TAFILET.*
THE Sultan of Morocoo enjoys on the map a huge dominion which stretches from the shores of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic to the further slope of the Atlas Mountains. But though the huge Hinterland behind what may be called Morocco proper, is nominally the Sultan's land, it in fact owes him but a very nominal allegiance. The greater part of the Atlas highlands, and all the country on the southern slope, is only really part of Morocco when the Sultan visits it in person, with a camp of forty thousand armed men. Then, no doubt, de jure and de facto possession coincide. When the Sultan is not present, these distant possessions cease to be his and enjoy something very like complete independence. But it is no joke to cross the Atlas with an army, and there- fore the Sultans of Morocco have been unfrequent visitors to their southern provinces. The most important place across the Atlas is Tafilet,—an oasis covered with date-palms, and rich in that great source of riches in the desert, an unfailing supply of water. In the last year of his reign, the late Sultan Mulai Hassan determined to visit Tafilet, partly in order to make a display of authority over his Transatlas territory, and partly also to visit a district connected with his dynasty -in its early days. This long-planned expedition to Tafilet gave Mr. Harris an opportunity he had greatly desired. He had always longed, he tells us, to visit the lands beyond the Atlas. If, then, he could time his expedition to coincide with that of the Sultan, he felt that his acquaintance with the Sultan's Ministers would enable him to gain admittance to districts which might otherwise be impenetrable. He knew, however, that a proposal to accompany the Sultan's camp would be peremptorily refused. He laid his plans therefore to follow the Salton in disguise and to arrive at Tafilet a Week or so later. Once in Tafilet, however, he intended to throw off the mask, to proclaim himself a Christian and an English- man, and ask for the Sultan's protection. The first part of the scheme succeeded admirably. His know- ledge of the Arabic language and of Arabic ways enabled him to pass as a pilgrim of special sanctity, and he was able to reach Tafilet without once being suspected of being an infidel. His difficulties did not begin till he reached the Sultan's camp, the place where he had imagined they would end. The Sultan was very angry at his action, and refused to countenance him in any sort of way, or to give him food or shelter. So far indeed was this boycott carried, that though he became most seriously ill, the English officer in the camp, Kaid Maclean, and the French doctor, were for a long time not allowed to visit him. Indeed, he was only saved by his native servant taking action. This faithful follower burst into the tent of the Vizier, abused him roundly, and told him that if his master died he, his servant, would make all Tangier ring with the cruelty of those who had prevented him from being cared for. The result was that the French doctor was sent to Mr. Harris, and that Kaid Maclean was allowed, not only to visit and help him, but to remove him from the miserable tattered tent which he shared with a group of half-starved soldiers.
• Tafilet: the Narrative of Exploration in the Atlas Mountains and the Oases of the North-West Sahara. By Walter B. Harris. P.R.O.S. Illustrated by Maurice Romberg from Sketches and Photographs by the Author. London; William Blackwood and Sons. PBS.
The account of Mr. Harris's adventures on the journey up to Tafilet are most curious and interesting. What strikes one most is the fact that he was treated with such extra- ordinary kindness. Yet, had it been generally known that he was a Christian, he would have been shot at sight. Curiously enough, however, the fact was known to one or two
people, and yet never betrayed. Mr. Harris, out of a feeling of chivalry with which his readers will sympathise, himself confessed the deception he was practising to a Berber guide. The man had struck IlD a great friendship with him, and treated him like a brother. This being so, Mr. Harris could not bear to go on taking him in, and made a clean breast of the whole story. The confession, however, did him no harm. The Berber guide was indeed only hugely delighted at his friend's pluck and ingenuity. But the mixture of humanity
and inhumanity encountered by him throughout seems indeed to have been most remarkable. The rough, half-starved soldiers, in whose miserable tent he lay between life and death, knew he was a Christian, and by all the rules should have spat on him and cursed him. Yet they did all they could to nurse him. He tells us that all their beat food was saved for him, and that they were as careful not to be noisy as if he bad been a sick child. "Scanty as were their rations, the best of everything was specially cooked for
me, notwithstanding the fact that I could not even swallow water for the greater part of the time ; and these great rough fellows, brought up and trained to every crime and brutality, became like nurses in a sick-room. With voices lowered lest they should wake me when they thought me asleep, with no noise in setting their tiny tea-tray or stirring the little fire of charcoal, they spent their time in trying to amuse me and stir up my wretched spirits." Mark that Mr. Harris was not to them a rich wonder-working Giaour honoured by the Sultan, but a poor wretch, utterly out of favour, and frowned on by the officials. Another curious experience recounted by Mr. Harris, relates to a travelling-
companion who was returning from a pilgrimage to Mecca.
This person seems to have been a sort of Mahommedan Robert Elsmere, and confided his doubts to his companion. The kindness shown him by an English captain on a pilgrim- steamer had given him doubts as to the reprobation of all
Christians, and though he manfully fought these doubts, he confided with sorrow to the Christian, whom he believed to
be a brother Mahommedan, that he did not feel very sure of success.
The interest and charm of the valleys of the Atlas were much increased from the artistic point of view by the castle- like buildings with which they abound. These buildings have towers and battlements, and in the pictures look very much like the holds of those robber knights who filled the lower Swiss valleys with their strong places. The people who inhabit these castles are by race Berbers, and seem to possess many of those fine qualities which we usually associate with mountaineers. Though zealous Mahommedans they do not seclude their women. Here is Mr. Harris's pleasant account of the people of Dads, one of the most important places on the southern slope of the Atlas :—
"Fierce as they are in war, the people of Dads are when at peace Ore gentlest of creatures, extremely devoted to their children, and living a home-life absolutely unknown amongst the Arabs. Just as in appearance, so in moral character, do they excel, and the vices so common amongst the Moors are unknown in the homes of the Berbers. They seem to possess none of that uncontrollable passion that is so large a feature in the Arab character, and its place is taken by affection and sincerity. Seldom marrying more than one wife, prostitution is absolutely unknown, with the result that the health of the tribe is excellent, and one never sees those horrid disfigurements of feature so common in other portions of Morocco. No doubt to a great extent the moral character of the Berbers is due to the fact that their women are allowed entire liberty, do not veil their faces, and mix on almost all occasions with the men. One of the first things that struck me on my arrival at Dads was the good- humoured and innocent chaff that passed between the men and the girls of the tribe, even in the streets of the km?, and still more when they brought us our food to the minzah on the house- top. The women are distinctly pretty, with very fair skins and clear complexions ; but they detract much from their appearance by the strange manner in which they adorn their features with henna and kohl, the former a red dye, the latter antimony."
With so much of notice, we must leave Mr. Harris's volume. He is not in any sense an inspired writer of travels, but he tells his tale straightforwardly and clearly, and that is, after all, the great thing. Hence those who are interested in Morocco and its present curious position in the world, and
who like to speculate on its future, will find a very fair share Of entertainment in his book.
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