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THE STRAUSS-KRÜGER
CORRESPONDENCE
Returning to Plato through Kant
EDITED BY
SUSAN MELD SHELL
Recovering Political Philosophy
Series Editors
Timothy W. Burns
Baylor University
Waco, TX, USA
Thomas L. Pangle
University of Texas at Austin
Austin, TX, USA
Postmodernism’s challenge to the possibility of a rational foundation for
and guidance of our political lives has provoked a searching re-examination
of the works of past political philosophers. The re-examination seeks to
recover the ancient or classical grounding for civic reason and to clarify the
strengths and weaknesses of modern philosophic rationalism. This series
responds to this ferment by making available outstanding new scholarship
in the history of political philosophy, scholarship that is inspired by the
rediscovery of the diverse rhetorical strategies employed by political
philosophers. The series features interpretive studies attentive to historical
context and language, and to the ways in which censorship and didactic
concern impelled prudent thinkers, in widely diverse cultural conditions,
to employ manifold strategies of writing, strategies that allowed them to
aim at different audiences with various degrees of openness to unconven-
tional thinking. Recovering Political Philosophy emphasizes the close
reading of ancient, medieval, early modern and late modern works that
illuminate the human condition by attempting to answer its deepest,
enduring questions, and that have (in the modern periods) laid the
foundations for contemporary political, social, and economic life. The
editors encourage manuscripts from both established and emerging schol-
ars who focus on the careful study of texts, either through analysis of a
single work or through thematic study of a problem or question in a num-
ber of works.
The Strauss-Krüger
Correspondence
Returning to Plato through Kant
Editor
Susan Meld Shell
Department of Political Science
Boston College
Chestnut Hill, MA, USA
v
vi SERIES EDITOR PREFACE
1 Editor’s Introduction 1
Susan M. Shell
vii
viii Contents
Appendices 219
Index 231
Note on Contributors
ix
x NOTE ON CONTRIBUTORS
xi
xii ABBREVIATIONS
Other Titles
PMKK Gerhard Krüger. Philosophie und Moral in der Kantischen Kritik
(Philosophy and Morality in the Kantian Critique) Tübingen:
J.C.B. Mohr, 1931; 2nd ed., 1967.
CHAPTER 1
Editor’s Introduction
Susan M. Shell
Between 1928 through the mid-1930s, Leo Strauss and Gerhard Krüger
carried on a philosophically intense exchange, until the war and related
events cut that correspondence short. A series of debilitating strokes in the
early 1950s prematurely ended Krüger’s intellectual career, foreclosing
the possibility of further serious engagement after the war. By that time,
however, their respective intellectual paths, which had once closely
coincided, had diverged. Still, a series of late exchanges concerning
Krüger’s 1969 Festschrift, to which Strauss contributed, testifies to their
enduring mutual attachment.
Of the two, Strauss is by far the better known, having gone on to a
distinguished academic career in the United States, where he wrote many
important works in political philosophy, as well as founded an influential
philosophic “school.” Although relatively obscure today, Krüger was, at
the time of their major correspondence, certainly the more professionally
successful and personally fortunate of the two.
Krüger was born in Berlin in 1902 into a comfortable Protestant family.
He briefly attended the University of Jena before moving to Tübingen,
and then Marburg, where he studied religion with Rudolf Bultmann, and
philosophy under Paul Natorp, Nicolai Hartmann and Martin Heidegger,
S. M. Shell (*)
Department of Political Science, Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA, USA
Still, during the years spanning the period of Strauss’s own “reorienta-
tion,” and during which he was making some of his own most decisive
discoveries, Krüger offered Strauss both invaluable professional and
practical support, and a unique sort of intellectual friendship in common
pursuit of the “right order of human life.”
There are several factors that make the correspondence between Strauss
and Krüger especially timely.
First, like members of the generation that came of age in the waning
days of Weimar, we live in a time in which the reigning liberal assumptions
find themselves under intense and increasing pressure. Although we may
not seem to face what Strauss called in 1933 the “whole modern world…
cracking at the seams” it is hard to avoid the suspicion that for us as well
the “‘structure of [liberal democratic] knowledge’ in which we live” is
“brittle and full of gaps.” That it is at just such times, according to Strauss,
that “questioning begins” [Strauss to Krüger, 22 July 1933, unsent], and
there is the hope of an exemplary path of insight into and beyond the cur-
rent period of liberal self-doubt. Questioning, as Strauss here opines, is a
perennially available human possibility that is especially facilitated by such
moments of political and moral disarray and decay, in which the prevailing
norms that shape one’s primary experience of the world lose their appar-
ent self-evidence. Strauss sees in the “cracking” walls of the modern world
a partial repetition of the sophistical disruption of the ancient polis and its
ways that provoked Plato’s “second sailing.”
Since the seventeenth century, the real point [Sinne] of the struggle with
tradition was to recover the Greek freedom of philosophizing. It was really
a Renaissance movement. In all “foundations” [Grundlegungen], in all psy-
chology and all historicism there is this striving: to find, to find again, an
original, natural basis. [Strauss to Krüger, 17 November 1932]
If one understands why we are sitting in the second cave, then it is impos-
sible to understand this “prison” as a floor of the Platonic prison. Looking
back from here it is rather the Platonic position that becomes in need of
revision. The problem of “prejudice” is, after all, more radical than that of the
δόξα (to use your words). The concept of “naturalness” and of “being
human” must therefore be determined starting from here. The unity of the
concepts “science” and “philosophy” is not as directly graspable (by taking
antiquity as the standard [in der Messung an der Antike]) as you suppose. I
certainly understand your motive of combatting historicism, but in my opin-
ion one cannot shake it off by defiantly ignoring it (and you do not really
[im Grunde] do this), but by reducing it to its substantive [sachliche] and
historical core: Christ’s factual dominion [Herrschaft] over the spirit of
post-ancient humanity. However, this dominion has become indirect in
modernity; yet it is you who take it to be factually unbroken by claiming that
the “situation” of modern thought is essentially determined by opposition
to revealed religion. Now, the denaturing of the Christian “bondage” of
humans in historicism is undoubtedly a special kind of imprisonment: there
can be philosophical liberation from this cave. But when you define the
second cave as the original ground of historicism, then there is no Socrates
for this just as there is no Newton for a blade of grass. [Krüger to Strauss, 4
December 1932]
corum deo or before the searcher of hearts necessarily gives rise to new
doubt as to the adequacy of human reason in pursuing the “good” in
Plato’s sense; whether it issues in philosophic humility or outright rebel-
lion (as with Descartes) that insight, unavailable to Plato, cannot now be
disregarded or otherwise ignored. Our own “lived experience,” unlike
that available to Plato, opens up the possibility of a “hopeful knowledge”
that is deeper than “science” in either the modern or the original Platonic
sense, and by which our reception of nature as a “binding” order oriented
toward the good must now take its bearings. Though Plato asked the right
questions, his answers necessarily remained defective, deprived as they
were of reflective depth.
Philosophically, the matter seems to be such that we must repeat the ancient
and genuine philosophical questions, but in the insurmountable factual
[faktische] situation that philosophizing is no longer as self-evident [selbst-
verständlich] as it was then. This new thing, this newly arisen problem for
philosophy, can only be posed within a philosophy of world history, but that
means in the analysis of the ground of “reflection” that is originally discov-
ered in the face of revelation. Now, one can experience this as a “hateful
fatality” or as a glimmer of hope in the night of our perplexity – that is
simply a matter of our “worldview” and our personal ability of doing any-
thing in this condition. But if one wanted to claim to find the true and
nonarbitrarily authoritative [das Wahre und unwillkürlich Maßgebende]
somewhere else, we would have to understand ourselves worse than we two
do [sich schlechter verstehen als wir zwei es tun]. [Krüger to Strauss, 29
December 1932]
For Krüger, the true measure [Maßstab] takes the form of a binding law
our inadequacy to which revelation makes newly and undeniably evident.
It is no longer possible to philosophize “naively” or to simply follow the
logos where it leads us.
To this, Strauss replies that depth and radicality are not the same. The
order that we experience as a “command” does not have “the character of
a law in the actual sense.” “More originary than bindingness is what is
binding” and takes on the character of bindingness only “for us humans”:
uestion of the law first comes up in the context of the question of applying
q
the measure to human beings. And it is only with respect to human beings
that the difference between a knowledge that is commanded and a “merely”
true knowledge makes any sense. [Strauss to Krüger, 18 August 1934]
Philosophy that is called upon [aufgerufene] through the law does not
inquire about the law, but about the right order of human life and thus
about the principle of order. But this question cannot turn into the natural-
theological one if one does not want to become embroiled in the difficulties
involved in a grounding of knowledge in belief; rather, it must be asked and
answered in the manner of Plato’s critical philosophy. [Ibid.]
Krüger, following Kant, privileges the practical over the theoretical, rather
than treating the former as merely leading toward the latter; the philoso-
phy called forth by the law, on Strauss’s alternate account, does not inquire
about the law but the correct order of human life, and thus forthwith
about the principle of order as such. In short: the original motive that sets
philosophy on the right track is not its ultimate subject of inquiry.
Krüger, however, stands by what he regards as the “lived experience” of
the present moment: Strauss, too, as Krüger pointedly notes, responds to
a demand for a return to naivete whose realizability is itself a matter of
belief or faith. Might the “opinion” in favor of atheism by which Strauss
claims to take his bearings itself “take[s] its measure from [messen Sie…
an]” a “modern idea of knowledge”? Might not Plato’s “critical philoso-
phy,” as Strauss here archly describes his own approach, be uncritically
dogmatic in its outright rejection of the possibility of what Krüger calls
“hopeful knowledge”? [Krüger to Strauss, 2 June 1935] In short: by
beginning with his own unbelief, does Strauss not set the problem up
“one step too late”? For the ultimate point is, as Krüger insists, the truth,
not whether or not one is personally up to meeting its demands.
In sum: the correspondence presents Strauss’s most direct early con-
frontation with the challenge of Christian revelation in particular, or of
what he here pointedly refers to as the combination of a nomos tradition
and a tradition of questioning, which precisely as a tradition is no longer
genuine questioning.
8 S. M. SHELL
[T]he struggle between “left” and “right” is the struggle between utopian
dizziness/fraud [utopistischem Schwindel] and sobriety…. In opposition to
agreement at any price, conflict is truer. But only peace, i.e. agreement in
the truth, can be the last word. That this agreement of reason is possible--I
firmly believe [firmiter credo]. [Strauss to Krüger, 19 August 1932]
Natural law does not play a role in Jewish-Arabic philosophy, at least not the
role that it has in the Christian development. This is connected with the fact
that for Jews and Arabs, the positive law is at once political and “ecclesiasti-
cal” law. The positive law of Moses or Mohammed is the one binding norm
that suffices for leading life toward happiness [Glückseligkeit] (consisting in
theory). Moses or Mohammed are understood as philosopher-legislators.
The presupposition for this is the notion [Vorstellung] going back to the
Platonic state. [Strauss to Krüger 3 March 1930]
As the presupposition that modern philosophy can live neither with nor
without, Christianity is the distant historical source of the belief that all
thinking is the product of its time and place—an effusion of a particular
national spirit and nothing more. With the decay of Christianity, Europe
seemed for a moment to be poised between two possibilities: a return to a
forthright acceptance of the inevitability of division within and among
peoples—to the “sobriety” of the “right” as opposed to the “utopian diz-
ziness” of the “left”—or to the darker re-barbarization—the outright
rejection of both civilization and the science to which civilization is essen-
tially open—toward which Germany proved in the event to be headed.
In 1931, Strauss already complains of the “disgraceful nationalizing of
all good things, and thus also of science,” further noting the not “incon-
sequential fact” that, “given the question of what nation I belong to, I
would answer: Jew, and not German.” [Strauss to Krüger, 23 May 1931]
Two months later, he attributes his “deepest resistance” to energetically
seeking a German university post (despite Krüger’s efforts on Strauss’s
behalf) to the “fact that [he] take[s] ‘over-foreignization’ [‘Überfremdung’]
of German universities to be tenable for neither side: neither for the
Germans nor for the Jews.” [Strauss to Krüger, 25 July 1931] In short,
the inroads of what Strauss would later call “faustic” as opposed to genu-
ine science already seem well advanced.
There can be no question that Krüger shared Strauss’s general view on
the essential universality of science nor is Krüger’s eagerness to offer
Strauss whatever professional and personal help he can ever in doubt.
Strauss acknowledges, with a characteristic delicacy, the significance of
10 S. M. SHELL
Since world history will soon have put an end to liberalism everywhere, the
great and real problems can finally be understood again. But it will be hard
going on this ground, and one has to know what one can stand up for. You
can imagine that I am becoming more dogmatic under these circumstances;
I am thinking of doing so publicly. [Krüger to Strauss, 19 April 1933]
In sum: these letters bear witness to the respective efforts of two serious
men with shared political sympathies to articulate a decent political alter-
native to the perceived weaknesses of a “liberalism” unable, as they both
still saw it, to defend itself. Their differing views of the historical role of
Christianity—for Strauss, an ultimate root of the historicist trap, for
Krüger, the path out of the present darkness—would shape their increas-
ingly divergent understandings of what Krüger calls “lived experience”
and Strauss the “natural” or “pre-scientific” understanding of the world.
But it also presaged a practical alliance between knowledge and faith on
which students of Strauss would later build in the context of an ascendant
liberal democratic west that had met the test that Weimar failed. Whether,
and how, liberal democracy will continue to meet that test is perhaps the
most urgent, if not important, question that these letters pose today.
This volume presents the first complete translation in English of the
extant correspondence of Leo Strauss and Gerhard Krüger, along with
seven interpretive essays on some of its philosophic and historical implica-
tions. Thomas Pangle sets their conversation in the context of Strauss’s
discoveries in the early 1930s of a new way of understanding “the right
order of human things” based partly on a restoration of the “common
ground” between reason and revelation. The remaining authors specifi-
cally address the themes of Plato (David Jannsens and Daniel Tanguay),
Kant (Luc Langlois and Susan Shell), and natural right and history broadly
conceived (Alberto Ghibellini and Richard Velkley). In keeping with the
overall spirit of the correspondence, the collective aim of these essays is
more to raise questions than to resolve them.
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION 11
Note
1. Cf. Plato, Republic 531e.
CHAPTER 2
1
Berlin, 24 September 1928.
[postcard]
Dear Dr. Krüger!1
Since the second copy of my work is still with my superior, I must turn to
you and sincerely request that you return the copy in your possession to
me soon. In order to avoid surprises I need to review the whole thing
again carefully. Allow me to remind you of your promise to tell me can-
didly and in detail what you think of my claims.
Translated by Jerome Veith, Anna Schmidt, and Susan M. Shell (All insertions in
square brackets are our own or those of the editors, Heinrich and Wiebke Meier.
We have unified the date format of the letters and, for the sake of clarity, silently
extended initials to full names. –Tr)
J. Veith • A. Schmidt
S. M. Shell (*)
Department of Political Science, Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA, USA
2
Berlin W 30, 28 November 1929.
Bayerischer Platz #3.
Dear Mr. Krüger,
I had promised to send you the typescript of my work immediately upon
arriving in Berlin. When I arrived, the first galleys were waiting for me. So
I told myself that I would wait until the whole thing was printed. Now
that time has come. I am thus sending you the complete galleys. Of course,
you can get a regular copy once the book appears, but it will still take some
time until it is published. The galleys are missing an appendix, but it only
contains philological material (source citations).
I would be very happy if you went through the trouble to share with
me your overall judgment and—especially—your concrete concerns.
Particularly, what do you think of the attempt to understand the
Enlightenment in terms of Epicurus, or in contradistinction to him [von
Epikur aus, bzw. in Abhebung gegen ihn, zu verstehen]? Your lecture on
Hume has clearly shown me the limits of this attempt. But doesn’t one fail
to understand most important elements of the Enlightenment in exclu-
sively taking one’s bearings from the will to “autonomy”? I would very
much like to debate with you this question of the correct approach to
interpreting the Enlightenment.
Are you familiar with Tetens2’ critique of the beatitudes? It reminds me
very much of Kant’s, which I learned about from your work. Felix
Günther3—a student of Lamprecht’s4—has written on Tetens’ “The
Science of the Human Being: A Contribution to German Intellectual Life
in the Age of Rationalism” (Gotha, 1907). You can find some interesting
information in the book. I assume you are not familiar with it.
LEO STRAUSS: GERHARD KRÜGER CORRESPONDENCE 1928–1962 15
3
Berlin, 7 January 1930.
Bayrischer Platz 3.
Dear Mr. Krüger,
I would like to thank you today already for your letter that will be of great
help in channeling my general discontent with my work into concrete
doubts and into changes in my previous way of questioning. Moreover, I
would already now like to give you some responses to your critique,
responses that I can state more clearly than in the work itself, now that a
year has passed since I finished it. By the way, it was my position of employ-
ment that forced me to remain silent about certain things in the work,
since my supervisor was of the opinion that my primitive interest in
answering the question that the Enlightenment had in mind endangered
the “objectivity” of the investigation. Not to mention the fact that my
society (the Academy for the Science of Judaism) would not have tolerated
my atheistic presupposition being openly exposed as the starting point of
my inquiry. I resigned myself—to the detriment of the intelligibility of my
book. Otherwise, I did not lose much in doing this. I do not think that
actual research depends all that much upon so-called freedom of thought.
So much by way of an apology for the peculiar, fundamentally unneces-
sary trouble that I caused you, as the reader of my book. Now I would like
to briefly convey to you the actual core of my reflections—which did not
come out clearly enough in my work partly for the reason just mentioned,
partly because of that proverbial “helplessness.” What I mean is the ques-
tion: How was it possible for the Enlightenment to have been victorious?
The typical view, still held by Franz Rosenzweig,5 claims that the
Enlightenment defeated Scholasticism but not revelation [Offenbarung],
the world of the Bible. For me, the critique of miracles serves to indicate
the inadequacy of this response: the concept of miracles is biblical, and in
the wake of the Enlightenment it has lost its force and truth. (Today it is
16 J. VEITH ET AL.
The general tendency just sketched fits with the distinction between the
ancient (Epicurean) critique and the modern critique that aims at social
peace. The latter becomes the goal because the point is no longer primar-
ily to get rid of awful delusion, but to get rid of delusion, delusional hap-
piness, in the interest of establishing real happiness. In line with this general
tendency, it bears noting that in this turn toward “reality” Nietzsche’s
position is also prepared.
I approached the work without any methodological reflections or cer-
tainties. Perhaps because I am not fit for reflections beyond a certain limit
of abstraction. In this regard, I would simply ask you—and Klein—to help
me gain footing. One thing, however, was clear to me: that I cannot
believe in God. I worked it out this way: there is an idea Dei innata, omni-
bus hominibus communis [innate idea of God, common to all men]; I can
give or withhold my assent to this idea; I believed that I had to withhold
it; I had to make clear to myself why. I had to justify myself before the
forum of the Judaic tradition; and this without any reflections drawn from
the philosophy of history, simply because I would not have considered it
defensible to surrender out of levity and convenience a cause for which my
ancestors had borne everything thinkable. Thus I asked myself: why? The
Jewish tradition itself, which designates the heretic simply as the Epicurean,
gave me the nearest [nächste] answer. I therefore began to explore the
Epicureans and soon gained the conviction that these ancients had hit the
nail on the head with their designation: “proximally” [“zunächst und
zumeist”] the apostasy was in fact of “Epicurean” provenance. But not
always. I tried to gain clarity about the various reasons for atheism; hence
the seemingly typographical presentation in the first section of my work,
and really not from some romantic delight in the “richness of life.” The
“typology” has its model much more in something like Fr. Buddeus’ list-
ing of the various reasons that lead people into unbelief. I concede to you,
of course, that this orientation is no longer defensible on the basis of my
presuppositions; also, that certain unbridled formulations concerning
Epicureanism as an eternal possibility for human beings are very much in
need of reexamination. However, I cannot yet adopt as my own your fun-
damental theses regarding the exclusively historical [geschichtlich-
exklusiv] determination of man.
I wanted to write you a few pages more. But I must now get to bed,
and I will certainly not get around to writing in the next few days. I will
therefore delay my response to your actual concerns. I will wait until I
have in my hands your critique of my work in its entirety.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
signet of Joab, who was sent to collect tribute from them in the time
of the son of David.
In 1844 there still existed an ancient inscription in Hebrew graven
on a stone in the Dra country, which was said to be as follows: עד כאן
הגיץ יואב בן צרויה לקבל המסwhich is interpreted thus, ‘So far as this
place came Joab Ben (son of) Serruia to receive the tribute.’
Joab, chief of the army of King David, is called in the recognised
translation of the Bible ‘the son of Zeruiah.’
A drunken Rabbi, named Judah Azalia, called on me the other
day; he has been travelling for three years in the southern districts of
Morocco, and he visited also many of the towns and villages
bordering on the Great Desert beyond Dra, which province you will
find marked in the map. Judah was half intoxicated, as usual, when
he visited me, and he left Tangier before I could entrap him in a
sober moment. Judah had travelled much in the East, had read a
number of curious old books, and was full of traditions he had picked
up in the interior of this country; but all he told me was in such a
jumbled state that I could not retain it, but requested the learned and
drunken Rabbi to commit to paper the subject-matter of our
conversation.
I send you a translation of the Hebrew original.
From the preface you will expect much; but, alas! there is only the
phantom of a skeleton, whose doubtful apparition leaves us big with
fancies and uncertainty. The man knows nothing of geography or
history, except the Bible.
You will be struck with the tradition of the Jews of the interior
respecting the tribe of Naphtali, the tombs, &c. I regret he has
curtailed greatly his verbal statements; for, amongst other curious
matter, he told me of a burial-ground of the Jews in the interior—
some mile or mile and a half in circumference.
The story about the Israelite warriors is curious, but the staining of
the hair before battle looks more like the Goths.
Judah supposes that Wadan is much nearer the Red Sea than it
really is; but if the Naphtali tribes fled from captivity, through Central
Africa, towards Dra and the South of Morocco, one of the first towns
or villages at which they would have found means of subsistence,
would have been Wadden or Yaden.
The names of the places and towns are so different from those
given in our maps, as indeed they always appear to be when
mentioned by natives of the interior, that I can hardly recognise
them, and have no time just now to refer to my maps of Africa.
Judah has promised to send me a further memorandum, but the
fumes of ‘agua ardiente’ will, I fear, stifle all recollection of his
promise.
Mulai Hashem, a native of Tafilelt, tells me that the Jews are very
numerous in his country. He says there are two races of Jews
among them, one race has been in Tafilelt since eight years previous
to the Hegira of Mohammed, the other having been brought in by a
chief named Mulai Ali, the son of Mulai Hassan.
Mulai Ali, says my informant, had purchased these Jews from
some distant country of the East—where he found them in great
distress—and he gave fifty pieces of money for each: what money
he does not know.
Mulai Hashem says that these two races are thus distinguished.
The older race have the whole head shaved. The colony brought by
Mulai Ali leave a small segment of a circle unshaved on the top of
the forehead. These latter also wear a black cap, somewhat pointed
at the top, where it is made to curl down on one side of the face.
The Jewesses are not dressed like those that live in Tangier, but
in the costume of the Moorish woman, and wear rich dresses with
jewels. They are however to be distinguished from the Moorish
woman by the arrangement of their hair, which the latter draw
backwards from either side of the forehead over the temples to the
back of the head; whereas the Jewesses (unmarried) twist their hair
in circles on the top of the head. The married Jewesses are not
allowed by the law to show their hair. This law, by the way, is not
from the Bible, but is an invention of the Rabbis.
The Jews, said Mulai Hashem, are well treated in Tafilelt, whilst
they behave well and according to the rules laid down for them;
which, by the specimen of one that he gave, appear sufficiently
humiliating—viz. that should a Jew pass or be passed by a Sheríf,
he, the Jew, must take off his shoes; or, if mounted, must dismount,
unless specially absolved by the Sheríf.
He tells me that they exercise all the crafts which are practised in
the country, except tilling the soil. It appears that the Jews
themselves seldom, if ever, accompany the ‘kafilas’ (caravans), but,
he says, they have commercial dealings with the Sudan country.
It would appear that the Tafilelt Jews are much at their ease, if
one may judge from the joking adage—according to Mulai Hashem
common in Tafilelt—that ‘forty Mohammedans work for one Jew.’
Mulai Hashem said that the Filali Jews, or Jews of Tafilelt, speak the
Shloh tongue as well as the Arabic, and whenever they wish to say
what they would not have known to Moors or others they speak in
Hebrew.
A learned Jew of this country tells me that all Arabs and Moors
whose names are composed with Ben are of an Israelitish origin.
Mulai Hashem tells me that the following oath is administered in
his country to the Jews, and that they will rather give back anything
they may have come by unjustly than take so grave an oath:—
‘By God, there is no other God but He, the Eternal and Just—who
uttered His word upon the mighty hill—and by the truth of the
existence of the two palm-trees which meet together over the river
Sebts, and by the Book of Moses—peace be upon him—and by the
Ten Commandments delivered unto Moses, and by all that is
contained in his Book, the Gadi, God forbid that I should add or
diminish in this affair, else may God destroy my memory, and may
the name of my family be never mentioned in the world.’
Sebts is the Arabic for Sabbath, and is here applied to the fabled
river called by the Jews Sabbatyon.
It is not clear what is meant by Gadi.
A Jewish Rabbi, named Benshiten, tells me that two and a half
tribes of Israel are the portion which make up the number of Jews
that are found in Europe and Africa—and the remaining nine and a
half are found to exist on the East of a river which is named
Sabbatyon, and is said to be to the East of Mecca. This river, said
he, has the peculiarity of the stones in its bed fighting with each
other all the week excepting the Sabbath, on which day Hebrews
cannot travel; so that the nine and a half tribes cannot communicate
with their separated brethren.
Mr. Hay, it may be added, was the first to break through some of
the despotic rules imposed by the Moors on the Jews. On his arrival
at Tangier in 1844 the Hebrew interpreters attached to the different
Consulates were obliged to remove—as did their brethren—their
slippers on passing a mosque or other sanctuary. When he paid his
visit of ceremony to the Basha, on succeeding his father as Consul-
General and Political Agent, Mr. Hay went, according to the custom
of those days, in full uniform. He was accompanied by his staff, of
which one member—the Interpreter, Mr. David Sicsu—was a Jew, a
shrewd and able man, who had been attached for some years to the
British Consulate. On their way to the Basha’s residence they
passed the great mosque. Mr. Hay noticed that Sicsu stopped and
took off his shoes; so turning, he called out to him in a loud voice,
that all might hear, ‘What are you doing? Put on your shoes.
Remember you are an English employé and, as such, have all the
privileges of British subjects. If ever you do that again, I shall dismiss
you.’
Also, on his first visit to the Sultan’s Court, in 1846, Mr. Hay
insisted on his Jewish interpreters being allowed to ride about the
capital on mule-back, and to enjoy the same rights and privileges as
granted to other members of his staff.
It is only within the last thirty years that Jews in Morocco—not
foreign employés or protected subjects—have been allowed to
assume the European dress, or to wear yellow slippers or red caps
when in native costume. Formerly they were compelled to confine
themselves to black slippers and caps and the Jewish gaberdine.
CHAPTER X.
The Moors have returned, delighted with their visit to the land of the
Nazarenes. Around my house, groups of respectable men may be seen listening
to the wondrous tales of Kaid Abd-el-Kerim or of my groom. The old chief hunter,
Hadj Abdallah, sits in his village—amidst a motley crowd of Arabs and Rifians—
telling them of the magnificence and wonders of London, and the kindness the
poor Moors received, from the Queen down to the servants that assisted them. He
proclaims loudly to the astonished fanatics that power, wealth, honesty, and charity
are to be found in the land of the Infidel and not in the land of the Moslem.
The Hadj tells me that at one time he had almost lost his reason in thinking
over what he had seen. His stories have amused me as much as they do the
Moors, and I have been almost inclined to publish the ‘Travels of the Hadj,’ or get
my brother to do so, as I am rather lazy about writing when it is not a duty.
All the Moors talk much of the Queen and Prince Albert, who they declare sent
for them more than once. So England and the English are in the mouth of every
Moor since the return of the travellers.
When relations between France and Morocco were in a critical condition and a
declaration of war seemed imminent, the Sultan sent for Abd-el-Hadi, the Kadi of
his Capital, said to be the wisest man in Morocco, and asked him what he was to
reply to the demands of the French.
‘Refuse the infidel,’ said Abd-el-Hadi. ‘Order the destruction of all your ports;
blow up the fortifications; let every man arm and become, as were his ancestors, a
wandering Arab, and then tell the French to do their worst!’
When Abd-el-Hadi had retired, the Sultan turned to his Uzir and said, ‘The Kadi
ought to have added—Abdicate, encourage anarchy and revolution, and destroy at
once the Empire.’
It may be surmised, however, that Abd-el-Hadi was a wiser man than he
appears. Desirous of humouring his lord and master by recommending war, he yet
put his advice in a light which would show the Sultan the folly of resisting the
French.
Not only was the residence of the Minister for Foreign Affairs at El
Araish most inconvenient at all times to the Representatives—all of
whom lived at Tangier—but it necessitated, as has been seen,
frequent hurried journeys on their part to that port.
On one such occasion, Mr. Hay had proceeded to El Araish by
land to interview Sid Buselham, and had succeeded in getting from
him a reply, which he desired to forward at once to head-quarters by
one of the rare steamers to England due to leave Tangier next
morning. In expectation of this he had, on his way to El Araish,
arranged that four relays of horses were to await his return at
different points of the road between that town and Tangier, a
distance of sixty miles—and, as soon as he had obtained the
Minister’s signature, he mounted and dashed off homewards.
The Governor of El Araish, anxious for the British Agent’s safety
in those troubled times, had given orders that a mounted escort
should also await him with every fresh horse and follow him on the
road. These, however, were unable to keep pace with him. On arrival
at the little town of Azaila, situated about halfway between Tangier
and El Araish, he found no horse prepared for him. Riding at once to
the British Consular Agent’s house, Mr. Hay demanded his horse.
The Agent, a Jew, explained that it was locked up in the stable of the
Basha, who was away, and that the groom was not to be found.
‘Take me to the stable,’ said Mr. Hay, and, calling to four men of the
little crowd of idlers that had gathered, he ordered them to lift a large
log of wood which lay near and direct it as a ram against the door.
‘Now, all together,’ said Mr. Hay. Down came the door with a crash,
and quickly putting his saddle on the fresh horse, and throwing
money to the Agent to repay the damage to the door, he mounted
and rode on.
Before reaching the river Mishra-el-Hashef, some miles to the
west of Tangier, he found his own sturdy pony awaiting him, and
riding this, his favourite mount, he galloped to the river bank where
the ferry, rowed by two men, awaited him. Shouting to them to stand
clear, he jumped his pony into the boat, and out again on reaching
the further side. He arrived at Tangier having ridden the whole
distance in five hours.
The escorts appointed to accompany him returned to their
quarters, having failed to keep Mr. Hay in sight. ‘It was useless,’ said
they. ‘We galloped along behind him but he ran away from us, and
as soon as he had gone a little way ahead he spread large wings
and flew away with his horse!’
As Mr. Hay wore a loose Inverness cape, to protect him from sun
and weather, the fluttering of this may have suggested the idea of
wings.
An account of a curious and unpleasant adventure which befell
Mr. Hay, and which points to the unsettled and fanatical state of the
inhabitants of Tangier at that time is given in the following letter to his
wife’s sister, Mme. Marcussen.
I am glad to find that the straightforward course I have always pursued with this
Government—though often not very flattering to their vanity and fanaticism—
begins to be understood and appreciated, rather than the cajolery they are
accustomed to meet with from others.
The French bombarded Salli on the 25th ult., without giving any notice to us
here or to the Sultan or his Government. Not much harm is done to the town: some
thirteen persons killed in all, and the French have five killed and thirty wounded.
One of their steam frigates was compelled to retire from the combat. After the
bombardment they came here, and all the petty affairs they had to settle were
settled at once—as they would have been before the bombardment if they would
only have been inclined to arrange matters amicably. They saluted the town and
peace was concluded. A reference was then made to the Sultan. His Majesty
accepts the peace, but asks for explanations about bombardment; so B.[22] has
taken umbrage and embarks with all the French subjects, or most of them, leaving
the French flag flying and the Sardinian Consul-General in charge. It has been
mere bullying; the strong trampling on the weak.
I have been very busy, and have been compelled to suspend all relations with
the Moorish Court—though I do not strike my flag. I have given them ten days in
which to give way, and have no doubt they will. My demands have reference to our
rights in trade in this country, which we are anxious to place on a better footing, not
only for Great Britain but for Morocco itself and all countries.
The Moorish Government have announced that they send an Envoy to
England; and his object, it is reported, is to complain of the insistance and audacity
which I have shown in this negotiation. I am delighted at this manœuvre because it
will only tend finally to show these people I am acting up to my instructions and the
views of Government. So much for Moorish politics.
LIFE AT TANGIER.
Mr. Hay had married, in 1845, a daughter of Mr. Carstensen, a
former Danish Consul-General to Morocco. Except when the
exigencies of a climate which proved very trying in summer for
children of northern race compelled him to send them home, he, with
his wife and young family, resided either at the old Government
House in Tangier or in a villa called by him ‘The Wilderness,’ outside
the walls, which had belonged to his father-in-law. This existence
was only varied by missions to the Court or occasional visits to
England. Beyond the very small European society, composed chiefly
of the various Representatives and their families, residence in
Tangier offered no occupation for the leisure hours of a young and
active man. Thrown therefore on the resources of sport, he mingled
constantly with the wilder natives of the hills as well as with the less
uncivilised farmers and agricultural peasantry of the plains. His
interest in these folk grew, and he gained their respect and even
affection.
Justice amongst these people, when regarded from a purely
personal point of view, as Mr. Hay found, often took rather a romantic
than a strictly logical form. But his hope was to gain the hearts of the
natives, and he knew that such an aim was best attained by bending
in some cases to such national prejudices and customs as those
which are illustrated in the following letter to his mother.
The promise made by the robber was faithfully kept, and Mr. Hay
reaped the reward of his leniency in after years, as, by this clan at
least, his property was always respected.
An indefatigable sportsman, Mr. Hay delighted in expeditions into
remote districts of the country in pursuit of game. It was thus in part
that he acquired his intimate knowledge of the character of the
people. Brought into personal contact with the wild tribesmen, in
circumstances which strongly appealed to their natural chivalry, he
gained an influence among them which he was often able to turn to
useful account. A good illustration of his power of dealing with the
native races is afforded by his suppression of piracy among the
Rifians. The story is told in his own words.
Before the year 1856, vessels becalmed on the Rif coast between
the Algerian frontier and the Spanish fortress Peñon, which is
situated about sixty miles to the eastward of the Moorish port of
Tetuan, were frequently captured by Rifian ‘karebs,’ large galleys
manned by thirty or forty men, armed with long guns, pistols, and
daggers.
When a vessel becalmed, drawn by the current, approached the
Rif coast, especially in the vicinity of the village of Benibugaffer, near
Cape ‘Tres Forcas,’ about fifteen miles to the westward of the
Spanish fortress of Melilla, the natives launched their ‘karebs,’
hidden in nooks on the rocky coast, or buried under sand, and set
out in pursuit, firing volleys as they neared the vessel. The crew, if
they had not escaped in the ship’s boats when the piratical craft
hove in sight, were made prisoners, but were not in general ill-
treated unless they attempted to offer resistance.
On landing, they were compelled to labour in the fields, receiving
a daily allowance of very coarse food. The captured vessel was rifled
of cargo and rigging, and then burnt, so as to leave no vestige.
In the year 1851 a British vessel was taken by the ‘karebs’ of
Benibugaffer.
In pursuance of instructions from H.M.’s Government, a strong
representation was made by me to the Sultan of Morocco, then Mulai
Abderahman, demanding that the pirates should be chastised, that
compensation should be given to the owner of the vessel, and that
energetic steps should be taken by His Sherifian Majesty to put a
stop to these piratical acts of his lawless subjects of the Rif.
The Sultan, on the receipt of this demand, dispatched officers
from his Court to the Rif country with a Sherifian edict to the
chieftains, directing that the sums demanded for the destruction of