Finally there were the "officious" attachés. Every dabbler in politics abroad knows the fine distinctions between "official" and "officious" action, and how subtle are the changes which can be rung upon the two, but there was nothing of that description here. The officious attachés were simply a party of the Minister's personal friends, and two or three strangers whose influence might in after times be useful to him. One was of course a journalist, to supply the special correspondence of the Acropolis and the Hellenike Salpinx. These would afterwards be worked up into a handy illustrated volume of experiences and impressions calculated to further deceive the public with regard to Morocco and the Moors, and to secure for the Minister his patron, the longed-for promotion to a European Court. Another was necessarily the artist of the party, while the remainder engaged in sport of one kind or another.
Si Drees, the "native agent," was employed as master of horse, and superintended the native arrangements generally. With him rested every detail of camping out, and the supply of food and labour. Right and left he was the indispensable factotum, shouting himself hoarse from before dawn till after sunset, when he joined the gay blades of the Embassy in private pulls at forbidden liquors. No one worked as hard as he, and he seemed[page 210] omnipresent. The foreigners were justly thankful to have such a man, for without him all felt at sea. He appeared to know everything and to be available for every one's assistance. The only draw-back was his ignorance of Greek, or of any language but his own, yet being sharp-witted he made himself wonderfully understood by signs and a few words of the strange coast jargon, a mixture of half a dozen tongues.
The early morning was fixed for the solemn entry of the Embassy into the city, yet the road had to be lined on both sides with soldiers to keep back the thronging crowds. Amid the din of multitudes, the clashing of barbarous music, and shrill ululations of delight from native women; surrounded by an eastern blaze of sun and blended colours, rode incongruous the Envoy from Greece. His stiff, grim figure, the embodiment of officialism, in full Court dress, was supported on either hand by his secretary and interpreter, almost as resplendent as himself. Behind His Excellency rode the attachés and other officials, then the ladies; newspaper correspondents, artists, and other non-official guests, bringing up the rear. In this order the party crossed the red-flowing Tansift by its low bridge of many arches, and drew near to the gate of Marrákesh called that of the Thursday [market], Báb el Khamees.
At last they commenced to thread the narrow winding streets, their bordering roofs close packed with shrouded figures only showing an eye, who greeted them after their fashion with a piercing, long-drawn, "Yoo-yoo, yoo-yoo; yoo-yoo, yoo-yoo; yoo-yoo, yoo-yoo—oo," so novel to the strangers,[page 211] and so typical. Then they crossed the wide-open space before the Kûtûbîyah on their way to the garden which had been prepared for them, the Mamûnîyah, with its handsome residence and shady walks.
Three days had to elapse from the time of their arrival before they could see the Sultan, for they were now under native etiquette, but they had much to occupy them, much to see and think about, though supposed to remain at home and rest till the audience. On the morning of the fourth day all was bustle. Each had to array himself in such official garb as he could muster, with every decoration he could borrow, for the imposing ceremony of the presentation to the Emperor. What a business it was! what a coming and going; what noise and what excitement! It was like living in the thick of a whirling pantomime.
At length they were under way, and making towards the kasbah gate in a style surpassing that of their entry, the populace still more excited at the sight of the gold lace and cocked hats which showed what great men had come to pay their homage to their lord the Sultan. On arrival at the inmost courtyard with whitewashed, battlemented walls, and green-tiled roofs beyond, they found it thickly lined with soldiers, a clear space being left for them in the centre. Here they were all ranged on foot, the presents from King Otho placed on one side, and covered with rich silk cloths. Presently a blast of trumpets silenced the hum of voices, and the soldiers made a show of "attention" in their undrilled way, for the Sultan approached.
In a moment the great doors on the other side[page 212] flew open, and a number of gaily dressed natives in peaked red caps—the Royal body-guard—emerged, followed by five prancing steeds, magnificent barbs of different colours, richly caparisoned, led by gold-worked bridles. Then came the Master of the Ceremonies in his flowing robes and monster turban, a giant in becoming dress, and—as they soon discovered—of stentorian voice. Behind him rode the Emperor himself in stately majesty, clothed in pure white, wool-white, distinct amid the mass of colours worn by those surrounding him, his ministers. The gorgeous trappings of his white steed glittered as the proud beast arched his neck and champed his gilded bit, or tried in vain to prance. Over his head was held by a slave at his side the only sign of Royalty, a huge red-silk umbrella with a fringe to match, and a golden knob on the point, while others of the household servants flicked the flies away, or held the spurs, the cushion, the carpet, and other things which might be called for by their lord.
On his appearance deafening shouts broke forth, "God bless our Lord, and give him victory!" The rows of soldiers bowed their heads and repeated the cry with still an increase of vigour, "God bless our Lord, and give him victory!" At a motion from the Master of the Ceremonies the members of the Embassy took off their hats or helmets, and the representative of modern Greece stood there bareheaded in a broiling sun before the figure-head of ancient Barbary. As the Sultan approached the place where he stood, he drew near and offered a few stereotyped words in explanation of his errand, learned by heart, to which the Emperor replied by bidding him welcome. The Minister then handed[page 213] to him an engrossed address in a silk embroided case, which an attendant was motioned to take, the Sultan acknowledging it graciously. One by one the Minister next introduced the members of his suite, their names and qualities being shouted in awful tones by the Master of the Ceremonies, and after once more bidding them welcome, but with a scowl at the sight of Drees, His Majesty turned his horse's head, leaving them to re-mount as their steeds were brought to them. Again the music struck up with a deafening din, and the state reception was over.