IT is generally put down to the weakness of Abdul Aziz that Morocco has come to its present pass, and there is no doubt that had the youthful Sultan possessed a little more of firmness he would not have come now to be a mere dependent of the French. But Morocco has long been doomed. Even in the days of the former Sultan, who ruled the Moors as they understood and gave them a government the likes of which they say they wish they had to-day, the tribes were constantly at war with one another and with him. Continual rebellions in Morocco proper left Mulai Hassan no time to subdue the Berber tribes to the south, nominally his subjects; and when in his age he set upon a long-projected pilgrimage to the birthplace of his dynasty, Tafilet, he could venture across the Atlas mountains only after emissaries had begged or bought from the Berbers the right of way.
The tragic death of Mulai Hassan while on the march, and the manner in which the throne was saved to Abdul Aziz, his favourite son, made graphic reading in the summer of 1894; and they will serve to-day to illustrate the sad, chaotic state of the whole poor Moorish empire. The old Sultan was not well when he returned from Tafilet, but serious disorders throughout the country allowed him to rest at Marakesh, his southern capital, only a few months. Proposing to move on to Rabat, thence to Fez, punishing lawless and rebellious tribes that had risen while he was away, he set out from Marakesh with an army composed of many hostile elements, conscripts kept together largely by their awe of him and hope of loot. They came to but the first rebellious district, that of the Tedla tribes, when Mulai Hassan fell seriously ill and was unable to go on. But after several days the news was spread one morning that he had sufficiently recovered and would proceed. Only the viziers and a few slaves—who held their tongues to save their heads—knew that Mulai Hassan was dead.
For a day the body, seated within the royal palanquin, was borne along in state, preceded as usual by many banners, the line of spear-bearers, and the six led horses, and flanked by the bearer of the parasol and the black who flicks the silken scarf. Though speed was imperative the usual halts were made that no suspicion should arise. In the morning at ten o’clock, the Sultan’s usual breakfast time, the army stopped, a tent was pitched, and into it the palanquin was carried. Food was cooked and green tea brewed and taken in, to be brought out again as if they had been tasted. At night the royal band played before the Sultan’s vast enclosure. But the secret was not to be kept long in a climate like that of Morocco in summer; and lest the corpse should tell its own tale, at the end of a long day’s march, as the army pitched its camp in the evening, the news went out, spreading like a wave through the company, that the Sultan was dead, and that Abdul Aziz was the Sultan, having been the choice of his father.
In an hour the camp split up into a hundred parties, each distrustful of some other. There was not a tribe but had some blood feud with another, and now the reason for the truce that had held hitherto was gone. Men of the same tribe banded together for defence and marched together at some distance from the others; conscripts from the neighbouring districts, or districts to the south, took their leave; private interests actuated now where awe and fear had held before. Soon the news got to the country, and the tribes through which the m’halla passed began to cut off stragglers, to plunder where they could and drive off animals that strayed.
By forced marches the army at last arrived at Rabat, and those of the tribesmen who cared to halt pitched their camp on the hills outside the walls. Promptly that night the Sultan’s body, accompanied by a single shereef and surrounded by a small contingent of foot-soldiers, was passed into the town through a hole in the wall—a dead man, it is said, never going in through the gates—and was entombed, as is the custom with Sultans, in a mosque. In the morning, when the people bestirred themselves to see the entry of the dead Hassan, they saw instead the new Sultan, then sixteen years of age, led forth on his father’s great white horse, and, shading him, the crimson parasol marking his authority.
The secrecy that had been maintained was not intended only to keep the m’halla intact; primarily the object was to ensure the succession of the youth then at Rabat, the nearest capital. Had the Maghzen been in the proximity of Fez or Marakesh, in spite of the Moorish law that passes on the succession to the Shereef of the dead man’s choice, Abdul Aziz might not have been the Sultan of Morocco. Uncles and rival brothers he had many, and high pretenders of other shereefian families might soon have risen. It was therefore important for the viziers themselves that the succession should come as a coup d’état, and that they should be on hand to support it with as much of the army as they could hold together.
A PRINCELY KAID.
THE ROYAL BAND.
There were, of course, many heads to be cut off, both politically and physically. Mulai Omar (a son of Hassan by a negro slave and therefore half-brother of Abdul Aziz) secured the acknowledgment of Aziz in the great mosques at Fez, where he held the authority of Khalif, but later behaved in a most suspicious manner. A black boy whom he sent to stop the bands from celebrating the accession, being defied, drove his knife into a drum; and for this the hand that did the work was flayed and salted and the fingers bound together closed, until they grew fast to the palm and left the hand for ever a useless stump. Mulai Omar himself was made a royal prisoner, as was his brother Mulai Mohammed, Khalif of the southern capital (who has been released only within the past few weeks in order, it is reported, that he might take command of the army against Hafid, the trusted brother who became Khalif of Marakesh and governed there for many years, until recently, after the affair at Casablanca, when he essayed to become Sultan himself).
In the ranks of the viziers there was also trouble; Sid Akhmed ben Musa, the Hajib or Chamberlain, trusted of Hassan and also of the young Sultan’s mother, who possessed unusual power, became protector of Abdul Aziz; whereupon, for the safety of his own position if not from jealousy, Sid Akhmed caused to be removed from office most of his fellow viziers, filling their places with his own brothers and men who would do his bidding. The dismissal of the fallen viziers was followed by their prompt arrest, and all their property was confiscated, not excepting their concubines and slaves. From a palace second only to that of the Sultan, the Grand Vizier, Haj Amaati (who had plundered the country in the most barbarous fashion and put his money in property, there being no banks), went to prison in a single shirt, and a mongrel beggar swapped caps with him as he was dragged bound through the streets.
Sid Akhmed ruled as dictator, suppressing wayward tribes by vigorous means, as well, probably, as anyone not a Sultan could, until the year 1900, when he died. The young Sultan, then being twenty-two, assumed alone the power of his office, to rule the country in a feeble, half-hearted way, his object, it would seem, more to entertain himself than to improve the condition of his passing empire. Morocco needs a tyrant, for tyranny is the only law it knows; yet Abdul Aziz, raised to believe himself enlightened, and having no taste for brutality, has endeavoured to govern easily.
He was brought up by his mother, a Circassian of evident taste and refinement, much in the manner of a European child. Kept within her sight and shielded from immorality, he grew up pure and most unlike his many brothers. In all Morocco there was no company for him. In mind there was nothing in common between him and any of his household. Even his women, brought as presents from the corners of the country, some from Constantinople, had for him only temporary charm. It was natural that a young man of his temperament and education, trained to abhor the vices and the crimes to which the Moors are given over, should become more interested in Western things, and should seek to reform his country. But Abdul Aziz had been weakened as well as preserved by his training, and when he came to authority it was without the determination and without the courage of his youth and of his race. In no sympathy with his Court or with his countrymen, it was natural for him to surround himself with men with whom he could be intimate, and the retinue that he acquired were Europeans, mostly Englishmen.
European things, which were to him as toys, began to fascinate him, and his purchase of them soon became a scandal in Morocco. Bicycles, motor-cars, cameras, phonographs, wireless telegraphs, and Western animals for his zoo, were ordered by the Sultan on hearing of them. An English billiard table was brought from the coast on a primitive wooden truck built specially, for it was too heavy to bring camel-back and there are no carts in Morocco. The Sultan could not go to Europe, but Europe could come to the Sultan. He heard of fireworks and gave a lavish order, engaging also a ‘master of fireworks’ to conduct displays in his gardens. He bought a camera made of gold and engaged a photographer. Of course the Sultan’s extravagant purchases attracted to Fez many Europeans bent only on exploiting him. Hundreds of thousands he spent on jewels, which when deposited in the Bank of England brought for him a loan of about a tenth the original cost. He bought a motor-boat and kept it high and dry in his palace, though he employed a German engineer to run it. From the Krupp company, at a cost of many millions, he bought two heavy-calibre guns, as unmanageable to the Moors as white elephants to monkeys. Any agent for European arms could get an order from him, and his arsenal became a museum of European guns.
It was easy to swindle the Sultan. An American came to Fez to persuade him to send ‘a Moorish village’ to the Exposition at St Louis. Being unaccredited, the man could get no proper introduction from the American Minister at Tangier, but by a clever ruse he saw the Sultan nevertheless. The American brought with him to Fez a bulldog with false teeth. Through some of his European entourage the Sultan heard of the dog and ordered it to be brought to him; but the dog could not go without its master, who obtained from the Sultan some 40,000l., spending, I am told, perhaps 2,000l. on the Moorish village.
While spending money in this fashion—which might in itself have made Morocco bankrupt—Abdul Aziz took no trouble to collect his taxes. To bring to order a tribe careless about paying them, it is often necessary for the Sultan to lead his forces in person. But Abdul Aziz after one or two campaigns left his army to the command of Ministers; and gradually his troops dwindled away, and, his moral force weakening, gradually, tribe by tribe, almost the entire country discontinued to pay taxes. At last only the garrison towns could be depended on for revenue.
News of his European tendencies spread throughout the land. The influence of Kaid Maclean in the army was known and resented. Photographs of the Sultan had been seen by many of the Faithful. Finally, it was reported that he had become a Christian.
In 1902 a pretender, Bu Hamara, proclaimed himself Sultan, and established his claim to divine appointment by feats of legerdemain. According to a story current among Europeans, one of his ‘tricks,’ in gruesome keeping with the country’s cruelty, was the burying of a live slave with a reed for him to speak and breathe through. Bu Hamara by this means called a voice from the grave, and after he had called it, placed his foot upon the tube. When the grave was opened the slave was found really to be dead.
Bu Hamara came near to capturing Fez.
Raisuli rose to power and successfully defied the Maghzen forces.
With Abdul Aziz things went from bad to worse, till, hopelessly bankrupt, with a following of perhaps ten thousand men, mostly volunteers, he came to Rabat in September of last year, roused to this move when his brother Hafid was proclaimed at Marakesh. Since then Fez has also proclaimed Hafid, and the army that came with Aziz has dwindled away, until it numbers now hardly four thousand men. Besides these he has but the petty garrisons, who find it convenient to remain in the barracks of coast towns.
Abdul Aziz, now thirty years of age, is a pale-faced quadroon with a black, immature beard and a thin moustache. He is above medium height and well built, of a healthy though not athletic appearance. His manner in the presence of official visitors is seldom easy; his words are few and constrained. With private guests whom he knows, however, he is gay and often familiar. He speaks gently and slowly, I am told, occasionally placing his hand on one’s shoulder, and all who know him like him. He seems anxious that things shall go well, but he is more a student than a man of action. He is vain of his enlightenment, of which he has a somewhat exalted opinion; and he is jealous of his prerogatives. He tells Europeans who visit him that his brother Hafid (who is almost black), was of course brought up differently from himself, that while possessing some good qualities, he is of course a man of little education, and that his head has been turned to declare himself Sultan. Abdul Aziz says he will not punish Hafid—when the rebellion is put down and he is captured—except to imprison him in some princely palace.
The historic empire of Morocco has to all intents come to an end. Whether the French or a combination of European Powers control hereafter, it remains that the once great empire has passed as an independent State. In name perhaps its independence will survive for many years; the Sultan Abdul Aziz may return to Fez and gain again, with the aid of the French, the loyalty of the interior that is lost to him; and he may—he will, no doubt, he or another Sultan—continue to conduct negotiations with foreign countries. But his control of his own land will be hereafter as of a man on an allowance from the revenues that will go to his creditors, chiefly to France and Spain, and his dealings with other Powers must be for the future in obedience to dictation from those creditors.
As an empire with vassal States, Morocco has passed indeed these many years; as an independent country, it is to-day little more than an unproductive territory peopled sparsely with disunited tribes, acclaiming several Sultans, supporting none, warring hopelessly against invaders. Like Turkey-in-Europe, this backward State on the borders of civilisation has long been doomed. Abdul Aziz made some feeble attempts to graft upon it Western institutions; but the change can be wrought by Western forces only and with modern arms.