The pillars of Hercules

Turning the corner of a street, I saw a Moor walking familiarly along, as if he were quite at home. I was just as much surprised as if I had seen a wolf sauntering in the midst of a sheep-fold, or a sheep in the midst of a flock of wolves. I saluted him, and he replied in pure Castilian. I found it was the Imaum of a community of—I suppose I must call them—Saracens, who having been settled at Oran when it was under the Spanish government had, on the abandonment of that place, fifty-two years ago, been transferred to Ceuta. He proposed to me to come in the evening and take tea with his wife and daughters. He conducted me into a meson corral, that is, a court or enclosure, which may be described either as the centre of one house or as a court common to several. This was the quarter of the Moors, who amounted to five families. They have all a small pension from the government, and the men are in the military service. He led me into his own house, which was a strange mixture of Africa and Europe, but orderly and clean to fastidiousness. The women were in Spanish dresses, with head and neck bare.

This was the first time I had seen a Mussulman community resident for a period of time in the midst of a Christian people; so that, of course, I was soon engaged in a minute investigation of their social, religious, and domestic habits. Under this scrutiny the Imaum soon began to wince, and the women affected—but very awkwardly—to laugh. The glibness with which they had commenced the conversation had vanished before I suspected the cause,—they took me for a Mussulman in disguise, who had come to pry into the nakedness of the land. They do practise the Abdest. They profess to keep the Ramazan (it is at this moment Ramazan). They have no bath and no mosque; but maintained that the mosque at the Moorish head-quarters, to which they sometimes go, is within the prescribed distance. One native practice they had preserved in its pristine vigour, and that was the kouskouson, with which they presented me, and to which we all did justice. When I had succeeded in convincing them that I was no Mussulman, their hilarity returned, and they were much amused at the description of my surprise at finding in Europe, Christian women muffled up, and meeting in Africa, Mussulman women with naked shoulders.

The Imaum then gave me the detail of a dispute about the neutral ground, which raged at the very moment of the French bombardment of Tangier, and which had been adjusted through the intervention of England—by leaving things exactly where they were! An act of greater insanity there could not be than our interference in any such matter. It is impossible to preserve Gibraltar without the goodwill either of Spain or of Morocco, because our subsistence must be drawn either from the one or the other country. When we are with Spain the Moors are against us; but then we do not need them: when we are against Spain, then we are sure to have the Moors with us.

This is the meaning of Lord Nelson’s words,—“Should Great Britain be at war with any European maritime state, Morocco must be friendly to us, or else we must obtain possession of Tangier.” Lord Nelson did not, however, see that the measure he proposed for obtaining that aid, would have had the opposite effect. If you seized Tangier you would place yourselves in the same position in respect to Morocco that Spain is at Ceuta, and be under a total inability of gaining the means of subsistence either from Morocco or Spain, for Tangier or Gibraltar. This judgment of Lord Nelson, thus reduced to its true application, is of the greatest importance.

The old man was loud in praise of Mr. Hay’s proficiency in Arabic, and he smiled and winked when I said that I could wish nothing better for England than that its servants should be dumb. The Algerine government lately assigned this very reason,—proficiency in the Arabic—for appointing one of their creatures as consul at Tangier: a member of the home government answered that that was the very reason why he was the person least qualified. But Algiers has triumphed over Paris.

The wind seemed settled from the westward, so I determined to return to Gibraltar to catch the steamer from England, and on the following morning bade adieu to this fancy warehouse of guns and convicts—this military toy-shop and Utopian penal settlement.

Just as we were getting into the current, we sprung our gaff, and were fortunately yet near enough to the African shore to regain it. We anchored and repaired the damage out of musket-shot. Had this accident happened an hour afterwards, we should probably not have seen Gibraltar for a week.

As soon as we got put to rights and had the Rock “on again,” three points under our lee-bow, I asked one of the idlers to read something out of Mr. Hay’s “Barbary,” and he commenced with this passage. “And that famous Rock has always been a hotbed for engendering mischievous reports which, if connected in any way with Morocco, are sure to find their way over the Straits and thence to the court at Morocco in an exaggerated and distorted form.”[63]

There is no escape from this Rock, which, like that of the Arabian Nights, is ever attracting and wrecking you. The first thing I heard of at the beginning of this excursion, was the exasperation produced in Spain by the sinking of their cruiser, and the subsequent discussion respecting the rebuilding of the forts of St. Philip and St. Barbara. I had learnt these circumstances through official persons, I was now come to the other side of the water. Here again from an official person, and this time in a published book, breaks out the disgust and irritation engendered in Morocco.

Common fame represents the governor of Gibraltar as having been engaged without measure or disguise, in embroiling the French and the Moors. He and the ambassador from Madrid took the extraordinary step of landing in Morocco at the moment when the appearance of any intermeddling on their part was exactly the thing to drive matters to extremity: they publicly held out encouragement to the Moors. The government at home has declared itself most formally in an opposite sense, and the foreign minister is a man whose word no one ever doubted. The only conclusion, therefore, is that the cabinet is not in the confidence of its agents. It stands to reason that in affairs carried on in secret, the acting hand will be the one which is not seen.

Former governors of this place have managed their own garrison and fort without distracting Spain or Morocco; this governor, then, must have been selected for the work he has performed. The qualifications and antecedents required are those of a soldier. Out of all the army, one only could be selected on whom had been inflicted the penalty of professional disgrace for heading a mob against his sovereign’s troops:—that one was selected. The selection was the subject of astonishment, and it was felt by the service to be an insult. It was indeed inconceivable that a man who had been in his own person guilty of the greatest outrage upon discipline, should have been chosen for the command of the most military garrison in Europe, so as to exhibit to every youth who commences his military career in the garrison,—and every regiment takes its turn,—that mutiny is compatible with the highest honours, and is even the road to preferment. This outrage upon discipline was perpetrated by the head of the British army, and the strictest of disciplinarians.

In 1817 there was a pamphlet published which, with equal ability and foresight, exposed the great error which had been committed at the congress of Vienna, in looking to France as the power from which future danger would emanate. In that pamphlet it was shown that by an undue depression of France the future peace of Europe was placed in jeopardy: its text and conclusion was, “Alexander has inherited Europe from Napoleon.”

The author of this pamphlet had henceforth to be classed amongst the men peculiarly deserving the attention of the Russian cabinet. He is that governor, selected, in defiance of all decency, to send to Gibraltar, and there overstepping the limits of his functions, he nearly embroils England and France.

A Russian steam-vessel of war was admitted to the quay of her Majesty’s vessels to get coal, which was furnished her from the royal stores, while French men-of-war were allowed no such indulgence; on departing she was saluted by the fortress, with twenty-one guns![64] This I witnessed with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. The assembled crowd said, “Es loco,”—“He is mad.” A foreign consul, the next day, used these words, “Now this appointment is explained.”[65]

I may here set down some matters connected with the recent land and sea raid of the French in Morocco; but, like the father of history, I will give what I have heard without vouching for it.

BOMBARDMENT OF TANGIER.

On the 2d of August, 1844, Mr. Hay received the submission of the Sultan to the demands of France. On the 5th, the intelligence arrived at Tangier. A telegraphic despatch dated that day, reached Paris on the 11th, and the peace with Morocco was officially announced. But five days before—that is, on the 6th—Tangier had been bombarded!

So far the dates. The change of dispositions between the 5th and 6th, was brought about by the arrival of letters from Paris after the intelligence from Tangier had been despatched. The commanders of the squadron, to their great disappointment, were informed on the 5th, that they would presently receive orders to make sail for Toulon, and had repaired on board their respective ships, when the smoke of a steamer was perceived coming through the Straits. It was successively made out that she was standing in for Tangier, that she was French, a man-of-war, and the bearer of despatches. The negotiations with Morocco had been in the hands of M. de Nion, who had acted in concert with Mr. Hay. It was in consequence of an agreement entered into, reduced to writing and signed between them, that Mr. Hay proceeded to Fez, and had there settled the matter between France and Morocco.[66] The Prince de Joinville, irritated by the interference of the English authorities (the ambassador from Madrid, and the Governor from Gibraltar), was prevented from breaking up the settlement only by want of powers, M. de Nion being charged with the diplomatic post. The steamer brought three despatches, one from the King, one from the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and one from the Minister of Marine. The first had no reference to the business in hand; the second left it just where it was; the third was upon a simple matter of administration (Anglicè, detail of service); but there was a postscript in these terms:—

“I suppose, if you have not been satisfied with the answer, you will have bombarded.”

The Prince declared the question to be now in his hands. This letter was addressed to him, not to M. de Nion. He had to be satisfied, and if not, might bombard—he was not satisfied, and would bombard. M. de Nion objected the engagement with Mr. Hay, the peace made, &c. The Prince replied that the Caid of Tangier had not answered his letter! In a word, the affair was fixed to come off next morning.

The Prince selected the Jemappe as the most powerful vessel to place before the batteries, expecting that it would have to bear the whole fire of the place, while the other vessels were taking up their stations. Not a shot, however, was fired by the Moors until the French were in order and had opened their fire. It was just as at Navarino.

At Tangier, of course, on the night of the 5th, all anxiety had ceased; peace was considered concluded, and three boat-loads of fresh provisions had been sent off to the squadron by the Caid.[67]

THE BATTLE OF ISLY.

The son of the Emperor had exchanged letters with Marshal Bugeaud during the first days of August: both spoke of peace, and only of peace. Letters from the Emperor of a prior date to the 2d—afterwards taken—breathe nothing but peace; they announce that peace is about to be made, and he enjoins his son not to leave till all is finally settled, and to do everything that could be agreeable to the French. On the 11th, the intelligence arrived that peace had been concluded: then arrived an aide-de-camp of Marshal Soult at the French camp with letters from the government in Paris, enjoining the Marshal to abstain from all offensive measures, and inclosing a letter from Lord Aberdeen to M. Guizot, which stated that in that event he could not answer for the consequences. The Marshal threw the letter upon the ground and stamped upon it, and taking the aide-de-camp by the arm, said “M. de V. vous en serez.”

On the 14th the son of the Sultan is awakened by an alarm, “The French army is in sight.” He tells his people the Marshal is coming to pay him a visit before his departure, and after giving orders for a tent to be pitched, and coffee—which he knew the French liked—to be sought for and prepared, he again assumed, to use the phraseology of Antar, “the attitude of repose.” He is again awakened—“The French are on us”—and the French were on them—found the coffee ready, and instead of drinking, spilt it. The loss of the Moors was eight hundred men by suffocation.

While the Emperor had every wish to make peace, and every dread of war, the troops had no disposition to fight. The Ai Tata (fifteen thousand) and several other tribes, their best cavalry, had drawn apart, having come to observe, not to act. They had formally announced to the Sultan, that if he prosecuted his present system of intercourse with Europeans, and of commercial monopoly, they would reserve their strength to defend their own mountains.

The French government, in like manner, had every disposition to make peace, and every reason to avoid war. Its dread was not Morocco, but Algiers: its interests were bound up with Morocco against the military colonial usurpation that defied the power of the cabinet, and threatened the institutions of the country. Consequently, after intelligence received of the victory of Isly, of the bombardment of Tangier,[68] and with the certainty that Mogadore was at the time also bombarded, the instructions were despatched for the treaty signed at Tangier on the 10th September, by which nothing was demanded more than had been settled before.[69]