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THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO, MULAI ABD-UL-AZIZ, AT FIDALA, ON THE WEST COAST

His first view of the ocean since childhood

THE CENTURY MAGAZINE

VOL. LXVI

JUNE, 1903

THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO
JOURNEYS TOWARD FEZ

BY ARTHUR SCHNEIDER

WITH PICTURES BY THE AUTHOR

No. 2

THE

HE ancient custom of conducting a monarch and his court through his dominions with the charm of semibarbaric splendor still exists in Morocco, between the two capitals of which, Fez and Morocco, the Sultan, accompanied by a vast army of followers, journeys from time to time.

The journey, which for two years had become more and more of a necessity, owing to the rebellious tribesmen near Fez, had been eagerly anticipated by the court, and had kept it in a constant state of perplexity. The Sultan's eagerness, I was tempted to believe, was doubtful, and the puzzling glances which he cast in my direction during a quiet game of billiards were suddenly solved by the startling query: "Dost care to travel with me to Fez?" I replied with an eager "Yea.”

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hold Fez, a city of whiteness and"-here he stood rigid to illustrate-"strength." Then, gracefully sweeping the loose bottom end of his sulham over his shoulder, he proceeded to stalk about in humorous imitation of the men of that city, who, he assured me, were vain fellows. I now recall him sitting upon an imaginary horse, just as I was about to leave, and laughingly saying, "On the march."

As military officers, some of his royal predecessors had taken Europeans along, but never in any other capacity; therefore, the natives said, at the last moment I would be left behind through the efforts of those slaves to tradition, the vizirs. Furthermore, distrusting the semi-official manifesto that the court was about to move, the people looked for the Sultan himself to give the infallible signal, which is to appear in person and make a pilgrimage to the shrines of the seven saints buried in the city. This carried out, the Commander of the Faith

Copyright, 1903, by THE CENTURY CO. All rights reserved.

LXVI.-21

163

ful and his court soon withdraw from the palace. Nevertheless, on this tour of the city. city his face betrayed no evidence of surprise or interest.

All were now waiting for their mighty Sultan to give the word. It passed his lips: "To-morrow, if it pleases God, I visit the shrines of the saints."

Meanwhile he was deeply engrossed in painting a still-life of my hat.

In the dim gray of that memorable dawn my soldier could have been seen at the mouth of a street gate, pestering the throng with his everlasting: "Stand aside for the doctor!"

Scarce were we stationed when the vanguard appeared, expanding from a near-by gate.

After a short pause the Sultan emerged, followed by a mixed assemblage of officials and tribesmen. Shuffling animals carried this cortège-for all was quiet and solemn -in our direction, and as they swept by we joined them through the succeeding gateways, until the tomb of the first saint was reached, just outside the Red Gate.

The Sultan, dismounting with unaffected bearing, entered alone to commune with the long-departed saint, which duty he accomplished with amazing rapidity, and returning, proceeded without delay to the other shrines.

For seven long years the Sultan's glimpses of his city had been confined to the little street through which he passed on his way to the mosque close to the

Later in the day I went directly to bother that cheerful procrastinator, the Amin, in whose charge the animals and other necessaries of camp life rested. He had picked up some English, and as he was always "very bewzy" and wished to be "'scused," it required repeated visits before finally, upon entering the stableyard, I was greeted by an irregular medley of mules and gigantic pack-saddles, in charge of three Arabs, who answered to the Arabic equivalent of the titles, "Pilgrim the Arab," "The Lion," and "Son of Fathers of Shops."

Further visits and more "bewzniz" were required before the tents and water-skins arrived.

Who does not long for a glimpse of the mysterious compound at night, viewed by the vague light of a tallow lantern laid close to the earth: a kettle of boiling water balanced uneasily upon the top of a pot of fire, moving apparitions clouding the inclosure, great shadows lifting along the wall to the very sky, the indispensable cups of tea, and fearful hissing of noisy drinking?

The Lion must leave in the morning, as the other two refuse to travel with him, saying his tribe are all lazy.

Now all were impatient for the order to move, which soon came, and the first camp

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chosen was to be at Binsasi, a two hours' journey.

The following noon my baggage was loaded upon the seven pack-mules, a lame one receiving his burden first-" to limber him up," as the wise Pilgrim said.

Surplus household effects were given to ragged Arab friends, who left nothing behind fit even for a begging saint.

What a sight in the narrow street outside! Boxes, tents, poles, pots, and kettles were suspended on all corners of the mules, the many legs and flapping ears of which were alone visible.

"Rrrah! Zeed!" ("Get up! Go on!") yelled Pilgrim the Arab.

Amid the dull whacks of clubs, the packs were soon pitching about like tubs in a choppy sea, pushing, bumping, tilting, dragging, wedging, and compelling scribe and wayfarer alike to scurry aside with gathered garments.

I turned my horse toward the palace to secure some material for sketching on the journey. Imagine my dismay upon arriving at the inner gate to find its opening filled with solid masonry, while, tightly hemming the wall, burly masons flicked the perspiration from oozing pores. This

was indeed such a barrier to my plans that I at once withdrew in a very disconsolate frame of mind, when I chanced to think of a small opening through which the carpenters and masons were hurried, and hastening to it, was happy to find it open.

Inside the grounds the wild animals were still captives in their massive cages. The boars, the mountain goats, and a few remaining slaves seemed, owing to the sealed gate, destined to perpetual dreams.

Preparing to close the studio door, I looked regretfully about. What would it resemble in a few months?

Skurrying in the direction of the flowing mass of Arabs, we simply joined them and drifted beyond the city toward the camp. The Sultan had left the city with royal pomp a few hours previous. An hour on the road brought us to a few camels already exhausted and lying by the wayside to die. A scarcity of animals and the lateness of the season were sources of much anxiety.

Surrounded by the black veil of night, we arrived at the outskirts of the camp, and awkwardly groped our way through the maze of tents, ropes, and upturned faces of soldiers, drinking tea and smoking

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