The Romans, certainly. Those cities have vanished. What remains are the old-gold walls raised at the height of the Moslem power. You pass through the gate of Chella and down a steep slope to the saint's shrine by the spring where the farmers of the bled come to water their donkeys. Then knock on a door in a mouldering wall. Comes the care-taker in his gray burnous and ushers you into the enclosure where the Black Sultan sleeps under giant trees laden with stork's nests, in a place of such utter charm and peace that instantly we thought of the sacred village at the head of the Golden HornEyoub.

And that is Rabat.

Fez alone, or Rabat alone, would justify an excursion to Morocco even were the journey long, arduous and dangerous, as it was just a few years ago, but is no longer.

And this is not all of Morocco. Nor is it even, to my mind, the most magnificent part of it.

OUTH of Rabat two hours by motor

SOUTH

along the sea lies Casa Blanca, Morocco's modern port, where a commonplace native quarter rubs elbows uneasily witha new French town as crude and lusty as an Oklahoma oil town.

On out through the ugly edges of Casa Blanca our motor-coach rushed southward, southward down a smooth straight road that bisected a vast plain, rolling like the waves of a great sea, rippling from horizon to horizon with vivid green young wheat. It was like Nebraska or Montana. But soon something sharply broke that illusion.

'Look!' Pat cried. 'Rugs!'

Neither Nebraska nor Montana ever beheld colors like those of the wild-flowers by the roadside - yellow, orange, bluenor yet in such patterns. The weavers of the nomad rugs we saw in Rabat must have lifted their colors and their patterns right out of this roadside.

Then another thing erased the illusion - a peasant in a blue turban guiding across his field a wooden plow hauled by a strange team-a camel and a donkey hitched side by side!

Then a column of field artillery of the Foreign Legion, bronzed men in khaki with a spectacled officer at their head, plodding southward in the blazing sun. Then the endless plain again, and ever by the roadside those astonishing patterns of flowers, yellow, orange, blue.

Then the patterns of roadside flowers and the rolling waves of vivid green wheat changed to jagged purple hills. Above the southern horizon thrust some snow-capped peaks. Our motor-coach mounted a gap between two hills and

there below us spread the valley

of Marrakesh, a valley of palms, out of which rose a tall tower, red in the afternoon sun.

Down a long avenue of palms we rushed, passed a gate in the city walls, and drew up at the portal of the Mamounia.

Who can picture Marrakesh?

If words are inadequate to compass Fez, how much more so are they to compass this greater capital of the south, which is so utterly at the opposite pole from the first!

A vast, sprawling city of endlessly long, half-ruined, dustfilled streets. Hurrying files of men on foot or donkey-back, desolate market places where crowds of men stand chaffering or idly gazing. Rows of women seated on the ground, each behind her basket of grain, wait, wait, from morning to night, like graven stone. A city of magnificent gardens, silent behind their mouldering walls, of crumbling disused mosques, and splendid abandoned palaces.

And what contrasts! Orange trees laden with golden fruit, palms and red minarets against the dazzling white of snow-capped peaks. A tiny shop, 'Modes de Paris,' displaying a windowful of spring hats, a fragment of a French provincial town, come upon suddenly in the heart of the dusty souks. 'But, Madame,' we ask in astonishment of the pretty proprietress, 'to whom do you sell these hats?' 'Oh,' she gestures out over the hurrying streams of Arabs in striped burnouses, il y a beaucoup de Français ici!' But where?

Photo Ewing Galloway

A MINARET IN MARRAKESH

The centre of this city's sprawling life is the great Place Djema El Fna, above which towers the rose-red minaret of the Katoubia. All day as the trains of donkeys and camels come in from across the plain, bearing bales of bright green grass sewn with scarlet poppies, and the crowd haggles and quarrels and gossips, the doctors and the amulet-makers squat here in the sun. The doctors with their here in the sun. The doctors with their remedies spread neatly on the ground before them, careful piles of strange-colored pebbles, bright mica, cumin seed, dried rabbits' feet, skins of insects, bats, and mice, broken bits of bottle; and the amulet-makers with their stacks of ancient books and their ink and quills. Customers come, whisper their desires in the ear of the savant, then crouch patiently in the sand while the physician concocts his remedy or the amulet-maker minutely perfects his charm. Then the

'a tall tower, red in the afternoon sun.'

client pays his bill with a few coppers or a handful of eggs or a live pullet, and hurries away.

But as the western sun begins to turn the pink Katoubia into ruddy gold, the Place stirs in increasing excitement. Dancers, snake charmers, story tellers, appear as if sprung from the earth.

A troupe of effeminate boys in thin white robes with jingling bells around their belts dance a mincing dance, bossed by a burly blackbeard not so mincing. Two entertainers in red turbans and purple vests, beating slim red pottery drums, act out some exciting dialogue mingled with song and dance. A black thick-lipped African jerks a miserable monkey on the end of a chain for the delight of a swarm of small boys. A strange gaunt-faced Arabian, like a John the Baptist, preaches vehemently out of a book. A wild snake-woman, whipping herself into a frenzy, works with her serpents a mad, semi-religious charm upon two grave young men from the mountains, seekers for good fortune.

The setting sun glimmers through a cloud of golden dust upon the piles of golden oranges in the market place, upon the glistening faces of mad dancers and the flash of drums and bells, and far away in the south beyond this tumult, beyond the dust and the clamor, beyond the minarets and the palms, majestic snow-capped peaks turn from white to pink, from pink to rose.

At last, satiated by the very fascina'tion of it, we drag ourselves out.

In the street, in front of the Bureau des Postes, two peasants stand gazing in perplexity at a flaming poster depicting Harold Lloyd leaping from a wrecked automobile to the cow-catcher of a flying locomotive.

COUSCOUS AND SOLE MARGUERY

It is the dinner hour. We hail a cab and drive back through golden dusk to the Mamounia where, in the great dining room facing the garden, Baron and Baronne de Goosemans of Antwerp, Prince Charles Mortroye of Paris, Monsieur and Madame Rump of Copenhagen and Sir John and Lady Saddleback of London are devouring Sole Marguery and sipping a Sauterne.

And that is Marrakesh.

Nor is this all of Morocco. There are yet the jolly souks of Meknes and the Jardin Public where you may see Moors bringing their canaries in cages to tea. And Mogador! Shall we ever forget that ride from red Marrakesh across the blazing plain and the sudden plunge down

181

ward into gray mist with the frieze of camels plodding across the sand to the palely glimmering gates of Mogador? And Mazagan and Azemmour-what names!

Morocco is at this moment almost the same land to the eye that Pierre Loti saw forty years ago and Leo the African saw four hundred years ago. Roads, luxurious hotels and motor transport, shops and docks and banks, these the French have built and thus far all this has left the life of the souks untouched. But how long will it remain so? The fez and the veil have vanished from Stamboul. So beware. My admonition is to go to Morocco now when you can still step out of your hotel lobby straight into the Arabian Nights. . . .

...

Photo Ewing Galloway

T

HERE would almost seem to be a conspiracy of silence on the part of the Press with regard to the latest developments in the affairs of Egypt. The suspension of parliamentary institutions and the establishment of a dictatorship in any foreign country would in the ordinary course receive special attention, and the various crosscurrents of opinion produced by such an upheaval would gain full publicity. Except for a brief report of the secret meeting of a number of members of Parliament in a private house, the absence of any news from Egypt might lead us to suppose that the latest coup d'état has passed off without any resentment or opposition on the part of the Egyptian people.

This silence is not so much due to a reluctance to stir up what may prove to be a veritable hornets' nest as to the very strict censorship which has been imposed on the local Press and to the control exercised by the British Residency over British correspondents. But we must not be misled into supposing

that this is a case where no news is good news. The British public are generally ill-informed on foreign affairs. This is the old tradition. Their ignorance renders them powerless, and they are kept ignorant in order that they may be powerless. The sequence of events in Egypt, piecemeal and incomplete as it reaches us, is difficult to follow. Political moves in any foreign country are not easy to interpret, but when they take place in an oriental atmosphere of plot and intrigue it becomes almost impossible for us to judge their true significance or to appreciate the strength or weakness of men and movements. In Egypt, however, owing to its peculiar relationship to this country, an unusual degree of responsibility rests on us, which must prevent us from dismissing problems of government with the aloof unconcern which we can display in the case of foreign countries.

Apart from the details and confusing circumstances which lead from time to time to crises in Egypt, there are certain broad principles, certain fundamental

lines of policy, about which British public opinion can quite well make up its mind and, indeed, should quite firmly come to a decision. Let us consider these before examining more recent events. We need not go back into early history and discuss our presence in Egypt and our promises to evacuate. We need only be concerned with present circumstances. What vital British interest is bound up with Egypt? The answer to this may be found in the first of the reserved points which accompanied the unilateral declaration of Egyptian independence in February, 1922: 'The security of the communications of the British Empire in Egypt,' and the second point, which is consequential:

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"The defense of Egypt against all foreign aggression or interference, direct or indirect.' In other words, we consider it vital that in case of war we should have complete control over the Suez Canal. But the military strategist will at once ask how without full command of the Mediterranean we can prevent the canal being blocked on the outbreak of a war, and how in any event a British regiment at Cairo or on the Canal itself can effectively secure control over the waterway. Circumstances have changed. The development of the Air arm has very much mitigated the importance of sea-power, and the idea is gaining ground that the great waterways of the world should be internationalized and not remain under the sole control of any single nation. These considerations take away much of the substance from the second consequential point, namely, the defense of Egypt against foreign aggression. The strategic value of Egypt no longer makes it a special prize for an aggressor. But behind all this lies the aggressor myth, the unprovoked attack of an enemy out of the blue which never happens, but the warning of which proves enormously useful in instilling through fear a desire for protection. The Egyptian people have been successfully scared about this-a consideration which we will take into account later. What British public opinion has to decide is whether this very doubtful strategic hypothesis is in itself sufficient justification for continuing to prevent the Egyptian people from having complete and unfettered autonomy.

There is undoubtedly a general reluctance on the part of the British people to keep any other people in tutelage or subjection. The declaration of independence in 1922 was accompanied by many assurances of sympathy and encouragement for the institution of representative government. The High Commissioner in a note to the Sultan said, 'As regards the internal administration of Egypt, H.M. Government will view with favor the creation of a Parliament with right to control the policy and administration of a constitutionally responsible Government.' Now some people may quite legitimately doubt whether a representative parliamentary system, the roots of which have

struck deep in Western soil, can successfully thrive in oriental soil. No conspicuous success has accompanied other attempts, as, for instance, in Turkey and Persia, and we are forced to admit that even in Southern and Eastern Europe the parliamentary system, so far from flourishing, has broken down. There is no reason whatever why a method of government which we have slowly developed in the course of six centuries should suit people of other race and entirely different traditions. On the contrary, there is every reason why it should not. But if there is one thing that is certain and can be made abundantly clear, it is that a grant of independence with substantial reservations is far worse than no grant of independence whatever, and the establishment of a Parliament without complete control and not even assured of its own continued existence is far worse than the failure to establish any Parliament at all. The reservations which accompanied the British declaration of 1922 were, of course, not accepted by Egypt. But they became outstanding questions which awaited settlement, and necessarily formed the basis of all future negotiations.

Since 1922 two definite attempts have been made to settle these outstanding issues: Mr. Ramsay MacDonald's conversations in 1924 with Zaghlul Pasha and Sir Austen Chamberlain's projected Treaty in 1928. Both failed. Superficially, it might appear that the draft Treaty came nearer to success than the conversations of 1924, which never reached the stage of specific proposals. But there is this fundamental and significant difference between these two attempts. Mr. MacDonald may have failed, but he was dealing with a man who could undoubtedly speak for majority Egyptian opinion, and could have fully implemented any agreement arrived at. Sir Austen Chamberlain in Sarwat Pasha was dealing with a man who did not represent majority Egyptian opinion, and who was almost certain to be thrown over, whatever conclusion he arrived at. Moreover, Mr. MacDonald's conversation with Zaghlul was only the first round in a characteristically oriental negotiation which would certainly have been resumed had it not been for the fall of the Labor Government. His Majesty's present Government have throughout been and are still anxious to arrive at a settlement, but they have and are still making the fatal mistake of supposing that this can be done by setting up in Egypt an authority or a minister who is likely to be accommodating and sympathetic to the British point of view. Obviously this is a case in which failure

GREAT BRITAIN AND EGYPT

with the proper representative authority is preferable to success with a puppet who will eventually be repudiated by Egyptian public opinion.

183

The Wafd represents not a narrow but a very large majority of Egyptian Nationalist opinion. It returned an overwhelming majority of deputies to Parliament. Even the death of Zaghlul has not mitigated its power or weakened its policy. We may not like the policy of the Wafd; we may feel a certain hopelessness in attempting to come to any agreement with Nationalist extremists who apparently refuse all compromise. But unless we deal with the Wafd, unless we take fully into account the opinions and policy which the Wafd represents, and unless we accept as a spokesman for JOHN BULL: Aren't you opening your mouth rather wide? You've Egypt a minister in whom

A BRITISH VIEW OF EGYPT

already had as much as is good for your Constitution.'

the Wafd has complete confidence, no success whatever can ever attend any endeavors to settle our Egyptian difficulties.

Events since 1924 show at each stage not only attempts to ignore and suppress Wafd opinion, but a still more serious disregard of the constitutional parliamentary system the establishment of which we ourselves favored. Alongside of Parliament and by no means subject to it, but, on the contrary, a rival to parliamentary authority, there is King Fuad, who is not without autocratic ambitions, and there is the British Residency, which has a peculiar and in some respects a key position and exercises a paramount influence.

After the murder of the Sirdar in November, 1924, Zaghlul Pasha was forced out of office, and Ziwar Pasha, backed by the Palace and the Residency, took his place. The King, hoping to consolidate his power, suspended parliamentary government for eighteen eighteen months. When, after a period of Palace intrigue, the suspended constitution was revived and elections were held, the coalition of Wafdists and Liberal Concoalition of Wafdists and Liberal Constitutionalists swept the country. But Zaghlul was not allowed to form a Cabinet; he became President of the Chamber of Deputies. After two years, came Sir Austen Chamberlain's failure with Sarwat Pasha, a Liberal Prime Minister, Sarwat Pasha, a Liberal Prime Minister, who entered on negotiations on his own initiative without any parliamentary

mandate or without consultation with the most powerful political party in Egypt. On Sarwat's resignation Nahas Pasha, a Wafdist Minister, succeeded. But again majority Egyptian opinion as represented in Parliament was to be flouted, this time not by the King, but by the British Government. Nahas found himself confronted with an ultimatum from Great Britain demanding the withdrawal of the Assemblies Bill on the eve of its passage through Parliament.

There is no need to enter into the technical discussion of the projected Bill and the hypothetical results contemplated from its passage. It is sufficient to say that the British Government considered that as a result of such a law. their hands would be weakened in the maintenance of order, and they accordingly declared that 'H.M. Government cannot permit the discharge of any of their responsibilities under the Declaration of February 28th, 1922, to be endangered whether by Egyptian legislation of the nature indicated above or by administrative action, and they reserve the right to take such steps as in their view the situation may demand.' This ultimatum was backed by the dispatch of a warship. Nahas yielded and agreed to postpone the Bill. But as a representative of the Wafd his days were numbered. In June the Egyptian Press published scandalous allegations against Nahas of fraudulent conspiracy. It was alleged

that in his capacity as a lawyer he had contracted to receive enormous fees in connection with the claim of Prince Seif-ed-Din for the restoration of His Highness's very large estate. An inquiry is being made into the case, and as the charges were denied, they could not actually be used against Nahas. But an unfavorable atmosphere of suspicion was intentionally created, and owing to the resignation of other Liberal members of the Cabinet, the King dismissed the Nahas Ministry on the very slender ground that the coalition had ceased to exist.

Mohammed Mahmud Pasha was entrusted with the formation of a Cabinet. In this appointment Nahas was never consulted. Even after the resignation of the two Liberal ministers, both Houses of Parliament passed unanimous votes of confidence in Nahas. In the Chamber of Deputies alone he commanded a majority of 180 as against all three opposition parties numbering 34. It became clear that Mahmud, the new Prime Minister, with this majority against him, could not meet Parliament. The two could not exist side by side. The King and his new minister, encouraged no doubt by the British antipathy to a Parliament dominated by the Wafd, has now recklessly decided on the suspension of Parliament for three years. It is expected during that period that a new electoral law will be promulgated by edict in order to arrange elections in such a manner as to prevent the return of a Wafdist majority. This may prove difficult.

Whatever may be thought as to the expediency or otherwise of the various steps taken during the last three years, no one can for a moment pretend that the Egyptian Parliament has been given a fair chance. The unwisdom of these repeated attempts to stifle majority opinion and to set up acquiescent ministers favorable to British Conservative policy cannot be over-emphasized. It may be difficult to point to the right way of proceeding, but there can be no

question that this is decidedly the wrong way. Treaties or agreements signed with Minority ministers, so far from helping, will indubitably hinder an eventual settlement. It is something to learn that the British Government do not intend to renew negotiations, at any rate for the present.

Criticism is always easier than construction. In the Egyptian question, which year by year becomes further obscured by fresh complications, a solution is far from easy to define. Extreme Nationalist opinion which the Wafd has inherited from Zaghlul may not be so hopelessly uncompromising as is generally supposed. It is not so much British proposals as British eventual intentions of which they are suspicious. They are persuaded that it is not the fixed intention of Great Britain to relax completely at any date a controlling hand which must deprive Egypt of absolute autonomy. Take the crucial question of the British garrison. There can be little doubt that the immediate evacuation of every every British soldier from Egyptian soil within a month would neither be demanded nor accepted by the great body of majority opinion in Egypt. Not only do they fear the autocratic ambitions of King Fuad but they have tions of King Fuad but they have learned some lessons from the drastic methods adopted by the French in Syria, and they are fully aware that in Italy and Turkey unscrupulous autocracies may take advantage of their weakness. The question therefore resolves itself into one of time and degree, to be adjusted according to the legitimate ambitions of Egypt, and a reconsideration bitions of Egypt, and a reconsideration by Great Britain of imperial strategic necessities.

The other outstanding problem of importance is the question of the Soudan. Space forbids any examination of the vicissitudes through which this question has passed. It is sufficient to say that from the Egyptian point of view it is not merely a question of territory. Nile water supply is a matter of vital necessity to the very existence of Egypt. In

the course of imperial aggrandizement we have established economic interests in the Soudan and have undertaken certain obligations towards the Arab population which we cannot lightly abandon. Compromise here is unlikely to be reached by the wrangling of the two interested parties, more especially when the Soudan problem is linked up with the other highly contentious controversies connected with Egypt itself. But the Soudan and the Suez Canal present just the sort of international problem suitable for submission to the League of Nations, so that without any question of triumph or submission on one side or the other a decision may be arrived at by an impartial outside authority by which both parties will abide.

We may sum up our conclusions on the broad lines of principle and method which British public opinion can easily understand.

(a) Our declared intention should be the establishment without reserve or qualification of an independent autonomous Egypt.

(b) The steps taken towards this end must be devised according to the best interests of the Egyptian people and to the responsibilities and obligations which our long sojourn in the country has for the time being imposed on us.

(c) Negotiations for a Treaty of Alliance must be conducted only with a responsible authority, representative of majority opinion in Egypt.

(d) Egypt must become a member of the League of Nations in order that the major issues which prove incapable of adjustment in bilateral negotiation may be submitted to that body for an impartial international verdict.

With the right spirit and intention, the right approach and the right people as negotiators, it is not impossible that a solution can be found. Unfortunately for the moment we have drifted far down the wrong road, and time will be needed for us to retrace our steps and for Egypt to be restored to normal and regular conditions of government.