small space of his cage, was exposed to public
view in the great court of the palace where the
Sultan held his receptions — and the Sovereign
who held the throne and the Pretender who had
so long threatened it were face to face. Eventually
the prisoner of State was put into the lions' cage
in the presence of the Sultan, while the ladies of
the Court lined the roof of the palace to witness
the execution. The lions, however, too well fed,
refused to eat him, but mangled one of his arms.
After waiting for some time longer to see if the
king of beasts would change their minds, the Sultan
ordered the Pretender to be shot, and he was
despatched by the slaves. His body was after-
wards burnt, to deprive him of any possibility
— for the Moors believe in a corporeal resurrection
— of going to heaven. Terrible as was his end,
Bou Hamara himself had been guilty of every
kind of atrocity, and had regularly burnt, after
sprinkling them with petroleum, any of the
Sultan's soldiers that he had been able to capture
during his campaigns.
The vicinity of the Pretender's jurisdiction to
the Spanish port of Melilla, on the Rif coast, had
seriously inconvenienced the Spanish authorities
and inhabitants of that town ; and at length, in
order to obtain supplies for the population, the
Spaniards had been obliged to negotiate and to
enter into direct relations with him. A mining-
engineer told me that he had once accompanied
THE MOORISH COURT 115
some Spanish capitalists on a visit to Bou Hamara's
headquarters at Selouan. They all went with a
certain fear and trembling, but the stake was a big
one. They wanted to obtain a concession for the
working of some valuable iron-mines in the neigh-
bourhood. The Pretender received them cordially
enough, and invited them to sit down with him
on a large carpet spread in the shadow of a tree.
The discussion of the terms of the concession
proceeded, and Bou Hamara's demands became
more and more exacting. The capitalists hesitated
and protested, but were brought to acceptance
by the fact that while the conversation was still
in progress a number of the Pretender's soldiers
arrived carrying the recently-severed heads of a
dozen or so of his enemies, which they arranged
round the edge of the carpet. At the end of the
interview the three or four very pale capitalists
had accepted in their entirety the Pretender's
propositions, and were thanking him for his
cordial reception, surrounded by the ghastly ex-
hibition that had n£>t a little influenced their
decision.
The heads of enemies were, until the end of
Mulai Hafid's reign, commonly exposed upon the
gates of the towns of the interior of Morocco.
In 1909, during the official Mission of the late
Sir Reginald Lister to Fez, the Bab Mharouk was
hung with the heads of rebels. One of these grisly
monuments fell, with a resounding thud, as the
British Minister and some of his party were passing
underneath. The manner of affixing them was
116 MOROCCO THAT WAS
by passing a wire through the ear, which was
fastened to a nail in the wall. Over and over again
during my long residence in Morocco I have seen
the gates and other buildings at the Moorish capitals
decorated with these horrid trophies.
\ A more serious rival to the Sultan Abdul Aziz
came upon the scene when Mulai Hafid, his half-
brother, set up the banner of revolt in Southern
Morocco in 1908, and proclaimed himself Sultan.
The moment was opportune. The previous year
(1907) the French had bombarded Casablanca —
after the massacre of a number of European
workmen by the natives. These workmen, Italians
and Frenchmen, were engaged upon the quarrying
and transport of stone for the construction of the
Nport. The little railway used for this purpose
passed through, or close to, a Moslem cemetery.
Native opinion, excited by religious agitators,
burst all bounds of restraint, and the Moors
attacked the train. The labourers returning from
their work were murdered. A French warship
arrived on the scene, and an armed party landed
for the protection of the European population of
the town. The forts and native official quarters
were at the same time bombarded. Scenes of the
wildest confusion ensued, for not only was the
town under the fire of the cannon of the warship,
but the tribes from the interior had taken advan-
tage of the panic to invade and pillage the place.
Every sort of atrocity and horror was perpetrated,
and Casablanca was a prey to loot and every kind
of crime. The European force was sufficient to
THE MOORISH COURT 117
protect the Consulates, and the greater part of
the Christian population escaped murder. When
order was restored the town presented a pitiful
aspect. I saw it a very few days after the bom-
bardment, and the scene was indescribable — a
confusion of dead people and horses, while the
contents of almost every house seemed to have
been hurled into the streets and destroyed. The
looting was incomplete : piles of cotton goods,
cases of foodstuffs — in fact, every class of mer-
chandise still lay strewn about the roads. Many
of the houses had been burned and gutted. Out
of dark cellars, Moors and Jews, hidden since the
first day of the bombardment, many of them
wounded, were creeping, pale and terrified. Some
had to be dug out of the ruins of their abodes.
Over all this mass of destruction horses and men
had galloped and fought. Blood was everywhere.
In what had once been the poorer quarter of the
town, where the houses, mostly thatched in straw,
had been burned, I only met one living soul — a
mad woman, dishevelled, dirty, but smiling — -who
kept calling, " Ayesha, my little daughter ; my
little son Ahmed, where are you : I am calling you."
Turning to me she asked, " You haven't seen my
little children, have you ? — a little girl and a tiny
boy, almost a baby." She didn't wait for an
answer, but passed on, still calling Ayesha and
Ahmed.
There were many people completely mad with
fear. The Jews and Jewesses were perhaps those
who suffered the most. One Jewess, rescued from
118 MOROCCO THAT WAS
a cellar, was brought, stunned with terror, to
Tangier on a relief ship. It was only after landing
that she remembered that she had hidden her
baby, to save it from death, in a corner of the
cellar where she had been concealed — three days
before.
The bombardment of Casablanca and those days
of horror necessitated a campaign to clear the sur-
rounding country of the evil tribes that hovered
about, waiting another occasion to murder, rape,
and pillage. ^Ll£M--tbe beginning of the French
occupation of Morocco, and the final end of cen-
turies of cruelty, corruption, and extortion.
V.
THE LIQUIDATION OF THE SULTANATE.
THE year 1912 saw the end of the independence of
Morocco, and though there must always be present
a regret when something very old and picturesque
disappears, yet, on the whole, the end of its
independence was a matter for congratulation.
Built up originally on the foundation of the
religious prestige of its rulers — for the Sultans of
Morocco were descendants of the Prophet — the
rotten old edifice had stood for many years in a
state of imminent collapse. Only its isolation,
and the exclusiveness and fanaticism of its people,
had postponed its earlier disintegration, and for
a long time, in the throes of mortal disease, Morocco
had kept up a semblance of life. A young and
spendthrift Sultan, Mulai Abdul Aziz, had wasted
the revenues of the country and emptied its
Treasuries — for the greater part on the most use-
less purchases of European origin. His reign had
been the epoch of the commis voyageurs, when
caravans converged upon Fez from all the seaports,
bearing cages of wild beasts, and the most astound-
ing assortment of every imaginable and unpractical
120 MOROCCO THAT WAS
object of luxury and bad taste. It was the time
of fireworks and barrel-organs, of fantastic uniforms
and beds made of looking-glass, of cameras and
parrots from the Amazons. This expenditure, his
association with Europeans, and the weakness with
which he administered his Government, gave rise
to a rebellion. His half-brother, Mulai Hafid, pro-
claimed himself Sultan in the southern capital.
The war between the two Sultans was tedi-
ous and uninteresting. The principal object of
both seemed to be how to avoid an encounter,
and they contented themselves by issuing edicts of
mutual excommunication, and, in order to obtain
money, by pillaging the tribes, regardless of their
political opinions. When either Sultan had funds
he had also soldiers ; failing resources, the armies
alternately dwindled away almost to the point of
disappearance. In fact, both were dependent for
troops on deserters from each other's forces.
In 1908 Mulai Abdul Aziz left Fez for the scene
of the rebellion, and marching slowly by a very
devious course, so as to avoid any possible en-
counter with the enemy, he set out for the south.
Meanwhile Mulai Hafid, equally pluckily, set out
to conquer the north — also, and for the same
reason, by a very devious route. In all probability
each would have successfully reached the other's
capital without a hitch, if Mulai Abdul Aziz's
army, when only a short distance from its goal,
Marrakesh, had not suddenly pillaged the Imperial
camp, driven the Sultan to seek refuge, after a
long and dangerous journey, on the coast, and
THE MOORISH COURT 121
declared for his rival. A few months later he
abdicated in favour of Mulai Hafid, who, with only
a few followers, for his army had likewise deserted
him, had meanwhile arrived in Fez with little
more than the proverbial half-crown in his
pocket.
Fez accepted him as Sultan, on the distinct
condition that the city was to be exempted from
all taxation. This His Majesty solemnly promised
— and he kept his promise for a few weeks, until,
in fact, he was strong enough to break it — and
then he collected taxes, legal and illegal, with
gusto never before experienced.
His ability to act thus was owing to his having
meanwhile collected a little army. Naturally the
Treasury was empty, and no tribesmen presented
themselves as desiring to take military service, as
no pay was forthcoming. The situation was pre-
carious. Without troops Mulai Hafid could do
nothing, not even collect the taxes he had promised
to forgo ; and without the taxes he couldn't live.
At all costs he must have an army.
So one morning the public criers announced in
the streets and market-places that the Sultan was
on a certain day giving a great feast at the palace
to the adepts of the sect of the " Gennaoua."
Now the confraternity of the " Gennaoua " is
very popular in Morocco, though — limited almost
entirely to the Southerners, who are largely of
negro extraction, and form a class by themselves
of labourers and water-carriers — it is looked upon
as unorthodox by the more educated Moors. The
122 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Sultan even hinted that he himself had leanings
towards their particular doctrine.
On the day in question the " Gennaoua," washed
and in their best clothes, flocked to the palace,
and entered its great walled courts, surrounded by
frowning towers. With every sign of holiday-
making and joy, they manifested their pleasure
at the honour of being invited to the Sultan's
religious-garden-party — and sought refreshments.
Alas ! there were none — nothing but high walls and
closed gates — and the next day a sad but resigned
army was being drilled on the palace parade-ground.
Mulai Hafid was not the man to restore the dying
Morocco back to health. Tribes revolted ; he
himself adopted barbarous methods, and the con-
dition of Morocco became worse than before. In
the early months of 1912 the Sultan was besieged
by the tribes in Fez. He appealed to the French,
already installed at Casablanca on the Atlantic
coast. An expedition was hurriedly despatched
to the capital, which was relieved, and a few
weeks later the Treaty of the French Protectorate
was signed, to be followed immediately by a
massacre of French officers and civilians in Fez.
Mulai Hafid' s position became impossible, both
in the eyes of France and of his own people, and
he decided to abdicate. The Court moved to
Rabat, on the coast, and there the final scenes
of Moroccan independence took place. They con-
sisted in the most rapacious bargaining on the
part of the Sultan, in order to obtain the best
possible terms for himself.
THE MOORISH COURT 123
Before leaving Fez he had already begun to se-
cure his future comfort in life. He had informed
all the royal ladies of his palace — and they were
legion — the widows of former Sultans and a host
of female relations — that they must all accompany
him to Rabat. He gave them stringent orders
as to their luggage. All their jewels and valuables
were to be packed in small cases, then" clothes
and less costly belongings in trunks. They strictly
followed these injunctions, but on the day of the
Sultan's departure the ladies and the trunks were
left behind. They are still in Fez : the jewels,
there is reason to believe, are in Europe. Mulai
Hafid always prided himself on his business
qualities.
The last weeks of his reign were one continual
period of wrangling with the French authorities.
He was still Sultan and therefore dangerous, and
the question of his successor had not been settled,
so he yet held some trump cards, which he played
successfully. Even when everything was arranged,
and the letters for the proclamation of his younger
half-brother, Mulai Youssef, the reigning Sultan,
had been despatched to the interior, Mulai Hafid
changed his mind. On reconsideration, he stated,
he thought he wouldn't abdicate or leave the
country, as had been decided. He had already
obtained the most generous terms from the French
Government, but the situation was desperate.
Instructions had already been circulated in the
interior to proclaim the new Sovereign, and the
reigning one refused to abdicate ! Then Mulai
124 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Hafid said that possibly he might be persuaded
again to change his mind. He was ; but it cost
another £40^000, which was given him in a cheque
as he left the quay at Rabat for the French cruiser
that was to take him on a visit to France. In
exchange, he handed to the French Resident-General
the final document of his abdication. The mutual
confidence between these two personages was such
that for a spell they stood each holding an end
of the two documents, and each afraid to let
go of his lest the other paper should not be
delivered.
The night before the signing of his official
abdication Mulai Hafid destroyed the sacred em-
blems of the Sultanate of Morocco — for he realised
that he was the last independent Sovereign of
that country, and was determined that with its
independence these historical emblems should dis-
appear too. He burnt the crimson parasol which
on occasions of State had been borne over his
head. The palanquin he hewed in pieces and
consigned also to the flames, together with the
two cases in which certain holy books were carried.
The books themselves he spared. The family
jewels he took with him.
From Rabat, Mulai Hafid proceeded to France,
where, as the guest of the French Government,
and travelling in semi-state, he made a protracted
tour. At the conclusion of this journey he returned
to Tangier, where his immediate family and re-
tainers— in all about 160 persons — had meanwhile
arrived. The old Kasbah (castle) was placed at
THE MOORISH COURT 125
His Majesty's disposal, and there he took up his
residence.
Almost immediately after his arrival at Tangier
began the discussion of the terms of his abdication,
for only its more general lines had been settled
at Rabat, and in a very sTTort time the ex-Sultan's
relations with the French were seriously embroiled.
Mulai Hafid did not apparently regret having
abdicated. He knew that his continued presence
on the throne in the actual circumstances was out
of the question. What he did regret was that he
had not made better terms for himself, and he
still hoped to be able to extort more money and
more properties. Thus the negotiations were being
carried on by him in a spirit of grasping meanness,
that rendered any solution impossible. At the
beginning of his reign, only four years before, he
had shown signs of an elevated and patriotic
spirit, and really intended to do his best to main-
tain the independence of the country. But he
had quickly realised how impossible his self-set
task was. He became unscrupulous, neurasthenic,
and cruel. He made enemies on every side —
amongst his own people by his barbarities and his
extortions, and amongst the Europeans by his
cynicism and intransigence.
So it came about that in a very short time after
his arrival in Tangier his relations with the French
authorities were strained to breaking-point. It was
at this moment, when everything seemed almost
hopeless, that the writer was asked, independently
by both sides, to intervene in the interests of peace.
126 MOROCCO THAT WAS
This invitation to intervene came about as
follows. There had been a terrible scene between
the ex-Sultan and the French authority charged
with the negotiations, and Mulai Hafid had used
language so unparliamentary that any further
meeting was out of the question.
Early one morning the writer received the visit
of a French official, who implored him to become
the medium of the conversations and proposals,
paying him the compliment of saying that he
seemed to be the only person who had any influence
over the ex-Sultan, whose conduct was bitterly
resented in high quarters.
Scarcely had this person disappeared when the
ex-Sultan himself arrived. His nerves appeared
to have completely given way, and he was in a
state of the deepest depression. Throwing himself
upon a sofa, and in tears, he poured out all his
woes, real and pretended, attacking the French
with a vehemence that was as violent as it was
unjust. " You," he said to the writer, " seem to
be the only person who has any influence upon
these villains. Will you continue the negotia-
tions ? " Under the circumstances there was
nothing to do but to accept.
An hour later the conversations had recom-
menced. The ex-Sultan spent the whole day at
the writer's villa, and could scarcely be persuaded
to eat or drink. During the writer's absence at
the French Legation, Mulai Hafid took his de-
parture— and that was not all he took, for he car-
ried away with him ths^choicest specimens of the
THE MOORISH COURT 127
writer's Arabic manuscripts. Being of a literary
disposition, the temptation of the illuminated
books was too great. The writer never saw them
again, but it is only fair to state that His Majesty
sent a present in exchange the same evening — a,
gold and enamelled dagger.
During the following weeks the principal points
of the negotiations were successfully solved — the
question of the pension, funds for the construction
of a palace in xangief, the retention of certain
large properties in the interior, and the future of
the ex-Sultan's wives and children.
Then came the question of the debts, about
which there ensued a long and acrimonious dis-
cussion. It had been accepted on principle that
all debts that had been incurred directly, and in
certain cases indirectly, in the interests of the
State, should be considered as Governmental debts,
and be paidj^ the French Protectorate Govern-
ment, while all private debts should be settled out
of the ex-Sultan's private fortune.
Now this distinction of debts was rendered
extremely difficult by the systems under which
Morocco had been governed. The Sultan of
Morocco was always an absolute monarch, and,
as such, the revenues of the country were his.
There had never been any distinction between
public funds and private funds — all belonged to
the Sultan. As a rule, the expenses of the State,
as well as the palace upkeep, were paid by bills
drawn upon the custom-houses of the coast. It
was therefore no easy task to arrive at an agree-
128 MOROCCO THAT WAS
ment as to what were State and what private
debts, so inextricably mixed had they been in the
past.
There was, for instance, a bill for a fine marble
staircase, ordered in Italy for the palace at Fez.
The French authorities argued that this very
expensive staircase was merely a piece of wild
extravagance on the part of Mulai Hafid, and that
accordingly he ought to pay for it. The ex-Sultan,
on the contrary, insisted that the palace was the
property of the State — he had argued just the
other way when he had been called upon to explain
why he had brought away with him certain valu-
able fixtures — and that any additions and improve-
ments he had made to it were all to the advantage
and interests of the State. It was, he said, his
successor and not he himself who would benefit
by the marble staircase. The Protectorate Govern-
ment allowed the justice of this argument and
paid the bill.
The sequel to this incident is worth the telling.
A few months later, when the ex-Sultan was
signing a contract for the construction of his new
palace at Tangier, he eliminated one of the several
marble staircases marked in the plan. He had,
he said, a very superior marble stair which would
do admirably in its place. The writer ventured to
ask if it was the same one about which there had
been so much discussion. " It is," replied Mulai
Hafid. " You see, it had not yet left Italy, so I
telegraphed and had it delivered here instead of
being sent to Fez."
THE MOORISH COURT 129
A still more complicated claim was for some
hundreds of yards of very expensive and very fine
crimson cloth. Naturally the Protectorate author-
ities scheduled this amongst the private debts.
The Sultan protested. The cloth, he said, had been
purchased for Governmental purposes — in fact, for
the trousers of the Imperial kitchen-maids — for
there are several hundred slave-women employed
in preparing the palace food. The Protectorate
Government refused to be responsible for this
debt. The ex-Sultan drew up an historical treatise
to prove that Imperial kitchen-maids were part
and parcel of the State, and passed, like the palace
itself, from Sultan to Sultan. The principle was
accepted, but the debt was disallowed, on the
ground that these good ladies did not require such
expensive stuff for their nether garments. A cotton
material, they argued, would have equally well
served the purpose. The Sultan's reply was
unanswerable and crushing. " In Europe," he
said, " it may be the custom for the Imperial
kitchen-maids to wear cotton trousers, but in
Morocco we have more appreciation of the dignity
of their position."
There was nothing more to be said. The debt
was paid by the Protectorate Government.
The long discussions which the writer, practically
unaided, had to maintain with the Sultan were
not always facilitated by the surroundings in which
they took place. There were no regular business
hours for these conversations or for the examina-
tion of the voluminous documents which they
I
130 MOROCCO THAT WAS
often necessitated, and which were always in the
wildest disorder, but which none the less required
a careful perusal. Whenever and wherever His
Majesty felt inclined he would burst out with his
grievances, and as at all costs he had to be kept
apart from the French authorities, the whole
storm used often to fall on the writer's head. At
times the ex-Sultan, struck by a brilliant idea
how to escape the payment of some small sum,
would arrive at my villa at dawn — at others
I was hastily summoned to the palace at mid-
night. The debts were discussed and argued over
in every possible situation, and any one present,
native or European, high authority or slave, was
dragged into the discussion. There were two aged
ladies whose opinion was constantly asked. One
was an old black slave nurse, the other a
Berber woman, quite white, who was the Sultan's
soothsayer and fortune-teller. Her advice was
always good and to the point, and she never
hesitated to tell the ex-Sultan that he was acting
foolishly when occasion required, and she rendered
distinct services toward the unravelling of these
complicated questions.
Sometimes it was when seated on mattresses
and rugs in a garden, surrounded by his slaves,
that Mulai Hafid would argue that all debts were
State debts, and that private property never had
legally existed, and that individual responsibility
— especially for debts — was contrary to the highest
principles of divine nature. He discoursed with
MULAI HAFID.
THE MOORISH COURT 131
great facility and great literary ability. He had
a classical Arabic quotation at hand — often most
skilfully misquoted — to prove his every argument.
He could persuade others quickly, and himself at
once. Leaning slightly forward, swathed in his
soft white robes, he would speak slowly and with
great distinctness and charm, with an accompany-
ing slow movement of his right hand — and then in
the middle of it all his attention would be attracted
by his elephants or his llamas or a group of cranes
that would come wandering out of the shrubberies,
and turn his thoughts and his conversation into
new channels.
While the two elephants were being brought
from Fez to Tangier at the time of the abdication,
one of them escaped on the road, and being an
unknown beast to the villagers of the countryside,
it met with many adventures. Wherever it ap-
peared arose panic and consternation, and the whole
male population turned out with such weapons as
they could lay their hand on to drive away this
terrible and unknown beast. The country popula-
tion, however, possessed little but very primitive
firearms, whose range was short, and whose bullets
dropped harmlessly off the sides and back of the
huge pachyderm, thereby increasing the panic.
The elephant, luxuriating in the spring crops,
grazed undisturbed, while from as near as they
dared to approach the outraged proprietors poured
volleys against its unheeding bulk. But one day
it found itself on the road again, and came rolling
132 MOROCCO THAT WAS
along into Tangier none the worse, but remark-
ably spotted all over with the marks of the spent
bullets.
It was during one of these long discussions of
claims that news was brought to the Sultan that
one of these elephants was lying down in its stable
and was unable to rise. This information, of course,
put an end to all business, and we set out at once
to see what had happened. Sure enough, the
female elephant was lying on her side, every now
and then struggling but vainly to get up.
After everybody present had given an opinion,
and every effort had been made to put the poor
creature on her legs — from twisting her tail to
lighting a lucifer match under her hind-legs,
which failed, of course, even to singe the skin —
Mulai Hafid arrived at the conclusion that only
by the aid of a crane could the elephant be raised.
A heavy beam was found, and made fast to
ropes hung from the roof. Two other ropes were
passed under the elephant's recumbent body, one
just behind her front-legs, the other just in front
of her hind ones, a manoeuvre that entailed
considerable labour.
When everything was ready the slaves began
to haul. With cries and shouts of mutual encour-
agement they managed to raise the elephant till
she was swinging suspended in the air, and then
set to work to lower her gently on her feet. In
this they would no doubt have been successful
had not the forward one of the two ropes slipped
back, with the result that the unfortunate pachy-
THE MOORISH COURT 133
derm, suspended now only from aft, stood on her
head, and remained hung up in this posture
until she was lowered to earth once more, this
time with her face to the wall in a more impossible
position than ever. But in spite of all the diffi-
culties, after much shouting, swearing, and a good
deal of real hard work, she was restored to a
standing posture.
There were many occasions when our conversa-
tions were in less pleasant places than the gardens.
There was a room, for instance, in a hideous
villa that Mulai Hafid had bought as it stood,
and greatly admired, that seemed haunted by the
microbe of irritability. Not only was its decoration
appalling, but it was full of a host of objects which
the ex-Sultan had brought from Fez, amongst
them innumerable musical-boxes, clocks of every
shape and form — he evidently particularly fancied
a kind made in the shape of a locomotive engine
in coloured metals, the wheels of which all turned
round at the hours, half-hours, and quarters, and
mechanical toys. Everything, or nearly every-
thing, was broken, and an Italian watchmaker
was employed in trying to sort out the wheels,
bells, and other internal arrangements of this
damaged collection of rubbish. It was in this
room that he had set up his workshop, and
nothing pleased Mulai Hafid more than to sit and
watch him.
Now it was not unseldom the writer's duty to
break to the ex- Sultan the news that the French
authorities refused to pay such and such a debt.
134 MOROCCO THAT WAS
With all oriental autocrats it is best to break
bad news gently, for they are usually wanting
in self-restraint, and are not accustomed to blunt
facts. Often it required considerable time and a
neatly-expressed argument, couched in Arabic at
once diplomatic and literary, to carry out the
task successfully and escape an access of temper.
I would begin with a little discourse on the
origin of revenues, the ex-Sultan would listen
attentively, and then just as the moment arrived
to bring generalities into line with actual facts,
the Italian watchmaker would meet with an un-
expected success. Clocks would begin to strike
and chime, or a musical-box, old and wheezy, to
play, or an almost featherless stuffed canary in a
cage would utter piercing notes in a voice that
moth and rust had terribly corrupted — or from
near the Italian's chair some groaning mechanical
toy would crawl its unnatural course over the
carpet, eventually to turn over on its back and
apparently expire in a whizz of unoiled wheels.
The ex-Sultan's attention would stray. There was
an end of business, and it generally led to the
ordering of a meal to be served to every one — at
any hour and on any excuse — at which the watch-
maker, who might have only just finished a repast,
was the guest of honour, and was forced to eat
incredible quantities of very rich, but very excel-
lent, food. And what was left of the royal repast
was handed out of the windows and served to the
slaves and gardeners.
Perhaps the most difficult claim to settle was
THE MOORISH COURT 135
that of the Sultan's Spanish (ientist, for not only '
was it extremely complicated, but it also became
almost international. It might naturally be sup-
posed that the dentist's bill was for professional
services; but no — it was for a live lion. In the
early days of his reign the Sultan had engaged the
dentist at a regular stipend, and he had become
a permanent member of His Majesty's household.
For a time he was kept busy patching up the
mouths of the Court, but the task was at length
accomplished, and the ladies' teeth glistened with
gold. The dentist remained unemployed.
Now there is no possible reason in the world
why dentists shouldn't be employed to buy lions. ,•
It is not, of course, usual, and so sounds incon-
gruous. In Morocco, views as to the limitations
of professions are much less restricted than with
us. In Mulai Abdul Aziz's time, a very few years
ago, one of the duties of the Scotch Court-piper
was to feed the kangaroos, the professional photo-
grapher made scones, a high military authority
supplied the Sultan's ladies with under-linen, and
the gardener from Kew was entrusted with the
very difficult task of teaching macaw parrots to
swear. And so it was not surprising that the
dentist became a buyer of lions.
In the first flush of his success at the beginning
of his reign, Mulai Hafid was setting himself up
as an orthodox Sovereign by Divine Right, and
this necessitated a menagerie. It is one of the
attributes of royalty which has almost dis-
appeared, except in the East, though at one time
136 MOROCCO THAT WAS
universal. It is perhaps fortunate. The hurried
entrance of an excited rhinoceros amongst the guests
at a garden party at Windsor Castle would prove
embarrassing, and so, to a lesser degree, would be
the presence of a hyena at the evening service
at St George's Chapel ; but at Morocco similar
incidents would have attracted little or no atten-
tion. The father of Mulai Hafid, Mulai Hassen,
allowed his tame leopards to roam about his
reception-rooms ; but his son, more timid by nature,
confined the leopards in cages, and replaced them
in his drawing-room by guinea-pigs. The effect
lost in majesty, but the afternoon callers were less
nervous.
So the dentist was sent to Hamburg to buy wild
beasts from Hagenbeck. But he erred. He should
have returned with the menagerie and shared its
glory. He delayed, and when he arrived in Fez a
few months later the novelty and glamour of the
wild beasts was passed, and the reception that he
and the belated unpaid-for lion — the last of a
series of lions — met with was by no means en-
thusiastic. Mulai Hafid had discovered that the
upkeep of so many sheep-eating beasts was ex-
pensive, as the tribes, on the eve of revolt, refused
to supply the sheep, and insultingly demanded
payment.
So far the claim presented no insurmountable
difficulties, but there were complications ; for the
Sultan, immensely attracted by the mechanism of
the dentist's operating - chair, had some time
previously ordered from the dentist, and paid for,
THE MOORISH COURT 137
a throne to be constructed on the same mechanical
principles. This throne had never been supplied,
so there was a counter-claim. The Sultan stated
that he had paid for the lion ; or if he hadn't,
then it was a State debt, for which he was not
responsible, and demanded the delivery of his
mechanical throne. The question was still under
discussion when the term of the dentist's contract
expired, and the ex-Sultan notified him that it
would not be renewed. But the dentist held a
trump card, for the ex-Sultan had lodged him,
rent free, in a little villa situated on one of His
Majesty's Tangier properties. The dentist refused
to quit, and the Spanish authorities upheld him,
for by the capitulations each Power protects the
interests of its respective subjects. A body of
slaves were sent to eject him. They found the
villa barricaded, and were met with pistol-shots.
The complications were becoming serious, and in-
ternational in character. The Sultan, the French
authorities, the Spanish dentist, the black slaves,
the writer, a British subject, and the German lion
threatened to cause annoyance to the Govern-
ments of Europe if recourse was made to firearms.
I made an impassioned appeal for conciliation
on every one's part. After much delay and no
little difficulty, an interview was arranged between
the ex-Sultan and the dentist, at which as medi-
ator I was to be present. Each was st ' >usly
coached in the part he was to play : the dentist's
pj-ainjive appeals to the generosity of the ex-
Sovereign were carefully rehearsed, as were also
138 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the Sovereign's " gracious reply," while the writer's
little speech on the blessing of brotherly love was
a gem of the first quality.
Mulai Hafid was seated on a divan studiously
reading a book when the dentist entered and made
his obeisance, but this obeisance — polite but inten-
tionally curtailed — did not meet with His Majesty's
approval. Instead of, as arranged, smilingly
acknowledging the dentist's salutation, the ex-
Sultan continued reading half aloud in a sing-
song drawl.
A long period ensued, broken by one of the suite,
who said, " My lord the King, the dentist is here."
Without raising his eyes from his book the ex-
Sultan asked in the softest of voices —
" Has he^brought my mechanical throne ? "
fNow that wasn't on the programme at all !
There was to have been no mention of such dis-
tressing objects as dentist-chair-thrones or lions.
There was to have been purely and simply a
reconciliation : a sum of money promised to the
dentist if he would quit the villa, and a general
abandonment of claim and counter-claim. But
alas ! before any one could intervene the dentist
shouted out —
" Pay me for my lion ! "
And then the fat was in the fire. For some
moments the atmosphere boiled with vituperative
allusions to lions and dentist-thrones, until, while
the writer restrained the infuriated potentate, the
dentist was, struggling and shouting, removed
from the presence-chamber.
THE MOORISH COURT 139
By dint of great persuasion the writer eventually
brought about a settlement. The Sultan did not
get his throne, nor did he pay for the lion, which
the Protectorate Government took over, not having
been informed that it had meanwhile died. The
dentist received a sum of money in payment of
all his claims. The writer, whose solution it was,
got the thanks of none of them, all three parties
concerned expressing themselves as distinctly dis-
satisfied with the settlement arrived at.
VI.
THE SULTAN AT HOME.
IN 1912-1913 the modern palace which the latest
of the abdicated Sultans, Mulai Hafid, has built
himself at Tangier, and which covers several acres
of ground with its immense blocks of buildings
and its courtyards, was still rising from the level
of the soil, and His Majesty was temporarily
housed, with all his retinue, in the old Kasbah
at the top of the town. It is a spacious, uncomfort-
able, out-of-date, and out-of-repair old castle, and
it formed by no means a satisfactory place of
residence, for it was not easy to install 168 people
within its crumbling walls with any comfort or
pleasure. When, too, it is taken into account
that many of these 168 people were royal ladies
with royal prerogatives as to their apartments —
to say nothing of their pretensions to the " most
favoured ladies' ' ' treatment — it can be realised
that the solution was not easy. Even in the most
luxurious of quarters the ladies of the palace are
said to give considerable trouble, for jealousy is
rife ; and if one of them receives more attentions
— personal or in presents — than the rest, there are
THE MOORISH COURT 141
often disturbing scenes — and rumour says that
the " Arifas " — the elderly housekeepers charged
with keeping order — not unseldom make use of
the equivalent of the " birch rod " — a knotted
cord.
The royal ladies completely filled all the avail-
able accommodation in the Kasbah, and the Sultan
was able to reserve for his private use only a couple
of very shabby rooms over the entrance. Here
he would, apologetically, receive his guests until
the purchase of the large garden in which he con-
structed his new palace furnished him with more
convenient apartments ; for there was a villa in
the garden which had been erected by its former
owner, a wealthy and respected Israelite, who had
for years filled the post of Belgian Vice-Consul.
This villa, which still exists, is an astounding
example of extraordinary taste — a pseudo-moresque \
copy of a toy -house, over which plaster and paint
of every colour had been poured in amazing pro-
fusion. Plaster lions guard its entrance, more like
great diseased pug-dogs than the king of beasts,
and to add to their attractions they were then
painted all over with red spots. A scalloped arch-
way crowned the front door, and the former owner
had once pointed out to the writer that each of
the thirty-two scallops was painted a different
colour, which was quite evident. Inside, decora-
tion had run riot in the wildest way. The ceilings
dripped with plaster protuberances in reds and
gold. Mouldings pursued their strange courses
all over the parti-coloured walls, enclosing odd-
142 MOROCCO THAT WAS
shaped panels painted with views of lakes and
mountains and impossible fishing-boats — designed
and executed by some local genius. Chande-
liers of coloured glass hung suspended from the
ceilings, and the windows were fitted with panes of
green and purple. The Sultan was in ecstasies,
and furnished these astounding apartments with
chairs and sofas covered in red plush trimmed with
blue and yellow fringes, and studded with blue
and yellow buttons. On the walls he hung pro-
miscuously a score of clocks of all sizes and shapes ;
he littered tables with mechanical toys ; he piled
up musical-boxes in every corner ; he hung cages
of canaries in every window, and adorned the
chimneypiece with baskets of paper-flowers — and
then he sat down, happy, to enjoy civilisation.
Amongst many mechanical toys which Mulai
Hafid possessed was one which in its absurdity
surpassed any toy I have ever seen. It was — or
had been — a parrot, life-sized, seated on a high
brass stand which contained music. Moth and
rust had corrupted, and there was little left of the
gorgeous bird except a wash-leather body the shape
of an inflated sausage, with the two black bead
eyes still more or less in place, and a crooked and
paralysed-looking beak. The legs had given way,
and the cushion of a body had sunk depressedly
on to the brass perch. One long red tail-feather
shot out at an angle, and round its neck and
sparsely distributed over its body were the remains
of other plumes, of which little but the quills
remained. On either side were the foundations
THE MOORISH COURT 143
of what had once been its wings, consisting of
mechanical appliances in wood and wire. Any-
thing more pitiful than this relic of parrotry could
not be imagined.
Every now and then, apparently for no reason,
this strange toy came to life. The sausage-like
body wriggled, the broken beak opened, the tail-
feather shot out at a new angle, and the framework
of the wings extended itself and closed again with
a click ; and then after a mighty effort, which ^ ,0
gave one the impression that the ghost of a bird
was going to be sea-sick, the whistling pipes con-
cealed in the brass stand began to play. The
music was at a par with the bird — notes were
missing, and the whole scale had sunk or risen
into tones and demi-tones of unimaginable com-
position. To recognise the tune was an impossi-
bility, but the thrill of the performance was
undeniable. It seemed as though there was a
race between the bird and the pipes to reach the
climax first. Both grew more and more excited,
until suddenly there was a long wheeze and longer
chromatic scale from high to low, and, with an
appealing shake of its palsied head, the parrot
collapsed once more into its state of petrified
despair.
Mulai Hand was completely content. He realised
that at last, after the sombre pomp of the palace
at Fez, he had settled down to modern life and
refinement, and had attained " taste." It was his
custom to arrive early in the morning and spend
his days there, riding down from the Kasbah on a
144 MOROCCO THAT WAS
fat saddle-mule caparisoned in purple or pale blue
or yellow, accompanied by men on horseback,
and with his black slaves running beside him.
Two old women — one a negress, the other a white
Berber woman — nearly always accompanied him,
poised upon fine saddle-mules and closely veiled.
The negress was his old nurse, the Berber woman
a soothsayer already mentioned. Arrived in the
garden, the usual series of mishaps began. One
of his old ladies would fall off her frisky mule,
or the key of the empty house was lost, and an
entry had to be made by forcing a window after
every one had fussed about pretending to look for
the key for half an hour or so. Then a carpenter
would be sent for to mend the broken window,
and a slave would suddenly remember that for
fear of losing the key he had tied it round his neck
on a string, where it still hung heavily on his
chest. Then breakfast would arrive, carried down
from the Kasbah on the heads of black slaves —
great trays of fresh bread, bowls of milk, sodden
half-warm cakes smothered in butter and honey,
excellent native crumpets, and a host of dishes of
fruits and pastry and sweets, and tea and coffee
on immense silver trays. It was a sort of pro-
miscuous meal, partaken of first of all by the
Sultan and his particular friends, then passed on
to the " courtiers," and finally handed out of the
windows to the slaves, gardeners, and retainers,
who completely finished what was left, however
great the quantity.
By this time the workmen had begun building
THE MOORISH COURT 145
operations on the great palace a hundred yards
or so away, and the ex-Sultan would visit the site,
taking a very intelligent interest in every detail.
Then back to the villa, where native visitors would
be received and literary and religious questions
discussed. Mulai Hafid himself is no mean author,
and his Arabic verses would, if published at that
time, have gained him much praise and many
enemies. To-day there is no reason to remain
silent. Circumstances have changed. Was it not
he who wrote of Tangier ? —
" In the last day the people of Tangier came to
the judgment - seat of God; and the Supreme
Judge said, ' Surely you are the least and worst
of all people. Under what circumstances did you
live?'
" And they replied, ' We have sinned ; we have
sinned ; but our Government was international :
we were ruled by the representatives of Europe.'
" And the Supreme Judge said, ' Surely you have
been sufficiently punished : enter into Paradise.' '
By any one who knew and experienced the
international Government of Tangier these verses
cannot fail to be appreciated.
Did he not also write the following in his days
of contention with the French Government ? —
" Is not the wisdom of God manifest ?
Has He not given intelligence even to the dog ?
A little less, it is true, than to the elephant,
But a little more than He bestowed upon the
French Administration."
K
146 MOROCCO THAT WAS
When Mulai Hafid purchased the property of
Ravensrock at Tangier, which had for many years
been the country residence of the late Sir John
Drummond-Hay, he began at once to fell the
beautiful trees for which the place was famous.
Most people of Arab race have a dislike for trees,
which is no doubt one of the reasons why Morocco
is so treeless. One after the other the great pines
and eucalyptus disappeared ; but though numbers
of men were employed, the work did not progress
fast enough to satisfy his ex-Majesty.
One day some one proposed to him that dyna-
mite would do the work more quickly, so he
promptly despatched one of the workmen to town
to buy dynamite cartridges from the Spanish
fishermen, who used them for killing fish at sea.
I was with the ex-Sultan when the messenger
returned. He stood before us, and, turning the
hood of his jelab inside out, let fall on the ground
at our feet a couple of dozen of these highly-
explosive cartridges. Fortunately none exploded.
A few minutes later the work had begun. Holes
were quickly drilled in the trees near the roots,
and the cartridges placed in position. Fuses were
lit, and one saw scurrying groups of men bolting
out of reach. Then there was a crash, and some
giant of the mountain came crumbling down to
earth, to the intense delight of Mulai Hafid. It
was reckless destruction of what had taken years
of care and attention to create, but nothing would
persuade the ex-Sultan to allow these beautiful
woods to remain. By dint of very special pleading
THE MOORISH COURT 147
a few of the finest trees were spared, but only
a few. This wholesale destruction was carried
out principally because Mulai Hafid feared assassin-
ation, and wished to eliminate from his surround-
ings any covert in which the would-be assassin
could conceal himself.
The ex-Sultan took assiduously to bridge, and
played whenever he got the chance. One of
these chances was with his dentist. His rela-
tions with his own particular Spanish dentist
having been very strained on the question of the
price of a live lion, he was forced to apply else-
where for such dental repairs as he required from
time to time ; and fortune favoured him, for he
discovered an excellent American dentist who had
lately arrived. A close friendship sprang up
between the ex-Sultan and the dentist, and, as
often as not, bridge took the place of dentistry.
The American would arrive with his timid lady-
assistant and all his implements of torture, only
to be invited to sit down at the table and play
cards. The lady-assistant was very young and
very shy, and was more accustomed to play
children's games than bridge. A fourth player
would be found, and the ill-assorted party com-
pleted. The ex -Sultan enjoyed himself im-
mensely. He generally won, perhaps a little by
never permitting the trembling lady-assistant to be
his partner. In this manner the whole afternoon
would be passed, and Mulai Hafid in the evening
would show the few francs he had won with great
joy. The points were one franc a hundred, so no
148 MOROCCO THAT WAS
very serious damage could be done ; but rich as
the Sultan was, he rejoiced more in his humble
winnings at bridge than over his many thousands
in the banks. Not a little of this enjoyment was
owing to the fact that he felt that he was " doing "
the dentist. " He comes," the ex-Sultan would
say, " to mend my teeth and to take my gold,
and in the end I win his francs." Weeks went by.
Now and again there was an afternoon for real
dentistry, but there were many more for bridge,
and every time the Sultan won. But one day the
climax came. The teeth were excellently repaired
— the work was of the best, — there was no more
to be done — but to pay the bill; and the bill
very naturally and rightly included all the bridge
hours — at so much per hour. It was the most
expensive bridge Mulai Hafid ever played.
The ex-Sultan's bridge was peculiar. It would
not for a moment be hinted that the irregularities
that occurred in the game were due to anything
but accident, but these little accidents were very
frequent. The ex-Sultan, who all his life had
been accustomed to sit cross-legged on a divan,
soon tired of sitting upright on a chair. He would
become restless, and tuck his legs underneath
him. Now ordinary chairs are not intended to
be sat in cross-legged, especially by bulky people ;
and as generally an arm-chair had been placed for
His Majesty to sit in, he would constantly be
changing his position, and wriggling to make
himself more comfortable and to find more room
for his capacious legs. These wriggles occasioned
THE MOORISH COURT 149
at times a decided movement to right or left,
and if the players did not hold their cards well
up it was their own fault. Sometimes he would
drop his cards, and his long sleeve at the same
time would sweep the tricks already won on to
the floor, and there was confusion in sorting them.
Once or twice an ace unexpectedly appeared for
the second time in the game, picked up by accident
from the floor, no doubt, — and as to revokes — but
with a plaintive voice he would say, " I am only
a beginner." When he won he was in the highest
spirits ; when he lost he sulked — but he didn't
very often lose.
It is a characteristic of the Moors that they
hate to lose a game, no matter what they are
playing. I have seen the most exciting games
of chess, skilfully and quickly played, where the
loser has insisted on going on playing game after
game till sometimes in pure desperation his
adversary allows him to win. Mulai Abdul Aziz,
Mulai Hafid's predecessor on the throne, had a
unique manner of scoring at cricket. When he
was Sultan we used to play cricket in the palace
at Fez, generally four on each side. The score
was carefully kept, but no names were entered.
When the game was finished the Sultan himself
placed the names against the score, always, of
course, putting his own in front of the largest.
Then the name of the player he liked best on that
particular afternoon had the second best score,
and so on, and the lowest being reserved for the
person most out of favour. The score-book was
150 MOROCCO THAT WAS
religiously kept, and often referred to by the Sultan,
who would say, " That was a great afternoon.
I made 61 runs and Harris made 48. X. played
abominably, and only made 2." While as a matter
of fact His Majesty himself had made 2 and
Harris perhaps none ; while the unfortunate man
who was down in the book as having scored 2 was
probably the excellent batsman who had made
the 61 that the Sultan claimed. If one is an
autocratic monarch one can do anything — even
poach your neighbour's cricketing score. I remem-
ber well the first game of bridge I ever played
with Mulai Abdul Aziz. It was in my own house
after a dinner — the first European dinner the
Sultan ever attended. There were present the
British and French Ministers, and the staffs of the
two Legations. It was all rather formal. The
Sultan sat at the head of the table, and ate very
little ; he was then not at ease with knives and
forks. After dinner we sat down to bridge. The
Sultan and Sir Reginald Lister, who then repre-
sented Great Britain in Morocco, played against
a member of the staff of the French Legation and
myself. We cut for deal, and I drew the lowest
card. The Sultan was seated on my left. I
dealt, and declared " Hearts." " I can't play
hearts," burst out His Majesty petulantly. " I
haven't got any. You must give me your cards " ;
and I was obliged to pass him over the excellent
" Heart " hand on which I had declared in exchange
for his barren thirteen cards, containing only one
small trump. But " Hearts " we had to play, and
THE MOORISH COURT 151
played, and my partner and I went down five
tricks, much to the Sultan's delight. Luckily we
were not playing for money.
That was not the only amusing episode that
happened at that dinner. There had been a long
diplomatic discussion as to the etiquette to be
observed with the ex-Sultan, as this was the first
European dinner he had ever attended and would
form a precedent. It was decided that the guests
should arrive at my house punctually at 8, and the
Sultan at 8.15. I was to meet the Sultan at the
door and conduct him into the drawing-room,
where I was to present to him the Ministers of
Great Britain and France, who in turn would
present their suites. This was all very well on
paper, but Mulai Abdul Aziz, taking an intelligent
interest in dinner parties, thought he would like
to see what went on before the guests came, and
instead of arriving at 8.15 he came at 5 in the
afternoon. He apologised for being a little before
the time, and expressed his desire to see the pre-
parations. Two minutes later he was in the
kitchen, where his august and highly-saintly pres-
ence— for he was a direct descendant of the
Prophet, and to his countrymen " the Com-
mander of the Faithful" — somewhat upset the
tranquillity of my native cooks and servants.
But ovens had to be opened and saucepans un-
covered, spoons introduced into them, and the
contents exhibited ; the ice-machine to be thor-
oughly explained, and a thousand and one ques-
tions answered. Then the pantry occupied for
152 MOROCCO THAT WAS
some time His Majesty's attention. Nor was he
less interested in the floral decorations of the
table and the distribution of the plate. While I
dressed for dinner he sat and talked to my native
servants — the Sultan never losing his dignity nor
my men their respect — and all concerned were
completely at their ease. The Moor has nearly
always the perfect manners of a gentleman, no
matter what his position, and the sentiment of
the country is essentially democratic. It was a
common incident at the many dinners I have
since given for the two ex-Sultans, that they would
appeal to the men who served the table for con-
firmation of some statement, or for the generally
accepted opinion of the Moorish people on some
subject under discussion.
At 8 o'clock the guests arrived, and Mulai Abdul
Aziz, being already in the house, instead of arriving
at 8.15 as by the programme he should have done,
had to be concealed in a room upstairs. Punctu-
ally at 8.15 he descended the stairs, crossed the
hall, and entered the drawing-room. He was
dressed in his fine long white flowing garments,
and all my guests expressed to me afterwards
their appreciation of his dignity and carriage as
he made his formal entry and during the pre-
sentation of the guests. Nor were they less struck
by the undoubted charm of his manners, the
gentleness of his voice, and his intelligence, which
render Mulai Abdul Aziz perhaps the most attrac-
tive figure in Morocco of to-day.
When the moment arrived for the ex-Sultan to
THE MOORISH COURT 153
take his departure, he called me aside and said
that he had a kitchen-range in his palace, but
had never used it. He was pleased to say that the
excellence of my dinner had convinced him that
his own range must be set to work at once — and
had I a sack of coal, as he had none, for in his
kitchens only wood and charcoal were burned ?
In a few minutes my servants, in their smartest
liveries, were filling a sack with coal in the back
premises. When it was ready the Sultan left.
The guests rose to their feet, the Sultan shook
hands with them all, and I conducted him to the
door. A magnificently caparisoned riding -mule
awaited him, and mounted slaves were at the gate.
On a second mule was an officer of his household,
beautifully dressed in white clothes, struggling to
balance across the front of his crimson saddle the
almost bursting sack of coal.
It was always my great desire to bring about
a reconciliation between the two ex-Sultans, Mulai
Abdul Aziz and Mulai Hafid, but I never suc-
ceeded. Mulai Hafid had driven his brother,
Mulai Abdul Aziz, from the throne, and naturally
his brother had no reason to be grateful to him.
At the same time, Mulai Hafid always blamed
Mulai Abdul Aziz for having ruined Morocco, and
of having sown the seed of the loss of Moroccan
independence. There was also the question of
precedence. Mulai Abdul Aziz had been Sultan
first, and claimed the first place. Mulai Hafid
equally claimed it, because he had been Sultan
last. After many unsuccessful endeavours, I per-
154 MOROCCO THAT WAS
suaded both to agree that if they met by chance
on the road they would salute each other and
embrace. For months they did not meet, but one
day, turning a sudden corner, their riding-mules
collided. So taken aback were their two Majesties
that they entirely forgot their agreement, and
rode away in opposite directions as fast as their
mules could carry them.
Immediately after the reconciliation — if such it
could be called — between Mulai Hafid and the
French authorities, the ex-Sultan gave a dinner-
party to the members of the French Legation and
a number of other French officials, in a charming
villa he had meanwhile taken on the Marshan, at
Tangier. Not sure of whom he ought to invite
to this solemn repast, Mulai Hafid had left the
choice of his guests to the French Charge^ d' Affaires,
who had sent in a list. The hour of dinner arrived,
and so did the guests, amongst whom was the very
capable and excellent " Commissaire " of the
French local police, whom His Majesty had not
yet met. The presentations took place, and the
Sultan called me aside — I was in attendance — and
asked who certain of the guests, whom he didn't
know by sight, were. When I informed him that
one of them was the French Commissaire de Police,
he became a little uneasy, and a shadow passed
over his face. " What do you think he has come
f or ? " asked the ex-Sultan nervously.
Seeing an opportunity for a joke at His Majesty's
expense, I hesitated a moment, and then, with
many apologies, informed the Sultan that there
THE MOORISH COURT 155
had been stories current about his manner of
playing bridge. No one, I said, believed them,
but naturally the French authorities were most
desirous that there should be an end to this false
rumour, and had therefore decided, very privately
of course, to bring the " Commissaire de Police "
to watch his play on that particular evening. As
soon as they were assured that His Majesty's
play was above all suspicion, an official dementi
could be given to these disturbing rumours.
Mulai Hafid's face wore a look of unusual gravity
during the long and sumptuous dinner.
After the guests had adjourned to the drawing-
room we sat down to bridge. The " Commissaire,"
who was not a player, was purposely invited,
without the Sultan's knowledge, to seat himself
at Mulai Hafid's side. The game began. His
Majesty was terribly nervous. Every time he
wriggled in his chair and leant either to right
or left, he would pull himself together and fix his
eyes upon his own cards. Not once did he let his
" hand " fall on the floor. Not once did his long
sleeves sweep the tricks off the table. Not once
did he revoke. He lost game after game, and his
distress became painfully manifest.
Between two " deals " a guest approached and
politely asked, " Is Your Majesty winning ? "
1 Winning ! " cried the now thoroughly upset
monarch, " winning ! How can I possibly win
with this horror of a policeman watching every
card I play ? " And the writer had to explain to
the assembled company the whole plot.
156 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Mulai Hafid was an excellent host, and was never
happier than when entertaining. His dinners
were well served and always amusing, and his
guests, European and native, suitably chosen.
On one occasion some charming and aristocratic
French ladies were visiting Morocco. Amongst
a series of fetes given by the Diplomatic Corps
and others for their entertainment was a banquet
at the residence of the Moorish ex-Minister of War,
Sid Mehdi el-Menebhi, G.C.M.G. At this ban-
quet the ex-Sultan presided. The distinguished
lady guests had been purchasing Moorish cos-
tumes, and it was arranged that they should come
to this feast arrayed in all their recently-acquired
magnificence. The result was charming — so charm-
ing that it was decided to send for a photo-
grapher and have the group taken. On his arrival
the guests were posed, Mulai Hafid seated on a
cushioned divan surrounded by the ladies in their
Moorish dresses. The men stood behind.
The photograph was a great success, but its
indirect results almost a tragedy, for Mulai Hafid
placed a large copy of the group on the mantel-
piece of the drawing-room of his villa. The
ladies of his household never left the Kasbah,
but on one occasion he sent an old Berber lady,
before mentioned, and an aged slave, who had
been his nurse, to visit the villa, and the eagle
eyes of this venerable dame discovered the photo-
graph. In their minds no clearer evidence of Mulai
Hafid' s wickedness could be imagined, for here
was the ex-Sultan seated in a bevy of apparently
THE MOORISH COURT 157
s
very attractive native ladies, surrounded by Euro-
pean men. No combination of facts could to
their eyes be more shocking. Not only was it
clear that Mulai Hafid had been enjoying the
society of ladies other than his wives, but he had
even not hesitated to do so in the presence of
" Christian " men. So the photograph was con-
veyed in their voluminous raiment to the Kasbah,
where it was presented to the gaze of the Sultan's
outraged wives. Mulai Hafid was out hunting
that day, and it was he himself who recounted to
the writer what occurred on his return. None of
his ladies were in the courtyard to meet him ; no
one, except a slave or two, was visible. Not a
word of welcome, not a question as to the sport
he had enjoyed ! Seeking the apartments of one
of the royal wives, the Sultan had the mortification
to see her go out of one door as he entered by the
other. He called to her, but she paid no attention.
He sought consolation elsewhere, with no better
results. He was shunned and in exile — not one
of the ladies would speak to him. He knew, of
course, nothing of the reason, and could obtain
no explanation. He slept in his little reception-
room over the entrance of the Kasbah, and hoped
for a brighter situation in the morning, but things
were no better.
Then the two old women who had found the
photograph and given it to the Sultan's ladies
grew alarmed, and confessed, but the many wives
were difficult to convince, and it was only when
the writer was called in and explained to some
158 MOROCCO THAT WAS
invisible persons, concealed behind a thick curtain
drawn across an archway, that peace and calm
were restored in the Shereefian harem. As the
Sultan said afterwards, " There are some institu-
tions in Europe which are in a way preferable to
ours. Monogamy has its advantage. When a
man ever quarrels he has only one wife to quarrel
with, whereas we ! ''
The ex-Sultan had a very numerous family of
young children, to whom he was really devoted,
and with some of whom he would play for long
hours together. They were — and are to-day —
exceedingly well brought up, nice-mannered, and
beautifully dressed, and now that they are a
little older are being well educated. I sometimes
was taken to see them in a garden in the Kasbah.
There would be a few black slave women, and from
ten to twenty children, all probably under seven
years of age, and varying in colour from very dark
to very fair. Once I mentioned to Mulai Hafid
that they seemed to be many. He laughed, and
replied that they were not all there : none of the
younger ones were present, and that in all there
were twenty-six under six or seven years of age.
He was certainly a devoted father to his numerous
offspring. During the whole period of the War
he has been separated from them. In 1914 he went
to Spain, where his relations with the German
Embassy caused him to be suspected of instigating
intrigues in Morocco. His pension was cancelled,
and he remains to-day an exile. Any one who has
THE MOORISH COURT 159
known him in his family life and witnessed his
devotion to his children cannot help desiring, if
his actions in Spain have not been more than
follies, that he may be permitted once more to
return to his home.
VII.
THE SULTAN IN FRANCE.
IT was on the quay at Rabat, that picturesque
old town on the Atlantic coast of Morocco, that
the Sultan Mulai Hafid finally handed to General
Lyautey, the French Resident-General in Morocco,
the documents of his abdication. It had been a
long struggle to get them ; for although His
Majesty was decided that the only course open to
him was to cede the throne and leave the country,
still he was desirous, and made no concealment
of his desire, to bargain to the very last moment.
However, at length the question was settled, and
as the Sultan stepped on board the launch to
proceed to the French cruiser that was to take
him as far as Gibraltar, en route to France, the
official document of abdication was handed over.
In return he received a cheque of £40,000, the last
instalment of the agreed sum of money which the
new Protectorate Government of Morocco had
undertaken to pay him.
The following morning the cruiser, with the
ex-Sultan on board, arrived at Gibraltar. I
happened to be there, returning from Morocco
THE MOORISH COURT 161
to England, and was leaving the same day for
Plymouth by steamer direct. Desirous, however,
of seeing some personal friends who were amongst
the ex-Sultan's suite, I proceeded on board the
French cruiser to visit them. It was my desire,
if possible, to avoid meeting the ex-Sultan, for a
few months previously there had been a scene in
Fez, in which the unchecked torrents of Sultanate
wrath had been poured on my head for having
given too much publicity to the barbarous atro-
cities which His Majesty had been committing,
especially in the case of the torturing of the wife
of the Governor of Fez, in order to discover an
imaginary hidden fortune, and in the wholesale
amputations of the feet and hands of certain
rebel tribesmen. I had no desire that the dis-
cussion as to the necessity or advisability of
perpetrating horrors should be continued on
the deck of a French warship, and so I took
every precaution not to be seen by His Majesty
in order to avoid the outpourings of renewed
wrath. But in vain. The ex-Sultan caught a
glimpse of me as he stepped on board, and,
hurrying to meet me, embraced me in the most
cordial manner, and then stated that unless I
would consent to join the suite and continue the
journey with him to France, he (the ex-Sultan)
would claim the right of being in British territorial
waters, and refuse to proceed an inch farther.
The situation was difficult. The Sultan, always
neurasthenic, appeared, and undoubtedly was suf-
fering under great nervous tension, evidently not
L
162 MOROCCO THAT WAS
diminished by the sufferings he had undergone
during a particularly rough passage on a warship
that was renowned for its rolling.
A hurried consultation was held with the French
officials who were accompanying the ex-Sultan on
his journey to France. My plans were already
fixed : it was no easy matter to change them
at the last moment; but the Sultan insisted.
The French authorities, too, foreseeing real diffi-
culties, begged me to alter these plans and to
proceed to France, to which I eventually con-
sented. The Sultan, appeased, offered no more
resistance to continuing his journey, and by midday
we were en route for Marseilles.
What had influenced the Sultan was this. He
was suffering from nerves, and once on board the
warship had become convinced that he was under
arrest, and was on his way to imprisonment in
France. He was particularly desirous of having,
therefore, as members of his suite one or two
persons of British origin, so that there might be
witnesses— or even objectors — in the case of his
incarceration. Of course such a thought had never
entered the minds of the French Government.
The Sultan had abdicated, and for political reasons
it was advisable that he should absent himself
from Morocco for a short period, so that the
proclamation and installation of the new Sovereign
might proceed without any hitch ; for it was
always possible that so long as the ex-Sultan
remained in the country there might be some
opposition to the elevation of his successor to
THE MOORISH COURT 163
the throne. Two days later Mulai Hafid landed
in Marseilles, where he was officially received.
The quay was hung with flags, there was a cavalry
escort, and military music enlivened the scene.
At Gibraltar the French cruiser had been
abandoned for the greater comforts and more
ample space of a P. & 0. On board this steamer,
en route to Australia, was a music-hall troupe,
and it was their kind thought to give a perform-
ance in honour of the Sultan. The sea was calm,
the night warm, and after dinner the performance
took place — singing, dancing, and some juggling.
One item of the show took place in the saloon,
where a very attractive and skilful lady-conjurer
performed some most astonishing tricks. The
Sultan and his suite were much impressed, but
their astonishment reached its climax when the
charming young lady filled an apparently un-
limited number of glasses with an apparently
unlimited variety of drinks out of a medium-sized
teapot.
As we threaded our way out of the saloon, one
of the more influential of the native suite whis-
pered in my ear, " What do you think the lady
would take for the teapot ? " I naturally replied
that probably all the wealth of the world could
not purchase so unique a vessel. My friend was
disappointed ; he would clearly have liked to own
a teapot, and to have had it always beside him,
which would pour out any beverage he com-
manded. " It would have been," he added with
a sigh, " so useful when one was travelling."
164 MOROCCO THAT WAS
His Majesty's stay at Marseilles was uneventful.
Official visits, a gala at the theatre, and excursions
to places of interest filled up his days. However,
during the dinner — a semi-state ceremony — which
was given to His Majesty at the hotel on the
evening of his arrival, a little incident occurred.
The manager of the hotel, looking very troubled,
approached the high official of the police to whom
the precautions for the personal security of the
Sultan had been entrusted, and whispered in his
ear. A few moments later I received a message
asking me to leave the table for a moment's con-
versation in the next room. Here I was informed
that, while dinner was proceeding, the Sultan's
little black slave boys had found a big bag of
five-franc pieces in His Majesty's bedroom, and
were amusing themselves by throwing them one
by one into the street, to be scrambled for by the
N.crowd. The Cannebiere was blocked, all traffic
was at a standstill, and various wounded persons
had already been taken to the hospital ; but the
black imps, delighted with their game, persistently
refused to abandon so amusing an occupation
unless they received the express orders of their
lord and master to do so. These orders the writer
hastily invented, and, personally visiting the scene,
threatened such chastisement that the three or
four little black demons slunk away to bed.
During this dinner the news had been published
in the local evening papers of a serious battle in
Morocco ; for, although the French Protectorate
had been proclaimed, yet there was still anarchy
THE MOORISH COURT 165
existing in the remoter parts of the country.
Now the ex-Sultan had never been popular in
France, perhaps with some reason. He had
driven from the throne his brother, whose more
friendly feelings toward the French were known
and appreciated, and he had succeeded in so doing
by a frankly unfriendly programme toward French
policy. His tribes, and even his troops, had fought
them in the Chaouia Campaign of 1907-8, and
during the four years that he had held the throne
(1908-12) he had done his utmost to assist German
intervention in Morocco. It was therefore not to
be wondered at that the people of Marseilles
showed no enthusiasm for their guest, and com-
plained of the honours that were being rendered
him and the cost the French Government was
incurring in his entertainment. Up till now, how-
ever, there had always been a show of interest
in his movements, and a little crowd to see him
wherever he went ; and though his reception had
been by no means enthusiastic, no hostile demon-
stration had taken place. The receipt of the news,
however, of heavy French losses in this latest
Moorish battle, had stirred up some feeling against
him. The people felt it was ridiculous that while
their troops were being shot in Morocco the origi-
nator of the attacks of the tribes should be their
honoured guest in France. And so it was that
when, after the dinner, the ex-Sultan entered the
box that had been reserved and decorated for him
in one of the great music-halls of Marseilles, he was
met with hoots and whistling.
166 MOROCCO THAT WAS
For a moment no one could explain this hostile
demonstration, for the news of the battle had only
just been published, and had not reached the
dinner at which we had all been present. The
manner in which the demonstration was suppressed,
and a few moments later changed into a most
friendly reception, was admirable, and spoke well
for the capabilities of the " Commissaire de
Police " attached to the ex-Sultan's suite. It
was manoeuvred in a way that was almost un-
noticeable. A number of people seemed to be
leaving the theatre, but discreetly, as if in the
ordinary course of their affairs, and meanwhile
their places and every vacant seat, and even the
passage, were being filled up. In five minutes the
building was full, and then suddenly the band burst
out with the " Marseillaise" ; the Sultan stood up,
and the whole audience, turning toward the royal
box, shouted and cheered. It was well done, and
had all the appearance of being a spontaneous
demonstration.
Although Mulai Hafid was by no means popular
in France, his visit received a good deal of atten-
tion, and the French public took considerable
interest in his personality. He was, in fact, the
man of the hour. His portrait appeared in every
paper, and all his movements were closely reported
and read.
His Majesty, who never minded how dangerously
fast he travelled in motor-cars, had a horror of
the train, and it had been a little difficult to
persuade him to consent to proceed to Vichy by
THE MOORISH COURT 167
that means. The distance being great, the journey
by motor, with his numerous suite of French
officers and diplomats and all his native retinue,
would have been a difficult one to have organised.
So three days after his arrival at Marseilles he
entered the carriages that had been specially
added to the train that was to convey him
to the fashionable health resort. He was un-
mistakably nervous as we left, and made no
secret of it. As the pace increased he wanted
the train stopped, and said he would walk to
Vichy rather than continue ; but the climax was
reached when, with a shrill whistle, the train
hurled itself into a long tunnel, and apparently
into unending darkness.
The Sultan's fear was pitiful to behold. He
literally clung to the French officer beside him,
with terror staring from his eyes. All he could
utter was, " Tell them to stop ; why don't you
tell them to stop ! " The fright of his native
retainers was even more marked. They called out
and clung to each other in abject fear, except the
little black slave boys, who seemed intensely
amused. Then the train whirled out of the tunnel
into daylight again. The Sultan pulled himself
together, and said, with an air of offended majesty,
" You will kindly tell them not to do it again."
" I am afraid it will be difficult to avoid."
" Why ? "
" Because the line must pass under the hills."
" Then the train must stop and I will walk over
the top and join it again on the other side."
168 MOROCCO THAT WAS
" The distance . . ."
"I do not mind the distance. Anything is
better than such suffering as it occasions me."
However, he was persuaded that his proposal
was impracticable, and bore the few more tunnels
that we passed through with commendable sang-
froid and courage, though on each occasion His
Majesty expressed his very distinct disapproval of
railways and their builders, and more especially
the folly of making tunnels.
At Vichy a villa, which formed an annexe to
the well-known Hotel Majestic, was placed at his
disposal. His Majesty was an early riser, and
sometimes he would take an early morning prome-
nade in the gardens and streets of the town. On
one of these occasions he bought a little mongrel
puppy, which an itinerant dog-seller was hawking
at the end of a string. Returning to his villa with
his purchase, the antics of the little puppy so
amused the ex-Sultan that he called in his slaves,
and ordered them to disperse over the town and
buy more dogs. One of the dusky servitors ventured
to ask how he was to know which dogs were for
sale. The Sultan, fresh from his experience of
purchasing the puppy, replied that every dog at
the end of a string was for sale. As, of course,
none of the slaves spoke anything but Arabic,
they were ordered to bring dogs and sellers
alike to the villa, where the bargains would be
completed.
Now the municipal authorities of Vichy had
recently issued an order that all dogs were either
THE MOORISH COURT 169
to be led or muzzled, so when the fashionable
world went out to drink its early morning waters,
at least half of the ladies had little dogs at the
end of a string.
The writer was at breakfast when he was hur-
riedly summoned to the villa. At an open window
on the ground floor, sitting cross-legged on an
arm-chair, was His Majesty looking down with a
puzzled expression upon the little garden, crowded
with excited ladies and little dogs. Some were in
tears, others wore expressions of interested curi-
osity, and a few were evidently trying to look
their best, for no social distinctions had been
recognised by the slaves who had " rounded them
up " in the promenades of Vichy.
" I want to buy," said the ex-Sultan from his
window, " all these little dogs, but the sellers do
not seem to understand the first principles of
trade, and seem to be making a terrible fuss."
The situation was evident and acute. I ex-
plained it to the ex-Sultan, who politely apolo-
gised for having disturbed the ladies' early walks,
but still insisted, without success, in trying to
buy the dogs. It required all the writer's tact
and diplomacy to put an end to a difficult situa-
tion, and to restore equanimity to the indignant
ladies.
The ex-Sultan's purchases were often embarrass-
ing. One evening at sunset he visited a farm a
few miles from the town, and insisted upon going
all over it. In an enclosure were collected from
twenty to thirty fine specimens of the beautiful
170 MOROCCO THAT WAS
white cattle for which this part of France is so
justly famous. The ex-Sultan decided to buy the
lot, and gave the farmer his card, saying, " Send
them round to-night to this address."
Now the address he gave was the Hotel Majestic,
the most fashionable and magnificent of Vichy's
palaces. About eleven o'clock that night, when life
at the hotel was at its height, the manager sought
the writer, and announced the unexpected arrival
of twenty-seven enormous cows in the coiirtyard
of the hotel. And there, sure enough, meandering
in and out of smart motor-cars, lowing gently
into the ground-floor windows, were the ex-Sultan's
latest purchases. Where they passed the night
the writer never knew, but the next day more
suitable quarters were found for them.
The Sultan dined in the great dining-room of
the Hotel Majestic. His table, a very large one,
for there were constant guests, was raised on a
dais at one end of the room, which gave him an
excellent view of all the diners — and the diners
at the Hotel Majestic at Vichy in the height of the
season are worth seeing. One night the Sultan
appeared " distrait " at dinner, and his eye roved
over the crowded room with an anxious and
sympathetic expression. He spoke little, and it
was difficult to get him to talk. At last he asked
to see the manager, and that most amiable and
deservedly popular gentleman, the proprietor of
the hotel, appeared at once. " These people,"
said the Sultan, waving his hand toward the
crowd at dinner, " are badly distributed. Many
THE MOORISH COURT 171
are not happy. Let us rearrange them. The old
gentleman with the long grey beard has no right
to be dining with the beautiful young lady in the
big black hat, wearing a pearl necklace. There
is a terrible disparity in their ages. She should
be dining with the charming young officer over
there " — he pointed to another table, — " and the
elderly lady, no doubt his mother, should be dining
with old greybeard. You should have " — and he
addressed the proprietor — " some thought for the
happiness of your guests. Now that lady there "
— and again he pointed in another direction — " is
terribly bored. She has been tapping the edge of
her plate with her fork for half an hour. She
evidently dislikes extremely the gentleman with
whom she is dining — probably her husband, — but
I have watched her, and she keeps looking at the
young man dining alone with the waxed mous-
taches. Go and introduce them. Her husband
hasn't spoken to her once this evening. He won't
miss her — and you will make two people happy ;
and if the husband is dull, invite that strange lady
with the red hair, who is just coming in, to sit
down beside him. She will keep him occupied, I
expect, to judge by her appearance."
But, alas ! interesting as such an experiment
would have been, it was impossible.
The first few days of the ex-Sultan's visit were
wet and cloudy, but one morning the August sun
asserted itself with uncompromising efficiency.
The villa reception-rooms faced south-east, and
by eight o'clock in the morning were insufferably
172 MOROCCO THAT WAS
hot, for the Sultan refused to close the outside
shutters, as he liked to see and to be seen. Half
an hour later he decided to change his quarters.
On the opposite side of the road was a charming
villa, in the deepest shade, with a balcony on the
first floor wreathed in flowering creepers. Order-
ing his slaves to follow him, the ex-Sultan strode
across the road, entered the villa, and found his
way to the upstairs room with the balcony. It
was gorgeous but empty. An immense bed, which
had evidently been slept in, stood with its head
against the wall. A word from His Majesty and
the bed was wheeled by the slaves into the window
which opened on to the balcony, and, arranging
the silk quilt and the lace-fringed pillows, the
ex-Sultan seated himself cross-legged, gazing down
into the street below.
Now the Russian lady of title who had occupied
the bed had retired a few moments previously
into her adjacent cabinet de toilette to take her
morning bath. Her ablutions completed, but not
clad for a reception, she entered her room to find
a dusky oriental potentate, with his still more
dusky slaves, in possession. The ex-Sultan's
politeness was extreme. He bade her welcome,
and invited her to sit down beside him.
An overflowing sense of humour on the part
of the lady saved a situation which might other-
wise have been embarrassing, and when the
writer, hastily summoned, arrived, the lady, now
more suitably arrayed, and her husband were
thoroughly enjoying the novelty of the situation.
THE MOORISH COURT 173
Mulai Hafid was often bored with such official
functions as his position and his duty necessitated
his attending. At a dinner given at a large pro-
vincial town within motoring distance of Vichy,
he made his first public speech in France. He
certainly had great fluency, and spoke well — in
Arabic, of course, his words being immediately
translated into French. When, with tears in his
eyes, he explained his love and gratitude to
France — whose policy in Morocco he had all his
reign done his best to wreck — he was really
immense. Never did words bear a more genuine
ring ; never was deep affection more apparent
in a speaker's voice. But Mulai Hafid must not
be misjudged. He had learnt much during his
stay in France, and had probably realised long
before this episode how much more successful a
Sultan of Morocco he would have been had he
followed more strictly and more sincerely the
advice of his French advisers. But the Germans
had been always at hand, with their intrigues and
their incentives, with vague promises and much
ready money, and with their recommendations to
absolutism and to cruelty. On one occasion the
Governments of Europe officially, through their
Consuls at Fez, protested to Mulai Hafid their
abhorrence of the barbarities he had been per-
petrating. The German Consul was noticeable by
his absence. Berlin deliberately refused to protest,
and its representative at Fez was instructed to
inform the Sultan that his Government considered
that His Majesty had a perfect right to do what he
174 MOROCCO THAT WAS
pleased, and advised him to pay no regard to the
protest of the Consuls of Great Britain, France,
and Spain speaking in the names of their respective
Governments and in the interests of civilisation.
But, happily, Germany has paid dearly in Morocco
for her sins in the past. It is a closed country for
her to-day, and her people are rightly looked upon
as outcasts and outlaws.
Successful as Mulai Hafid's first public utter-
ances were, these long and ceremonious dinners
profoundly bored him. As many as he could he
escaped, but some he had to attend. He took
the strongest dislike to the " Prefets " — a title
that, in the functions of the post, resembles our
" Mayor." He always had to sit on the Prefet's
right, and he complained that they were pompous
and dull.
When the programme of his journey to other
parts of France was being drawn up, he was asked
what towns he would like to visit. It was one of
his " off " days — he was silent and depressed.
He said he didn't care where, or when, or how he
travelled. No amount of pressing could get a direct
answer from him ; but the official of the French
Home Office could not return to Paris without a
reply. Urged finally to give some idea, however
vague, of where he would like to go, the ex-Sultan
answered wearily, " Anywhere — to any town that
has no ' Prefet.' " Many other distinguished
travellers must have often felt the same, but few
probably ever dared to avow it.
Mulai Hafid was by no means always in low
THE MOORISH COURT 175
spirits. On one occasion we made a long motor
trip to a famous watering-place, and after an
official luncheon we ascended a neighbouring peak
in a sort of funicular railway. In the railway
carriage was a frock-coated and top-hatted gentle-
man of irreproachable get-up — a typical French
fonctionnaire — polite, deferential, and with an
official smile that must have taken a long time to
acquire. Speaking through an interpreter, he
informed Mulai Hafid that he was charged by the
French Government to accompany and point out
to His Majesty the beauties and spots of interest
of the local scenery. Mulai Hand, in an equally
polite reply, thanked him, but hinted that he
already had in his suite some one who knew the
country extremely well, who would be only too
pleased to assist in giving the required information,
and he suddenly presented the writer to the French
official. Needless to say, I had never been
within a hundred miles of the place, and had
no idea whatever of its beauties, its historical
associations, and even less of its geological forma-
tion. I appreciated, however, one thing : that
Mulai Hafid meant to play a practical joke on the
suave and black-gloved functionary.
The train started and began the steep ascent.
Mulai Hafid, innocently seated between the French
official and the writer, asked, " What are those
rocks ? " Before the authorised and official guide
could reply, the writer had begun, " Those rocks
are of the tertiary period, and contain many
interesting remains : the skeletons of mammoths
176 MOROCCO THAT WAS
have been frequently found there, as well as the
household utensils — a corkscrew amongst others —
of primitive man." The poor functionary, too
polite to protest, scarcely showed his astonishment,
except in a furtive look in my direction. " And
that wood ? " continued the ex-Sultan. " That
wood," I went on, " was the scene of the eating
by a bear of the children who mocked at Elisha."
This time the functionary gave a little start.
Farther up the line were the ruins of what had
once probably been a wooden shed perched on
a high rock. " And that ? " asked the Sultan.
" That," replied the writer, "is all that remains
of Noah's Ark, which came to rest here after the
subsiding of the Flood." But the functionary
was now only too palpably suffering tortures.
He was on an official mission and terribly serious.
He could not see that the episode was a joke,
and seemed sincerely to believe that Mulai Hafid,
the guest of the French Republic, was being
purposely deceived. " It may have been," he
began politely, " that local tradition at some period
claimed this spot as the resting-place of the Ark —
of that I know nothing — but historical facts have
clearly proved that it was elsewhere that that
interesting event took place."
A few nights later a gala performance of Meyer-
beer's ' Roma ' was given in the ex-Sultan's honour
at the Opera. Now, singing in Morocco is a nasal
monotonous repetition of words, with little ex-
pression and no gesture. The " basso " in the
opera was an extremely corpulent gentleman, with
THE MOORISH COURT 177
a voice like thunder, accompanied by wild gesticu-
lations. A few bars of recitative by the orchestra,
and his great voice burst out and filled the theatre.
To the Sultan the effect had nothing in common
with music, and all he could imagine was that the
performer was suffering intense unbearable pain,
more especially as the louder he sang the more
he waved his arms about and beat his capacious
stomach.
Springing to his feet, His Majesty cried, " Where
is Dr V ? " (Dr V was his English doctor,
who had accompanied him on his visit to France)
— " where is Dr V ? Find him quickly, some
one. He may be able to save his life " ; and with
an expression of terrible anxiety the ex-Sultan's
eyes alternately gazed fascinated at the singer
or sought for the doctor in the gloomy recesses
of the royal box. It was not without difficulty
that His Majesty was persuaded that the singer
was suffering no pain ; but that he was actually
supposed to be giving pleasure to the audience he
entirely refused to believe.
The ex-Sultan was bored, and left the theatre
before the end. The following morning he asked
me what had taken place in the last act, and on
being told of the terrible fate that almost all the
characters in the tragedy had suffered, he replied,
" I am sorry I did not stay. I should have sent for
the manager and insisted that the piece should
end happily. The young lady should have married
the soldier with the big sword. The blind woman
should have had her sight restored by an able
M
178 MOROCCO THAT WAS
doctor, and no one should have been stabbed or
built up in a tomb."
It was perhaps as well that he didn't stay till
the end, for his amiable intervention might have
disturbed the tragic climax of the opera.
RAISULI.
I.
MULAI AHMED BEN MOHAMMED ER-RAISTJLI is to-
day a man of about fifty years of age. He is by
birth sprung from one of the most aristocratic
families in Morocco, and is a Shereef, or direct
descendant of the Prophet, through Mulai Idris,
who founded the Mohammedan Empire of Morocco,
and was the first sovereign of the Idrisite Dynasty.
The children of Mulai Idris were established in
various parts of the country, and it is from Mulai
Abd es-Salam, whose tomb in the Beni Aros tribe
is a place of great sanctity, that the famous
brigand is directly descended — his family, and he
himself, still holding a share in the lands, the
rights and the privileges which were enjoyed by
their renowned ancestor. A branch of the family
settled in Tetuan, where a fine mosque forms a
mausoleum for his more recent ancestors, and is
venerated as a place of pilgrimage.
Possibly it was this holy ancestry that turned
Raisuli from the paths of virtue, for after having
received an excellent education in religion and
religious law at Tetuan, he took to the adventurous,
180 MOROCCO THAT WAS
lucrative, and in Morocco by no means despised,
profession of a cattle robber. It is a risky business,
and requires courage. You may just as likely
be shot yourself as shoot any one else ; but pres-
tige tells in favour of the head of the band, and a
reign of terror of the young Raisuli ensued. He
became celebrated. He was a youth of great
courage, of the most prepossessing looks, and he
and his followers earned money easily and fast —
and spent it still faster. But cattle robberies led
to other crimes. Murders followed, and it must
be confessed that Raisuli' s hands are none too
clean in that respect ; but murder in Morocco
cannot be classed with murder in England. Life
is cheap, and the dead are soon forgotten. By
nature he was, and is, cruel, and the profession
he had adopted gave him unlimited scope to
exhibit his cruelty. On one occasion a Shereef
who had married his sister proposed, according
to Moslem custom, to take a second wife. Raisuli's
sister, enraged, fled to her brother and com-
plained. Nothing occurred till the night of the
new marriage, when at the height of the festivities
Raisuli and his men entered his brother-in-law's
house and put to death the young bride and her
mother.
At length his acts became insupportable. The
whole country round lived in terror of his raids.
The late Sultan ordered his arrest. His greatest
friend betrayed him ; he was seized, and sent to
prison in the dreaded dungeons of Mogador.
When, in 1903, I was Raisuli's prisoner at Zinat,
RAISULI 181
he narrated more than once to me the history of
those four or five years spent in prison. He *
showed me the marks of the chains on his ankles,
wrists, and neck ; he told me of the filth and the
cold ; of the introduction of a file in a loaf of
bread ; of five months' patient work at night ;
and of a delayed flight. He escaped, but for a
very few hours. He did not know his way about
the town, and he had forgotten that the chains
would almost prevent his walking. He entered
a street that had no outlet, and was recaptured.
Fresh chains were heaped upon him, and it was
not till two years later that he was released on the
petition of Haj Mohammed Torres, the Sultan's
representative at Tangier. He came back to his
home, meaning to live a quiet and peaceful life,
but he found that his friend who had betrayed
him had become Governor of Tangier, and con-
fiscated all his property. He applied for its
return, but could not obtain it. He threatened,
but they laughed at him — and then he took to his
old profession and became a brigand.
It was at this period that I first met him. I
was camping on a shooting expedition near Arzeila,
when he and his men paid me a visit and spent
the night at my camp. I confess that his person-
ality was almost fascinating. Tall, remarkably
handsome, with the whitest of skins, a short dark
beard and moustache, and black eyes, with profile
Greek rather than Semitic, and eyebrows that
formed a straight line across his forehead, Mulai
Ahmed er-Raisuli was a typical and ideal bandit.
182 MOROCCO THAT WAS
His manner was quiet, his voice soft and low,
and his expression particularly sad. He smiled
sometimes, but seldom, and even though I knew
him much better later on, I never heard him laugh.
With his followers he was cold and haughty, and
they treated him with all the respect due to his
birth.
When next I saw him I was his prisoner at his
stronghold at Zinat, situated about twelve miles
from Tangier — in June 1903. He had altered a
littta His face had filled out, the mouth had
become harder and a little more cruel, but he was
still remarkably handsome. He had not changed
for the better. Only a few months before my
capture he had sold one of his prisoners to an
enemy for $1500, and stood by to see the pur-
chaser cut the victim's throat. As long as he had
restricted his energies to cattle-lifting and to
attacks upon natives no one paid very serious
attention to him, though the Maghzen were trying
to encompass his capture. On 16th June 1903 the
Shereefian troops attacked and burnt Zinat ; the
same afternoon I was captured.
Hearing that a battle had taken place at that
spot, situated some eight or nine miles away, I
rode out toward the middle of the day in that
direction, accompanied by my native groom, whose
parents lived at Zinat, and who was most anxious
as to the safety of his relations. Already the alarm
had spread to the neighbouring villages, and we
found the country round entirely deserted, the
population having fled to the mountains of Anjera
RAISULI 183
with all their cattle and as much of their goods
as they could carry away. Although the attack
of the Government troops had been made with
the object of capturing Raisuli, the native cavalry
had wandered far afield after loot, and a consider-
able number of cattle, &c., had been carried off
from villages innocent of any rebellious intentions,
and in no way accessories to Raisuli' s depredations.
I found it difficult on this account to obtain
any accurate information of what had occurred,
and a desire to do so, coupled with my groom's
anxiety, persuaded me to approach nearer than
was perhaps advisable to the scene of the morn-
ing's action. Skirting the stony hill on which
Zinat is situated, I entered the plain, crossed by
small gulleys, that lies to the south of the villages,
and until within two miles of the place met with
no incident worth recording. The whole country
was absolutely deserted. Not a single person,
not a head of cattle, was to be seen.
It was when we were crossing this plain that
suddenly a volley was fired at us from men con-
cealed in the brushwood and rocks of a small hill
near by. The range was a long one, and though
we could hear the bullets whizzing over our heads,
I do not believe that any passed us very closely.
Setting spurs to our horses, we cantered away
out of range, and drew rein on an elevation in the
plain in the midst of a field of corn. Turning to
see what was happening, I perceived three or four
natives a considerable distance away, who had
taken off their cloaks and turbans, and were
184 MOROCCO THAT WAS
waving to me to return. This waving of turbans
is always in Morocco a sign of " aman " or safety,
and I therefore waited for the men, who were
moving quickly in our direction. Two alone
approached us, both well known to me ; and having
arrived at the spot where we were stationed, they
apologised profusely for the mistake of their men
in having fired, and begged me to return with
them to Zinat to discuss the situation there.
They were Anjera men from the neighbouring
Roman hills, who had not been present at the
battle, but who had come down to Zinat, as the
irregular cavalry had carried off a considerable
number of their cattle. They stated that they
were desirous of knowing the intentions of the
Moorish Government with regard to their tribe.
If, they said, it was the Government's intention
to attack them, they were ready to resist; but
if the Moorish forces had been ordered merely to
capture Raisuli and had looted their property
without authority, they demanded the return of
their cattle — a very reasonable demand. They
added that they were afraid to proceed to Tangier
to interview the authorities for fear of capture and
imprisonment there, and asked me accordingly to
take their message to the native officials, as on
such occasions I had often done before. Under a
promise of safety I proceeded with them in the
direction of Zinat, having agreed that I should
go to a spot near the hills where three or four
of the headmen of the tribe were to meet me.
It was when proceeding in that direction that I
RAISULI 185
was captured. We were crossing a small gully,
thick with crimson-blossomed oleanders, when sud-
denly I discovered that I had fallen into an
ambush. Flight was impossible, and as I was
unarmed, resistance was out of the question.
From every side sprung out tribesmen, and in a
second or two I was a prisoner, surrounded by
thirty or forty men, one and all armed with
European rifles. I received no rough treatment
at their hands, but was told that I was their
prisoner and must proceed to Zinat. On arrival
at the woods which surround the several villages
which lie scattered on the Zinat hills, messengers
were sent to inform Raisuli of my capture, and
in a short time I was taken to him. He was
seated under some olive-trees in a little gully,
surrounded by his men and by the headmen
of the neighbouring tribes, who had collected on
learning what had taken place. Raisuli received.,
me pleasantly enough. He was still a young
man of handsome appearance, refined in feature
and manner, and with a pleasant voice. He
was dressed in the costume of the mountain tribes,
a short brown cloak covering his white linen k
clothes and reaching only to the knees, with a
turban of dark-blue cloth. His legs were bare,
and he wore the usual yellow slippers of the country.
After a short talk with Raisuli, who narrated to
me all that had taken place, he led me to what
remained of his house, the greater part of which
had been burned by the troops. Up to this time
I had nothing to complain of in the attitude of the
186 MOROCCO THAT WAS
tribesmen, but a great number had collected in
the vicinity, all anxious to catch a glimpse of the
Christian captive, and not a few inclined to wreak
summary vengeance on me for the devastation the
Government troops had committed in the place.
There was a good deal of hooting and cursing,
but Raisuli's influence was sufficient for him to
be able to hurry me through the crowd, now very
threatening, and his own followers closed round
me and guarded me from the mountaineers. It
was an unpleasant moment, for I soon perceived
that no authority existed over this collection of
tribesmen, who numbered at this time perhaps
2000 — though by nightfall this number was pro-
bably doubled, — and that there would be no possi-
bility of protection did they proceed to extremes.
It was with no little relief that I saw the door of
a small room in the remaining portion of Raisuli's
house opened, through which I was pushed in. A
moment later it was closed again, but it seemed as
though the crowd without would break it down.
But Raisuli and his men, and a score of personal
friends amongst the tribesmen, formed up against
the doorway outside, and were able to dissuade the
rabble from their intention of dragging me out.
The room in which I found myself was very
dark, light being admitted only by one small
window near the roof, and it was some time
before my eyes became accustomed to the gloom.
When I was able to see more clearly, the first
object that attracted my eyes was a body lying
in the middle of the room. It was the corpse of
RAISULI 187
a man who had been killed there in the morning
by the troops, and formed a ghastly spectacle.
Stripped of all clothing and shockingly mutilated,
the body lay with extended arms. The head had
been roughly hacked off, and the floor all round
was swimming in blood. The soldiers had carried
off the head in triumph as a trophy of war, and
they had wiped their gory fingers on the white-
washed walls, leaving bloodstains everywhere.
However, I was not to suffer the company of the
corpse for long, for half a dozen men came in,
washed the body, sewed it up in its winding-sheet,
and carried it away for burial ; and a little later
the floor was washed down, though no attempt
was made to move the bloody finger-marks from
the wall.
Here I remained alone for some hours, and it
was certainly an anxious time. I reviewed the
situation quietly, and came to the conclusion
that, in spite of the danger which I knew existed,
I had much in my favour. The fact that the
language of the people was almost the same to
me as my own tongue was a great assistance,
and amongst these mountain tribes I have a large
number of personal friends, who, I believed, and
rightly, would protect me as far as they were
able. Unfortunately, few of my influential
acquaintances amongst the mountaineers had
arrived, though to my joy I learned, from the
conversation of the guards outside the door, that
they were expected during the coming night. I
decided meanwhile to pretend absolute ignorance
188 MOROCCO THAT WAS
of any danger, and to talk of my condition as
only one of a series of adventures that I have
undergone in Morocco and elsewhere.
At sundown Raisuli and some of his men brought
me food, and I had a long conversation with them.
Raisuli was polite, and made no secret that he
intended to make use of me, though he had not
yet decided in what way. He, however, kindly
informed me that, should the attack of the troops
be renewed, I should be immediately killed. His
career, he said, was practically finished, and his
sole desire was to cause the Moorish Government
as much trouble and humiliation as possible, and
he argued that there would be no easier way to
do this than by causing my death. However,
he promised me, at the same time, that provided
no fresh attack was made upon the place, he would
do his best to protect me. I was allowed to com-
municate with the British Legation, but was not
aware till later that this letter never reached its
destination, though the following morning I was
in direct communication with His Majesty's Min-
ister, and throughout my captivity no difficulties
were put in my way in corresponding with the
British Legation.
During the night a large contingent of the
Anjera tribe arrived, amongst them several influ-
ential men on whose friendship I felt I might
implicitly rely ; and as a matter of fact I owe my
release, and probably my life, largely to these men.
There is no need to give the details of the nine
days that I spent at Zinat, sufficient to say that I
RAISULI 189
suffered very considerable hardship. Though never
actually roughly handled, except for a few insult-
ing blows with slippers, &c., my discomforts were
extreme. During those nine days I was never
able to wash ; I never took my clothes off, with
the result that I was smothered with vermin.
Once I went for thirty-six hours without any food,
for none was procurable, as the village had been
burnt, and during the whole time my life was
threatened. My friends did what they could for
me, but it was little they could do. There must
have been some 4000 tribesmen present, and they
obeyed no one, and no one had any authority
over them. It was a trying time, but my only
chance lay in pretending to place implicit confi-
dence in them, and thus gain time while the
negotiations for my release proceeded.
No words of praise are sufficient for the great
tact displayed by Sir Arthur Nicolson, the British
Minister, in conducting these negotiations. From
the very beginning he realised the difficulties of
success, and throughout, in every dealing that he
had with the tribesmen, he showed the greatest
tact and skill. He from the very commencement
warned the Moorish Government not to take any
steps to treat with the mountaineers, and con-
ducted the entire proceedings himself, Mulai Ahmed,
the young Shereef of Wazzan, being the means of
communication between the British Government
and the tribesmen. These negotiations were doubly
difficult owing to the fact that the mountaineers
had no recognised chiefs, and that many tribes
190 MOROCCO THAT WAS
were concerned. Yet in such a manner were the
negotiations conducted, that throughout the wiiole
proceedings the ignorant and fanatical tribesmen
placed entire confidence in the Minister's word,
and though delays occurred, as they always do in
Morocco, there was never a serious hitch.
The first demand made to me for my release
was the removal of all Englishmen from the
Sultan's Court. I naturally treated this as pre-
posterous, and persuaded the tribesmen that it
was mere folly to mention it. This was followed
by other equally impossible conditions, which
were likewise abandoned ; and by the time that
the British Legation was in communication with
the tribesmen they had lessened their demands
to the release of a certain number of tribal prisoners
confined in the prisons of Tangier and Laraiche.
At no time was a demand made for a ransom
in money, and in this my capture differed entirely
from those of Mr Perdicaris and Kaid Maclean,
which took place later. I owe this immunity
from a pecuniary ransom to an admirable trait
in the character of these wild mountain tribes-
men. My country-house at Tangier was situated
about two and a half miles from the town, on the
sea-coast, on the main track that passes between
the An j era tribe and Tangier. Just beyond my
grounds, on the town side, is a tidal river, which
then and now possesses no bridge, but it is ford-
able at low tide. Often the tribes-people found
the tide too high to cross, and were obliged to
wait long weary hours, in winter at times in dark-
RAISULI 191
ness and rain. A large number were women and
young girls carrying loads of charcoal to market.
I had always made it a rule to give shelter to all
such as asked for it, and had built a room or two
for this purpose, and in winter-time it was seldom
that some of the benighted peasants were not
spending the night there. When it was cold and
wet they had a fire, and as often as not a little
supper. A very short time after my capture a
proposal was made from Tangier that a very
considerable sum of money should be paid for my
immediate release. This was discussed by the
tribesmen and refused. They decided that in
the case of one who had shown such hospitality
to their women and children, and often to them-
selves, there must be no question of money — and
there was none.
There was one hitch which threatened to break
down our negotiations, and which caused some
delay to my release.
It had been agreed that twelve prisoners from
the tribesmen, confined in various Moorish Govern-
ment prisons, were to be released in exchange for
myself ; but after a very numerously-attended
meeting, at which a large number of fresh moun-
taineers arrived, a demand was made for the release
of over fifty. The British Legation was notified
of this, and very rightly objected to this sudden
and very large addition. Sir Arthur Nicolson
wrote me to this effect. Before, however, making
known the contents of his letter, I obtained the
names of all the fifty tribesmen whose release was
192 MOROCCO THAT WAS
demanded, and sent the list to Tangier, pretending
that it was to be submitted to the authorities,
in order that in the case of its acceptance, orders
for the release of the men might be given. Once
this letter well on its way, I made known to the
tribesmen that on no account more than the
original twelve prisoners would be released. At first
they tried persuasion, and then threats — but I felt
sure of my position. " You propose," I said, " to
kill me. Possibly you will do so, but you have
kindly given me a list of all your relations who
are in the Moorish prison — some fifty-six in all,
I think. This list is now in Tangier. You will
have the satisfaction of killing me, but remember
this — on fifty-six consecutive days one of your
sons or brothers or nephews will be executed —
one each morning ; and more — their bodies will
be burnt and the ashes scattered to the wind.
You will see the smoke from here " — for Tangier
was visible from where we were. Now, the Moors
believe in a corporeal resurrection, and the burn-
ing of a body means the depriving of the soul of
resurrection. It was a splendid bluff, and I felt
the greatest delight in using it. I was there alone,
seated in the centre of a great circle of the tribes-
men, who swore and cursed and threatened ; but
to no avail. I even explained that it was a matter
of no importance in the Christian religion what
became of one body — and pointed out the conse-
quent loss of fifty-six good Moslem souls, deprived
of going to heaven. I was successful. The tribes-
men returned to their original demand.
RAISULI 193
In all my dealings with the Moors I have found
this, that the intelligent European, provided he
has a complete and absolute knowledge of the
language, holds a very distinct advantage over
the Moor. He has, in fact, two advantages — her-
editary training of thought, and education. The
Moor is generally, by his environment and isola-
tion, a slow thinker, and in the many difficult
situations in which I at times found myself I have
always had confidence in my own mental superi-
ority over the average native. I have been able
to turn threats into ridicule, or to raise a laugh,
or to persuade by the mere superiority of the
power of thinking and of giving utterance to one's
thoughts. The Moor is very susceptible to sarcasm
and ridicule, and often I have turned what looked
like becoming a stormy incident into the pleasantest
of channels. I have, almost without exception,
carried no arms, which are often more a source
of danger than of security.
The only time that I left my quarters at Zinat
for more than a few minutes together was on one
occasion, a few days after my arrival, when I was
taken down to a gully below the village to be shown
the corpse of a Moorish cavalry soldier who had
been killed during the engagement. In revenge
for the beheading of the Zinat man who had been
killed, the tribesmen had mutilated the soldier's
body. It was a ghastly sight. The summer heat
had already caused the corpse to discolour and
swell. An apple had been stuck in the man's
mouth, and both his eyes had been gouged out.
N
194 MOROCCO THAT WAS
The naked body was shockingly mutilated, and the
finger-tips had been cut off, to be worn, the tribes-
men told me, as charms by their women. The
hands were pegged to the ground by sticks driven
through the palms, about a yard in length, bearing
little flags. A wreath of wild flowers was twined
round the miserable man's head, and the village
dogs had already gnawed away a portion of the
flesh of one of the legs. I was jokingly informed
that that was probably what I should look like
during the course of the next few days.
During the entire nine days that I was at Zinat
I was no doubt always in danger, and certainly
always in great discomfort ; but I had used every
opportunity to bring the friendly tribe of Anjera
over to my side, and on the night of the ninth day
my friends rose nobly to the occasion. They
surrounded Raisuli's house and village with per-
haps a thousand men, all armed and prepared,
and demanded that I should be handed over to
them, threatening that, if this were not immediately
carried out, they would shoot or arrest Raisuli.
It was a little coup-d'etat, and it was successful.
In the middle of the night I was hustled out of
the small room which I shared with a dozen
guards, placed on the back of a mule, and carried
off into the Anjera mountains by my friends of
that tribe. For six hours we proceeded through
mountain passes and thick brushwood, arriving
soon after sunrise at the village of Sheikh Duas,
one of the most influential of the Anjera tribesmen.
It was a journey I will never forget — the dark-
RAISULI 195
ness of the moonless night, the rough mountain
tracks, the silence of the hundreds of armed men
who accompanied me, and the intense relief that,
even if my captivity was long protracted, I was
amongst men who would, at any rate, protect my
life. I was tired and weak. Nine days of constant
strain, in great heat, on a diet of inferior dry bread
and water, with the necessity the whole time of
pretending rather to enjoy the situation than
otherwise, had worn me out. But from the friendly
tribe of Anjera I received nothing but kindness —
every word, every act of theirs was cheering and
thoughtful ; and though life among them was
rough enough in its way, I owe them a debt of
gratitude that it will be difficult ever to repay.
I remained twelve days at Sheikh Duas's village
in the Anjera mountains, and throughout that
period I never suffered an indignity or an insult
from him or his people. A little room in his house
was put at my disposal, and infinite pains were
taken to render it clean and habitable. The best
of such food as was procurable was given me —
milk and cream-cheese, and a rough porridge of
sour milk and millet. His followers — for Duas is
not above being a cattle robber on a large scale
— helped me to pass my time pleasantly enough,
and with them I explored the neighbouring moun-
tains, and sat in the shade of the fruit trees of
their little gardens listening to their local musicians
or watching the ungraceful movements of their
dancing-girls. I made friends there whose friend-
ship I shall always value. I was treated as one of
196 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the tribe. I wore their dress, shaved my head,
and conformed to all their customs ; but above
and beyond all, my anxiety was at an end — I
knew that I was out of grave danger.
Meanwhile the British Minister, ably assisted by
the Shereef of Wazzan, was carrying on the negoti-
ations. Although I was now amongst friends, these
negotiations were delicate and difficult, for the
Anjera tribe had given their word to the other
tribes concerned not to release me until their
prisoners were set free, and these other tribes
were constantly desirous of changing their condi-
tions, and, owing to the distances which separated
them, this necessarily meant delay. The very fact
that I was now some twenty-seven miles — a day's
journey — from Tangier protracted the negotiations.
Several times I seemed on the point of release,
but some small hitch, unimportant, it is true,
would arise and a delay occur.
Except for this, time passed pleasantly; the
scenery was delightful, and although it was the
middle of summer the air was cool at this altitude.
Little streams of water ran in every direction, and
I was able to bathe and be clean once more. To
all intents and purposes I was free to go where
I pleased, and though always accompanied by
guards, so thoughtful and kind were they that
one forgot that they were there to prevent my
escape, and we all became the best of friends.
Meanwhile the Shereef of Wazzan spared himself
no trouble. No sun was too hot for him to travel,
no journey too tiring for him to undertake. He
RAISULI 197
attended the tribal meetings and made known
to the headman the British Minister's intentions
with regard to the tribal prisoners, orders for whose
release had meanwhile been received from the
Sultan. His Majesty's readiness to comply with
Sir Arthur Nicolson's request was deserving of all
praise, for it must be remembered that the action
of the rebels throughout was intended to humiliate
the Sultan and his Government. What rendered
the situation during my captivity, especially during
the first part of it, doubly insecure was the fact
that the tribes were in active communication with
the Pretender to the Moorish Throne — the leader
of the rebellion in the Rif, — and it was proposed
over and over again to send me to him as a useful
hostage ; and, had it not been for my friendship
with the An j era tribe — a friendship of long stand-
ing— I have no doubt this proposal would have
been carried out.
On Saturday, 4th July, a large tribal meeting
was held near Sheikh Duas's village, and during
the usual wrangling which occurred on these
occasions the Shereef of Wazzan arrived, having
travelled the twenty-seven miles from Tangier
that day, in spite of the heat of the July sun.
His opportune presence settled my fate, and the
negotiations were brought to a conclusion, not
without considerable opposition. The following
day a large contingent of tribesmen, the Shereef,
and I set out for Tangier, spending the night some
twelve miles from that place. Even here a last
attempt was made — an attempt that nearly led
198 MOROCCO THAT WAS
to bloodshed — to prevent my release, but happily
unsuccessfully. The next morning we moved
down towards my own house, which stands alone,
some two and a half miles from the town. In a
ruined fort a quarter of a mile from my villa a
halt was made, and messengers were despatched
to town with letters to the British Minister to
release the tribal prisoners, who for the last week
or so had been comfortably housed in the basement
of the British Consulate, having been brought up
from Laraiche in specially-chartered steamers.
Within an hour we saw the sixteen prisoners
arriving, and very shortly afterwards they were
being welcomed by their friends. Lord Cranley,
Mr Wyldbore-Smith, Mr Kirby Green, and Mr
Carleton accompanied the prisoners on behalf of
the British Legation, but no formal exchange
took place. The moment the prisoners arrived I
was free to depart, though the many adieux that
I had to make with my mountain friends took
some little time. We parted on the best of terms,
and, wild and savage as the two hundred tribesmen
looked, I could not but feel how great a debt of
gratitude I owed them for having released me from
the dangers and discomforts of my first days of
captivity.
For a year after this adventure R-aisuli remained
tolerably quiet, but the following spring he carried
out a coup even more daring. He surrounded the
villa of Mr Perdicaris at night, and carried off both
the proprietor and his son-in-law. The American
Government sent a fleet to Tangier, and the whole
RAISULI 199
world watched the ensuing negotiations. Mr Per-
dicaris and Mr Varley were restored to liberty ;
but at what a price ! Raisuli demanded and
obtained from the Sultan the following terms.
That he should be appointed the Governor of all
the districts in the neighbourhood of Tangier ;
that the existing Governor — his former friend, who
had betrayed him — should be deposed ; a ransom
of $70,000, the imprisonment of all his enemies,
and the release from prison of all his friends —
and other concessions of less importance. The
Sultan surrendered, and the terms were carried
out. Raisuli found himself all-powerful — a hero
in the eyes of the Moors, a menace in those of
Europe.
His first acts were good. He put down the
effervescence which Bou Hamara's rebellion had
caused in the neighbourhood, and he opened the
roads to caravan traffic, and since he was made
Governor not a single caravan had been robbed
within the limits of his jurisdiction. He brought
about, in fact, a period of greater security than
had existed during the previous year or two — but
a security that depended upon Raisuli was natu-
rally a doubtful one.
As his influence increased he became a despot.
He squeezed the people under him, and extorted
money from even the very poorest of the poor.
The Maghzen lived in terror of him, and let him
know it, with the result that he ignored their
orders and commands, and even the treaties with
Europe. He threatened and blackmailed even the
200 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Maghzen authorities, who openly acknowledged
then- incapacity to deal with him, and he became
at the same time the protector and the scourge
of Tangier and the surrounding districts. He
enforced his authority up to the very gates of the
town, and his armed followers even entered and
dragged out of prison men who were not in his
jurisdiction. His representatives administered jus-
tice (!) in the market-place, and beat people to death
within a few yards of the French and German Lega-
tions. In 1906 Raisuli had reached the zenith of
his power. At Zinat it was sufficient to tell a man
that he was a prisoner, and he would never attempt
to escape. There was no need to lock him up — he
knew that his master's arm was long enough to
reach him wherever he fled to, — and the strange
sight of dozens of prisoners at liberty could be
seen there on any day. Raisuli showed all the
qualities required by a strong Governor in Morocco,
but unfortunately he overdid it. For him there
existed no treaties. His and his representatives'
actions at this period are well known. The flog-
ging of protected natives, the cutting off of the
electric light, the blackmailing of Europeans, the
destruction of property — a long list of acts of
unbearable tyranny.
At length the representatives of the European
Powers could endure it no longer. They addressed
a collective Note to the Moorish Minister of
Foreign Affairs at Fez, demanding that an end be
made to the impossible state of affairs existing
in the Tangier districts. It was almost an ulti-
RAISULI 201
matum, for the bay was full of the warships of
France and Spain, present to protect European
interests until the introduction of the new police.
The Sultan and his viziers could not misunderstand
the purport of this Note. The Minister of War
was ordered to proceed to Tangier with all avail-
able forces.
Early in January 1907 the troops that had
arrived from Fez were camped not many miles
from Raisuli's stronghold, waiting for orders to
attack. News was brought to me that this attack
would take place two days later, on Saturday,
6th January; and it was still dark when that
morning, at a very early hour, I left Tangier on
horseback with three trusted Moors to see what I
could of it. I had clothed myself in the flowing
dress of a trooper of Moorish irregular cavalry, as
I knew that orders had been issued to prevent
Europeans approaching the spot, and also so as
to be able to move about the scene of action with-
out attracting notice. Before we had emerged
into the open country we had passed no less than
six outposts of some twenty-five men each, for
the Maghzen authorities had been taking great
precautions to protect the town ; but even the
clattering of our horses' shoes upon the paved
roads failed to wake a single man from the deep
slumber in which they were lying inside their
tents. At dawn we were a good many miles away,
but we had time to spare, and rode slowly,
realising that a long day lay before us ; and it
was seven o'clock before, from the point of a low
202 MOROCCO THAT WAS
hill, the camp of the Shereefian troops was visible
in the plain below us. A mile to our left was the
famous hill of Zinat, with its rocky crests and
precipices, and its steep lower slopes stretching
down to the plain, at places dotted with olive
groves. Set in the midst of this background stood
Raisuli's stronghold, a large rambling building,
half-fort, half-house, with windows dotted irregu-
larly about its front, and here and there a battle-
mented tower rising above the rest of the roof,
a strong building in a very strong position. Away
behind Zinat and in front of us rose the higher
peaks of the Beni Msaour Mountains, range beyond
range, until, bounding the eastern horizon, they
were overtopped by the snow-clad summits of
Beni Hassan. There were no signs of the coming
struggle at that moment. Cattle were feeding
near the little villages on the plain, and thin
white smoke, hanging heavily in the bright air,
issued from the thatched roofs and tents of the
plains-people as they cooked their breakfasts. In
the Shereefian camp there was some movement,
and near Raisuli's stronghold his followers could
be seen strolling about, while the smoking chim-
neys of his house bespoke the fact that they too
were preparing their breakfasts.
It was nine o'clock before the scene changed.
Clear in the still air a bugle rang out in the camp.
They must have heard it away at Zinat, for sud-
denly from the summit of the rocks above Raisuli's
fortress a long thin column of white smoke arose,
then another and another, and then from peak to
RAISULI 203
peak, as far as the eye could reach, the fires were
answered. The mountaineers were signalling to
one another that the great battle was imminent.
Down in the camp below us the infantry were
" falling in " and the cavalrymen mounting their
horses, and it was only a few minutes later when
amongst the beating of drums and the blowing
of bugles, the neighing of horses and the fluttering
of coloured banners and flags, the Shereefian
troops marched out on to the plain. A hoarse
shout arose from every throat, " Ah ! salih en-
Nebi, Rasoul Allah ! " an invocation to the
Prophet, repeated again and again, and answered
by a far-away and fainter cry of the same words
from the fortress and rocks of Zinat.
Once all the troops are out on the plain they are
drawn up in formation for the attack. On the right
were the artillery, two field-guns, and a couple of
Maxims, carried by mules. Near them, amidst a
panoply of banners, rode the Commander-in-Chief
and his staff, a group of a hundred or so persons
well mounted and gaily dressed, with their bright
saddles of every shade of coloured cloth and
silk adding to a scene already brilliantly pictur-
esque. In the centre were some 800 infantry with
a strong support of tribal cavalry, while on the
left a somewhat smaller force formed the flank.
The contingent of loyal mountaineers in their
short black cloaks could be seen already scaling
some low hills away on the extreme right. Then
slowly the whole army advances.
It was a moment of thrilling excitement. From
204 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the rocky hill where I had taken up my point of
vantage the whole scene was passing at my very
feet. On my left the fortress and rocks ; on my
right the slowly advancing forces — the left flank
within a hundred yards or so of where I stood.
At Zinat there was not a sign of life, though with my
glasses I could see the glint of rifle-barrels in the em-
brasures of the house, and now and then amongst
the precipices and rocks above it. The troops are
within 1200 yards now, and in the open, but still
advancing slowly, for the most part in close forma-
tion, and offering even at that range — a long one
for the Moors, who are proverbial bad shots — an
excellent target. The sunlit air is so still that
every little sound rises unbroken from the plain
below : a word of command here, a bugle-call
there. Then suddenly the firing opens from Zinat
— the quick nervous spitting of the Mauser rifles, —
rendered the more impressive from the fact that
nothing can be seen, for there is not a single man
there who does not use smokeless powder. A few
Askaris are seen to fall, killed or wounded, and the
advance ceases. The whole army replies, firing
at an impossible range into a solid fort and still
more solid precipice with rifles that have only
reached Morocco after they have long been dis-
carded as useless in Europe, and with powder
that issues, evil-looking and evil-smelling, from
the barrels of their weapons. After all, it made
little difference where they fired, for few or none
had ever handled a rifle before, and there was
nothing to shoot at. Meanwhile the cavalry
RAISULI 205
galloped to and fro in every direction, except to
advance, waving flags and firing their rifles, appa-
rently at the green plover that swept over in
flocks, disturbed by the unusual racket.
Inane impotent warfare, carried on by undis-
ciplined and uncourageous men, whose uniforms
alone bespoke them as soldiers.
A curl of thin yellow smoke, widening as it
ascended, rises from the rocks far above the house
— the first shell fired by the artillery, followed by
another and another, which, although aimed at
the house itself, fall in widely different directions,
more than once nearer the Maghzen troops than
the enemy. During the entire action of this
Saturday, although the range was only about
1000 metres, the house was only struck twice,
and even the explosion of these two shells did not
force the defenders to abandon the flat roof and
windows, though they cannot have failed to be
effective. Meanwhile the troops on the left, under
the cover of the rocks, had entered and burned a
village out of Raisuli's line of fire, and were return-
ing toward the camp laden with loot, under the
impression that their duty for the day was over.
Nor did any one attempt to persuade them to
re-enter the fight, and I watched them disappear,
staggering under huge mattresses, chests of painted
wood — the dowry of every Moorish bride, — and a
thousand other household articles. For a back-
ground— the burning village, the flames of which
rose lurid and roaring into the still air, to pass
away in great rolls of heavy white smoke.
206 MOROCCO THAT WAS
From one to two o'clock the firing slackened,
but at the latter hour another attempt was made
to advance. The whole line pushed forward, but
700 or 800 yards from Zinat they broke, and —
well, if they did not exactly run, they certainly
returned very quickly. It was at this moment
that two picturesque incidents occurred. From
Raisuli's house emerged a woman, who, crossing
the open ground under a heavy fire, mounted upon
a rock and thence cursed the troops. She threw
back her thick " haik," and, tearing her hair,
waved her arms towards heaven, but the firing
drowned her voice. Then slowly and majestically
she drew her veil around her and retired. A few
seconds later eight men, no doubt encouraged by
her bravery, rushed into the open grounds, shout-
ing and jeering at the retiring forces, and firing
the while with their Mausers. It was then that
the Commander-in-Chief fell wounded in the neck.
A mule was brought, and, supported by his ret-
inue, he was hurriedly taken back to the camp.
By this time the army had used up all their shells
and nearly all their cartridges. Even a reserve
force, hidden in a river-bed a mile in the rear,
had been firing at that range at the mountain
ever since the morning, to the imminent danger
of their advancing comrades.
The army was now retiring in good order, fol-
lowed by Raisuli's eight men, who every now and
then sped a parting shot at them. The battle
at Zinat was over. The great effort of the Maghzen
had failed, and the stronghold and village, except
RAISULI 207
for a few holes made by the shells, stood as placid
and peaceful in appearance as it had been in the
morning. The great Shereefian army had proved
itself to be — like everything else in Morocco,
except perhaps Raisuli himself — a gigantic bluff.
It was well on in the afternoon now, and the
scene of the fight was deserted. I crept up a little
gully to within 400 or 500 yards of the house, and,
peeping from between the rocks, I took a long
view with my glasses. On the green sward in
front of the house stood a man holding a pair of
glasses to his eyes. On either side of him were
a few retainers. He stood silent and still, watching
the retreating army. It was Raisuli.
At dawn on Sunday morning I was back again
in the hills near Zinat. Never did the sun rise
over a more peaceful scene or one more serenely
beautiful. Peak after peak, many touched with
snow, turned pink and gold as the first rays of the
rising sun touched their summits. At Zinat itself
all was quiet. A little blue smoke, the smoke of
wood fire, arose from the chimneys of Raisuli' s
house, in front of which half a dozen mountaineers
were warming themselves over a small bonfire.
It was nine o'clock before the troops left the
camp, and, deploying in much the same formation
as the day before, advanced across the plain.
But their numbers were increased, for reinforce-
ments had been hurriedly sent by night from
Tangier, and fresh contingents of loyal moun-
taineers had turned up in force. But what was
still more important was the addition of one man,
208 MOROCCO THAT WAS
an Algerian artillery officer attached to the Sultan's
service by the French Government, whose shooting
with the field-guns at Taza and Oujda had largely
saved the situation at both places. It had been
the intention of the Maghzen to send him on
Saturday, but owing to his being a French subject
they decided not to do so, as in their own con-
sideration any one to do with France was at this
period a person to be avoided. Their folly lost
them the day. Had Si Abderrahman ben Sedira
been behind the guns on Saturday, Raisuli's house,
and probably Raisuli and most of his followers,
would have been destroyed. The proof, if one
were needed, is this. He accomplished more
destruction with the two shells he fired at the
fortress on Sunday morning than in the 130 shots
fired on Saturday. A general advance toward
Zinat was commenced a little before two, and the
two shells above mentioned were fired from the
field-guns. There was no reply from the house
or from the rocks above it. Already the troops
were considerably nearer than they had ever got
the previous day. A little hesitation was visible,
for no doubt the soldiers imagined that they were
being allowed to approach to within an easy and
certain range. The left were well ahead, led by
Raisuli's late Calipha, more royalist than the
King nowadays, who was followed close by his
contingent of the Fahs tribe. Three hundred
yards only now separated them from the village.
With a wild shout and a volley from then* rifles
the cavalry charged. Over the rising ground they
RAISULI 209
passed, a brilliant flash of colour, and never drew
rein till they were at Raisuli's door.
The house and village were empty. Then began
a scene of pandemonium. Askaris, horsemen,
and tribal contingents rushed upon the castle,
and the wildest looting commenced. Other bands,
intent upon pillage, ransacked the neighbouring
houses. In a few minutes flames burst forth
from the thatched roofs of the surrounding huts.
The flames spread, and in as short a space of time
as it takes to write it the whole village was ablaze.
The strong wind drove the heavy smoke in huge
clouds across the face of the mountain, and in
half an hour all that was left of Zinat were the
burning houses from above which Raisuli's for-
tress towered, as yet but slightly damaged. Then
smoke burst out from its windows. The roof,
already half blown off by the shells, fell with a
crash ; a wall toppled over in clouds of dust, and
little by little the stronghold became a useless
ruin. Not a shot was fired from the mountain,
for there was no one to fire one. Silently in the
night Raisuli and his followers, and the inhabitants
of the neighbouring villages, with all their old
people, their women and children, and their flocks
and herds, had crept away into the darkness over
the plain and on into the mountains. Not a guard
had been posted to keep watch, not a blow had been
struck to prevent them escaping. Under the rocks
upon which I was seated the soldiers, laden with
loot, were returning. Carpets, mattresses, boxes,
vases of artificial flowers, tea-trays and tea-cups,
o
210 MOROCCO THAT WAS
sacks of flour and grain, rolls of matting — all the
belongings and appurtenances of Moorish houses
formed their burdens. One soldier, a cheery
kindly-looking giant, was whistling to a canary in
a cage, which he had brought away in preference
to more valuable loot.
As I rode over the brow of the hill on my way
back to Tangier I drew rein for a moment and
looked back. The army was leaving Zinat, and
the burning houses were little more than heaps
of smouldering ashes. Beyond lay the high moun-
tains of Beni Msaour, whence Raisuli and the
inhabitants of his villages must have been looking
upon the ruins of their homes.
II.
RAISULI was now completely outlawed. He lived
in the fastness of his mountains, where the Sultan's
troops could never even attempt to penetrate.
Thence he spread alarm right and left, causing
constant fears and panics, even to the Europeans
at Tangier.
The whole situation in Morocco was seething.
The tribes had become to all intents and purposes
independent, and many threw off all pretence of
obeying the orders of their Governors or of paying
taxes. Such as were more vulnerable, either from
their geographical position or by their numerical
weakness, were persecuted and squeezed to make
up for the delinquencies of the others. The
rapacity of the viziers was greater than ever, and
the Sultan's extravagances seemed to have in-
creased by the fresh supply of money that an ill-
advised foreign loan had a year or two before
brought into his spending power. Bou Hamara,
the Pretender, in the Rif, and Raisuli amongst
the mountain tribes, were the two principal thorns
in the Maghzen's side. With Bou Hamara, who
stated that he was the eldest brother of the Sultan,
nothing could be done. He remained in the
212 MOROCCO THAT WAS
inaccessible Rif tribe-lands, where he governed as
a petty Sultan ; and even the Spanish authorities,
who waited long to see him driven out, were at
last obliged to enter into relation with him, in
order to ensure the security of their "Presidios."
That Bou Hamara and Raisuli were in com-
munication is certain, but there was little respect
and little confidence between them, and except
for the passage of letters no compact of real or
practical importance seems to have existed between
them. Yet that their relations were cordial is
clear, from the original document in my possession
sealed by Bou Hamara with his great seal of State,
by which he appoints Raisuli Governor of certain
of the mountain tribes. On this seal of State,
Bou Hamara uses the style " Mohammed ben
Hassen " — claiming thereby to be Mulai Moham-
med, the eldest son of Mulai Hassen, and therefore
the elder brother of the reigning Sultan.
Raisuli had no pretensions to the Sultanate,
though in the eyes of Europe he played a more
important part, for his principal activities were
employed in the districts of Tangier, the diplo-
matic capital of the country.
In 1906 that futile Conference of Algeciras —
futile, that is to say, in so far as it had any bene-
ficial effect in Morocco — had met, discussed, signed,
and separated. It had for Europe, no doubt,
cleared the situation, and was a check to Germany ;
but poor Morocco gained little — in fact, it marked
one more step on its road to ruin. Never probably
did such a collection of diplomatists, whose high-
RAISULI 213
sounding titles fill the first few pages of that
insignificant little yellow -book which contains
the results of their insignificant labours, give
themselves airs of such importance. For days
together they discussed the questions of the import
of sporting-guns and the rifling of gun-barrels with
all the pomposity of affairs of the gravest moment
— to pass to the rules for the distribution of parcels
post. Three or four men were playing a great
stake — representatives of England and France,
and of Germany — and it was well played. The
victory remained with the two former. The rest
were puppets, but didn't realise it. They really
thought, or seemed to think, that their endeavours
were being of service to the country which few
of them knew anything about, beyond the distant
view they could obtain of it from the hills above
Algeciras.
Northern Morocco was at its worst the year after
the Algeciras Act had been signed, and even the
pleasure-loving Mulai Abdul Aziz perceived that
affairs were becoming serious. He decided to
open negotiations with Raisuli. For this purpose
Kaid Maclean had an interview with the brigand
chief in April (1907). Raisuli listened to the
Raid's proposals, but refused to accompany him
to Fez, where the Sultan was then residing.
However, a step had been made toward a possible
arrangement. A month later, armed with the
authority of the Sultan, Kaid Maclean returned
to Alcazar, a town on the Tangier-Fez road,
situated about sixty miles from the former. But
214 MOROCCO THAT WAS
meanwhile it has leaked out that Raisuli would
attempt the capture of this important functionary.
Every effort was made by the Sultan, who had
also received the news, and by the British Legation,
to cancel the interview, and the British Consular
Agent at Alcazar was instructed to this effect to
continue the negotiations. An interview with
Raisuli was secretly arranged, to be held on the
borders of the Ahlserif tribe-lands, some few miles
from Alcazar. There these two personages met.
The Sultan's propositions were made known to
Raisuli, who pretended to accept them, and to
be disposed to return to Fez with the Kaid. He
would, he said, start at once, and if the Kaid would
accompany him to the village where his camp
was pitched they would set out the next day.
The Kaid agreed, and entered the mountains with
his host — only there was no setting out the next
day, for he found himself a prisoner, and remained
in captivity for some seven months, suffering
considerable hardships.
Of all the negotiations for the obtaining of the
liberty of Raisuli' s prisoners, these were the most
difficult. The terms demanded by Raisuli were
preposterous, and a score of people seemed negotiat-
ing on their own account, while the Kaid himself
was doing his utmost, and very naturally, to obtain
his release. The result was confusion and mis-
understanding, and the distance from Tangier at
which Raisuli kept his captive increased the
difficulties. Had the whole affair been left in the
hands of Sir Gerard Lowther, who at this period
RAISULI 215
ably represented England in Morocco, it is probable
that Kaid Maclean's release would have been more
quickly obtained. But on every occasion on which
a solution seemed near some perfectly new pro-
position, emanating from unauthorised sources,
would frustrate the official plans. In the end
Raisuli obtained £20,000, and he was made a
British protected subject ; and there were other
minor terms. Kaid Maclean was released. The
only pleasing aspect of all these brigandage cases
was the absolute confidence that Raisuli always
placed in the word of the British Government,
the British authorities, and in fact that of all
Britishers.
Some years after this event, when the ex-Sultan
Mulai Abdul, Aziz, who had just abdicated, was visit-
ing my villa at Tangier, I showed him two Arabic
documents. One was his original " Dahir " for
the nomination of Raisuli as Governor of the
tribes, which the brigand had extorted as part of
the ransom of Perdicaris ; and the other was
Raisuli' s appointment as Governor of the same
tribes, bearing another great seal of State, that
of the Pretender, Bou Hamara. Mulai Abdul
Aziz asked me how I had become possessed of
these two documents. I told him. The " Dahir "
of the Pretender I had found, during my im-
prisonment, in a secret cupboard in a room of
Raisuli's house at Zinat. I had carried it, sewn
up in my clothing, with other equally interesting
correspondence, during the whole period of my
captivity. The firman of the Sultan himself I
216 MOROCCO THAT WAS
had obtained the day Raisuli's house was looted
by the Maghzen troops, at which picturesque
incident I had been present.
The ex-Sultan smiled. " There seems," he said
rather cynically, "to be nothing of interest in
Morocco which hasn't reached either your know-
ledge or your hands ; nothing that you haven't
had given you — acquired ? "
" The most valuable of all things was given me,"
I replied.
" And that was ? "
X" Your Majesty's friendship."
It was at this period, while an outlaw in the
mountains, that Raisuli nearly made his most
important capture. It was an incident that was
kept very quiet at the time, but leaked out in
the French Press a little later. The truth was, we
Europeans who played a part — and we very
nearly played a very serious part — in the story
had no desire for publicity.
The facts were these. The ruins of Raisuli's
stronghold at Zinat were only distant from Tangier
about fourteen miles, and formed a tempting
excursion, but one which no one undertook, as
it was notoriously unsafe. However, as time went
on and nothing occurred in the neighbourhood of
Tangier to disturb the tranquillity, and as Raisuli
and his band seemed permanently to have taken
up their residence in the mountains at a con-
siderable distance from the scene of their former
activities, a picnic at Zinat was decided upon,
and I was invited. The other members of our
RAISULI 217
party consisted of Sir Gerard Lowther, then
British Minister to Morocco, Monsieur and Madame
de Beaumarchais of the French Legation, and
Mr Christopher Lowther, the son of the Speaker
of the House of Commons. I formed the fifth
member of the party.
One hot summer morning we rode out, having
sent our lunch on in advance. On nearing Zinat
we were hailed by a countryman who was plough-
ing his fields. I rode to see what he wanted,
and was informed that Raisuli's band was back
at Zinat, apparently having come to take away
some treasure which had, by being buried, escaped
the looting of the soldiery at the time of the destruc-
tion of the castle. He advised us not to proceed.
We discussed this news, and in the folly of an
enjoyable excursion, decided, as the lunch was on
ahead, to proceed. Nothing could surpass the
tranquillity of the scene on our arrival, and we
were soon lunching under the shade of the olive-
trees. I confess that the pleasure of the foie-gras
was mingled, in my case, with a certain nervous
apprehension from which the others appeared
immune. We did not believe, or had pretended
not to believe, the story of the return of Raisuli's
brigands.
Lunch was nearly over when the glint of a rifle-
barrel in the thick brushwood caught my eye,
and another and yet another in the rocks, for the
hill at Zinat is a wild precipitous slope of broken
masses of rock and scrub. A minute later we were
surrounded. The men were perfectly polite, and
218 MOROCCO THAT WAS
to all intents and purposes appeared merely to
have come to wish us good- day. At their head
was the good-looking young Ahmed el-Aoufi,
Raisuli's second-in-command, a personal friend of
my own, who had shown me considerable kindness
during my captivity with the brigands in 1903.
He shook us warmly by the hand, and, his rifle
between his knees, sat down to spend the time
of day. A few yards away, in a complete circle
round us, were thirty or forty of his men.
I confess that situations like this exhilarate me.
I hate bloodshed and noisy encounters, but a
delicate situation has a zest that is unique, and,
heavens ! it was a delicate situation. The British
Minister and the French Charge d' Affaires — what
a coup ! I was the only member of the party who
spoke Arabic, and the suspense the others must
have suffered during the next hour or two must
have been extreme. Yet no one made a sign.
I have often seen great examples of self-restraint,
but never, I think, greater than on this occasion.
Remember, my friends understood nothing of
what I was saying, except that every now and
again I referred to them for confirmation of my
assertions. For me the situation was very exciting.
If I was taken after all, it was only what had
happened before, and I was used to adventure and
hardship — but for the others ! and I could not
help thinking of the terms — probably impossible
terms — that Raisuli would demand for their re-
lease— and of the possible consequences ! I have
found on occasions like these — for this was by
RAISULI 219
no means the only tight place of the kind that
I have been in — that not only is there a kind
of exhilaration, but also that one's power of
concentration of thought is accentuated. How-
ever inauspicious the actual surroundings may be,
one feels and knows that the mental superiority
rests with the European, and that hereditary
training of thought and education stand one in
good stead. The Moor is no fool, he is cunning
and astute, but his mind is untrained — and he is
confiding when dealing with Europeans. In the
first moments of our encounter at Zinat I knew
that our safety depended upon the game that I
was determined to play — and which I played
successfully.
I began with an enormous untruth. Holding
El-Aoufi's hand, I told him I was delighted to
see him, and that his visit was most opportune
— nothing, in fact, could have been better. Then
I sat him down, and talked to him and to his chief
companions seriously. It was at this moment
that Madame de Beaumarchais, with the admir-
able sangfroid of a talented and courageous
Frenchwoman, took a photograph. The man to
whom I was talking was Ould el-Aoufi ; the Euro-
pean seated just behind me was the late Sir
Gerard Lowther.
The story that I told them was this. I reminded
them that Raisuli had been driven from the
Governorship of Tangier and the surrounding
tribes at the demand of the European Powers.
They had acted unwisely and realised it, and now
220 MOROCCO THAT WAS
they regretted their action. " Do you know," I
asked, " who these people are who are here
to-day ? "
" We are not sure," they replied.
" Then I will teU you," and I did. Instead of,
as would seem natural, trying to conceal the
identity of my distinguished friends, I launched
out into exaggerated statements as to their im-
portance. I saw I had made an impression. My
audience were now thoroughly puzzled.
" And why are they here ? " I asked. " Listen,
and I will tell you. The Powers of Europe regret
Raisuli's departure and disgrace. They desire
him to be reinstated, but the Sultan has refused.
The Powers insist, and as the Maghzen still holds
out, the Governments of England and France have
telegraphed to their representatives — the gentle-
men you see here to-day — instructing them to
visit the scene of the depredations on Raisuli's
castle, and to make all the necessary arrangements
for its reconstruction as quickly as possible, so
that Raisuli can be restored to his own, and once
more introduce law and order into the region.
For this purpose we are come to-day — against the
advice of all our friends — so that the work can
be undertaken at once. Meanwhile the letter
recalling Raisuli from the mountains is being
drawn up." I then added, " We were warned
on the way that we should find you here, and
advised to turn back, but I told the people who
warned us that Raisuli's men would perfectly
understand our mission, and nice trouble they
[Photo by Madame de Beavmarchttit.
THE AUTHOR, EL AOUFI, AND RAISULl's BRIGANDS.
[Photo by Madame de Beautnarchais.
THE AUTHOR MEASURING THE WALLS OF THE RUINS OF
RAISULI'S HOUSE.
(The European standing in the background is the late
RAISULI 221
would get into with their chief if they captured
the very men who are insisting on restoring him
to his former grandeur, and obtaining the return
of all his confiscated property — and even rebuild-
ing his castle at the expense of the Governments ^
they represent. " I should like to see your face, -^n^
friend Ahmed el-Aoufi, after Raisuli had discovered
the ' gaffe ' that you had made ; and if I know
your chief, friend and confidant as you are, I can
imagine the stripes he could lay upon your bare
back. Do you think that, unless we had been
really his benefactors, we should ever have been
such fools to have ventured into this hornets'
nest ? Now up with you," I cried, rising, " and
we will see what we can do with these ruins."
I led the way down to the ruins, and for the
next hour measured walls, took notes of the local
price of masons and carpenters and the possibilities
of obtaining bricks on the spot, proposed a new
water-supply which the laws of gravitation ren-
dered quite impossible, and even whispered in
El-Aoufi's ear that there would be money to
build him a little house adjoining his chief's.
We came to the conclusion that for between
£12,000 and £15,000, taking into consideration
that Raisuli could obtain a plentiful supply of
forced labour, and as much material as he liked,
the house could be restored to more than its
pristine glories.
Another photograph taken by Madame de Beau-
marchais pictures us pacing out the length of the
walls of the house.
222 MOROCCO THAT WAS
My note-book full of figures, I sat down again
and dictated to El-Aoufi the following letter, which
he wrote : "To the trusted and well-beloved
Shereef , the learned Mulai Ahmed er-Raisuli, peace
and the mercy of God be upon you ; and acting on
the instructions of their Governments, of which
the letter I sent you yesterday will have given
you full particulars, the British Minister and the
French Charge d' Affaires have paid a visit to the
ruins of your Kasbah. They have grieved much to
see its piteous state. As you will have learned by
the contents of my letter, it is the intention of
their Governments not only to restore you to
power but also to reconstruct your castle. To-day
we are at Zinat, and we had the good fortune to
find your faithful and intelligent deputy, my lord
Ahmed el-Aoufi, and your followers, who have
been of great use to us, and have shown us many
things that have helped us, and have guarded us
in security and peace from any bad people who
may have been about. We are grateful. And my
lord Ahmed el-Aoufi will tell you of many things
which in our friendship for you we have confided
to him. We will await at Tangier a reply to the
letter I sent you yesterday, explaining fully those
things, and immediately on receiving the reply
measures will be taken to commence the restora-
tion of your Kasbah ; but it is trusted that you
will not wait its completion before returning to
your former position, for any delay will only
protract the unsatisfactory state of affairs existing
at present, and continue the nervousness of the
RAISULI 223
population of Tangier and the oppression of the
poor country people. My lord El-Aoufi will tell
you all. May peace be with you."
To this epistle I put my signature, and not one
pang of conscience did I feel, nor have felt since.
Raisuli and I had played many games — only this
one was a little bigger than the rest. To tell the
truth, so far from feeling guilty, I literally revelled
in my deception.
It was time to return to Tangier, and I confess
I was nervous. I proposed to El-Aoufi that the
others should start first, and that I should remain
for a while and catch them up on the road. I
wanted to spend, I said, a little while longer in
his company — it was a pleasure so rare and so
valued.
With a sigh of relief I saw the rest of our party
mount. El-Aoufi shook hands with all of them
and thanked them for their visit — and they rode
slowly away. My fears were at an end.
I sat for half an hour, and explained to El-Aoufi
that Raisuli would have already received my
(perfectly imaginary) letter of yesterday which
explained the whole situation, and that on his
return to his chief in the mountains, some six or
eight hours' journey farther on, he would find
him fully informed. He (El-Aoufi) must, I added,
have crossed my letter en route. Had he not met
the messenger, whose name I gave ? No ! Well,
then, he must have taken another track. My
friends were now no more than little black specks
far away in the plain. I rose and embraced El-
224 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Aoufi, and in the manner of the country we kissed
each other's shoulders. My horse was brought,
and, cantering slowly down the slope, I rode away
toward Tangier.
In spite of the deliberate series of falsehoods
of which I had been guilty during those few hours,
I never felt less conscience-stricken — and perhaps
never happier — in my life.
I have seen Raisuli many times since the inci-
dent. He referred to El- Aoufi, after a trial fight,
as a lion of courage.
" There was no finer creature in God's world,"
I replied, " than the lion, but sometimes the wily
jackal deceives him."
I noticed a little flash in Raisuli' s eye, but he
answered languidly, " Verily the jackal is an
unclean beast."
Sir Gerard Lowther, the Beaumarchais, Christo-
pher Lowther, and I all dined together the night
of our adventure, but we didn't talk very much
about it. Our thankfulness for our escape was
only equalled by our appreciation of our immense
folly in having undertaken the expedition. We
agreed that, if possible, the incident was to be
kept a secret, but a few weeks later the ' Temps '
contained the whole story, which had leaked out
from native sources and got to Paris.
I should have liked to have seen the interview
of Raisuli and El- Aoufi when the latter related
the incident and gave him my letter. He fell
from favour for a time, as might be expected,
but he came to see me in Tangier a few months
RAISULI 225
later. We did not mention the visit to Zinat,
but discussed more general subjects. Talking of
the good and bad qualities of mankind, El-Aoufi
said, " The most degrading thing in the world is
deceit," and he said it quite nastily.
" In my opinion there is something even more
humiliating," I replied.
" That is ? "
" To be made a fool of."
But we parted the best of friends.
III.
ALTHOUGH, as will have been appreciated, my
relations with Raisuli were varied and adventure-
some, I bear him no grudge ; and I think he always
considered me as a friend, and I hope does so now.
He has, on his visits to Tangier, often spent hours
at a time in my house, discussing the many situa-
tions in the country and the varying attitudes of
the mountain tribes. He had lost much of his
former handsome appearance, having become heavy
and stout, and his expression perhaps more cruel.
He was always courteous and generally amusing,
often in a very sarcastic cynical manner. He was
full of his own importance, and seemed to realise
that he was unique — which, perhaps happily, he
certainly was.
On one occasion while at my house, he saw in a
glass case an illuminated Koran of considerable
artistic value, both on account of its antiquity
and of its beauty. Now, the Moors cannot bear
to see their religious books in the possession of
Europeans, and Raisuli, without more ado, ex-
tracted the book from the vitrine, kissed it rever-
ently, carefully wrapped it in a silk handkerchief,
and placed it in the hands of one of his slaves.
RAISULI 227
He gave no explanation of his action, which, after
all, needed no explanation. The conversation
flowed on in other channels, and he never so much
as mentioned the book. A little later he left — and
so did my Koran.
I had two of these Korans, but the one which
Raisuli had taken was much the finest, from the
collector's point of view. The second copy was,
however, newer and more brilliant in colour, and
certainly would appear in the eyes of a Moor a
more desirable acquisition, for to them antiquity
is of no great account. This second copy Raisuli
had not seen.
The next day I sent one of my Moors with it,
wrapped in silk, to ask Raisuli whether he would
be willing to restore me the one he had taken in
exchange for this newer and far better preserved
volume. The first copy, I informed him, perhaps
not quite truly, had a very great personal interest
to me, and I begged him to accept the second
and restore me the older one. I hinted that the
second was a much superior book. My man
returned crestfallen and sad. His mission had
failed. He brought me many friendly messages
from Raisuli but no book, neither the first nor the
second, for Raisuli had kept both. It was ex-/
asperating, but there was nothing to be done but
to swear to be equal with him at some future
time.
One morning, about a month later, I sent to
him asking him to lend me two riding-mules with
their saddles, for some friends of mine to ride on
228 MOROCCO THAT WAS
to a picnic — good pacing mules, as my friends
were not accustomed to riding. Half an hour
later two very fine mules, caparisoned in rich red
saddles, arrived, led by Raisuli's slaves. I myself
put them in my stable and turned the key. I
then sent to Raisuli to say that when I had my
books he could have his mules. One of his secre-
taries returned with my messenger, and after the
usual compliments informed me that his master
had instructed him to say that the books were
invaluable, and that he could not restore them.
The mules were mine, he added ; in fact every-
thing Raisuli possessed was mine — except, of
course, the books — and if I required more mules
or horses he could send me as many as I wished.
He could easily have done so : he possessed dozens
and dozens, if not hundreds, nearly all confiscated
or extorted from the people of the country. They
had cost him nothing to get, then they would
therefore cost little to give.
My conscience smote me. My little trick ap-
peared so mean beside this dignified magnificence
and generosity of Raisuli. I offered to restore the
mules, but he would not hear of it. They continued
in my stables, and my friendship with their former
owner flowed on undiminished and unchanged. I
saw him often. Since the episode of the Koran,
books have never been mentioned between us ;
now mules were also placed upon the Index.
Never directly or indirectly in his conversations
did we ever refer to the subject. Nor was my
capture ever spoken of. Only once a tactless
RAISULI 229
European broached in the brigand chief's presence
of my having been for some time at his stronghold
at Zinat. With a pleasant smile Raisuli interposed :
" My house is always at the disposal of my friends."
Hospitality is innate in the Moorish character.
The giving and taking of presents was practised
a great deal in the " old " Morocco, but it is now
happily disappearing. It was always a great
nuisance. One often gave away something one
really wanted — and it was so difficult to replace
anything — and got in return some perfectly useless
acquisition. I have arrived back in Tangier after
a long journey in the interior with half a dozen
new horses, most of them neither good nor bad.
I couldn't possibly ride them all, and they were
only a very irksome expense and luxury. At
first, and for a long time, I hesitated to adopt the
custom of the country, and hand them on as
presents to some one else. A feeling possessed me
that gifts were " sacrosanct," and must be kept
at all costs, and that the giver would be hurt in
his feelings to learn that his present had been
passed on. But in time I found that the donor
didn't care the least what became of his presents,
or ever give them a second thought.
One of the viziers once gave me an amber neck-
lace of transparent cut beads. He said the Sultan
had given it to him, and that His Majesty had
received it from a high official from the southern
capital. A few years afterwards I gave it to a
young European lady about to be married, as a
wedding present, to find out that it had been her
230 MOROCCO THAT WAS
father who had brought it to Morocco — as looking
much more expensive than it really was — and had
given it to one of the tribal Governors in return
for something else. It had travelled all over
Morocco, but got home at last to where it had
started from, to meet with no appreciation. We
laughed over the history of the necklace, and the
damsel got another present in exchange. My
amber beads now deck the fair throat — if she ever
wears them — of a beautiful and distinguished lady
far away from Morocco.
My stables were often full to overflowing, and
were a very great strain upon my resources, until
I steeled my heart and gave the horses away as
they came in. But unfortunately it was not
horses the Moorish authorities wanted : they had
already too many. No, it was one's watch or
one's shot-gun, or a sporting-rifle, or a barometer
or field-glasses that they always set their hearts
upon — something rare and impossible to procure
or replace in the country. Nor were one's troubles
over when the exchange of presents was accom-
plished, for there were the numberless tips that
had to be given. A horse would be brought, led
by a slave and accompanied by the chief of the
stables and two grooms — and they had to be
satisfied. Then probably the son of the donor
would pay a visit to my camp and express a sudden
and intense desire to be possessed of my shot-gun
or my watch-chain ; and when he had left, satisfied
perhaps with a less costly present from a box of
objects brought for the purpose, the secretary of
RAISULI 231
his father would arrive to apologise for the son's
rudeness, and to say that he would be punished
by his father for having ventured to ask for any-
thing. He would sing the praises of my recently-
acquired horse. Then a tone of sadness would
be adopted. He was a poor man ; he had had
troubles. He wouldn't have breathed of it to
another, not if lions' teeth were tearing his entrails ;
but he felt that the bond of sympathy between us
was so close that — and then came out a long story,
perfectly untrue of course, of the meanness of his
employer, and of his unpaid salary, &c. He could
keep his secret no longer, he must tell it, and with
tears in his eyes he would beg for a sum of money,
generally modest enough. However, there was
always scope for bargaining, and his demands
would diminish, till eventually he would go away
with a few coins in ecstasy of pretended gratitude.
Accepting the hospitality of the great chiefs
was only a little less costly, and a night's enter-
tainment by some dignitary or governor of a tribe
was often both tiring and expensive. It meant a
succession of visits to one's camp on the part of a
host of inquisitive people, most of whom wanted
something. There were the guards too, who were
specially given one to keep away these inquisitive
people, but who, in fact, only added to their
number. These guards expected payment for the
duties they so signally failed in accomplishing.
Then great quantities of food were sent by the high
official — living fowls, a live sheep, loaves of sugar,
packets of tea, barley for the horses, and these
232 MOROCCO THAT WAS
commodities, supplied in abundance that was as
extravagant as it was irksome, necessitated un-
ending tips in exchange. It took three men, for
instance, to lead the sheep, and a slave to carry
each fowl — and one and all waited their pourboires
before departing. Then at dinner-time — generally
it was so late that it was nearly midnight — great
dishes of cooked food would arrive — and very
excellent they were — and probably the great man
himself and some of his household would invite
themselves to the dinner they had so amply pro-
vided. It was nearly always very tiring, and always
very late before sleep could be obtained. Once in
a way it was pleasant enough, and I can look back
upon many and many a night spent in this way
in feasting with the great men of the land, the
memory of which is very pleasant. No food was
wasted, for the sheep and chickens were killed
and the retainers and slaves came and helped in
the camp-kitchen, and brought great earthen pots
and pans for the cooking — and sat and sang and
ate the whole night through. On the outskirts
of the camp would collect the poor, and these
were never forgotten.
I have travelled in China and Japan, in Persia,
Arabia, and Abyssinia, and in many parts of
North Africa, Turkey in Asia and Syria, but
" old " Morocco was by far the most expensive
to travel in. There were absolutely no facilities
— no caravanserais to put up in, and all food and
sometimes fodder and fuel had to be carried with
one. Nothing but a sheep and chickens could be
[Photo by A uthot
MY CARAVAN CROSSING THE ATLAS.
RAISULI 233
bought on the road, even one's bread had to be
transported or cooked in camp. The purchase or
hire of caravan animals was always heavy, and
sometimes exorbitant. Tips were excessive. Only
at the towns at long distances apart could any
stores be replenished, and in the inland cities,
beyond tea, sugar, and candles, nothing else was
procurable. In spring-time butter could be bought,
but even if it was procurable at other periods of
the year it was always the preserved " smin "
with its strong taste and smell. I have never yet
discovered the reason that rendered travel so
difficult and so expensive. The bad Government
no doubt had much to do with it, for there was
actually not only no incentive to the people to pros-
per and breed animals, but on the contrary to be
rich or even fairly well-to-do rendered the native
liable to arrest, confiscation of his property, and
perhaps total disappearance. Yet the Moor has
been always thrifty, ready to turn his hand to
work, and still more ready to earn money. In
spite of this, it was often difficult even in the big
centres to collect caravan mules for a journey, and
then hire was often exorbitant.
I am writing of journeys in which I travelled
as a European with a large camp, often alone,
sometimes in the company of friends, when all
the rigid etiquette and formality of visits to the
Kaids and local authorities had to be paid. But
there were other journeys when, with half a dozen
mules of my own, and my own men with me, a
few good horses, and tents of less pretensions and
234 MOROCCO THAT WAS
native in character, I wandered through the
country alone and in native clothes, for months
and months together. Those were the great days :
long almost objectless journeys, wandering whither
the desire led me — now to the cities of Wazzan,
Fez, or Marrakesh, now on the borders of the
snows of the Great Atlas. Unless actually explor-
ing, as on my Tafilet journey, I never, of course,
pretended to pass as a native ; but the fact of the
Moorish dress kept away the inquisitive people,
and even reduced the constant demands that were
made upon one's purse. It rendered life much
more pleasant. Instead of pitching one's camp
outside the great men's castles, I was invited to
stay within, generally in a little guest apartment
of two or three rooms, and the masses of un-
necessary food were reduced to pleasant meals
with one's host. To the Moor " Christian " clothes
and a hat on one's head meant the most formal
of relations, while once these were discarded I
was accepted in intimacy.
The latest visit that I have paid to Raisuli was
about eight years ago, when he was building his
palace at Arzeila. I was accompanied by a young
niece, who had come on a short visit to Tangier,
and by a girl friend of hers. I thought nothing
could be more amusing for two English girls than
to pay a visit to the famous brigand at the little
old walled town of Arzeila, with the remains of
its old Portuguese castle and bastions. A zest
was added to this visit by the disapproval it
occasioned amongst my friends. It was late at
RAISULI 235
night when we reached Raisuli's camp, for he had
come some way to meet us. A tidal river had
delayed us, and we had sat on its banks waiting
for the water to descend, until after dark. It
was with a sigh of relief that I saw the lights and
fires of the camp, for the night was pitch dark,
and our horses — stallions, of course, for no one
rides anything else in Morocco — had become very
excited from the proximity of numerous mares,
invisible in the blackness of the night.
We found Raisuli in his great tent, a circular
canvas pavilion some twenty-five feet in diameter,
with high walls and a lofty roof. An immense
square pillar, rather than a pole, supported the
great weight, for the whole tent was lined through-
out with heavy and very expensive dark-green
cloth. The outside of the tent was of white
canvas decorated in designs of indigo blue material,
appliqued to the canvas.
While our tents were being pitched we dined in
Raisuli's pavilion. The famous brigand was accom-
panied by a certain number of his friends and
secretaries, while an ex-high native official had
also arrived on a visit the same day, to take part
in the hunting we were to be offered. My niece,
her friend, and myself were, of course, the only
Europeans. Tall highly-polished brass candle-
sticks, bearing large candles, stood on trays of the
same material, and sufficed to light the tent and
to illumine the faces of the guards of mountaineers
and the black slaves who stood or squatted in
groups without the door, ready to do their master's
236 MOROCCO THAT WAS
bidding. A number of smaller tents were pitched
in a great semicircle, of which the apex was
formed by Raisuli's pavilion.
Seated on luxurious mattresses, which were
arranged all round the walls of the great tent,
we were served with dishes of cooked meats,
green tea, with its flavouring mint and herbs, and
coffee.
The following day we rode on to Arzeila.
Raisuli's retinue, a couple of hundred of moun-
taineers, spread themselves out in a long line and
hunted as they went, with horse and gun and grey-
hound, and sticks and even stones — singing and
shouting the whole time.
On our arrival we were invited by our host
either to take up our residence in a house in the
little town which had been furnished and pre-
pared for us, or in a vast camp that had been
pitched for our reception near the sea-shore, and
within two hundred yards of the Atlantic breakers.
We chose the latter, for the outskirts of Arzeila
form one of the most delightful camping-grounds
in Morocco.
On our left lay the old town, with its frowning
towers and battlements rising above the olive- and
orange-trees of the surrounding gardens. In front
the soft green grass sloped gently to the yellow
sands and the great expanse of ocean, while behind
us rose undulating grassy hills. The camp buzzed
with life : soldiers in uniform, slaves and servants
passed and repassed, and a long line of some
forty horses, tethered by their feet in the custom
RAISULI 237
of the country, were at our disposal should we
want to ride other horses than our own. Food,
dead and alive, poured into the camp — it seemed
one perpetual procession of great cooked dishes
and flocks of sheep and crates of chickens and
pigeons. A native band discoursed shrill music
at all the most inconvenient hours of day and
night.
Raisuli was the best of hosts, and in excellent
spirits. Amongst other entertainments that he
offered us was a luncheon to my niece, her friend,
and myself, served in an upper room on one of
the high towers that overhung the sea. With the
sweetest of smiles, and in a most successful en-
deavour to interest his young lady guests, if not
to amuse them, he pointed out one of the windows
of the room — an old embrasure in the walls —
through which at the point of the bayonet he and
his men had driven the late Governor of the town,
the Kaid Khalkhali, to fall forty feet on to the
rocks beneath, only a short time before. The past
history of one's hosts at Moorish entertainments
added a piquant flavour to the repasts. In
Morocco one mustn't be too critical, and it was
seldom one dined with any great native authority
in the country who had not a record behind him
that would have outdone Newgate's historic annals.
Thank God, those days are over. The advent of
the French has put an end to the period that was
really terrible. Yet when one lived amongst these ^
great crimes — the sudden appearances and dis-
appearances, the midnight burials in desert places,
238 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the carrying off of women; hate, love, revenge,
and now and again some great unselfishness — the
exaggeration, in fact, of all qualities and all senti-
ments good and bad, — one ceased to wonder.
Whole families would fall — in wealth and luxury
to-day, and gone to-morrow — to rise again perhaps
a generation later, and carry on the blood-feud of
revenge and hate — or perhaps, generally unwisely,
to forgive.
IV.
As has already been stated, one of the terms for
the release of Kaid Maclean demanded by Eaisuli
and complied with by the British Government
was his being made a British protected subject,
which status put him outside the jurisdiction of
the Sultan, and rendered him amenable to British
law. It was a humiliating sacrifice for His Majesty's
Government to have to make, but there was no
way out of it. Raisuli might have perhaps been
persuaded to abandon the £20,000 that he received
in cash, but never this other clause of the terms.
Freed thus from fear of arrest by the Sultan, he took
to a more regular life, and began the construction
of his great residence at Arzeila. It must be
added, that pending the period during which he
enjoyed British protection he committed no crimes
that we know of more than those of extortion from
the tribes — and no doubt certain cruelties. It
was fortunate that the suffering tribesmen did
not complain to the British authorities, as it would
have been difficult even to summon Raisuli to
appear in the Tangier Consular Court — and still
more difficult to have got him there.
While Raisuli was living quietly at Arzeila, if
240 MOROCCO THAT WAS
being visited by all the neighbouring tribesmen
and living in a turmoil of building can be so
described, affairs elsewhere in Morocco were seeth-
ing. In 1908 Mulai Abdul Aziz, defeated with his
army in the south, abdicated, and Mulai Hafid
seized the throne. After a long and dangerous
journey the new Sultan installed himself at Fez.
Raisuli felt that his chance had come. He
had helped in the overthrow of Mulai Abdul Aziz,
and had been one of the first to proclaim Mulai
Hafid in the north ; and, ambitious by nature, he
wished once more to play a part, and a great one,
in the new regime. Secret negotiations were
opened between him and Mulai Hafid, which ended
in a visit to the Court at Fez. The tussle that
ensued was most interesting. I was in Fez, and
in constant touch with both the parties interested,
during the negotiations. Of the two, Mulai Hafid
was the shrewdest. He had more patience and
more cunning than Raisuli, though he too was
by no means lacking in this latter useful oriental
characteristic. The brigand chief had come to
Fez full of the importance of his power and influ-
ence, but he did not realise that at the educated
and civilised Court he was looked upon as little
more than a very successful robber, who neverthe-
less was recognised as a danger and a thorn in the
Sultan's side. His reception by Mulai Hafid was
not cordial, in fact he was kept waiting for some
time before he could obtain an audience. The
viziers were polite — and barely that. Raisuli,
installed in a very palatial residence in the city,
RAISULI 241
was bored. He longed to get back to the north,
where he reigned supreme, and to be quit of Fez,
where he was suspicious of lurking danger, and
considered as a person of no great consequence.
But Mulai Hafid purposely let the negotiations
drag on, and Raisuli had great difficulty in obtain-
ing audiences of his Sovereign — and even when
arranged they were continually postponed. At
last, weary of so much delay, he began to
act, and to Mulai Hafid' s annoyance, affairs in
the northern tribes began to go badly. There
were rumours of a likelihood of Mulai Abdul Aziz
being proclaimed again, and the tribes were getting
out of hand. Raisuli was the only man who could
exert real influence in those regions, and both the
Sultan and he knew it. I was consulted by both,
and as the peace of the country was more import-
ant than these local quarrels in Fez, I strongly
advised both to come to terms. They did. Raisuli
was appointed Governor over practically all the
tribes of North- West Morocco, with the exception
of Tangier and its surrounding district ; but
before receiving this appointment he was forced
to abandon his British protection, for by the law
of the land no " protected subject " could hold a
Maghzen appointment. He was also called upon
to refund the £20,000 which the British Govern-
ment had paid him for Kaid Maclean's release.
So far Mulai Hafid had scored, for the British
Government was pressing him, as Sultan, for the
repayment of Maclean's ransom, which had been
advanced to the impecunious Maghzen, unable to
Q
242 MOROCCO THAT WAS
raise the sum. At the same time, in abandoning
his British protection, Raisuli became amenable
once more to Moorish law and jurisdiction; and
Mulai Hafid, who hoped to be able to consolidate
his sovereignty in the north, foresaw the possi-
bilities of being able some day to rid himself of
this chieftain if he became too troublesome.
Raisuli, on the contrary, knew that within a few
months he could easily repay himself the £20,000
out of the tribes he was now appointed to govern,
and he was sufficiently sure of his own influence
and power to fear no possible reprisals on the part
of the Sultan. He promised devoted loyalty, but
had already determined on absolute independence.
Having satisfied the Sultan and given considerable
presents in money to the viziers, he left Fez for
the north — and has never returned to the capital
since.
It must be acknowledged that during the four
years that Raisuli was Governor of these northern
tribes he maintained order in the region. The
roads were open to caravan traffic, and robberies
were rare. But it was a government of terror
and extortion. His prestige was enormous, and
he exerted it to its full. The tribes brought
everything that he demanded — and he demanded
much. Money poured into his coffers ; labour
they supplied free. Caravans of lime and building
material came in endless array to Arzeila, and
the great house rose tier above tier over the sea-
walls of the town. He built residences, too, at
Zinat and at Tazerout, in the Beni Aros tribe.
RAISULI 243
His stables were filled with horses and mules, for
which he paid little or nothing. He entertained
hospitably — in fact, kept open house, as is the
custom of the country. But behind all was the
cruel iron will and the heavy hand, and thousands
who might have been free obeyed him as if hypno-
tised, and brought their little all to him, generally
to be told to go back and bring more. Half revered,
half feared ; a little loved and perhaps entirely
unhated — for no one dared to hate him, — Raisuli
ruled the tribes of North- West Morocco, and treated
them as slaves. His principal enemy at this time
was the Kaid er-Remiki, who had offered his ser-
vices to Spain, and had organised the pretended
attack on Alcazar, which gave the Spaniards the
excuse for occupying that town in 1911. Remiki
was a German agent, even in those days, and he
and his family's actions had long been suspect.
His relations with Raisuli were strained, for the
mountain brigand saw in this leader of the plains
— for Remiki was Kaid of the Khlot tribe — a pos-
sible rival. His presence, too, with the Spaniards,
and the aid he was openly giving them, drove
Raisuli still further into a spirit of independence
and opposition ; but as time went on and the
Spanish troops occupied the plains round Alcazar,
Raisuli saw his position — or at least his property
— threatened, for he owns very considerable estates
in those regions. Spanish attempts at opening
negotiations with him failed for a considerable
time, but at last a modus vivendi was arrived at,
which at first seemed successful. A permanent
244 MOROCCO THAT WAS
understanding between Raisuli and the Spanish
authorities was, however, more than could be
hoped for — both were overwhelmed by an exag-
gerated sense ^fjirrcrmr pwpraf and neither under-
stood, nor desired to understand, the mentality
of the other. Raisuli was ready to be friendly so
long as his independence was not interfered with ;
the Spaniards were also prepared to be friendly so
long as Raisuli did not exert this very independence
that he claimed and insisted upon. The result was
constant friction. Nor was the situation rendered
easier by the fact that the methods being adopted
by the Spanish civil authorities were completely
at variance with those of the military chiefs, for
neither consulted^ the other. A good deal of the
correspondence which passed between the Spaniards
and Raisuli at this date came into my hands. It
is of no very particular interest except in showing
the totally opposed objects and ends of the Spanish
military and civil authorities. Things even went
so far that measures were taken by certain military
authorities to bring about the " disappearance "
of Raisuli. The accident was to have taken place
while he was en route to pay a visit to the Spanish
civil authorities at Tangier with the idea of arrang-
ing a visit to Madrid. The Spanish Legation at
Tangier was, of course, completely ignorant of this
plot, and had given a safe-conduct to Raisuli.
It only reached the ears of the Spanish Charge
d' Affaires at almost the last moment. There was
just time to send a native runner to Raisuli to
warn him not to start on this journey, which
RAISULI 245
would certainly not have passed without a pro-
bably fatal incident. The Spanish authorities at
Tangier behaved, as might have been expected,
with great promptitude and correctness. The fact
was that the jealousy existing between the Spanish
military authorities .at Laraiche and the Spanish
representative at Tangier was such that neither
knew what the other was doing or proposing to
do. While General Silvestre, who commanded the
Spanish troops at Laraiche, was pursuing an
energetic policy, and foresaw, rightly, the diffi-
culties that Raisuli's presence and attitude would
cause Spain in the future, the Spanish Legation at
Tangier was, on the contrary, in favour of making
terms with the brigand, and using him in further-
ance of Spanish aims and ambitions. Either pol-
icy, if skilfully applied, would probably have been
successful, but both put into action at the same
moment did not tend to allay Raisuli's suspicions.
Eventually he came to Tangier, where at least this
time his life was safe ; and while he was actually
negotiating with Madrid, the military authorities
at Laraiche, exasperated by the difficulties put
in their way ^_jiis_intrigues, confiscated his
properties and broke off all relations with him.
Raisuli was once more an outlaw, and took to
the mountains. His one object — his one desire —
became to make the Spaniards restore his property
and to have revenge. It was not long before his
schemes took form, and the Spanish troops and
military " posts " received no rest. There was
constant murder, and constant theft and " sniping,"
246 MOROCCO THAT WAS
and attacks and alarms at night. Civilians, too,
suffered, for any and every Spaniard was an object
of Raisuli's wrath and vengeance.
The brigand's attitude with regard to Spaniards
had never been a secret. He may have cordially
disliked subjects of the other Powers of Europe,
but the inhabitants of the Peninsula he despised.
During the latter period of his outlawry, when he
was threatened with attack by the Sultan's troops,
he had ordered his followers to " capture a Chris-
tian " as a hostage. It was no easy matter, for
precaution had been taken at Tangier ; but one
day a band of his men chanced upon a little
caravan of Spanish workmen en route from Tetuan
to Tangier. They were promptly seized, and a
messenger was hurriedly sent to Raisuli to announce
that some " Christians " had been taken. The
brigand chief was at this moment in the Beni
Msaour Mountains, and thither the captives were
despatched. When he saw them he waxed exceed-
ing wroth, and turning to his men, he shouted,
" I ordered you to capture me ' Christians ' and you
bringjne Spaniards " — and promptly let them go.
He knew by experience that the terms he could
extract from Spain for the ransom of half a dozen
jjoor Spaniards would be small indeed. In a
former case in which two Spaniards, a boy and a
girl, had been captured from Arzeila, they had both
been killed by the brigands owing to the unfortu-
nate manner in which the negotiations had been
opened by the authorities. In later years, however,
since the occupation of Tetuan by the Spaniards,
RAISULI 247
the mountain tribes have engaged profitably in
local brigandage. They know the exact value of a
Spanish soldier or non-commissioned officer, and
a Spanish civilian, man or woman, and the price
that they can extort without apparently running
any risk of eventual punishment. There were
several cases of such brigandage in 1919-20, in
some cases accompanied by murder.
Raisuli's attitude toward the Spanish authorities
and troops caused great anxiety in Spain. The
public fretted at the continual loss of life which
his resistance to the Spanish occupation of the
country occasioned, and General Silvestre, who
commanded the troops at Laraiche, was recalled.
Negotiations were once more entered into with
Eaisuli. The terms he demanded and received
were extortionate ; but Spanish public opinion
and the Madrid press demanded a termination to
the constant and often heavy losses that the troops
were suffering. His terms had to be accepted.
He received a little native army of his own, to
be paid and armed by Spain, a large monthly
stipend, and a host of minor favours. He became
practically dictator of the north-western part of the
Spanish zone, governing Spaniard and Moor alike.
His own " zone " was clearly demarcated, and woe
betide any Spaniard who attempted to pass his
frontier and enter the country under his juris-
diction. The roads were closed, and there was
insecurity under the very walls of Ceuta and
Tetuan.
Raisuli was an agent of the Germans long before
248 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the war. He had made contracts with the famous
Mannesman!! Brothers with reference to mining
in the mountain districts, which practically closed
those regions to other nationalities and other
companies. When war broke out he continued
his friendly relations with the German Consuls
at Tetuan and Laraiche, and with the many
German secret agents that the Spanish zone
harboured. Under their guidance he gave active
assistance to German criminal intrigue and pro-
paganda, and was in direct relations with the
German Embassy at Madrid. The ' Times ' of
3rd September 1918 published a translation of a
letter from the German Embassy to Raisuli,
which contained amongst other things a definite
promise of arms and ammunition.
To those who have no personal knowledge of
the mountain tribes of Morocco, the perpetual
state of anarchy in which they live, the oppression
by their lawful and unlawful chiefs, the revenge
and murder must seem incredible.
In the An j era tribe in the early years of this
century there were two great families, the Deilans
and the Duas. Both were amongst my intimate
friends. I had been — always dressed as a native
and always received as a welcome guest — at the
weddings of several of the Sheikh Deilan's sons
in their village on the mountain-tops, where
hundreds of the tribesmen would be collected
spending the moonlight nights in feasting and
singing, for the time of full moon, and generally
late spring, summer, or early autumn were chosen
RAISULI 249
for these festivities. What wonderful nights they
were ! On the most level spot that could be found \
in the neighbourhood of the village the moun-
taineers would congregate, leaving an open circular
space in their centre, with vacant " aisles " in
the closely-gathered throng radiating into the
crowd. To the music of shrill pipes and drums
— wild exhilarating music to those who have
learned to appreciate it — the dancers, trained boys,
would take up their stand in the centre and slowly
at first, then faster, begin to dance. These moun-
tain dances have nothing in common with the
ordinary oriental dance that is witnessed in the
towns and in the plains. There is none of the
inartistic and suggestive wriggling that to the
European point of view is so ungraceful. Dressed
in long loose white garments, almost reaching to
their feet, with flowing sleeves held back by cords
of coloured silk, and with a small scarf thrown
over the head so as to half veil the face, the
youths moved gracefully in and out, each dancing
alone, and yet fitting his dance into a plan of
concerted movement.
The mountain dancing begins by the performers
standing motionless for a few moments, the head
thrown back, and the arms loosely falling to the
side. Then, to the time of the music, there is a
sudden quick movement of the feet — a little soft
stamping — but without the least motion of the
body. As the musicians increase their energy the
dancer's body takes life. The movement of the
feet is accentuated, and suddenly he glides forward
250 MOROCCO THAT WAS
toward his audience, with outstretched arms,
raising the scarf from the face for a moment, and
then once more the body becomes motionless.
But, as if against his will, the music conquers him.
The movements become more general. The feet
are raised higher from the ground, and the dancer
gyrates and falls on one knee, rises again and glides,
holding the body almost motionless, up the empty
aisles that lie open between the sections of the
crowd. Never is the graceful posing abandoned ;
the veil, now half raised, now drawn down again,
the little tremble of the shoulders and the gliding
movement of the feet — all has a charm and artistic
merit. Every now and again, with a quick turning
movement of the body, which sends the loose folds
of the long white garment floating round him, the
dancer falls on one knee before one of the guests,
and, removing the veil, awaits the pressing of a
silver coin upon his forehead, and to receive the
exaggerated and poetical compliments of the donor.
There is one movement in these dances which
is admirable, though there are few who can accom-
plish it, for it means a complete subjection and
training of the muscles. The dancer suddenly
stands erect with outstretched arms, the head
thrown back. Then from his feet up a little
trembling — a little shudder, as it were — passes up
the body, to die away in the tips of the fingers
of the outstretched hands. In its upward move-
ment each portion of the limbs and body trembles
alone ; the rest is motionless, and even the
trembling is so delicate that it might pass almost
RAISULI 251
unperceived. The rigidity of the body is undis-
turbed, and one feels rather than sees this ascending
" nervous thrill " which illumines the figure, as
though giving life to a statue.
But I digress. The Deilans and the Duas were
the great families of the An j era tribe. Of the two
the Deilans were the most powerful, for the old
Sheikh had many sons and nephews and kinsfolk.
Naturally the eternal jealousy arose, and ended
in an open quarrel. For a time the two families
lived apart, but in the end a reconciliation was
arranged. Deilan and his family visited Duas to
partake of a great feast to celebrate the termina-
tion of their quarrel. While seated over the
steaming savoury dishes in the courtyard of Duas's
house a signal was given, and Deilan and his sons
were shot, many of his retainers also falling
victims to the carefully-prepared treachery. For
a time Duas was undisputed chief of the tribe
in his stronghold on the very summit of a moun-
tain. I had been a prisoner in this house not long
before for a few days — during the latter part of
the time when I was taken by Raisuli — and my
recollection of Duas, whom I knew well, and of
his household is a pleasant one. I was treated
not only with respect but also with great friendli-
ness, and my time of captivity was rendered as
easy and as pleasant as possible.
Then, a little later, the Duas family began to
pay the penalty of their treachery and murder.
One by one they were " sniped " and died. Some-
times it was by day, sometimes by night, but always
252 MOROCCO THAT WAS
a well-directed and unfailing bullet from a Mauser
rifle, fired from the rocks or brushwood. Then
came the turn of Duas himself. He was riding a
mule on his way to a local market surrounded by
his retainers. The bullet seemed to avoid his men,
and found its mark in their chief. He fell dead.
And so the blood-feud went on, carried out by
one man alone. He was a nephew of the Sheikh
Deilan, by name Ben Ahmed, who had escaped
the massacre at Duas's house. I knew him well
— a handsome young man, not knowing what
fear meant and sworn to revenge. He was shot
at last, but he had killed Duas and eleven members
of his family. The names of Duas and Deilan are
already almost forgotten in the An j era. If any
members of the families still live they have fallen
to the unimportance of ordinary tribesmen, and
others have arisen in their place.
Of one other Anjera chief a few words must be
said. Of all my friends amongst the mountaineers
he was the one whose friendship I most valued
and appreciated. Sid El Arbi bel Aysh was a
member of an important Shereefian family of the
Anjera, and a direct descendant of the Prophet
Mohammed, and a brigand as well — the two
professions so often go together in Morocco ! Of
undoubted courage — the Spaniards gave him the
name of " Valiente " — he had taken part in many
tribal fights, and once, with a handful of his
followers, had held his mountain fastness against
several hundred tribesmen. His aim was unerring,
and woe betide the man at whom he shot. Up
RAISULI 253
to the end of his short life — he was killed in 1915
— he was a constant visitor of my house, coming
regularly from his mountain home to spend a
week or so at Tangier. He won the heart of
every one he met — a brigand perhaps, but a
brigand against whom no accusation of cruelty
was ever made. With the hereditary manner of
a chief whose family originated 1300 years ago
with the Prophet Mohammed, with a presence
of much grace and manly beauty, with a voice
that charmed and a personality that attracted,
Sid El Arbi bel Aysh was the perfect type of
Moroccan mountaineer gentleman. His open smile,
his good-natured wit, rendered him a persona grata
everywhere, and nowhere was he more welcome
than in my house.
Sid El Arbi's moral courage was as great as hik
physical courage, for he held himself aloof froni
all his tribe when in 1913 they declared war on
the Spaniards. For a long time he refused to
fight, though thereby endangering his own life,
for his fellow-tribesmen at one moment meditated
his assassination on this account. Unfortunately,
however, the Spaniards did not appreciate his
action, nor know how to turn it to their benefit ;
and yet he was perhaps the only loyal friend upon
whom they could have counted in the Anjera.
In the question of a sale of some of his lands,
with the accompanying water rights, to the Spanish
authorities of Ceuta, he was treated in a manner
that is best left undescribed. Briefly, he never
received but a small portion of the purchase price.
254 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Every advantage had been taken of his goodwill
to bargain over the transaction till the sum agreed
upon was preposterously small, and even most of
that he never got. Exasperated at this treatment,
and urged by the gibes of his tribesmen, he eventu-
ally took up arms against the Spaniards. A very
few weeks later he was killed in battle, struck down
by a fragment of a shell.
Shortly before his death I had arranged an
interview between him and a high Spanish author-
ity, in the hopes of bringing about a reconciliation
and of obtaining Sid El Arbi bel Aysh's influence
in the interests of peace. Unfortunately the
Spanish official did not realise that he was dealing
not only with a powerful young chieftain but also
with a member of one of the oldest families in
Morocco — and, moreover, a gentleman. With a
want of tact that amounted almost to insult, the
Spaniard asked Sid El Arbi whether the real reason
of his taking up arms against them was because his
wives had stigmatised him as a coward and had
rendered his life unbearable at home. In Moslem
countries one does not talk to a man of his women,
but Sid El Arbi laughed and replied, " No, that
was scarcely the reason."
" I suppose they called you a ' coward ' and a
6 Christian ' for not taking up arms against us ? "
continued the unfortunate Spaniard.
I tried my best to change the conversation into
other channels, but it was too late. Again Sid El
Arbi laughed.
" No," he replied again, " it was not that. All
RAISULI 255
the world knows I am not a coward, and some of
my best friends are Christians."
" Then what made you fight us ? "
" I will teU you," said Sid El Arbi, still smiling,
but very angry. " I bore all the gibes till one day,
in desperation, I was called a ' Spaniard.' That
insult was more than human nature could bear. , _
From that moment I have been at war with you."
Still smiling, Sid El Arbi rose, and, breaking off
his interview before its object had been reached,
bade adieu to our host and left the house.
It was the final straw. He returned to the
An j era, and died fighting a short time after.
The occupation of Tetuan by the Spaniards in
1912 put_an_end to all travel in the mountains
of North- West Morocco, where in the past I had
spent so many pleasant months, fishing for trout
and shooting. A few months before the Spanish
troops entered the town the roads were still safe,
and English ladies rode alone over the forty-two-
mile track that led from that town to Tangier.
But nowadays the tribes have completely changed
in character, for they have become distrust-
ful, and are always at war. As late as the
spring of 1912 Sir Reginald Lister, who was
British Minister to Morocco — he died, alas ! in
November the same year — and I made several
excursions overland to Tetuan unaccompanied by
any one except our grooms. Often a mounted
soldier of the police would start with us, but we
always left him far behind, and no doubt he would
turn back. Sir Reginald had bought and restored
256 MOROCCO THAT WAS
a delightful little Moorish house in Tetuan, and
there we spent our week-ends. We would leave
Tangier at eight in the morning, and arrive at
Tetuan at three in the afternoon, with an hour
for lunch en route : not bad going, for the distance
is forty-two miles, and the road in many places a
mere stony track. Sometimes, if the going was
heavy, we changed horses half - way, but as a
rule I rode one horse right through. From Tetuan,
delightfully situated overlooking the wide valley,
with its background of rugged peaks, we would
make excursions to the country round, with merely
a man who knew the country as a guide and our
grooms. Leaving early in the mornings, we rode
to the mountain villages, to meet everywhere
with the kindest of welcomes from the people.
Some of these villages had seldom— and perhaps
never — been visited by Europeans, and our coming
caused much interest. At times the tracks were
too rough for our horses, and we would leave them
in charge of our men, and scramble up the rocks
to the little groups of thatched huts that seemed
to hang to the mountain-side. The views were
always beautiful, often extending over the who]e
Straits of Gibraltar, which seemed but a narrow
stream dividing the rugged mountains of Africa
from Europe.
Then came the Spanish occupation, and the
closing of all this country. With all the troops at
their disposal, it took several years before these
villages were reached. The mountains, where
many Europeans used to camp and shoot in
RAISULI 257
perfect security, are as difficult of access to-day
as the wildest regions of Central Africa, and far
more unsafe. While in the French Protectorate
immense regions, unexplored until the advent of
the French, can be travelled in perfect security
— often by train or motor — the advent of the
Spaniards has, on the contrary, tended to close
the greater part of the zone which lies under
their influence, many parts of which were formerly
open to travellers and sportsmen.
It need not have been so. At first things
went tolerably well, but want of knowledge of
the natives and their ways, wflnt- of tact, and
want of generosity quickly brought about mis-
understandings, with the result which exists to-day
— a total absence of security, constant aggression,
and little accomplished.
Throughout the whole period of the war Raisuli
maintained this pro-German attitude. He pos-
sessed at the ftflinf fiTYiP- f.frp a.hanlnffi npnfirlAnoA^
of the Spanish Government, which supplied him/,,
with almost unlimited sums of money, with rifles
and ammunition, and with uniforms for his native
troops and foodstuffs to feed them. Any one who,
from knowledge of the situation or of the man, ven-
tured to express an opinion that Raisuli' s sentiments
toward Spain might be open to doubt, was assailed
by official denunciations and press attacks from
Madrid. Yet the situation was perfectly clear.
Raisuli was gaining time. He was increasing his
wealth and his means of resistance — if the situation
should require resistance — and gave little or no
R
258 MOROCCO THAT WAS
thought to any one or anything except himself and
his own future. I sent to him once during the war
and asked him whether it was true he was taking
German money. He evaded my question in his
answer. He replied, " If the British or French,
or any other nation have money to give away, I
will willingly accept it — the more the better."
He worked in the interests of Germany because
he was paid to do so, just as he would have worked
in the interests of any other country under similar
circumstances. When Raisuli realised the results
of the war, and the rejoicings for the signature of
peace were being held at Tangier — it was on
14th July 1919, — Raisuli sent to me to say
that he too was keeping the peace by having
massacred a few hundred Spaniards. He congratu-
lated France and England, he said, on having got
rid of Germany, and would himself rid the Allies
" of another enemy, Spain." So much for his
German proclivities.
At the end of the war the condition of affairs
in the Spanish zone was frankly impossible, from
every one's point of view. The Spaniards had put
their money on the wrong horse; the Allies had
won, and Madrid had to explain away the evil
purposes to which the Spanish Government had
allowed its zone in Morocco to be put — and it was
not an easy explanation. Too late they began to
expel the German spies and to put down the
intrigue that had been allowed practically free
scope up to then. Nor was Spain's own position
in her zone a pleasant one. Even the Spanish
RAISULI 259
High Commissioner was to all intents and purposes
under Raisuli's orders, and no Spaniard could
travel in a great part of their zone without a
special passport from the brigand chief. One or
two who ventured to do so disappeared, and nothing
more was heard of them.
At last public opinion in Spain revolted. Raisuli
had received millions of pesetas of good Spanish
money for which he had rendered no services, unless
the prevention of Spanish occupation of the country
can be considered as a service. General Jordana,
the Spanish High Commissioner, died suddenly in
Tetuan, and the Spanish Government decided upon
taking action. What amounted to an ultimatum
was sent to Raisuli — and disregarded — and a crisis
arose. General Berenguer, an able Spanish general
with considerable knowledge of Morocco, was ap-
pointed Spanish High Commissioner, and success-
fully inaugurated his period of office by winning
over the large and important Anjera tribe to the
side of Spain. But even he made too sure of
success, and a few days after he had made a
declaration to the " Press " stating that there
would be no more fighting in Morocco, the
Spanish forces received a very severe check at
the hands of Raisuli. The series of combats of
Wad Ras, began on llth July, and lasted till
13th July 1919. The Spanish authorities made
every attempt to hide the truth of what had
occurred, but failed. All the assistance, all the
money, and all the arms the Spaniards had for
five years been giving to Raisuli were now turned
260 MOROCCO THAT WAS
against the donors, as any one who really knew the
situation had long realised must ultimately be
the case. The small Spanish force operating on
the north crests of the Wad Ras hills, about twenty
miles from Tangier, was practically cut to pieces.
The losses have never been published, but I have
every reason to believe that they were about
300 killed and probably 1000 wounded. There
were no prisoners, and the Spanish wounded were
massacred to a man. Not only were Raisuli's
forces, thanks to the generosity of the very people
he was attacking, well armed, but they were also
possessed of Spanish uniforms, disguised in which
they were able to massacre a column of over 170
soldiers. To add to the horrors of this episode,
Raisuli's tribesmen came provided with hand-
grenades and asphyxiating bombs. This disaster
— for, whatever the Spaniards may assert, it was
a disaster — led to fresh revelations. The hospitals
were reported to be in a shocking state of neglect ;
there were no beds for the wounded, and complete
disorganisation in every department.
The Spanish Government at last realised that
something must be done, or a continuance of the
policy hitherto pursued would soon prove fatal to
Spanish prestige, not only in Morocco but also
in Europe. The general responsible for the fate-
ful incidents of July was dismissed, and General
Silvestre, a well-known enemy of Raisuli, was sent
from Spain to take command. Vast quantities of
material were shipped to Africa, including aero-
planes, tanks, artillery, rifles and ammunition, and,
RAISULI 261
happily, hospital necessaries in sufficient quantities.
In two months from the critical days of July the
Spanish army in Morocco was prepared once more
to advance and to drive Raisuli from his mountain
strongholds.
The new campaign began on 27th September
1919. Twelve thousand Spanish troops were col-
lected to form the principal columns which were
to encircle the Fondak of Wad Ras, whence
Raisuli held the road leading from Tangier to
Tetuan. In former days this road was open to
traffic, and parties of lady tourists often rode from
Tangier to Tetuan accompanied only by a native
guide. Since the occupation of Tetuan by the
Spaniards, Raisuli had closed this track to all
but natives. Its importance to the Spaniards
was paramount, for it forms the one direct means
of communication between the district of Tetuan
and of Laraiche on the Atlantic coast. As long
as Raisuli held the Fondak no communication was
possible, and to proceed from one town to another
in the Spanish zone the only means was by sea.
The Spanish forces advanced with caution. Rai-
suli's tribesmen offered no great resistance. They
were powerless in the presence of the immense
war material the Spaniards had lately brought to
the scene of action. Artillery and aeroplanes
harassed them. Shells and bombs burnt their
villages, and killed their women and children.
The odds were too great. For a moment the
operations were checked by a small revolt of
native troops behind the Spanish lines. Spanish
262 MOROCCO THAT WAS
officers and men were massacred ; but the mutiny
was suppressed, and the columns, attacking from
three directions, drew near the Fondak.
On Saturday, 4th October, there remained only
a very few kilometres, and the Spanish troops
had already begun the ascent of the slopes leading
up to the Fondak. On Sunday morning the sur-
rounding brush-covered hills were heavily bom-
barded, and the troops advanced on the last stage
of their march, burning everything that would
burn en route. From the hills above Tangier I
could see the bursting shells, the explosions of
falling bombs, the ruthless destruction of villages
by fire — in fact, the ruining of hundreds of families
and the rendering desolate dozens of homes, which
marks the introduction of civilisation into this part
of Morocco.
And somewhere on those mountain-tops Raisuli
saw it too, and as he never forgot or forgave the
destruction of his castle at Zinat, so he will never
forget or forgive this last campaign. He may be
impotent to fight a force numerically more than
twice his own, and armed with every modern and
hideous appliance of war, but, if I know his char-
acter and his warfare, he will wage a guerilla
campaign of midnight attack and murder that
will last long and prove costly in its toll of lives
amongst the invaders of his country.
The solution rests with the Spaniards. If they
bring prosperity and justice to the natives of their
zone they will be left in peace. At present they
have brought neither, but much may be hoped
RAISULI 263
from the Spanish Government, which realises that
the manner of their occupation of Morocco is as
important for the good name of Spain as is their
conduct of affairs in the Peninsula itself. They
must not forget that Raisuli still lives, and that he
is, in his way, the biggest man in Morocco.
There are few countries that could produce a
Raisuli. It necessitates an environment which
exists, perhaps happily, only in such countries as
Morocco. Yet during the last few years of his
career he has made himself famous, and a real
touch of romance surrounds the brigand, who,
born of an aristocratic family, has terrorised and
yet in a way protected Tangier, a city of 40,000
inhabitants, the seat of a dozen legations. In
spite of his celebrity, very few Europeans have
ever seen him. He has seldom, if ever, been
photographed, and never written his name in the
autograph collector's album. He has been through-
out a sort of mysterious personage, half -saint, half-
blackguard, whom every courageous male tourist
has volunteered to capture, and many a still
more courageous female tourist to marry. Mulai
Ahmed er-Raisuli is unique — and perhaps, after
all, one of his kind is enough.
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS
THE political influence that the Moslem " con-
fraternities " possess in Morocco is not easy to
estimate. In ordinary times of peace and pros-
perity it is probably very small, but the germ of
fanaticism which can never be entirely absent
from such cults, might under certain circumstances
become a dangerous factor in the situation.
In Morocco reside a large number of Shereefian
families, descendants of the Prophet — foremost
amongst them that of the reigning Sultan. As
Shereefs they claimed in the past, and were per-
mitted, great privileges. They were universally
respected, not only as forming a superior and
religious nobility, but also on account of their
great local influence, which they used as a means
of mediation between the secular authorities and
the tribesmen. Considered, through their posses-
sion of the holy "Baraka" — the birthright of all
descendants of the Prophet — as men to whom
ordinary laws were not applicable, these great
families, especially certain selected representatives
of them, possessed extraordinary influence and
power. Their advice was sought, and followed,
by the country people on every question, and
266 MOROCCO THAT WAS
their decisions were accepted as final in all points
in dispute, even though at times their judgments
might be contrary to the unalterable laws of Islam.
Not only did these Shereefs live beyond the reach
of the ordinary civil and criminal laws, they were
also considered as meriting no punishment for their
sins. This immunity from the laws of God and
man gave them unlimited opportunity — of which
they were usually not slow to take advantage — to
practise extortion and tyranny, " frailties " which
were accepted in silence by the people, who saw,
or imagined they saw, in every act and deed of
their Shereefs the guidance of the hand of God.
Existing largely on offerings brought to them,
or to the tombs of their ancestors, by pious pil-
grims, and upon a system of religious taxation,
the Shereefian families formed a class entirely
apart, and though often enough thoroughly bad,
they not unseldom were of great use in settling
intertribal disputes and preventing bloodshed.
To such a class European invasion, or any form
of stable and just government, meant ruin, and
it is not surprising that it was the Shereefian
families who have in the past always been averse
any kind of reform in Morocco.
The arrival of the French in the country was
the deathblow to the irregular influence of these
families — not, be it understood, that any repression
took place, but from the fact that once peace and
security existed in the country there was no longer
any necessity for them. Intertribal disputes
ceased with the advent of good government, and
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 267
the intervention of the Shereefs ceased with it.
The system of general and just taxation put a
stop to much of the revenues of these families,
for there was no longer any necessity for the tribes-
men to pay large sums to an influential Shereef
in order to avoid having to pay still larger ones
to the Moorish Government. Although it has been
the policy of the French to uphold rather than to
suppress the great influential families of Morocco,
circumstances have nevertheless lessened their
repute and prestige. The native himself has
" found them out." The spiritual benefits they
promised or bestowed — paid for at a rather high
price — were not as valuable as the temporal
benefits which accrue from a just and reasonable
Government. He has found that he can claim
as his right, and not as a privilege to be pur-
chased by money, the justice and assistance which
he previously had to buy, often without tangible
results. The famous Shereefian families of Wazzan,
Bou Jad, and Tamshlat are becoming year by year
more dependent upon their agricultural estates
for their wellbeing, owing to the falling-off in the
offerings of the " faithful." The Moor who formerly
put a portion of his fortune into unproductive
religious investments in the form of offerings to
Shereefs, now puts it into real estate. He still
respects the Shereefs, he still kisses the hem of
their robes, but he keeps his money for himself.
This gradual disappearance of reverence toward
the living descendants of the Prophet has not to
any great extent diminished the veneration that
268 MOROCCO THAT WAS
is paid to the tombs of deceased saints. Of the
two this veneration of the deceased is preferable
to that of the living, for at all events the buried
Shereef is dead and unable to stir up strife and
X. rebellion. The French policy has been extremely
able with regard to the " holy places " and
" tombs " — for which the authorities demand the
greatest respect, and which they themselves treat
with respect, even so far as assisting by influence
and gifts the prestige of the tomb or mosque as
the case may be. It is this respect for the person
and tradition of dead saints and scholars that has
given so strong an impetus to the " confraternities "
or sects of Moslem Morocco.
The study of the introduction of these " con-
fraternities " is beyond the scope of this work.
It is sufficient to state that many of them had
their origin in the early days of Islam, some even
before the time of the Baghdad Khalifs, whose
literary tastes and erudition introduced the ideas
of Indian and Greek philosophy into a religion the
principal attribute of which is its simplicity and lack
of imagination. It may almost be said that the
only want of judgment exhibited by Mohammed
in originating the faith of Islam was in depriving
his followers of what is so necessary to all oriental
character, an environment of mysticism. But the
want supplied itself, for so prosaic a religion as
Islam in its crude form was irreconcilable with
the traditions and characteristics of the Arab
nature. One of the first innovations was the
invention of the " Baraka " — or holy birthright
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 269
pertaining to descendants of the Prophet — which
doctrine helped not a little to cause the first
great split in Islam, the separation of the Sunni
and the Sheiya. By the close of the second century
A.H. the traditions of Pantheism and the learning
of India and Greece had so permeated the Moslem
world that there arose an old cult under a new
name — Sufism — the traces of which exist to-day
in every one of the sects and " confraternities "of
Morocco.
More than the briefest survey of Sufism is im-
possible here, but brief as it is, it will be sufficient
to show how entirely the doctrine stands apart
from orthodox Islam.
^
To the Sufi the world is an illusion. It is merely
a collection and massing together of the shapes and
forms of things which have no real existence, being
but the lights and shadows of the reflection and
" essence " of the Deity. Given this theory, the
Sufi considers that the highest ideal of life, and its
ultimate aim, is the merging of all individuality
in this vague " essence " of the Deity. It can well
be imagined how a doctrine of such a character
can be misunderstood and misconstrued amongst
an ignorant people, and to-day, in the place of
pure Sufism, with its seeking after ideals, we find
a number of sects, one and all founded on Sufism,
but most of them erring far from its primitive
aim. Yet the very incomprehensibleness of these
doctrines to the larger part of the people who
have adopted them has given a great impetus to
the success of these " confraternities." The real
270 MOROCCO THAT WAS
philosophy has been lost, and its place has been
taken by a belief, the more attractive in that it
is inexplicable, that the repetition of certain
prayers and extracts from the Koran has mystical
powers tending to accomplish the aim in view,
the effacement of individuality. It is curious
that no cabalistic forms are used in this " dikr "
— or formulae — and that even to the most strict
Moslem it would be difficult to find fault with the
outward and visible form of the tenets of the
" confraternities." Yet though in all North Africa
the greater part of the population adheres to the
orthodox Maleki school of Islam, these sects are
so impregnated with Sufism, and even with Neo-
Platonism, as to be, one and all, completely
unorthodox.
In order that the importance of these sects may
be realised, a few words are necessary as to their
organisation, for they owe their strength princi-
pally to the system by which the various centres
are kept in touch with one another, and obedience
to supreme orders guaranteed.
Each " confraternity " has its central " zaouia "
or sanctuary, where either the chief of the sect
resides or its founder is buried. From these centres
their policy is promulgated, and by means of sub-
ordinate " zaouias," each under the charge of a
spiritual " Sheikh " or " mokaddem," orders are
passed on to the devotees. The larger " zaouias "
consist usually of a group of buildings containing
a mosque and quarters for pilgrims, and for the
education of the " tholba," or scholars, all of whom
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 271
are kept supplied with food from the funds at the
disposal of the local officials. It is at these
" zaouias " that the initiation of the devotees
takes place, and that the followers of each sect
gather together from time to time for religious
intercourse and services. Scarcely a town exists
in Morocco that has not " zaouias " of at least
half a dozen saints. All over the country districts,
too, they are found, often consisting of only a
thatch hut in the vicinity of some revered
tomb, but none the less a spot for the concentra-
tion of the devotees, and the object of many a long
and weary pilgrimage.
It is not necessary that the " Sheikhs " of the
sects, or even the founder, should be a descendant
of the Prophet, though such is often the case.
In some sects the choice of the supreme chief is
elective, in some it is hereditary, as in the Wazzan
family. In others, again, it is neither elective nor
hereditary, it being left to divine agency to dis-
close who the heaven-appointed " Sheikh " may
be. In this latter case, on the death of a " Sheikh,"
no move is made to name or discover his successor.
In due time it " becomes known " that a certain
adept at a certain spot is the new chief, and he is
at once accepted as the spiritual leader. He need
perform no miracle ; he need possess no mark or
sign to disclose his calling ; he may be, and
generally is, of extreme poverty ; and it is not
apparently necessary that he should have any
great personal qualifications. There can be no
doubt that this curious system of nominating
272 MOROCCO THAT WAS
their religious " Sheikhs," though not always
put into practice and becoming rarer, is but an
example of the secrecy with which their plans are
made and carried out, and that the man is really
chosen by a secret council without even the know-
ledge of the individual himself. Word is sur-
reptitiously sent to the heads of all the " zaouias,"
and upon a given day it is announced to the faith-
ful that a new " Sheikh " has " appeared "
in such and such a spot. The frequenters of
" zaouias," hundreds of miles apart, obtain the
information upon the same day, and the credulous
people consider it a revelation from God. The
" Derkaoua " are the principal sect that follow
this course.
In the hands of the supreme chief lies the selec-
tion of the minor " Sheikhs," who in turn possess
certain limited powers in the nominating of the
" mokaddems," or lesser officials, all of whom
have the right, as a rule, of initiating devotees,
and all of whom are agents for the collection of
funds.
The general and public tenets of the sects are
good enough: chastity, patience, poverty, obedience,
and prayer are the principal teachings, though the
" derouich," who abandons the ways of the world,
and the " khoddam," who is merely an adherent,
follow different rules of life and conduct.
The importance of these Moroccan confra-
ternities depends entirely upon the political in-
fluence that they are able to exert. When left to
themselves, in ordinary times, they consist of
[Service des Beaux- A rts, Morocco.
COURT OF KAIROUIN MOSQUE, FEZ.
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 273
little more than religious institutions and brother-
hoods, of which the concealed energies, such as
they are, are not called forth by circumstances.
It is only when they come directly into contact
with Europe and Europeans that their essentially
religious features might become impregnated with
anti-Christian policy. A " Jehad " or " Holy War,"
accepted and furthered by the united sects of
Morocco, might be very dangerous, but, happily,
it is also very improbable.
Perhaps the most renowned of all the Shereefian
families of Morocco is that of Wazzan (Ouezzan).
Descended from the Prophet, the Shorfa of Wazzan
can boast of an unbroken lineage for thirteen
centuries, though it was not until a couple of
hundred years ago that they became of great
account. Up to that period they had apparently
lived the ordinary devout lives of people of holy
descent, no doubt looked up to and probably the
recipients of many offerings. The last few genera-
tions have, however, enjoyed a great renown
throughout Morocco — Mulai Abdullah Shereef, Sid
el Haj el-Arbi, and Sid el-Haj Abdesalam. The
last named, who died some twenty-five years ago,
married an English lady, still residing at Tangier,
who carries on there many good and charitable
works amongst the Moors. It was she who intro-
duced vaccination into the country, and herself
has vaccinated many thousands of the people.
She is much loved by the Moors and respected by
the Europeans. Her husband, Sid el-Haj Abd-
esalam, had, by previous marriages with native
s
274 MOROCCO THAT WAS
women, three sons, who at the time of which I
write — the end of the 'eighties and the early
'nineties of the last century — resided in Wazzan.
In my early journeys I often visited this fanatical
and difficult district, and became great friends of
the two elder brothers. In 1889-90 I spent many
months at their little religious Court, the only
European in any of those regions.
It was a life of great interest : there were
constant relays of pilgrims, who came to pray
at the tombs of the ancestors of the family and
to bring offerings to its living members. They
would arrive by dozens, and sometimes by hun-
dreds— men, women, and children, with caravans
of mules, ponies, and camels, laden with grain and
other products of the country as an offering to the
" House of Surety," as it was called by the natives.
These pilgrims, who were lodged and fed by the
Shereefs, were generally received in audience the
day after their arrival. The Shereefs, Mulai el-Arbi
and Sidi Mohamed, received them separately,
either in their little walled gardens, full of running
water and flowers, or else in one of the courtyards
of the " zaouia " or sanctuary. Often Mulai el-
Arbi would be seated just inside an open window,
through which the passing pilgrims could bend to
kiss his holy raiment, while an offering in money
was laid upon the window-sill, to be dropped into
a basket by the Shereef as each pilgrim proceeded
on his way. When the entire string of visitors
had passed, Mulai el-Arbi would count his newly-
acquired wealth. Although the sums were never
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 275
great — for the population of Morocco was in its
worst days of oppression — the total received during
the autumn and winter pilgrim season was no
mean one.
The two brothers, Mulai el-Arbi and Mulai
Mohamed, were of entirely different characters.
The elder was religious and timid, while his brother,
Mulai Mohamed, was a hunter and a man of
courage and action, whose influence over the
surrounding wild mountain tribes was very great.
He did not hesitate to use force when he con-
sidered it necessary. During the period of my
stay at Wazzan the town was constantly attacked.
The Shereefs had organised a garrison for its
defence, consisting of their followers and slaves,
who were well armed and well supplied with
ammunition. Sometimes these attacks were really
serious, though the casualties were never very
great. On one occasion the enemy lost a dozen
killed, but, as far as I know, this was the largest
number of losses on any one day.
I was present on one occasion when an attempt
was made to assassinate Mulai Mohamed. He
was seated in a room which was built over an
archway across a street. Opening on to the street
at either end of this room were two large windows.
The ground below sloped upwards, so that any
one higher up the street could see right through
the room. It was here that Mulai Mohamed
often sat, surrounded by particular friends and
retainers. We were there one afternoon drinking
green tea, the favourite beverage of Morocco,
276 MOROCCO THAT WAS
while a relation of the Shereefs was reading aloud
from an old Arabic manuscript. Suddenly the
glass of the windows at both ends of the room
was broken, and simultaneously we heard the re-
port of a rifle. There was a little panic amongst
the guests, but Mulai Mohamed, without a
moment's hesitation, ordered his cousin to con-
tinue the reading. The bullet had passed through
the room, just missing the Shereef. The would-be
assassin was never discovered. The shot had been
fired from the upper end of the street a hundred
yards or so away, and no clue was ever obtained
as to who fired it.
Wazzan was the home of tragedy. Except for
the paramount influence of the Shereefian family
there was no Government of any kind. The
Sultans had at various periods attempted to en-
force their jurisdiction, but had never succeeded.
Although ostensibly on good terms with the
Shereefs, the jealousy between the reigning family
and Wazzan was intense. The followers of the
Shereefs, and such tribal villages which were
counted as special devotees of the " zaouia,"
paid no taxes, and were outside the jurisdiction
of the Sultan's governors. The result was constant
friction ; but the Wazzanis' religious influence
was so strong, and in such fear was their name
held, that on the whole the Shereefs were able to
set the Sultan's word at nought.
Both Mulai el-Arbi and Mulai Mohamed are
long since dead. The elder brother was insane
for some years before his death, and the last time
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 277
I saw him his mind was completely deranged.
He was seated in a chair in the centre of a semi-
circle of his women, who were, of course, closely
veiled, though it was contrary to all tradition
that they should be there at all. Besides his
ladies, the room contained several live sheep and
a host of fowls, ducks, and pigeons. He had
changed but little in appearance. I noticed that
his retainers, who introduced me, paid perhaps
more deference to the mad Shereef than they had
done in the days of his health ; but oriental
people have a strange reverence for insanity.
Mulai el-Arbi made no sign of recognition, and sat
immovable. I recalled to him the months I had
spent as his guest and incidents of my many
visits, but to no avail. He listened, but made no
reply, though from time to time I noticed a
puzzled look on his face. I made a move to go,
but with his hand he beckoned me to be seated
again, and once more I continued trying to recall
the wandering memory of my host. At last a
gleam stole into his eyes, and he said very slowly,
" Yes, and greyhounds ; lots of greyhounds."
He had remembered ; for, hunting often, I had
kept quite a number of native " slougis " in the
days of my stay at Wazzan. It was all he said.
He died a few months later.
Some idea of the sanctity of this man even in
his own household can be gathered from an inci-
dent which occurred during one of my visits.
china teacup of considerable value was missing
after tea had been served. The slaves were sum-
278 MOROCCO THAT WAS
moned, and one was accused by the Shereef — it
must be confessed on no evidence — of having
stolen it. He was severely beaten: when I say
severely beaten, he received a flogging that would
probably have killed a European. That night,
after the Shereef had retired into his house, I
went to see the slave, who, considering the terrible
punishment he had received, was bearing up very
well. I asked him if he was guilty of the theft.
His reply was pathetic. " I have no recollection
of having stolen the teacup, but I must have done
so, for my lord the Shereef has divine knowledge,
and could not have made a mistake." The cup
was found and the slave proved guiltless, but he
received a severe reprimand for not having been
able to prove his innocence from the first.
Mulai Mohamed, the younger of the two
brothers, predeceased Mulai el-Arbi. He died of
a lingering and painful malady. He was by far
the most attractive of the two — a sportsman,
energetic and witty. I accompanied him on many
a great hunt in the Wazzan districts, when wild
boar, jackals, hares, and partridges were slain
galore — driven from their covert by hundreds of
tribesmen. Often these hunts lasted several days,
and the evenings and nights were spent under
canvas in feasting and revelry: great days and
great nights !
The third brother, Mulai Thami, had also a
tragic end. He had served as a youth in the
French Army in Algeria, and had learnt to read
and write French, but he had fallen a victim to
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 279
intemperance. He was a good deal younger than
his two brothers, and the son of another wife,
and considerable jealousy existed between them.
He complained that his share of the revenues did
not reach him, and that he was often sorely in
need of money. When drunk he at times became
very violent ; on other occasions he was charming,
an excellent conversationalist, and he had re-
ceived a good education. Drink at length affected
his brain, and a series of incidents led to his
imprisonment. I was at Wazzan at the time. In
a fit of madness he fired from a window of his
house upon people passing to the mosque to
prayer. Several were killed, but his sanctity
rendered him immune from any punishment. The
townspeople stated it was the " Will of God,"
manifested through the holy Shereef, and some
even envied the people who had found death at
his hands. All that was done was to post a soldier
in front of his house to warn the passers-by that
there was a risk of being shot ! The same night
Mulai Thami wrote me a letter. It is undated —
it was December 1889 — and is written in French : —
" MON CHER AMI, — Je vous prie de dire a mes
freres que je les remercie beaucoup de m' avoir
envoyer encore un soldat pour me tuer, parceque
aujourd'hui j'ai monte dans mon ' couba ' pour
prendre un peu d'air. Comme je regardai par la
fenetre je voyai un soldat arme de sa carabine.
J'avais peur, alors j'ai arme sur lui ma carabine,
mais comme il m'a dit qu'il ne me fera rien je
1'ai laisse* passe tranquilement. Aussitot est alle
280 MOROCCO THAT WAS
dire a mes freres que j'ai voulu le tuer. Je vous
jure par la tete de notre Prophete Mohamet si je
voudrai faire 9a j'ai d'autres endroits ou je pourrai
tuer tout ce qui passe, mais seulement je ne suis
pas fou. J'ai tue ces hommes parceque j'^tais ivre,
et puis en colere, a cause du voyage et a cause
d'une histoire entre moi et un cherif. Je vous jure,
mon cher ami, que je n'avais pas la tete a moi.
" Maintenant, cher ami, dites a Muley el-Arbi
qu'il me rend mon mulet et qu'il m'envoie de
P argent, car je creve de faim, moi et ma famille.
" Je vous prie de faire votre possible avec mes
freres pour me sauver la vie a moi et ma pauvre
mere. Le coup de fusil qu'il m'a donne le soldat
ne m'a attrape.
" C'est comme 9a qu'on doit etre les freres ?
MULEY TOUHAMI."
(Translation.)
" MY DEAR FRIEND, — I beg you to tell my
brothers that I thank them very much for having
sent still another soldier to kill me, for to-day I
went up to my couba (upper room) for a little
air. As I looked out of the window I saw a soldier
armed with his rifle. I was afraid, and I aimed
my rifle at him, but as he told me he would do
nothing I let him pass quietly. He at once went
to my brothers to say that I had wished to kill
him. I swear to you on the head of our Prophet
Mohamed that if I had wished to do so I have
other places from which I could kill every one
who passes, only I am not mad. I killed those men
because I was drunk, and also angry on account
of a journey and on account of a story between
me and a Shereef. I swear to you, my dear friend,
that I was ' off my head.'
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 281
" Now, dear friend, ask Mulai el-Arbi to return
me my mule, and that he send me some money,
for my family and I are starving.
" I beg you to do your utmost with my brothers,
so as to save my life and that of my poor mother.
The shot that the solider fired missed me.
" Is it thus that brothers should be ?
MlTLEY TOUHAMI."
He omitted to state in this letter that he had,
as well as killing the people he speaks of, attempted
to murder the two sons of his brother Mulai
Mohamed, by firing on them inside the mosque !
On Christmas night, a few weeks after these
incidents, I went to see Mulai Thami, who had
been sober and in his right mind for some time.
We were to go hunting the next day at dawn,
and a few details of our excursion still remained
to be settled. I had supper with him, but on %
leaving the supper-room in which we had spent
the evening I was treacherously attacked by the
Shereef and his slaves. In the struggle I fell down
the steep flight of stairs. My call for help had
alarmed some passers-by, and the Shereef 's re-
tainers heard voices in the street. They fled, and
their master disappeared into the inner part of
the house. After a short period of unconsciousness
I was able to open the door and get out into the
street — a pitiful figure, my clothes torn to rags
and stained with blood from a wound on the head,
happily only skin-deep, and much bruised.
Mulai Thami was imprisoned. After a period
of incarceration at Wazzan he was taken to Tangier,
282 MOROCCO THAT WAS
but he had become quite insane, and on being
brought into the presence of his father, Sid el-Haj
Abdesalam, who still lived at Tangier, he wanted
to assassinate him. He was confined at Tangier,
and some little time later was sent to a lunatic
asylum in France, where he lived for several years,
suffering from the strange delusion for a Moham-
medan— that he was Jesus Christ.
Wazzan was at this period the most lawless
place in Morocco. Many murders of important
personages took place. The almost total immunity
of the Shereefs from punishment — for it was only
this head of the family who had the right to
imprison them, a right dangerous to exercise for
fear of reprisals — increased crime. One instance
will be sufficient to demonstrate the absolute
anarchy which existed.
A Fez merchant, who was residing at Wazzan
at this time, possessed a daughter who was re-
puted to be of great beauty. A Shereef asked the
father for his daughter's hand in marriage, and
was refused. The Fez merchant desired her to
marry a young man of his own native town, and
the Shereef in question was quite undesirable. In
time the wedding of the young Fezzi and the girl
took place. It was night, and the bridegroom
rode at the head of the procession, which had
proceeded to fetch the bride from her father's
house. In the gaily-decorated " Amaria " — a sort
of box carried on a mule's back — was the bride,
surrounded by her relations. Many of the crowd
carried lanterns, and the air rang with the gay
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 283
music of drums and fifes. Suddenly the pro-
cession was attacked by a group of men emerg-
ing from a side street. It was the disappointed
Shereef and his retainers. The bridegroom was
shot, the guests dispersed, and the bride carried
off to the house of the Shereef, who forthwith
married her.
Wazzan, surrounded by its gardens and olive
groves, is one of the most picturesque towns in
Morocco. It is situated on the eastern slopes of a
double-peaked mountain, with an extensive view
over range after range of wild hills to the highlands,
often snow-covered, of the Sheshouan district.
Snow often falls, and lies for two or three days
together, in Wazzan itself. The result is incon-
venient, for as fast as it accumulates on the flat
roofs of the houses the inhabitants shovel it off
into the streets, which at times are completely
blocked. Situated on the borders of the " Jibala " ''
— " mountaineer " — country there is no district
more turbulent, and Wazzan has been for several
years unvisited by Europeans. It falls in the
French sphere of influence, and its occupation by
the Protectorate troops has lately been spoken of
as imminent.1 The town has lost much of its
religious prestige. All over Morocco the reverence
for the many Shereefian families is disappearing,
the native finding that the spiritual return in
blessings is scarcely worth the financial sacrifice
that is entailed to obtain them. In fact, the days
1 Wazzan was occupied by the French Protectorate troops in
October 1920.
284 MOROCCO THAT WAS
of the " Holy Shereefs " are nearing an end,
though there is still a new role for them to play
in Morocco. Their influence, if exerted for good,
may yet be very beneficial to the country, and
the sons and grandsons of the English wife of Sid
el-Haj Abdesalam are setting a good example.
Her eldest grandson, who speaks French and Eng-
lish perfectly, is to-day a brilliant young cadet of
the Protectorate army in the new military school
for the sons of " Nobles " at Meknes. His younger
brothers are to enter various professions, in which
they can look for every success in the future.
The following sects are the most influential and
numerous in Morocco : —
Derkaoua. — Followers of Mulai el-Arbi ben Ahmed
el-Derkaoui, who was born about 1730, and is
buried in the tribe-lands of the Beni Zerual tribe,
in the mountains of North- West Morocco, to the
north of Fez. He was a Shereef, or descendant of
the Prophet, and a renowned scholar. He him-
self practised the cult of the Chedili sect, a branch
of the better-known Kaderia, or followers of Mulai
Abdul Kader el-Ghrailani of Baghdad.
The order of the " Derkaoua " is certainly the
most powerful in Morocco. It is, as a rule, entirely
religious, but would be capable of speedy secret
organisation and combined political action. It
is a " socialistic " and " ascetic " sect, depreciat-
ing all temporal rulers, and only accepting the
Sultans of Morocco on the grounds of their Sher-
eefian descent. They accentuate the great doc-
trine of Islam, the Unity of God, and consider the
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 285
Prophet and all other holy men of secondary
importance, though they reverence them. They
may perhaps best be described as the Unitarians
of Morocco. Besides counting a very large number
of devotees amongst the middle classes, the sect
boasts many professional adherents, for the most
part beggars, who can be recognised by their
rosaries of exaggeratedly large beads.
The political influence — at present non-existing,
but capable of almost instantaneous appearance,
should circumstances bring it to life — of this sect
is important. Exerted in the interests of peace
and order, it might prove invaluable in a time of
trouble, for not only is the sect very numerous,
but it could also bring much pressure to bear on
the people, and other sects. On the contrary,
should the Derkaoua proclaim a campaign against
Europeans and European influence, their power
would be equally strong in the interests of evil,
especially in stirring up other religious sects of
more fanatical tenets, such as the Aissaoua and
Hamacha.
The Derkaoua seem to be the only confraternity
in Morocco that still maintains intact their secret
organisation.
Aissaoua. — Followers of Sidi ben Aissa. A sect
dating from the seventeenth century A.D. ; the
founder is buried at Mekne"s, where the great annual
festival in his honour is held, on the Mouloud,
or Prophet's birthday. The adherents of this sect
are principally people of the lower classes. They
resemble more the " dervishes " of the East than
286 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the generality of the other Moroccan sects, for
they dance, and work themselves into a state of
wild frenzy, in which they devour live sheep, glass,
burning coals, the leaves of the " prickly pear,"
and other equally indigestible food. A number
of fables, of little interest, are stated as being the
origin of these very unorthodox proceedings, which
are looked on askance by the educated Moor.
Sidi ben Aissa is also the patron saint of the snake-
charmers.
Although when excited to a state of frenzy the
" Aissaoua " are capable of acts of fanaticism, they
are in their ordinary lives, as a rule, peaceful law-
abiding people. There are " zaouias " of the
sect all over Morocco, presided over by " Sheikhs "
and " mokaddems " ; but their organisation ap-
pears to be almost entirely localised, and therefore
capable of no sudden political combination — nor
need such be looked for in any case. There are a
certain number of professional adherents, musicians,
reciters, snake-charmers, who travel from town to
town, and live on charity.
Hamacha. — Followers of Sidi Ali ben Hamdouch,
who is buried on the slopes of the Zarhoun Moun-
tains, near Meknes. Like the Aissaoua, whom they
much resemble, they are principally people of the
lower classes. When worked into a state of religious
frenzy, they cut their heads with hatchets and
throw up heavy cannon-balls which they let fall
on their skulls. They are capable of fanaticism
when in a frenzical state, but peaceful citizens in
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 287
ordinary life. There are a few professional Hama-
cha, who perform in the towns and country markets
for money.
Taibiya. — Followers of Mulai Taiyeb, son of
Mulai Abdullah Shereef , of Wazzan. Mulai Taiyeb
lived in the early nineteenth century, and is buried
at Wazzan. The adherents of this sect are, as a
rule, respectable middle-class people. A member of
this Shereefian family is always the chief of this
order.
Ulad Sidi Ahmed ou Mousa. — " Sons of Sidi
Ahmed ou Mousa." The patron saint of all the
acrobats. This Shereef was a descendant of
Mulai Idris, and died early in the thirteenth cen-
tury. No political importance of any kind.
Tijania. — Followers of Sidi Ahmed el-Tijani.
The adherents of this sect are few in Morocco,
though strong in Algeria. Essentially religious.
Shingata. — Followers of the Shereef M'al-Ainin
of Shingit, in the far south of Morocco. The sect
was founded by this Shereef, who only died five
years ago. He was of very holy reputation, and
was always veiled. The Sultans Mulai Hassen
and Mulai Abdul Aziz paid him the greatest
respect, and loaded him with presents on his
periodical visits to the Court. On his death he
was succeeded by his son, Mohamed Hiba, who
took advantage of the disturbed period of 1912 to
declare himself Sultan. He even entered Marra-
kesh, the southern capital, but fled on the approach
of the French forces.
288 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Mohamed Hiba was always in revolt, but never
venturing out of the southern Sus districts, where
an expeditionary force attacked him in 1917,
defeating his followers, who were dispersed. He
died in 1919.
Kaderia. — Followers of Mulai Abdul Kader el-
Ghrailani, of Baghdad, where he is buried. This
" confraternity " has numerous adherents in
Morocco, which Mulai Abdul Kader is supposed
to have visited. He died in the twelfth cen-
tury A.D.
It is a strictly religious sect, differing from
others solely in the form of prayer used, and in
the position taken up when at prayer, and " in
the absorbing of the individual in the essence of
the Deity " by repetitions of the name of God.
This sect shows more traces of Sufism, being of
Persian origin, than any other cult in Morocco,
but its original practices seem to have become
adapted to Moroccan thought and sentiment. It
is strictly religious, and it is difficult to say whether
it could play any political role.
Nasaria. — Followers of Sidi ben Nasr, who is
buried at Tamgrout, on the Wad Draa. An essen-
tially religious and innocuous sect.
Kittamin. — Followers of Sidi Mohamed el-
Kittani, who was beaten to death by order of
the Sultan Mulai Hafid in 1909. His martyr-
dom appears to have given a great impetus to
his followers, who are increasing in numbers,
especially in Fez. A religious sect.
There are, in addition to the " zaouias " of
SAINTS, SHEREEFS, AND SINNERS 289
the " confraternities," a large number of tombs
which are visited as places of pilgrimage. It is
usual for one day in the year to be set aside for
the festival at each of these tombs, and great
crowds proceed to these " mousim." A general
holiday is kept in the surrounding districts, and
pilgrims arrive from far and near. Often if the
tomb is situated in the country a whole town of
tents springs up around it.
The following is a list of the principal tombs,
given in the order of their relative import-
ance : —
The tomb of Mulai Idris I., in the mountains of
Zarhoun (died 790 A.D.)
The tomb of Mulai Idris II., at Fez (died 828(?)
A.D.)
The tomb of Mulai Abdesalam ben Mashish
(died twelfth century A.D.), in the moun-
tains of the Beni Aros in North-West
Morocco.
The tomb of Mulai Brahim in the Ghergaya dis-
trict, on the northern slopes of the great
Atlas, to the south of Marrakesh.
The tomb of Mulai Ali Shereef at Tafilet) died
1590 A.D.)
The tomb of Mulai Busseta el-Khammar in
Fichtala, to the north of Fez (twelfth cen-
tury A.D.)
The tombs of Sebat er-Rejal, " the Seven
Men" (i.e., the seven patron saints of
Marrakesh).
The tomb of Mulai Bou Shaib at Azimour.
290 MOEOCCO THAT WAS
The tomb of Sidi Ben Daoud at Bu Jad, on the
plains of Central Morocco.
The tomb of Mulai Bouselham, on the sea-shore
of the Gharb province, not far from Laraiche.
The tomb and hot springs of Mulai Yakoub,
near Fez.
CHANGES AND CHANCES
THE change that is taking place, and will still for
a long time be taking place, in Morocco must be
gradual. The deep conservatism of the people —
the spirit that kept the country closed for century
after century to Europe — has not yet disappeared.
It is, except in the case of the more remote tribes,
less an open opposition to reform than an un-
ceasing disinclination to any alteration in their
status. In many ways it is better it should be so
— old bottles cannot stand too much new wine —
and little by little the Moor and the tribesman
is imbibing the new state of things without appre-
ciating, or at least without fully realising, the
great change that is already coming about.
There is no doubt that effectively it is easier
to organise civilisation, primitive though it may
at first have to be, amongst the savage tribes of
Central Africa than to try and adapt, and neces-
sarily to some extent to destroy, what has pre-
viously existed. The state of civilisation of
Morocco has for centuries been a high one com-
pared to most of Africa. It has been, it is true,\
for a long period in its decadence, but none the
less possessing certain admirable features. The
292 MOROCCO THAT WAS
institutions of the country, the architecture and
art, the remnants of learning, the water-supplies
of Fez and Marrakesh, the manners of the people
and their capacity as merchants, traders, and
agriculturists, all bespeak evidences of an attain-
ment of civilisation, uninfluenced for many cen-
turies past by Europe, that can only be con-
sidered as admirable. There has been little or no
progress. The Moors lived on the mere echo of
the past, but were proud both of that past and
of the spirit that they had inherited from it — a
spirit of closing the door of their country to all
aggression, and the door of their hearts to all
external influence.
When it does come — the beginning of the great
change, as it has come in Morocco — the new system
must expect to be met with suspicion and un-
popularity. In course of time the benefits will
be fully recognised, and some gratitude will be
shown, but it may be a very long time. Few
people in the world really appreciate radical change,
especially if radical change is forced upon them by
foreigners in race, in language, and in religion.
Yet, on the whole, the Moor of Morocco is meeting
it in the same stolid spirit of disinterest as he
bore the former persecutions of his own Sultans
and Government. He accepts all as the will of
God, but finds that he has now for the first time
— I am speaking of the French Protectorate of
Morocco — security of life and property. He dislikes
all foreigners, but he acknowledges the improve-
ment in his situation. He is richer, happier than
CHANGES AND CHANCES 293
he was. This he puts down to the merciful provi-
dence of God. In return he has to pay regular
taxation, which he particularly dislikes ; and
that he puts down to the intervention of the
French. He eases his conscience, and takes advan-
tage of the situation.
Yet gradual as the change is, much has already
been accomplished. Only those who knew the
country before and who know it now can realise
the extent of what has been done. When the
French bombarded Casablanca and thus opened
the road to their occupation of the greater part
of Morocco, they entered a closed house, tenanted
by suspicion, fanaticism, and distrust. The country
considered itself impregnable, and the people
looked upon the " Christians " as a despised
race, condemned by their religion, unwarlike by
nature, and ridiculous in appearance. The Moor
imagined that with a small Moslem army, aided
by divine assistance, he could easily defeat all the
" Christian " forces of the world. " Your shells
and bullets will turn to water," they said, " for
the saints and holy men who protect us will never
allow the infidel to invade our land. Storms will
wreck your ships, and even should your soldiers
land, a handful of our horsemen would suffice to
drive them back into the sea." They really
believed it.
What a change has come about since then —
and it is only thirteen years ago that the bombard-
ment of Casablanca took place ! From time to
time I accompanied the expedition that invaded
294 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the Chaouia and the highlands beyond it, when
one by one the tribes gave way and acknowledged
that those two French columns, advancing and
ever advancing, were stronger than all the saints
in their tombs and than all the Holy Men with
their promises of victory. The Moor had to realise
a fact. It was very difficult at first. It changed
his whole aspect of life, his whole mentality. A few
thousand Christians were conquering his country !
And the two columns were as irresistible as the
fact itself. He took refuge in the supreme solace
of his religion — cried, "It is the will of God " ;
laid his rifle aside, and either went back to the
fields or enlisted in the French Army.
Behind the show of force there was another
and still more important factor at work. As
district after district was occupied and the troops
passed on, there sprung up a new organisation, a
new administration that safeguarded the interests
of the people, their lives and their properties.
They experienced, for the first time for centuries,
security. The ever-present fear of death, con-
fiscation, and imprisonment, under the shadow of
which they had passed their whole lives, as had
their parents and their ancestors before them,
disappeared. The extortion of the " Kaids "
ceased, or was greatly curtailed, and justice was
obtainable.
In the introduction of civilisation the French
have shown admirable tact. Their every act and
thought has been influenced by a desire to amelio-
rate the condition of the people and to render them
CHANGES AND CHANCES 295
prosperous. They have built endless roads. They
have opened hospitals and dispensaries, and every-
thing has been avoided that could wound the
religious susceptibilities of the people. They
had the experience of Algeria and Tunis. They
studied our action in Egypt. They have
known what to adopt and what to avoid. They
have maintained upon the throne a descendant
of the ancient line of Sultans, and, governing in
his name, they have been able to obtain an elas-
ticity of administration which the codified laws
of France could never have given, had a system of
direct government been adopted. They have met
with far less opposition than might have been
expected. In fact, the introduction of civilisation
into Morocco, in times of great difficulty during
the war, has been a fine example of the true
spirit of pacification and progress. I, who have
known Morocco for over thirty years, can bear
witness that in the parts of the country occupied
by France the improvement in the welfare of its
people is immense. There is yet much to be done.
Decades must pass before the work is completed,
but I am convinced that the great policy inaugu-
rated by General_Jjyautey in Morocco will be
accepted as the basis of government— to the
mutual benefit of the " Protecting " and the
" Protected."
Yet there are those who still talk of the " good
old days " of Morocco before the French came to
the country ! That any one can regret that time
is incredible. Only those who failed to see beneath
296 MOROCCO THAT WAS
the surface — and how little surface there was to
hide the facts — can possible compare the two
periods. The most that can be said against the
French regime is that the native finds the intro-
duction of regulations annoying. He has regular
taxes to pay instead of suffering the extortion of
his own authorities, as he did in the past. He dis-
likes regularity, and some Moors would probably
prefer the uncertainty and gambling chances of
the past to the uneventful prosperity of the
present. It is true there was the risk of death,
of confiscation, of imprisonment; but there was also
the chance of loot and robbery, of acquiring a
position by force or by bribery, and of being able,
in tolerable security, to confiscate the property of
others and put others in prison ; and if in the
end one died in prison oneself — well, it was God's
will. The Moor is a gambler. He staked under
that old regime not only his fortune but his life.
Often he lost both ; but sometimes he won, and
it was the lives of others that were sacrificed
and their properties that accrued till a great
estate was built up, till palaces were built in all
the capitals, till his slaves were legion and his
women buzzed like a swarm of bees — and then
one day the end came. If fate was kind he died
in possession of his estates — and they were con-
fiscated on the day of his death; but more often
he died in prison while his family starved. Mean-
while nothing could be imagined more pitiable
than was the lot of the country people, victims of
robbery of every kind, for, from the Sultan to the
CHANGES AND CHANCES 297
village sheikh, the whole Maghzen pillaged and
lived on the poor. No man could call his soul his
own. Thank God, the " good old days " are gone
and done with ! ""\
I sometimes wonder whether, in spite of all that \
has been written on the subject, the state of affairs \
existing in Morocco up to the date of the intro-
duction of the French Protectorate in 1912 is fully
realised.
While -MulaLJETafid was Sultan, from 1908 to
1912, in which year he abdicated, the palace was
the constant scene of barbarity and torture. The
Sultan himself, neurasthenic, and addicted, it is
said, to drugs, had his good and his bad days.
There was no doubt that at first he meant to
reform his country — or perhaps, more correctly,
to save it from the encroaching intervention of
France. He was possessed of a certain cunning
intelligence, and had some idea of government,
but disappointment met him. Things had gone
too far. Morocco was doomed. Finding all his
attempts to preserve his country's independence
futile, he gave way to temptations, and became
cruel and avaricious.
Rebels taken in the war — many, no doubt,
were harmless tribesmen — had their hands and
feet cut off. Twenty-six were thus tortured
at Fez in one day. Twenty-five succumbed,
mostly to gangrene ; for though the European
doctors in Fez implored the Sultan to be allowed
to attend them, Mulai Hafid refused. Publicly
the butchers cut and hacked from each of these
298 MOROCCO THAT WAS
unfortunate men a hand and a foot, treating the
stumps with pitch. The one survivor of that
particular batch is living to-day.
Earlier in his reign — in 1909 — Mulai Hafid
became jealous of a young Shereef, Sid Mohamed
el-Kittani, a member of a great family, who,
having taken to a religious life, had gathered
round him a group of cultured men and founded
a sect. People spoke much of him ; his popularity
and reputation were great. From the precincts
of the palace the Sultan followed his every move-
ment, and spies reported his every word, but no
excuse could be found for his arrest. But Mulai
Hafid was determined that he must be got rid of.
He let the young Shereef understand that he was
in danger, that the Sultan meant to arrest him,
and, influenced by a spy, the young man was per-
suaded to abandon Fez. He fled by night — straight
into the trap. He was allowed to reach the Beni
Mtir tribe-lands, and there he was arrested. Mean-
while the report was spread that he had tried to
get himself proclaimed Sultan, and evidence to
this effect was easily produced. He was brought
back to Fez — I saw him brought a prisoner into
the palace — and in the presence of Mulai Hafid
he was flogged. Blow after blow from knotted
leathern cords was rained upon his back and legs,
till, life almost extinct, he was carried away and
thrown into a prison in the palace. He was not
even allowed to have his wounds tended. He
lived for a few days only, and the slaves who
washed his dead body for burial told me that the
CHANGES AND CHANCES 299
linen of his shirt had been beaten so deeply into
his flesh, which had closed in hideous sores over
it, that they had merely cut the more exposed parts
of the evil blood-stained rags away and left the rest.
Perhaps the most tragic of the tortures per-
petrated by Mulai Hafid were upon the family
of the Basha Haj ben Aissa, the Governor of Fez,
a man whose reputation was certainly no worse
than that of the majority of Moorish officials, and
very much better than that of many.
Believing that he was very rich, Mulai Hafid
had the Governor arrested and thrown into prison,
with several members of his family. The usual
floggings and privations took place, and Haj ben
Aissa surrendered all his properties to the Sultan.
But Mulai Hafid was not satisfied. He believed
in the existence of a great fortune in money.
As a matter of fact, the Governor of Fez had been
a keen agriculturist, and had invested all his
gains — licit and illicit — in land, but nothing could
persuade the Sultan that this was the fact. He
gave orders that the fortune was to be found ; and
thus fresh privations and more floggings ensued,
but all to no avail. Then the women were
arrested, amongst them the aristocratic wife of the
Governor of Fez, a lady of good family and high
position. It was thought that she would know,
and disclose the hidden treasure. She was tor-
tured, but disclosed nothing, because there was
nothing to disclose.
The whole of this story came to my knowledge,
and the barbarity of the Sultan's proceedings
I
300 MOROCCO THAT WAS
determined me to let the world know what was
passing. The ' Times ' opened its columns un-
reservedly to these wrongs, as that great paper
has never failed to do whenever there has been a
wrong to redress. It was not so much the tortur-
ing of the wife of the Governor of Fez — terrible
though that was — as the fact that these things
were still happening in Morocco — and must cease.
The evidence I had was legally slight, but I deter-
mined to see it through. The Sultan denied,
threatened, and denied again, but the repeated
efforts of the ' Times ' were sufficient even to move
the Foreign Office, and it was decided that some
action must be taken. The late Sir Reginald
Lister was British Minister at that time, and his
encouragement and help assisted me in my cam-
paign. At long length the British Government
decided to ask the Sultan to produce the lady,
as no other proof would be sufficient to persuade
them that great cruelties had not been perpetrated.
The French Government stood side by side with
our own in the interests of humanity. The Sultan
agreed willingly, but failed to produce the lady.
The energy of Mr McLeod, the British Consul at
Fez, was untiring. He was determined to see the
matter through. At length, driven by the force
of circumstances, the Sultan allowed the Basha's
wife to be visited by two English lady medical
missionaries, accompanied by the wife of a French
doctor. They saw her in the recesses of the palace,
and, in spite of protestations and threats on the
part of the slaves, they insisted on examining her.
CHANGES AND CHANCES 301
Her crippled body, and the terrible scars of recent
wounds, amply justified the ' Times ' action. The
Sultan had lied throughout. The woman had
been cruelly tortured.
With that humane spirit which he has shown
throughout his whole life, Sid el Haj Mohamed ^
el-Mokri, who was Grand Vizier then, and to-day
so ably fills the same post, took the injured wife
of the Governor of Fez into his own house, where
she received all the medical assistance of which
she stood in need, and all the kindness of the
vizier's womenkind.
I have two letters referring to this incident
which I value. One is from Mr J. M. McLeod,
C.M.G., then British Consul at Fez, dated 28th July
1910, in which he writes to me to tell me that the
surviving members of Haj Ben Aissa's family had
been to see him for the purpose of asking him to
let me know how grateful they were for the " great
efforts I had made on their behalf, which had been
an immense solace to them." The second is a
letter from the British Minister, Sir Reginald
Lister, dated 22nd February, from the Dolomites,
in which he says, " I write first and above all to
congratulate you on your triumph in the matter
of the tortures." After all, my part had been
small. It was the publicity that the ' Times '
gave to my telegrams and messages that obtained
the success. Two years afterwards, when circum-
stances had brought Mulai Hafid and myself
together again, I asked him to explain his action.
He told me that he knew the woman had been
302 MOROCCO THAT WAS
tortured — she was not the only one — but that he
personally had not intended it. He said that when
he had been informed that Haj ben Aissa's fortune
could not be found, he had ordered the arrest of
his womenkind. A little later he was told the
women " wouldn't speak," and he acknowledged
that he had replied, " They must be made to speak."
Such words from such a source were taken to mean
one thing, and one thing alone — torture ; and they
were tortured.
Of the end of Bou Hamara I have written else-
where: his long confinement in a small cage, his
being thrown to the lions in the presence of the
Sultan's women, and eventually his being shot
after the savage beasts had mangled and torn his
arms.
Those were the " good old days " !
It was not only in the palace that there was
cruelty. In every governor's Kasba, deep in
damp dungeons — as often as not holes scooped
in the earth for storing grain — there lay and pined
those who had committed, or not committed, as
the case might be, some crime ; and still more
often, those who were rich enough to be squeezed.
In such suffering, and in darkness, receiving just
sufficient nourishment to support life, men were
known to have existed for years, to emerge again
long after their relations had given up all hope of
seeing them. But there was always a chance —
a chance that the Governor might die or fall into
disgrace ; and then the dungeons in his castle
would be opened and the wrecks of his prisoners
CHANGES AND CHANCES 303
be released. And what prisons ! what horrors of
prisons they were, even those above ground and
reserved for the ordinary class of criminal. Chained
neck to neck, with heavy shackles on their legs,
they sat or lay in filth, and often the cruel iron
collars were only undone to take away a corpse.
The prisons in the towns were bad enough, but
those of the country Kasbas were far worse.
Mulai Abdul Aziz, who reigned from 1894 till
1908, and who still lives at Tangier, deserves at
least some credit, for at one period of his reign he
put the prisons of Fez in order. They were largely
restored, a water-supply was added, and they
became less hideous than they had been before;
but gradually the old system crept back again,
and the improvements lasted only a little while.
With all the good intentions in the world, a Sultan
of those days could not break down the traditions
and corruption of his surroundings.
Amongst the great Berber chieftains of the
Atlas, lif e was even harder ; but at all events there
was not the same persecution and squeezing as
existed in the plains and richer districts. The
more than semi-independence of the Berbers freed
them from the perpetual exactions of the Maghzen,
though by no means from the extortion of their
own chiefs. Yet the very climate, the hardships
of life in those inhospitable peaks, the constant
warfare in which the tribes were engaged with one
another, made men of them, and all the traditions
of their race were democratic. But if the same
oppression for the sake of extorting money did not
304 MOROCCO THAT WAS
exist, their treatment of prisoners taken in war
whose lives were not forfeited, or of those held as
hostages, was harsh enough. They, too, the great
Berber Kaids, had their castles and their dungeons,
and the latter were seldom empty. The whole life
in those great Atlas fortified Kasbas was one of
warfare and of gloom. Every tribe had its enemies,
every family had its blood-feuds, and every man
his would-be murderer. Since quite my early
years in Morocco I have visited these far-away
castles, and with many of the Berber Kaids I
enjoy to-day a friendship that has lasted over
many years. With the family of the Kaids of
Glaoua I have long been on intimate terms. When
I first knew them, Sid Madani Glaoui was merely
the Governor of the Glaoua tribe, and his younger
brother, Sid Thami — a youth then — held no official
position. Remarkable for their skill in warfare
and for their ability in tribal diplomacy, the
members of the Glaoua family seldom left the
high mountain peaks, except to pay periodical
visits to Marrakesh, three days' journey from their
home. Their Kasba at Teluet, the grandest of all
the Atlas fortresses, is situated over 7000 feet
above the level of the sea. Such ability did these
young brothers possess, that it was not difficult
to foresee that they must be destined to play a role
in the history of Morocco. They began by consoli-
dating their power in the Atlas, both by diplo-
macy and by a series of little wars, in which they
surpassed themselves in feats of arms, and in which
both were repeatedly wounded. As Commander-
CHANGES AND CHANCES 305
in-Chief of the Shereefian forces the elder was
employed by Mulai Abdul Aziz in his wars against
the Rif tribes. Meanwhile the Glaoua faction in
the south was becoming all-powerful, and when
Mulai Hafid in 1908 unfurled the standard of revolt
against his brother, the Glaoui chiefs supported
him. Without them his cause must have failed
at once. Madani became his Minister of War and
later his Grand Vizier ; his brother, Haj Thami,
was appointed Governor of Marrakesh and the
surrounding tribes. Capable in the art of native
government, they were equally capable in the
management of their own affairs. Their estates,
the most extensive of any except, perhaps, the
Sultan's Maghzen properties, were admirably
worked and conducted, and vast revenues flowed
in. At the moment when the French Protectorate
was declared, both these able men threw in their
lot with France, and have served her loyally.
Intelligent, realising for years past that the end
of the independence of Morocco might be staved
off for a short period, but was eventually inevitable,
the Glaoui brothers had never disguised their
preference for reform and their desire for the
opening up of Morocco's wealth. The Berber race
possesses not only a keenness of intellect, but
also an activity that is wanting in the other in-
habitants of Morocco. Roads, railways, machinery
pleases them, and they are eager for their intro-
duction. Their mentality is European and not
African.
Madani Glaoui died two years ago, a man who
u
306 MOROCCO THAT WAS
was really regretted, not only by the French, to
whom he rendered great services, but also by the
natives. He was one of the greatest, the richest,
and the most generous of Berber chiefs, a man of
delightful manners and much learning. His brother,
Haj Thami, still a comparatively young man, is
to-day Basha of Marrakesh. He lives a simple life
in the midst of much splendour, and spends all
the hours that he can spare from his official duties
hi visiting his estates or in handling and reading
his wonderful collection of Arabic manuscripts.
On one of my visits to their Kasba at Teluet, I
think in the year 1901, I allowed myself to be
persuaded to stay on and on, though I ought
already to have been on my way toward the coast.
First it had been Kaid Madani who had asked me
to remain another day, then one or other of his
brothers or cousins, and so on. Every morning I
prepared to start, and every time I was begged
to stay. At last I really expected to be allowed
to leave, but I was led out into a great court-
yard, overlooked by the frowning walls of the
Kasba. On the terraced roofs were gathered a
multitude of veiled women. My host, bidding me
look up, said, " To-day it is our womenfolk who
beg you to stay," and with a loud cry the women
uttered their welcome. The Berbers are less strict
about womenkind, and I often conversed with
elderly ladies of the Glaoua family. On asking
one of these personages — she was a very near
relation to Sid Madani — why it was the women
of the Kasba desired me to prolong my stay, she
CHANGES AND CHANCES 307
replied, " Because since you have been here there
has been a truce to war and to feud. Our sons
and our sons' sons are in safety. Before you came
no one ever laughed in the Kasba, for the men
think only of war, and we women only of death ;
but for a fortnight now we have laughed and sung,
having no fear. But when you go the truce will
end, and all our laughter will cease." It made
one realise life in the Kasba of Teluet.
When Sid Madani Glaoui was at Fez as Grand
Vizier during the reign of Mulai Hafid, he had
only a few of his very numerous children with
him. Amongst these few was a favourite son by
a black slave woman. He was about twelve years
of age, very dark, but of a remarkable vivacity
and intelligence, and most amusing. Unfortu-
nately this temperament had its disadvantages,
and his conduct for his age was disgraceful. He
had already indulged in the wildest life. His
father had sent him to the French school, but it
was only on the rarest occasions that he ever
turned up there. No matter how many of the
Vizier's retainers took him to the door, he invari-
ably by some means or other escaped, and spent
his days in far less eligible society elsewhere. At
last things became so bad that the schoolmaster
insisted on complaining personally to his father.
The boy was summoned into his presence, and was
asked why he played truant. He denied it, to the
surprise of both. He insisted that he attended
school regularly, and that it was only because
the schoolmaster disliked him that this accusation
308 MOROCCO THAT WAS
was made against him. The schoolmaster continued
naturally to contradict the boy, who at last said,
" Well, I can prove it. If I hadn't attended school
I couldn't speak French. Examine me." Hur-
riedly one of the Vizier's Algerian retinue was
called and asked to address the boy in French.
He did so, and the black imp replied with the
facility almost of a Parisian, but it wasn't the
French that schoolboys ought to learn. The ex-
pressions and words he used made the school-
master's hair stand on end, but undoubtedly he
spoke French, and with a fluency that was appal-
ling. It was not in a school for the " sons of
gentlemen " that he had learned it — nor in a
school for the " daughters of ladies " either — but
in a French cafe chantant, as it called itself, which
had recently been installed in the Jews' quarter of
the city.
The Jews of Morocco are a race apart. There
are two distinct branches — the descendants of the
original Berber Jews of the country, and the
descendants of the Jews who migrated from Spain,
mostly in the fifteenth century. While the latter
have preserved Spanish as their native tongue,
the former use the Shelha (Berber) or Arabic
languages, according to the part of Morocco they
inhabit. The type, as might be expected, is very
different, and it is often difficult, and at times
impossible, to distinguish between the Israelites
of the Atlas and the neighbouring Moselm Berber
tribesmen. They even dress alike, except for the
small black cap which is common to the Jewish
CHANGES AND CHANCES 309
tribes. The origin of these indigenous Jews is
unknown, but their presence in Morocco is of
great antiquity. A tradition exists that they were
driven out of Palestine by Joshua, the son of
Nun, but it seems more probable that they were
native Berbers converted at some very early
period from paganism.
These original Jews inhabit the interior of the
country, mostly in the towns, though many are
scattered amongst the tribes. They live alone,
and regard the more educated Jews of Spanish
origin as leaning toward unorthodoxy, if not
actually unorthodox. The circumstances in which
they pass their existence amongst proud and
fanatical Moslem tribesmen has naturally given
to the native Jews none of the facilities nor the
incentives for progress. In the case of the Jews
of Spanish descent there has been a remarkable
movement during the last fifty years. They have
seized upon every form and kind of education in
order to increase their social welfare. Schools
have been built, professors from Europe engaged,
and all this has been accomplished almost entirely
from funds locally subscribed. The " Alliance
Israelite " has largely found the personnel of the
schools, but the wave of education has been the
work of the intelligent Jews themselves. No sacri-
fice has been too great, no effort too vast, with
the result to-day that there is scarcely a Jew in
the coast towns of Morocco who does not speak
and read and write at least two languages, while
the majority speak three. These Jews of Spanish
310 MOEOCCO THAT WAS
origin share with their co-religionists of the East
the title of " Sephardim." When they were exiled,
after a period of cruel persecution, from Spain,
they sought refuge in Morocco. They were already
an educated and civilised race, in learning and the
arts far ahead of the majority of Spaniards,
amongst whom they were no longer permitted to
live. On their arrival in Morocco they found the
Jews of Berber origin living in a position of in-
feriority, such as it would be quite impossible for
them to accept. They therefore negotiated with
the Sultan an " Ordonnance " as to the status they
might hold in the country, which at the same
time laid down certain rules for the guidance of
then1 own conduct, lest life amongst their more
ignorant native co-religionists might cause them
to abandon some of their more civilised and
civilising tenets. This " Ordonnance " is still ad-
hered to, and is known to the " Sephardim " as the
" Decanot." It contains, amongst many other
clauses, rules as to marriage contracts, and on the
question of succession of property.
The " Sephardim " of Morocco are a remarkable
people, who have rendered and are rendering great
services to the country. Hard-working, intelligent,
keen business men, and capable organisers, the
Spanish Jews of Morocco have progressed in
civilisation, in education, and in fortune in a
manner that is highly commendable.
But long before this modern " renaissance,"
the " Sephardim " Jews of Morocco, in spite of
the great difficulties and drawbacks under which
CHANGES AND CHANCES 311
they existed, had gained for themselves a position
in Morocco. They had become, as bankers and
money-lenders, indispensable to the country, while
they filled also many other professions. The
tailors, jewellers, tent-makers, and metal-workers
were practically all Jews. The " Mellah," as their
quarter is called, was the centre of trade. In
their shops there was nothing too small to be
bought : I have seen boxes of wax-matches split
up and sold by the half-dozen; while the same
shopman, or perhaps his brother, would lead you
to his house, and in an upper chamber, with the
door locked, offer you a string of pearls or a great
cabuchon emerald, or a diamond the size of a
shilling.
In many ways their position, persecuted though
they were as a race, was preferable to that of the
Moslem. They had their own laws, administered
by their rabbis. Their taxation was collected
apart by their own people, and paid in a sort of
offering to the Sultan. They were squeezed, of
course, and now and again their quarter was
pillaged, but there was never the individual
danger of persecution such as the Moslem was at
all times liable to. They were able almost at any
time to gain access to the authorities, and even
to the Sultans, who in their conversation with the
many Jews and Jewesses who worked — as tent-
makers and tailors — in the palace, were far more
intimate and affable than with their own people.
Both Mulai Abdul Aziz and Mulai Hafid had
personal friends amongst the Fez and Marrakesh
312 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Jews, with whom they were on terms of consider-
able intimacy. The result was that the Jews of
Morocco as a race were far more often able, through
their friendships at Court and with the viziers,
to obtain justice for their wrongs than were their
Moslem neighbours, and even in the country
districts a Jewish trader was feared. He would
be mocked at perhaps, or sometimes a little
bullied, but seldom really ill-treated. An example
of the fear in which the Jews were held came to
my personal knowledge during my travels many
' years ago. A Jew, travelling alone from country
market to country market, was murdered, and
his little stock-in-trade and his few dollars were
robbed. The murder took place in the thickly-
populated Gharb district, between two of the
most important markets, during the early hours
of the night. I knew the man well, and he was a
constant visitor of the " souks." For a day or
two nothing was known, except that he was no
longer seen at the markets. He might, it is true,
have gone back to Alcazar, his native town, to
replenish his stock, but it seemed certain know-
ledge that he had been done to death. His body,
however, was not found, though on those level
plains, thick with tent and hut villages, it would
be difficult to hide it. All that could be said for
certain was that he had disappeared.
Now, what had happened was this. The mur-
derers, having robbed the body, laid it by night
just outside a neighbouring village. At dawn the
villagers found it, and terrified of being accused of
CHANGES AND CHANCES 313
murdering a Jew, they concealed the corpse till
night, when stealthily they carried it away and
laid it on the outskirts of another village. Here
again the same manoeuvre was practised, and day
by day and night by night the body was con-
cealed and carried on. It mattered little that in
time the state of the corpse would have clearly
demonstrated that the murder had taken place
already some time back. It would have been
sufficient evidence of guilt merely for it to have
been found near a village, no matter how decom-
posed. The inevitable punishment would have
been severe — imprisonments and confiscations —
for the innocent villagers. Had the murdered man
been a Moslem, little heed would have been taken,
but the murder of a Jew was far more serious.
The matter reached my ears, for the inhabitants
of a village confided in me that they had found
the body that morning, and that, owing to death
having occurred some weeks before, its transport
to another village was a matter of extreme diffi-
culty. I intervened, and notified the discovery to
the authorities, and the villagers did not suffer.
The business instinct is naturally very strong
amongst the Morocco Jews. Their existence has
always been a struggle in the past, and life has
been hard. One of the many friends I have
amongst the race told, with a delightful sense of
humour, an anecdote of his early childhood. He
had just begun to study in Hebrew the details of
his faith, and his soul was aflame with the idea
that the promised Messiah might come at any
314 MOROCCO THAT WAS
moment. Bidding good night to his parents and
his relatives, he whispered to his old grandmother,
a lady of great influence in the family, " Do you
think the Messiah will come to-night ? " She
patted his head gently, and said, " Don't worry,
my dear, about that. He will come in his own
day. Learn to add up ; learn to add up." She
was a practical old lady, and her grandson followed
her advice. He is to-day the leader of the Jewish
community in one of the most important towns in
Morocco, an honourable and wealthy man, of great
generosity, and of unswerving devotion to the
interests of his people.
The Jews keep very strictly to the letter of the
law, and though I have every respect for devotion,
I once was really very seriously annoyed by the
rigid adherence of an elderly Israelite to his
commandments.
I was camping in the Gharb province in winter.
The rain was falling in torrents, and the ground
deep in mud. During dinner a Jewish youth
arrived, and, bursting into my tent, began to
cry. As soon as he could make himself intelligible,
he stated that his father, who was camping in a
neighbouring village, was very ill. He had heard
of the arrival of a " Christian," and begged me to
go and see him. I went, my men accompanying
me with lanterns. It was a long walk, and it was
raining cats and dogs ; but at length we arrived
where the camp of the Jews was pitched — a
couple of big tents, such as the travelling Jewish
trader always uses. Everything was in darkness.
CHANGES AND CHANCES 315
If was welcomed, by the light of my own lanterns,
by the youth's father, who, surrounded by his
bales of cloth and cotton goods, seemed the picture
of health. After the usual compliments I asked
what I could do.
It was Friday night, and therefore the Jews
had already entered upon their Sabbath. With
many apologies, the merchant informed me that
the wind had put their lanterns out, and as it was
the Sabbath they were not permitted to strike
matches, so they could not relight them. The
Moors — infidels, he called them — had refused to
help them, and so he had been obliged to trouble
me ! — and I had walked a couple of miles through
deep mud, late at night, in torrents of rain — to
strike a match !
I struck it, and I pride myself it was the only
thing I did strike. I left him with his lanterns
alight, but I made him tip my men so generously
for their long and tiring walk, that he would pro-
bably prefer in the future to spend weeks in dark-
ness rather than risk disturbing another Christian.
A Moslem family that suffered many vicissi-
tudes was that of a former Governor of Oulad
Sifian in the Gharb. Haj Bouselham er-Remoush
was at one time a great man. He owed his ap-
pointment to friends and to bribery at Court, and
quickly became an influential and wealthy per-
sonage. As a matter of fact, he was not, as
Moorish Raids go, a bad Governor. Extortion he
naturally practised, and his prisons were full, but
the tribe he governed did not inordinately com-
316 MOROCCO THAT WAS
plain, which meant that he must have had some
good points. Those good points certainly weren't
his sons. The elder, who was deputy-Governor,
was a thorough rascal. A fine horseman, always
beautifully dressed, he was to outward appearances
an attractive personality ; but he drank copiously,
and no good-looking woman or girl in his juris-
diction was safe from his attentions. He was still
almost a youth when the crash came. There had
been complaints to the Sultan of his licentiousness,
and consequently the father was heavily "squeezed"
from Court, and his fortune could not stand the
pressure. When the viziers had extracted all he
had to give, a band of troops arrived, and arrested
all the male members of the family, while the
soldiers spent the following day or two in his
harem. His house was torn down stone by stone
in the search for treasure, and the Kaid and his
two elder sons were sent in chains to Marrakesh.
His home became a ruin, and his gardens were
destroyed. Still to-day, in the midst of a tangle
of " prickly pear," one sees the remains of what
was once the important residence.
Haj Bouselham, an elderly man, accustomed to
all the luxuries of wealth, succumbed quickly to
the horrors of the Marrakesh prison. His eldest
son died soon afterwards. The third, still a boy,
was released. Some few years afterwards, riding
across the hill-tops near Wazzan, a shepherd in
charge of a flock of goats spoke to me. " You do
not recognise me," he said ; "I am Mohamed, the
son of Haj Bouselham er-Remoush." I asked
CHANGES AND CHANCES 317
him to tell me his history. Released from prison,
penniless of course, he had taken refuge with his
mother's people, who had suffered, too, in the
general confiscation that had succeeded his father's
fall. He was now a goatherd ; and only a few
years before how often I had seen him mounted
on one or other of his fine horses, on a saddle em-
broidered in gold and surrounded by his slaves.
A few years later I met him again. His luck
had turned. Part of his confiscated property had
been acquired again, and he was a well-to-do
young tribesman in a prosperous way. To-day,
under a benigner rule, he is an important land-
owner and farmer, and once more rides fine horses.
As a rule, families held together for better or
for worse. Their safety depended upon their
cohesion and on their numbers. The moment a
man was made Kaid he collected all his brothers
and his uncles and his cousins, and installed them
round him. He exempted them from taxation,
and let them rob. It was the numerical strength
of his retainers as much as his prestige that kept
him immune from murder and revolt. Yet some-
times the families were split up, and then woe
betide them.
Some thirty years ago, on the death of one of
the great southern Kaids, his eldest son hurried
to the Sultan's Court, with mules laden with money,
to buy his succession to his father's post. There
was a younger son who still was allowed in the
women's quarters, and whose mother had been
the old Raid's favourite wife, and she had re-
318 MOROCCO THAT WAS
mained up to the time of his death his confidante.
She knew well enough what would be her fate
should the elder son succeed in buying the succes-
sion— that she and her boy would be driven out to
starve, even if the youth was not murdered, for
the feud between the members of the family was
a deadly one. She held one trump card — almost
always the winning card in Morocco. She and she
alone knew where the dead Raid's secret fortune
was hidden. Under the charge of some of her
relations she hurried her son to the Court. He
arrived to find that his half-brother was already
nominated to the Kaidship, and had left to return
to his tribe that very morning. Not a moment
was to be lost. The youth and his advisers sought
the Grand Vizier, and asked how much the brother
had paid for his succession. The sum was named,
whereupon the younger brother offered a still
greater amount in return for a letter from the
Sultan appointing him to the post, with Imperial
authority to take such steps as he might think
necessary in order to dispossess his brother. The
bargain was quickly struck, and, with a strong
body of cavalry placed at his disposal by the
Sultan, he set out in pursuit. They met outside
the Kasba walls, and, overpowered by the troops,
the elder son of the old Kaid was taken prisoner
and thrown into a dungeon in the castle. Needless
to say, he never emerged alive. The soldiers
remained a few days, and returned to the Sultan,
bearing the promised price of office, for the son
had dug up, from under a great fountain basin
CHANGES AND CHANCES 319
in the courtyard of the Kasba, the secret treasure
of his father.
There was no crime that the Maghzen would
not commit for money. The Sultans not unseldom
carried out their own bargains. Mulai Hafid had,
rightly, little confidence in his entourage — it was
a mutual sentiment, — and there was no financial
transaction, however doubtful its morality, that
he would not personally undertake, and nearly
always with success.
The whole atmosphere of the palace was per-
meated with extortion. The Sultans never hesi-
tated playfully — but definitely — to take possession
of any article that took their fancy, if the owner
were on any but the most formal terms. Over
and over again I was the victim of these petty
thefts — pocket-books, sleeve-links, necktie pins.
One soon learned to take nothing of value with
one into the precincts of the Court. It must not
be thought that presents were given in return,
for it was rare indeed that any Sultan gave away
anything. Now and then they were generous with /
some one else's property, and even that was rare.
Visits to the Court of Mulai Abdul Aziz and Mulai
Hafid were expensive. There were many who
thought that the few lucky persons to whom those
closely-shut gates were opened were making their
fortunes. Some were — those who had goods for
sale; but those who, like myself, were casual
visitors, paid dearly enough for their privilege
of the entree. One of the commonest forms
of robbery was this. On arriving at the palace
320 MOROCCO THAT WAS
gates one's horse was taken possession of by the
black slaves. On emerging later on from the pre-
cincts of the palace the slaves were there, but the
horse invisible. Protests and threats were of no
avail ; a payment, and often a heavy one, had to
be made in order to get it back. At one time
my audiences with Mulai Hafid, who was then at
Fez, were of almost daily occurrence, and this
form of extortion became so expensive that
eventually I " struck," for it often cost me from
£2 to £3 to get my horse back. On one occasion
I lost my temper, and cursed the slaves. Failing
to obtain any redress, T returned in a justified
burst of rage, and complained to the Grand
Vizier. The Sultan overheard me, and I was
summoned to his presence, where I spoke equally
forcibly. I told him that in Europe people paid
gate-money to go and see monstrosities in side-
shows— fat women and tattooed men — but that I
wasn't going to be robbed in this perfectly un-
justifiable and wholesale way each time I came to
see him. It was he, I added, who sent for me.
As for myself, I was indifferent to these inter-
views, and was quite prepared not to come again if
affairs were not put right. The Sultan soothed my
injured spirits, spoke a little of kindness and
charity, and finished up by saying, " You mustn't
judge them too hardly. You see, none of them
receive any wages, and they live on what they
make. However, I will have them punished, so
that they won't worry you again," and he ordered
the Grand Vizier to have them flogged. Of course
CHANGES AND CHANCES 321
I intervened, knowing what these floggings often
were, but I needn't have troubled. They were
flogged, but it was only a pretence — half a dozen
blows each that would scarcely have hurt a small
child. On reaching the door of the palace a few
minutes later, my horse had disappeared again !
It had been taken by the slaves who had admin-
istered the bastinado, and who now demanded
payment for the punishment they had inflicted
on their fellow-slaves for an exactly similar offence.
There was nothing to be done. I paid.
It is all so different nowadays at the palace.
The traditional and historical etiquette is strictly
followed on all State occasions, but the organising
hand is felt. The slaves and soldiers are beauti-
fully dressed. The Court officials, in their long
white robes, are politeness itself, and an official
reception by the present Sultan at his palace is a
sight worth seeing. In the outer courtyards are
his black guards in scarlet and gold, cavalry and
infantry, and his band of musicians in their
" kaftans " of rainbow colours, and the long
corridors are filled with the palace attendants. In
the throne-room, seated on a divan, the Sultan
receives his guests, an intelligent affable host.
It is true the " surprises " are gone, but the rest
remains, even to the lions that roar in their
cages in a corner of the inner garden. The palaces
are the same, but swept and cleaned and garnished,
for in the old days only the portion of the great
buildings actually inhabited by the Sultan was
kept in repair. I visited the palaces at Fez and
x
322 MOROCCO THAT WAS
Marrakesh soon after the abdication of Mulai
Hafid. I had already seen certain parts of them,
but the presence of hundreds of women under the
old regime — many the widows and slaves and
descendants of dead Sultans — prevented one visit-
ing many of the courtyards and buildings. On
the advent of the new regime other arrangements
were made for these palace pensioners, much to
then* advantage, and the restoration of the palaces
was undertaken. But there was much past
restoring — courtyard after courtyard, where the
ceilings of the rooms had fallen in, and where it
was literally unsafe to walk. The impression that
the ensemble gave one was that, with the excep-
tion of some of the oldest and some of the most
modern parts, the Sultans had been terribly
" done " by their builders and the men responsible
for the upkeep. No doubt this always was so.
The Court functionaries and the viziers demanded
and received commissions — and what commissions !
— on all the work done at the palaces. As a rule,
the decoration in the palaces is no better than
that existing in the splendid private residences of
Fez and Marrakesh, and the workmanship is often
distinctly inferior. The greater parts of the ex-
isting palaces were constructed by Mulai Hassen,
the grandfather of the present Sultan Mulai Yussef ,
who died in 1894. He must have destroyed, in
order to raise these acres and acres of buildings,
much of what existed previously. Of the palaces
of former dynasties nothing but the merest ruins
remains — a few walls at Fez of the palace of the
ix, Marrakech (Maroc).
ROOM IN THE PACHA'S PALACK, MARRAKKSH.
CHANGES AND CHANCES 323
Merinides, and at Marrakesh the great walls and
enclosure of what must have been the finest of all
Moroccan buildings, the palace of the Saadien
Sultans, whose dynasty came to an end in the
seventeenth century. Their mausoleum, dating
from the sixteenth century, the most beautiful
building in Morocco, still remains intact as an
example of perfect Moorish art ; and there is no
doubt, from contemporary descriptions, that the
neighbouring palace was of unparalleled beauty
and magnificence. The ground-plan of its great
courtyard, with its immense water-tanks and its
fountains, can still be clearly traced ; while at one
end, facing a long straight tiled walk between two
of the great basins, are the ruins of the Sultan's
audience-chamber, a vast square room. The walls
are still standing, but the roof has fallen long ago.
The description of this palace in the days of its
glory reads like a page from the ' Thousand and
One Nights.' What had taken a century to build
was destroyed in a day. The Saadien dynasty fell,
and the cruel despot, Mulai Ismail, seized the
throne. His first act was to order the destruction
of this famous palace of his predecessors, and the
great building was looted by the soldiery and the
crowd. Many of the old houses in Marrakesh
to-day have doorsteps formed of small columns,
or parts of larger ones, of rare marbles — the
remnants of the colonnades that once decked this
magnificent palace of the most intellectual and
civilised dynasty that Morocco ever boasted.
Perhaps the most noticeable change that has
324 MOROCCO THAT WAS
come about in Morocco is in the attitude of the
people to medical and surgical aid. The Moor
was often ready in the past to accept the assist-
ance of European doctors, and had a certain faith
in their medicines, but the opportunities were few.
The Medical Missions at Fez and Marrakesh were
well attended and rendered great services, and
the doctors attached to the Sultan's Court had a
certain clientele. As a rule, the native's faith was
half-hearted, sufficient to accept medicines if no
charge was made, but rarely of the kind that
would pay a fee. Often, too, the medicine was
not taken, and secretly in his inmost heart the
patient had sometimes far more faith in the good
that might accrue from the presence of the doctor
than from the remedies he recommended. A short
time since I experienced a good example of this.
A Moor, a neighbour of mine, was very ill with
typhus fever, and at my recommendation his
women-folk summoned an excellent doctor to
attend him. I always accompanied the doctor
on his visits. The man was desperately ill. The
doctor and I carefully explained to the women
how his medicines should be taken, and they
apparently followed our advice to the letter.
But one day, arriving unexpectedly at the
house at the hour in which the patient should
have taken his medicine, I saw his wife care-
fully measure the dose into the glass and deliber-
ately pour it away. I remained concealed for a
few moments, and then made my presence known.
I asked if the man had had his medicine. Hold-
CHANGES AND CHANCES 325
ing up the bottle and pointing to the diminu-
tion in its contents, the woman replied, " Yes ; he
has just taken it." I told the woman that I had
seen her throw it away. She showed little or no
confusion, but said, " The doctor's presence is
sufficient without his drugs. His knowledge is
what is useful — who knows what his drugs con-
tain ? " I have experienced many similar cases,
one that was so absurd that it is worth repeating.
Happening to meet an old native who had a
terrible sore on the calf of one of his legs, I
asked him if he would go as an out-patient to
the hospital to have it treated. He willingly
assented, and I wrote on a visiting-card a line
to the doctor in charge. The man took the
card and went his way. A day or two later I
met him — his leg was bound up with a filthy rag.
I asked him if he had been to the hospital.
" No," he replied, " there was no need. My leg
is already better." I insisted on seeing the
sore. Under the reeking bandage, bound across
the open wound, was my visiting-card ! I asked
the man why he had put it there. " Your kind-
ness," he said, " and the knowledge of the doctor
to whom it was addressed is sufficient cure, so I
applied the card to the sore. It is better already."
It wasn't. If anything, it was distinctly worse,
so I took the old man by force and walked him up
to the hospital myself, where he was treated.
Finding almost instant relief from pain, he followed
the doctor's advice, and continued his visits until
his leg was healed. I attempted to show him the
326 MOROCCO THAT WAS
follies of his own idea of cure, but he would only
reply, " Your card was sufficient. It would have
got well just the same if you had allowed me to
leave it there."
The women were, and are still, the most diffi-
cult, but even in their case a great change has
come about, and the Medical Mission to women at
Fez, so admirably conducted by two estimable
English — or rather Irish — ladies has rendered im-
mense service. It is curious that it is at Fez, the
most fanatical of all the Moroccan cities, that the
most headway has been made in this women's
medical work. Elsewhere there has been a con-
siderable measure of success, but nowhere else, I
think, have the houses and hearts of the native
women been so opened to " Christians " as they
have at the northern capital. No great function
in any of the aristocratic houses is complete if the
ladies of the Medical Mission are not present.
Speaking the language with perfect fluency, they
have succeeded by their good works — and perhaps
still more by their good natures — in making them-
selves most justly and most sincerely beloved.
Part at least of the secret of their success has been
what is often so wanting, cheerfulness and love —
which constitute, after all, perhaps the most
important equipment of real Christianity.
Formerly the mass of the people were satisfied
with the healing power of their Shereefs, and with
the charms of the " tholba," or students of re-
ligion. They visited certain holy places, mostly
tombs, where prayers were offered. Others, still
CHANGES AND CHANCES 327
more ignorant, summoned to the bedside of their
sick, negro dancers and the devotees of the
" Aissaoua " sect, the noise of whose music and
chants should have been sufficient to drive away
all the djinns of Morocco. At the same time there
is a certain knowledge of herbs existing amongst
the country people, and many of the remedies to
which they have recourse are by no means to be
despised. Bone-setting is regularly practised, and
well practised, with splints of wood and cane.
The Moors have long been aware of the medi-
cinal value of certain hot springs, which are largely
resorted to for the cure of skin diseases and other
maladies common to the country. Particularly
famous are the hot baths of Mulai Yakoub, not
far from Fez, and the benefit derived is unques-
tionable. I have known natives, scarcely able to
ride to the spot and covered with sores, who, after
a sojourn of from twenty to thirty days at this
spot, have returned healed.
Apart from the venders of strange medicines
who can be seen in any of the Moroccan markets,
with their stock-in-trade set out before them —
hideous dried animals and the skins of moth-eaten
birds predominating — there are a certain number
of native doctors. The most renowned are Shereefs
from Dades, an oasis situated to the south of the
Great Atlas. These men pretend to inspired and
hereditary knowledge, and there is no doubt that
there still exists amongst them some trace of
medical learning. They operate for cataract, not
by removing the cataract, but by dislocating it,
328 MOROCCO THAT WAS
by which sight is often restored, but without any
certainty that the cure is more than temporary.
They are also skilful in removing portions of
broken skull. There is no actual trepanning of
the bone, but the broken part is removed and
replaced, the scalp having been opened and drawn
back by a portion of the dried shell of a gourd,
which, overlapping the uninjured part of the skull,
covers the aperture and protects the brain. The
scalp is replaced and sewn up.
Perhaps the most ingenious practice in use
amongst the Berbers of the Atlas is the use of the
large red ant for closing skin wounds. The art of
sewing up wounds is known and practised, but they
have no means of disinfecting the material used,
and they state that the stitches often either open
or form sores. They therefore employ the follow-
ing method. Holding the two edges of the skin
together, so as to leave a little of both edges
protruding, they apply a living red ant to the
wound. The ant closes his strong mandibles on
the skin, and is promptly decapitated with the
aid of a pair of scissors. The mandibles remain
closed, holding the two edges of skin together.
As many as four or five of these " clips " are applied
to a wound of a few inches in length. By the time
the ant's head falls away the wound has closed.
This system is in common use in the Atlas, and the
Governor of Marrakesh, Haj Thami Glaoui, told
me that he insists on his men using it in preference
to sewing, unless the sewing can be performed by
a European doctor with disinfected material.
CHANGES AND CHANCES 329
The Sultans Mulai Abdul Aziz and Mulai Hand
both took an interest in medicine and dentistry,
and had confidence in their doctors. An English
dentist, who attended the ladies of the palace in
the reign of the former of these two Sultans, was
only allowed to work on the mouths of the inmates
of the Imperial harem through a small hole cut
in the sheet, which entirely enveloped the patient
as she sat in the dentist's chair. So successfully,
however, did he mend up the teeth of the ladies
of the palace that the viziers followed suit, and the
dentist had a busy time. The Minister of Foreign
Affairs sent for me one day, and after some general
remarks, asked me if I knew the dentist. I replied
that I did, and that he was an adept at his art.
The Vizier continued that he knew personally
very little about dentistry, and would I tell him
whether every time his wife sneezed it was neces-
sary to sneeze her new row of upper teeth half
across the room. I replied that I doubted whether
this was an absolute necessity, but I would ask
the dentist. I did so, and the lady's set of teeth
was quickly altered to fit her better. "It is
wonderful," said the Vizier to me later on ; " she
sneezes and sneezes and her teeth never even
rattle."
In the days of Mulai Hassen, before the advent
of a resident physician to the palace, Kaid Maclean,
then a young officer, used to dabble in medicine,
and so great was the confidence that he inspired
in the Sultan's eyes that even His Majesty allowed
himself to be treated. Kaid Maclean's knowledge
330 MOROCCO THAT WAS
was limited to the contents of his medicine-chest
and a book of explanations. On one occasion the
ladies of the palace had been suffering, from indi-
gestion probably, and at the same time some dis-
infectant was required for some one in the palace
who had been injured in an accident. Kaid Maclean
sent the two medicines, with instructions how they
were to be used, but by some mistake the ladies
swallowed the compressed tabloids of perman-
ganate of potass instead of the tonic. The tabloids
dissolved inside, but brought on violent attacks of
sickness, and to the horror of the Sultan and the
ladies themselves, they began to vomit what ap-
peared to be vast quantities of blood. The more
sick they were the more terrified they became, and
in reply to an anxious message, Kaid Maclean
hurried to the palace. The Sultan was beside
himself with fear, but an explanation was forth-
coming, and the ladies recovered.
Mulai Abdul Aziz's first experience of the use
of chloroform might easily have led to more serious
results. Dr Verdon, his English doctor, had
operated on a slave under chloroform, and the
Sultan had been present. The operation over,
His Majesty retired into the palace carrying with
him a large bottle of the anaesthetic. The doctor
tried to obtain possession of the bottle, but in vain,
and all he could do was to warn His Majesty to be
very careful with it. He no doubt was, for appa-
rently nobody died; but rumour has it that his
ladies lay all over the palace as insensible as logs
of wood — for he had a grand chloroforming evening
CHANGES AND CHANCES 331
all to himself. Mulai Hafid, too, quite appreciated
the use of chloroform, and insisted on its being
administered to a lion that was suffering from over-
grown toe-nails. The lion, whose temper was not
of the best, took none too kindly to the whole
operation, which was, however, eventually success-
fully performed, to the satisfaction of His Shereefian
Majesty.
To-day the people flock in thousands to the hos-
pitals and dispensaries which the French have
opened throughout the length and breadth of their
Protectorate. There is yet room for more medical
work, for disease is rife, but what has already
been accomplished is admirable. The Moor, who
would never have thought of accepting the assist-
ance of a doctor in the old days, now hurries to the
nearest dispensary as soon as he feels ill, and any
man who meets with an accident is immediately
taken by his fellow- workmen to the native hospital.
Crowds patiently wait their turn in the gardens
and corridors, and the women's days are almost as
congested as are those for the men. Whatever may
be the people's real sentiments toward Europeans,
their confidence in " Christian " doctors is undis-
putable. Yet the very people who crowd to the
flock for medical aid would probably not acknow-
ledge that any change has taken place in their
views. They don't realise that only ten years ago,
even if the possibilities had existed, they would
never have dared to show this outward respect
for and belief in the skill of the " infidel." But the
change has come gradually, and is unnoticed by/
332 MOROCCO THAT WAS
those to whom it is owing. The same sequence of
mentality is noticeable in many other ways. The
" universities " — medarsas — of Fez and Marrakesh,
closed for centuries to Europeans, are now open
once more to the Christian visitor, who is allowed
to enter and admire these gems of Moorish archi-
tecture. The religious authorities could no longer
insist on their being kept closed when they acknow-
ledged that a few centuries ago Christian scholars
were actually being educated in their precincts,
so after a little hesitation they decided to permit
the " medarsas " being visited. The authorities
of the Service des Beaux-Arts immediately set
about the restoration of these architectural master-
pieces. At first the students were shocked at the
presence of the Christian, and on one of my visits
to the beautiful " medarsa " of Ben Youssef at
Marrakesh, they complained rather bitterly that
the French architects were restoring the old work
and taking liberties with the structure. They
would rather, they said, have it left alone in its
ruined condition than have it tampered with by
" unbelievers."
A year later I returned to the " medarsa."
The same, or many of them the same, scholars
were there. The Service des Beaux - Arts had
restored one side of the great courtyard, but
were waiting for further funds before beginning
the rest. Again the scholars -complained, but
their complaint was a different one — the French
architects had abandoned their work. What
right had they to leave it unfinished ? Would I
CHANGES AND CHANCES 333
use my influence to see that the restorations were
continued and completed ? I reminded them of
their complaint of only a year ago, and of their
objection to the work being undertaken at all.
They laughed, and replied, " Well, you see,
yesterday was yesterday, and to-day is to-day."
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