Start for Tetuan — Vegetation of the low country — Serpent
charmers — Twilight in the forest — The Fondak — Stormy
night on the roof — Breakfast on the hill — Riff Mountains
— A Governor in chains — Fate of high officials in Marocco —
Valley of Tetuan — Jew quarter of the city — Ascent of the Beni
Hosmar — Vegetation of the Mountain — A quiet day — Jewish
population — Ride to Ceuta — Spanish campaign in Marocco —
Fortifications of Ceuta — Return to European civilisation —
Spanish convict stations in Africa.
On April 10 we started, rather late, for Tetuan, leaving our
tents and heavy baggage at Tangier. Our pompous interpreter,
Hadj Bel Mohammed by name, whose huge blue spectacles seem to be
permanent appendages of the Victoria Hotel, we found forward and
intrusive in manner, and indolent and inefficient in action, and
altogether of no account as a companion to travellers. Of the two
soldiers who formed the escort—one recognised by his taciturnity
the inferiority of his position; but the other by his quaint
appearance and jocular disposition afforded us much amusement,
if not much reliable information. This little fellow is properly
called Hadj Mohammed, but he seems to be familiarly known among the
English visitors to Tangier by the name of Bulbo. There was nothing
military about him, except a very long gun which, throughout our
journey, remained carefully covered up in an intricate red cloth
case. If by any chance his aid had really been required, and such
an unlikely suggestion were admitted as that Bulbo would have done
anything else than put spurs to his horse and run away, he would
have been driven to beg the attacking party to give him a quarter
of an hour’s delay to get ready for action.
The distance from Tangier to Tetuan is only about forty miles;
but we decided on stopping for the night at the Fondak,[1] a
solitary Moorish caravanserai, about thirty miles distant from
Tangier. Hurrying past the accumulations of offal and filth that
are shot over the seaward face of the city wall, and indulging in a
ten minutes’ gallop over the sandy beach, we left the seashore;
and, after riding some way through deep sandy lanes, before long
reached a stretch of low cultivated land that extends westward
from Tangier to the hills that divide this from the neighbouring
provinces of Laraish and Tetuan.
The season was not sufficiently advanced for the flowering of
many seaside plants; but there was quite enough to rejoice the
eyes of botanists who had escaped from the ghastly spring season
of the North when the days grow longer, but only more dreary,
and the bitter east wind parches and blasts the young leaves and
blossoms that are tempted to their destruction by the mildness of
our winter weather. As everywhere on the seaboard of Marocco, the
great yellow chrysanthemum (_C. coronarium_), with florets varying in
hue from orange to pale lemon colour, is conspicuous on sea banks,
with several fine species of Heron’s-bill (_Erodium_). In the
sands a large purple-flowered _Malcolmia_ (_M. littorea_) and many
_Leguminosæ_ already diversified the aspect of the vegetation; while
robust _Umbelliferæ_, mingled with the familiar eryngo of our own
shores, had as yet merely developed their showy leaves.[2] But the
characteristic form which chiefly interests the stranger to this
region is a grey leafless bush, with long pendulous whipcord-like
branches waving in the breeze, that is common among the sandhills,
and recurs elsewhere in dry exposed situations. There is something
sad in the meagre and drooping aspect of the plant that brings
to mind those dismal mourning trinkets, wherein a lock of hair is
made to form the effigy of a weeping willow. This is the R’tam
of the Moors, whence botanists have formed the name _Retama_ for
a small group of brooms, containing a few nearly allied species,
that are widely spread throughout the region extending from Spain to
the Canary Islands. In the early spring our Tangier plant (_Retama
monosperma_ of Boissier) is covered with clusters of small white
odoriferous flowers. These had nearly all disappeared, and were
succeeded by little hard one-seeded pods, which in some of the
varieties ultimately become thick and fleshy, and are much sought
after by birds. Not uncommonly the slender branches are laden with
clusters of a small species of Helix that at some distance might
be taken for fruit.
Without halting, except at one spot to secure some specimens of
the great onion (_Allium nigrum_ of Linnæus), we rode pretty fast
through the belt of cultivated land that lies between the shore and
the hills. The agriculture of this country has probably undergone
little change since the earliest historic period. The plough in
daily use is the same that is figured on the monuments of ancient
Egypt, and with two exceptions the crops are the same—barley,
wheat, lentils, vetches, flax, and pumpkins. America has supplied
two valuable articles of food—maize and potatoes—and two exotic
plants that have become so common as to modify the appearance of many
localities—the _Agave_, or American aloe of British greenhouses,
and the Indian fig (_Opuntia vulgaris_)—both extensively used
for hedges, and multiplying freely on waste ground. The last-named
plant contributes to the scanty dietary of the natives; but the
fruit, when eaten in any quantity, is said to be indigestible, and
a potent ally to diarrhœa and dysentery. On reaching the hills, of
which we merely crossed some low spurs, the aspect of the vegetation
became more varied. The dominant plants were still those we had seen
in similar situations about Tangier—the palmetto (_Chamærops
humilis_), the great branched asphodel (_Asphodelus cerasiferus_),
and some spiny species of the Cytisus tribe; but the slopes were
covered with a brilliant and varied vegetation, presenting a marked
contrast to the comparative monotony of the tillage region. Most of
the common orchids were seen, and we admired the many climbing plants
that cover the bushes, and even reach the tops of tall trees. The
beautiful _Clematis cirrhosa_ is, indeed, less common here than
it is in Algeria; but the two forms of _Smilax_, the spiny and the
smooth-stemmed (_S. aspera_ and _S. mauritanica_), were abundant;
and a wild vine is common here, as it is in similar positions on
the northern skirts of the Great Atlas, where it is not known to
have ever been cultivated for the production of wine. Our chief
botanical prize in this part of the day’s ride was a beautiful
Cytisus, with silvery white leaves and numerous dense heads of
bright yellow flowers (_Genista clavata_ of Poiret).
Throughout all this part of Marocco we were struck by the abundance
of a dwarf plant of the artichoke tribe (_Cynara humilis_), which
plays an important part in the domestic economy of the natives. It is
almost stemless, and produces (at a later season) a large blue head
of flower from the midst of a great tuft of much divided and very
spiny leaves. Though not cultivated, it grows in great abundance in
waste spots and the margins of fields on clay soil. Great piles of
it were exposed for sale about the land gate of Tangier; and every
morning whole processions of men, women, children, and donkeys,
all laden with the same substance, were to be seen taking the
same direction. It was painful to watch the women, half veiled,
but not so as to disguise their age and ugliness, staggering onward,
with huge bare legs and feet, under balloon-like loads of this spiny
burden, tied up in a large coarse cloth. At this season the foliage
serves as fodder for animals; somewhat later, when the heads are
approaching the flowering state, they are extensively consumed as
food for the human population, the end of the stem and the receptacle
being eaten raw, as artichokes are in many parts of Southern Europe.
Though, to judge from the extent of tillage, the population cannot be
very small in this part of the country, we saw but few habitations,
and those of the most miserable description—chiefly low mud hovels
in small groups, seemingly built with a view to avoid observation
in out-of-the-way spots, and never near to the main track. In this
region the natives are of mixed race, partly Moors and partly of
Bereber stock, descendants of Riff people, who have come down from
their mountains to settle in the low country.
We made our mid-day halt in a rich green level tract that lies
between the first and lower hills, and a second and more considerable
range which connects the Angera Mountains on the north with the
higher mass of the Riff Mountains south of Tetuan. The drainage
of this broad valley seems to flow southward till it falls into
a considerable stream, descending from the high peaks of Beni
Hassan and its neighbouring summits, that reaches the sea on the
west coast some eighteen miles south of Cape Spartel. Our eyes were
here gratified by the sight of comparatively fine trees, everywhere
so scarce in Marocco. Of these the most conspicuous is a southern
species of ash, very like the common tree. It is the _Fraxinus
oxyphylla_ of Bieberstein, which extends from Southern Russia and
the Levant to Spain and Marocco. The leaves and fruit are smaller,
but in this district the tree rivals in stature our native British
species. Poplars are common beside the streams, which are fringed
by tall oleanders and willows, and in drier spots the fig, carob,
and olive grow to a large size. The almond tree is also common,
but does not appear to have naturalised itself.
Animal life does not seem to be abundant; but some of the birds
were new enough to our eyes to diversify the way; The commonest is
the stork, which appears, from a sense of entire security, to have
assumed a tone of complete intimacy with his human neighbours. He
may be seen about the houses, familiar with the little brown-faced,
black-eyed boys, or striding majestically through the crops, or
wheeling slowly in wide circles through the air, till he suddenly
stops, drops his long legs that had been stretched out behind him
during flight, and, poising himself on them like an acrobat on
loose stilts, comes to rest. A blue headed bee-eater, apparently
the same species that is extremely common in South Marocco, was
also seen during our ride.
As we began to ascend the main range of hills that still separated
us from Tetuan we overtook a couple of wild-looking fellows,
one carrying a tambourine, the other a cylindrical basket, who
soon showed that they wanted to attract our attention. Our stately
interpreter, riding along with his nose in the air, purblinded by
his blue goggles, took no notice of them till one sat down and began
tom-toming on the tambourine; and Bulbo, ever ready for amusement,
soon enticed us to see the snake charmers. These have been so often
described, that it is enough to make a few notes on the natural
history of the exhibition. The object of the tom-toming—at first
gentle and lastly furious—with which the performance commences, is
clearly to aid the charmer in his endeavours to addle his brains, and
deaden his nervous susceptibility, so that he may better encounter
the pain, which, though not intense, must be considerable. His
own share commenced by frenzied dancing and bodily contortions,
and above all rolling his head violently from side to side. This
accomplished, the basket was opened, and after a good deal of
hustling two magnificent snakes unwillingly glided out, raised their
beautiful heads, looking as proud as swans, glanced scornfully about,
and very naturally tried to get back. This the charmer prevented, and
still keeping up his abnormal nervous condition by rolling his head
and eyes, bullied one of them into biting his arm, and then his hand
between the thumb and forefinger, and drawing blood. He next vainly
tried to make a snake strike at his forehead, and then prevailed on
it to seize on his nose, and lastly on his protruded tongue, where
it held on, probably attracted by the moisture, for some seconds,
leaving two bleeding wounds on the upper surface of the organ,
and as many on the under. With the snakes still hanging about him,
the hero concluded the performance by laboriously thrusting a skewer
through his cheek, which had no doubt been previously perforated
for the purpose; after this the serpents were allowed to retire
into the basket, which they were nothing loth to do. In these
performances, which have been seen by most travellers in Egypt
and India, there is little doubt that the poison-fangs have been
previously extracted. Whatever may be said of the effect produced
by music on serpents, there is no reason to suppose that it can
modify the poisonous effect of their bite, and the real object in
these cases is to act on the nervous system of the snake charmer
himself. We were glad when the disgusting exhibition was over, and we
left the performers well pleased with a gratuity of about eighteen
pence—quite as much as five shillings would be to a poor man in
England. When once the secret had been learned, many an English
bumpkin could be got to undergo the operation for a pot of beer.
As we began to ascend the rugged track that winds up the hills
the aspect of the country soon changed. Amidst the brushwood that
covered the slopes, old gnarled trunks of wild olive, carob, and
lentisk stood here and there—survivors of the forests that must
once have covered the country—whose charred stems and maimed
branches told a tale of the way in which man’s reckless greed
has marred the face of nature here, as in so many other parts of
the earth. Our last halt for botanising was near a spring, where
the green turf was decked with many small orchids—all of them
possibly forms of _Ophrys lutea_. We were not then acquainted with
the careful observations of the late Mr. Treherne Moggridge, who
completely proved that the differences in the form and colouring
of the corolla which have been supposed to separate several species
of the genus _Ophrys_ are variable, even on the same plant; but our
passing remarks entirely tally with his conclusions. As we lingered,
the sun sank below the horizon; we unwillingly hearkened to the
exhortations of our followers, who seemed to grow uneasy at the
chance of being benighted, and pushed on towards our resting place.
The weird figures of the stunted and maimed monsters of the forest
drew closer together as we neared the crest of the hill, and,
in the fast growing gloom, assumed at each moment a more wild
and threatening aspect. Bare branches standing against the sky,
and eye-like holes in the black hollow trunks, were transfigured
by the fancy; and to at least one of us the tale of Sintram, and
Albert Dürer’s quaint old woodcut, supplied additional elements
to the mental picture; until, as we emerged from the wood, the note
of the cuckoo, bringing a whole train of home associations, suddenly
broke the spell. We rode onward, and soon stood before El Fondak, the
most stately place of shelter for travellers in the Marocco Empire.
From without this shows a rather imposing aspect, resembling that
of a hill fort. A strong wall, some eighteen or twenty feet in
height, without window or opening of any kind, except a central
gate, surrounds a large court-yard. We had been warned that the
accommodation within was not good, and we were not long in coming
to the same conclusion.
The large quadrangle formed a sort of stable-yard, wherein were
littered camels, horses, mules, and donkeys. The surrounding
enclosure, covered with a flat stone roof, was walled in on two
sides, and on the others formed a range of open sheds wherein the
camel drivers piled their burdens, or the keeper of the caravanserai
sheltered his cattle. On the other sides a series of doors gave
admission to as many small cellars, or dungeons, with no other
opening than the door for admitting light or air, empty, except for
remnants of dirty straw and rubbish, but apparently tenanted by every
imaginable variety of insect and creeping thing. The keeper of the
caravanserai, a repulsive-looking old man, threw open one of the
doors, and explained that the apartment had been reserved for our
use. No deliberation was necessary on this occasion, for a unanimous
declaration burst from our lips—nothing would induce us to enter
such a filthy den—and we at once announced our intention to pass
the night upon the roof. Our luggage was accordingly conveyed up
through a narrow stone staircase, and we proceeded to prepare our
frugal supper, of which portable soup was the chief ingredient,
and soon afterwards to make our arrangements for the night.
Our so-called interpreter had become altogether obnoxious to
us. During our mid-day halt he had coolly appropriated the most
comfortable spot in the shade, devoured most of our oranges, and
plainly showed that he had no notion of taking the slightest trouble
about a set of Frankish lunatics, who spent their time in grubbing
up little weeds by the roots, and looking at them through bits
of glass. He relieved us altogether of his presence this evening;
and we felt a certain satisfaction in thinking that his well-fed
carcase would during the night supply wholesome and abundant food
for the legions of hungry insects that tenanted the ground-floor
of our hotel. Old Bulbo, whether because he shared our preference
for the clean and airy quarters on the roof, or because he wished
to display his zeal for our protection, installed himself with the
long gun in the red case at a convenient distance, while we, after
slowly consuming the evening cigar, unrolled our cork mattresses,
and prepared our bivouac. We scarcely noticed at first the peculiar
construction of the roof. Round three sides of the building there
was a low parapet wall, but none whatever towards the front, where
the flags sloped slightly outwards, and ended abruptly at the edge of
the outer wall of the building. The stars shone brightly in the sky,
and a pleasant breeze from the east fanned our faces as we lay down
to rest on the front part of the roof, congratulating ourselves on
the excellence of our quarters, when compared to the misery we had
escaped below. Before long the breeze freshened, the night grew
cooler (55° Fahr.), and we were glad to lace the oilcloth covers
of our mattresses so as to keep out the keen air. Before doing
so, Hooker judiciously laid an empty box on the windward side,
and steadied it by placing within it two or three bottles of wine,
and a few other luxuries for our consumption, his watch, and such
other miscellaneous articles as lay at hand. Snugly ensconced in
our coverings, oblivion soon crept over us, and we slept, it is
hard to say how long. A horrid crash, and the fall of a heavy body
between the adjoining sleepers, startled two of them into sudden
consciousness. It was something like what happens in the saloon of
a steamer, when a heavy sea strikes the ship, and, amidst a smash
of broken glass and crockery, one is suddenly roused from one’s
sofa by the unexpected visit of one’s neighbour’s travelling
bag and hat-box. The cause of the phenomenon was the same, though
the position was very different. The wind had risen to something
more than half a gale, and seemed much inclined to sweep clear
away from the stone roof everything that was not firmly fixed in
its place. As we lay tightly laced in our oilcloth covers, like
the chrysalis in its case, it cost some struggling and wriggling
to get ourselves free, and rush to the rescue of our property,
which was careering along the roof before each gust of wind that
struck the building. Several articles had already been carried away
over the edge; but the moon, shining brightly from amidst the light
scudding clouds, helped us to recover everything of importance. The
watch and note-book were safe; but the contents of a broken bottle
of claret had somehow run under the cover of Hooker’s mattress,
and, placed as we were, the attempt to rearrange it was something
like the classical difficulty of ‘swopping horses in the middle
of a stream.’ Cautiously creeping about to see what had befallen
our companions, we found the faithful Bulbo (with more practical
meteorological instinct than we had displayed) safely ensconced on
the lee side of the low parapet. The shapeless heap, rolled up in the
multitudinous folds of a white haïk, could not have been recognised,
but for the inevitable long gun in the red case that lay beside it.
Little sleep was to be expected for the remainder of the night, and
with the first light we began to move. Though the wind was falling,
we could not attempt to avail ourselves of Maw’s cooking apparatus,
and we agreed to postpone breakfast till we should reach some more
sheltered spot. The vegetation here was little advanced, and we
saw but few plants in flower, save a little yellow Lithospermum
(_L. apulum_), on our way to the top of the pass, which was covered
with low brushwood and shrubs of the same species that we had seen
near Tangier.
We halted in a hollow place near the highest point, where we
strangely omitted to take observations for altitude; and after a
slight repast hurried down the slope in a SSE. direction, towards
the valley of the Tetuan river. We here enjoyed a fine view of
the snow-streaked mass of the Riff Mountains, which we may call,
from their best known peak, the Beni Hassan Group.
The mountain ranges of the Riff—extending for about 180 miles
from Tetuan to the mouth of the Oued Moulouya, which lies very
near the French frontier—undoubtedly form a part of the system of
the Lesser Atlas of Algeria; but, if we may trust the maps and such
scanty reports as can be picked up, they constitute a separate group,
not continuous with the coast range of Western Algeria. The true
relations between the main range of the Lesser Atlas of Algeria and
the diverging ranges of the Great Atlas that extend over the region
S. and SE. of Fez must remain unknown so long as the latter region
remains inaccessible to European travellers. The river Moulouya
and its eastern branch, the Oued Za, mark the existence of two
considerable valleys, and it is probable that the very sinuous
course laid down for both those streams in the French map may
be founded on native reports approximately correct; while it is
quite certain that the adjoining mountain ranges as shown on that
map differ very widely from the truth. A traveller going from Fez
to the mouth of the Oued Moulouya, in a direction slightly north
of due east, traverses a broad valley, with the Riff Mountains on
his left, lying between him and the Mediterranean coast, and the
northern branches of the Great Atlas on his right. Somewhere near
Theza he reaches the watershed between the region that is drained
towards the Atlantic through the Oued Sebou and the basin of the
Oued Moulouya, but seemingly without having to make any considerable
ascent. He descends to the Moulouya—or rather he would do so if
the powerful Halaf tribe, who hold that region, allowed strangers to
pass—where that river, after cutting its way through the unknown
region between the Great and Lesser Atlas, enters a wide plain, some
forty or fifty miles in extent each way. Before reaching the sea,
the valley is again narrowed. On one side is the eastern extremity
of the Riff Mountains, and on the other a range of lofty hills that
may be considered as spurs of the Lesser Atlas of Algeria.
Before quitting this dry subject, it is necessary to remark that,
even as regards the relatively well-known district near Tangier
and Tetuan, the best maps are far from complete accuracy. In the
French War Office Map—undoubtedly the best map of Marocco—the
hill shading gives far too much importance to the comparatively
low hills running from WSW. to ENE. on the south side of Tangier,
and not enough to the range which we crossed between El Fondak
and Tetuan. This extends from the main mass of the Beni Hassan to
Ape’s Hill opposite Gibraltar, and divides the waters running
to the Atlantic from those of the Tetuan river. Over against this
(which we had just crossed) rose a parallel and more lofty range,
terminating in the bold craggy mass of the Beni Hosmar (B. Aouzmar
of the French map), rising steeply from the valley opposite Tetuan,
and to ascend this was the main object of our present excursion.
Soon after we entered the main valley, and were riding along a broad
track parallel to the Tetuan river, we came upon a group that for the
first time brought home to us an illustration of the true condition
of society in this country. A body of armed horsemen, many of them
true Negroes or mulattoes, were resting beside the way, broken
up into lively groups, laughing and chattering together. Amongst
them was a solitary man, poorly clothed, and, as we observed,
laden with heavy chains. He kept his back turned towards the track,
and seemed to take advantage of the halt to dip his feet into the
brook that ran along beside it. So numerous an escort in charge of
a single prisoner suggested something unusual, and we were led to
make inquiry. According to the story retailed to us, the chained
captive was lately the powerful governor of a distant province,
who had offered a stout resistance when summoned to the capital
to give an account of his administration. It is well understood in
Marocco that such summons, whether framed as a peremptory order or a
flattering invitation, has but one meaning—that the time has come
when it seems to the Sultan or his counsellors that the wretched
governor should be ‘squeezed,’ or, in other words, be forced
by torture to surrender whatever wealth he may have hoarded. As the
appointment of a new governor generally means that the province will
be subjected to fresh impositions and extortions, the people are apt
to side with the old governor, and sometimes, in a country where
the central power is so feeble, a man, by a judicious combination
of force and bribery, may long keep the government at bay, and
escape the miserable fate that usually awaits him. Our prisoner,
apparently, was too formidable a man to be safely kept at Fez or
Marocco, and was therefore sent to Tetuan, the extreme limit of
the territory, there to undergo such torture as might be necessary
to extort confession of the hiding place of his treasure, unless,
through ill-judged obstinacy, he should die in torments before
disgorging as much as might be expected. No better illustration of
the system can be found than the fact that strangers are informed,
as of something extraordinary and unexampled, that one old man
now lives at Tetuan who long held a high and confidential post
in the government, and yet was allowed to retire without being
‘squeezed!’ The truth is, that he had gained the good-will
and confidence of the representatives of the European Powers,
and that it was urged upon the late Sultan that the credit of his
government would suffer, if, after a long course of faithful service,
the minister were to undergo the common fate of his colleagues.
Some twenty years before, when one of our party visited Tetuan,
the whole province was thrown into confusion by one of these
customary acts of the then reigning Sultan. Hash Hash, a man of
unusual capacity and energy, had governed the province of Tetuan
for many years with extraordinary success. He kept the turbulent
Riff mountaineers in order, and, so it was said, Jew and Christian,
under his rule, enjoyed the same security as the Moor. At length he
received messengers from the Court with the gift of a white horse
richly caparisoned, and an autograph letter from his sovereign full
of commendation and winding up with an invitation to the capital,
then fixed at Fez. He started on the fatal journey, but arrived only
to be flung into a dungeon and subjected to daily torture. Soldiers
were sent to Tetuan, where his house was pillaged, his wives and
children led to prison, while the absence of all control led to a
rapid growth of crime in the district, and life and property were
no longer thought safe in the surrounding country.
[Illustration:_J. B. delt._
TETUAN]
The approach to Tetuan presented the most picturesque scene that we
anywhere beheld in Marocco. Begirt with a lofty wall, set at short
intervals with massive square towers, the city shows from a distance
only a few mosques and a heavy, frowning heap of masonry that forms
the castle or citadel. It stands on the slope of a limestone hill,
some two hundred feet above the river, which flows through a broad
valley, rich with the most brilliant vegetation. After riding for
hours over the thirsty hills, it was a delight to rest the eyes
on the patches of emerald meadow, and on the darker green of the
luxuriant orchards, where the best oranges in the world grow along
with figs, almonds, peaches, and all our common tree fruit. Amidst
all this wealth of greenery many a little white house—a mere
cube of chalk—gleamed brightly. Most of these seem to belong
to peasant owners, but some are kiosks to which the wealthier
inhabitants repair to escape from the heat and bad air of the town.
We were not yet familiar with the squalor and neglect that seem
the inevitable characteristics of a Moorish town, and it was a
disappointment to find the interior of Tetuan correspond so ill to
the picturesqueness of its outward aspect. After riding between
high walls, apparently forming an inner defence to the town, we
went through some streets of mean aspect, and, traversing one wide
open space, passed under an interior gate guarded by a sentry, and
found ourselves in a labyrinth of narrow alleys decidedly cleaner
than the remainder of the city. This is the Jewish quarter, where,
as in the Jewry or _Ghetto_ of mediæval Europe, the children of
Israel are required to live apart, within a wall and gates that are
locked at night, and where they seem to manage their own affairs
with little interference from the Moorish authorities. We soon
established ourselves in very fair quarters at the house of Isaac
Nahum, who acts as clerk and interpreter at the single consulate
which of late years has watched over the safety of all Europeans
who happen to reach Tetuan whether by land or sea. Since the war
in which Tetuan was taken by the Spanish troops—their solitary
achievement during the last sixty years—the Government of Spain has
desired to maintain its influence in this part of the country by the
presence of a consul; and the other European States have willingly
taken advantage of his presence. The duties cannot be heavy, for
few strangers now visit Tetuan, although up to the year 1770 it was
the residence of all the European consuls. The beauty of its site,
the excellence of its oranges and other fruit, and the reported
superiority in refinement of its inhabitants, both Moorish and Jew,
do not compensate for the difficulty of access by sea, since none
but the smallest class of coasting vessels can cross the bar at the
mouth of the river. This is guarded (or was so up to the time of the
Spanish war in 1859) by a massive square tower, without door or other
apparent opening. A Christian boat from Gibraltar, in which one of us
had formerly arrived, was hailed from the summit of the tower. After
a preliminary parley, a rope ladder was let down from the top, some
seventy or eighty feet, and a black soldier scrambled down with great
activity, the final result of the parley being that the strangers,
after payment of some trifling harbour dues, were sent to the town,
a distance of five or six miles, under the escort of a soldier.
Whether because there really is some slight diminution in the feeling
that has so long excluded strangers, and especially Christians,
from the interior of Marocco, or that previous travellers had
happened to make the attempt at unfavourable conjunctures, we found
that the letter to the Governor given to us by Sir J. D. Hay was
scarcely required, and no difficulty was raised about the requisite
official permission to ascend the Beni Hosmar, as the mountain mass
is called, which forms the end of the chain extending northward
from the Beni Hassan.
One of our party had already succeeded in ascending about half
the height of the mountain; but the only European known to have
reached the upper ridge was the late Mr. Barker Webb, the author of
the ‘Phytographia Canariensis,’ and other important botanical
works. He effected his object by liberal expenditure, having begun
by a present of 40_l_. to the Governor, besides handsome rewards
to those who were sent with him.
We had no occasion to follow this example. The protection of the
British Government, and the interest shown in our journey by the
British Minister, were quite sufficient arguments on our behalf,
and with the courteous assistance of the Spanish consul the
arrangements for our excursion were soon settled. The requisite
orders were issued by the Kaïd, and two soldiers were appointed,
along with our Tangier men, to escort us on the following morning.
In spite of the usual delays, we started in good time on the morning
of the 11th, and, descending over successive ledges of tufa, forming
terraces for gardens and orchards, soon reached the level of the
river, which was easily forded. The air was cool (55° Fahr. at 6
A.M.), the sky bright, and the hedges gay with the evergreen rose
(_R. sempervirens_), and the large-flowered form of the hedge
convolvulus (_C. sylvatica_), which in the South replaces our more
modest Northern form, _C. sepium_ of Linnæus. A short ascent among
trees and high hedges took us clear of the cultivated land, and the
aspect of the country at once changed. The upper part of the mountain
is disposed in tiers of limestone crags, irregularly disposed, and
therefore offering no difficulty for the ascent; but round the base
are rather steep and very arid slopes, formed, in great part, of
old accumulations of débris fallen from the upper crags. The most
conspicuous shrubs are lentisk, oak scrub, _Juniperus phœnicea_,
and several _Cisti_; but the palmetto successfully contends against
its rivals, and in some places quite covers the soil. It disappears,
however, before one reaches the middle height of the mountain, and
the limit of its free growth, not taking account of a few scattered
and stunted specimens, was found to be 1,227 feet (374 mètres)
above the sea. The prevailing species, however, were small shrubby
_Leguminosæ_. Of these the most trying to the temper of the botanist
is _Calycotome villosa_. This and the allied species (_C. spinosa_)
are very common in the warmer parts of the Mediterranean region, and
the stiff spiny points of the numerous branches are most effective
in tearing the clothing and the skin of anyone who approaches them.
We followed a tolerably good cattle track which wound upwards to
the right, in a southerly direction, towards the upper part of the
mountain. Before reaching its middle height, on some crags facing
towards Tetuan, we found a peculiar saxifrage (_S. Maweana_),
first collected by Mr. Webb more than forty years before, but
which, with several others, remained unknown and undescribed in
his Herbarium. Maw refound the plant in 1869, and has successfully
cultivated it, along with many other Marocco rarities, in his garden
in Shropshire. On the same rocks, besides numerous interesting
plants not yet in flower, we gathered a curious crucifer (_Succowia
balearica_) which must flower very early as the fruit was already
approaching maturity.
As we really desired nothing more than to be let to wander about
on the mountain according to our own fancy, we were rather pleased
than otherwise when our escort of four soldiers with the guide,
seeming to think that they had done enough of mountaineering after
an ascent of some two thousand feet, proceeded to instal themselves,
with the horses, who enjoyed a day of rest, in a pleasant spot,
and showed no sign of pushing the enterprise farther. A steep
slope now led us up to the rocky ridge of the mountain commanding
a wide view, and overlooking a deep glen on the seaward side of
the mountain. Here, in spite of the early season, we found several
plants in flower that excited in us a lively interest. A little
polygala, with rich purple red flowers, reminds one much of the
red variety of _P. chamæbuxus_ that is often seen in the Eastern
Alps, but appears to be quite distinct. A chrysanthemum, differing
little from an Algerian species, was our first acquaintance amongst
a group of forms that is especially characteristic of the flora of
the Great Atlas. But we were, perhaps, still more pleased to find
on these heights, far removed from the nearest known station, some
descendants of a suffering race that must, at some remote period,
have been widely spread throughout Europe, the bright-flowered
_Ranunculus gramineus_. Although it is still found at several places
in France, in a few spots in the Alps, and in Spain, it appears to
have disappeared from the Apennines within the last two centuries,
and to be everywhere losing ground. When the rapacity of collectors
shall have reduced it elsewhere to the condition of a vegetable
Dodo, future travellers may rejoice that it has found a refuge in
this corner of Africa. The distribution of the genus _Ranunculus_,
in nearly every known country, supplies many topics for thought and
inquiry. There are very few regions where the unbotanical traveller
fails to recognise the familiar buttercup of his youth; yet, if he
examines the plants, he will find well-marked differences in the
leaves, the fruit, the stem, or the root, though the flowers may
be scarcely distinguishable. Since our first landing in Marocco,
buttercups had met us in all directions; but they nearly all
belonged to one variable species, _R. chærophyllos_, widely
spread round the warmer shores of the Mediterranean. In shady
places we had a few times gathered another North African species,
_R. macrophyllus_, and on this mountain we found a few specimens,
already past flower, of _R. spicatus_; but of all the common species
of Britain and Middle Europe, not one had been seen, unless we count
the ubiquitous white-flowered species of our ditches, _R. aquatilis_.
From the time we first got a clear view of our mountain we had
fixed on a range of beetling crags, not far below the summit, which
promised to afford an excellent habitat for rare plants. The promise
was kept, for we had scarcely approached their base when with joyful
cries we saluted one of the chief prizes of our excursion. From
clefts on the face of the rock hung great leafy tufts, quite a yard
in diameter, supported on stems as thick as a man’s arm. The
flowering branches produced an abundance of yellow flowers, then
just expanding and only partly opened. We should have set it down
as a new and very luxuriant species of wild cabbage, but that we
happened to know that the fruit is entirely different, so much so as
to constitute a very distinct genus of _Cruciferæ_. Mr. Webb, who
probably gathered the plant at this very spot, described and figured
it, in the ‘Annales des Sciences Naturelles,’ under the name
_Hemicrambe fruticulosa_; but the original specimen seems to have
been lost or mislaid, and no one had since laid eyes upon the living
plant. The same rocks produced abundantly the beautiful _Iberis
gibraltarica_, besides many fine plants not yet in flower, amongst
which we recognised the rare Spanish centaurea, _C. Clementei_.
As seen from Tetuan, the ridge above the rocks appeared to lead
very directly to the not distant summit of the mountain; but when,
after a short scramble, we had set foot upon it, we clearly saw
our mistake. At about a mile and a half from where we stood, and
separated from us by a rather profound depression, was another ridge,
some three or four hundred feet higher, which might or might not be
surpassed by more distant prominences in the same range. It would
have been easy to reach the farther summits, but we thought our
time better spent in carefully examining the part of the mountain
within our reach. Various indications, such as the disappearance
of several species that are abundant lower down, and the much more
backward state of the vegetation, went to prove that the climate
of the upper plateau is sensibly different from that of its middle
region; but there was little to show that we had reached the limit of
a true mountain, much less that of a subalpine flora. We had, indeed,
already found a variety of the large-flowered _Senecio Doronicum_,
which in the Alps and Pyrenees ascends even to the Alpine region;
and near our highest point Ball found a form of _Erodium petræum_,
which in the Pyrenees and Northern Spain usually attains the
subalpine zone. The season was still too little advanced; and the
naturalist who will follow our footsteps about the beginning of
June may expect a much richer harvest.
Having taken observations for altitude, which give height of about
3,040 feet above the sea for our station, we halted a few minutes
to enjoy the noble panorama that was spread out below us. On the
western side successive undulations of the ground—range beyond
range of low hills—melted away into the horizon, but as the eye
turned northward it rested on a more varied picture. To the right
of the Angera Mountains and Ape’s Hill a small dark islet seemed
to stand out from the Spanish coast. In this we scarcely recognised
Gibraltar, for the shadow of a cloud happened to rest on its grey
limestone cliffs. To the right extended a long reach of coast line,
foreshortened from the promontory of Ceuta to the mouth of the river
below Tetuan, with the much more distant outline of the Serrania
de Ronda in the background. Then as we turned eastward, though the
view was partly interrupted by projecting spurs of the mountain,
we followed the long outline of the coast range of North Marocco,
the secure refuge of the unconquered Riff tribes, whose fastnesses
have never been profaned by the presence of an alien master. Some
patches of dark shade evidently indicated forests, and these may
probably consist wholly or in part of the Atlantic cedar, although
that tree is not positively known to grow in Marocco.[3]
In order to cover as much ground as possible during the descent,
we here agreed to take different directions, and lost sight of each
other for some time. Hooker came upon a small mountain village,
or hamlet, where several Bereber or Riffian families were crowded
together in hovels built of mud mixed with stone, and rather
better fitted to resist the weather than the sheds we had seen
in the plain. Conversation was not practicable, but there was no
indication of ill will on the part of these people. The only attempt
at intercourse was on the part of one sturdy man who apparently
requested a pinch of snuff, but declined the offer of a cigar. The
use of tobacco for smoking appears to be unknown in Marocco, while
_kief_—prepared from the chopped leaves of common hemp—is almost
universally employed for that purpose both by Moors and Berebers;
but snuff is in general request, and is imported in considerable
quantities, both by regular traders and by smugglers who profit
largely by the heavy duty.
In descending the mountain we observed large patches of a species
of furze, smaller and stiffer in habit than our common gorse—the
_Ulex bæticus_ of Boissier—one of a group of nearly allied forms
that replace our British species in the south of Spain and Portugal,
and the neighbouring shores of Marocco.
On rejoining our so-called escort, we agreed that the track was too
steep to make riding pleasant; and thus we all descended on foot
till near the foot of the mountain, when a proper care for their
dignity compelled the soldiers and the guide to remount.
We returned to our quarters in the town before the sun had set, and
closed a very enjoyable day by reviewing our botanical prizes as
we laid them into paper to undergo the first step in the process
of their preservation. As usual the evening cigar accompanied
our discussion as to future proceedings, and to its soothing
influence we doubtless owe the fact that these debates always led
to a satisfactory conclusion. On this occasion we agreed to divide
our small party into two sections and separate for a few days. Maw
was anxious to return at once to Tangier, with a view to visit
some swamps that lie about ten miles south-west of the town, while
Hooker and Ball were desirous of examining the coast between Tetuan
and Ceuta. As it appeared that a small stock of Spanish would serve
all necessary purposes in the excursion to Ceuta, Maw volunteered
to take our disagreeable interpreter and one unnecessary soldier
back to Tangier, while Bulbo was willing to risk a visit to the
infidels at Ceuta.
On the morning of the 12th Maw departed, but Hooker was unwell. It
was decided that a quiet day and the judicious exhibition of
moderate doses of cognac, which we owed to the kindness of the
Spanish consul, would be the most appropriate treatment; and the
result was quite satisfactory.
Ball spent the day in botanising over the hills near the town,
and was well satisfied with the result. The rarest plant found was,
perhaps, a curious and very distinct fumitory (_Fumaria africana_
of Lamarck), which he had gathered nearly at the same spot twenty
years before. The red-flowered Polygala of Beni Hosmar (_P. Webbiana_
of Cosson) was seen in a few spots near the town along with _Arabis
pubescens_; and that singular plant, the _Drosophyllum_, hitherto
seen in Marocco only on the hills west of Tangier, was here found
within sight of the Mediterranean, growing along with _Helianthemum
umbellatum_ and several other less rare species of the Cistus tribe.
During our stay here we had a good opportunity of seeing something
of the life of the Marocco Jews, who form a distinct and important
element in the population of the empire. Tetuan has long been one
of the head-quarters of the Hebrew race. When most of the chief
Moorish families took refuge here after their expulsion from
Spain—and some are said still to preserve the keys of their
own houses in Granada—many Jews, flying from the faggots of the
Inquisition, preferred the comparative toleration of Moslem rule,
to the oppression and social disabilities that awaited them in
Christian Europe. It was more tolerable to submit to occasional
injustice and cruelty which was shared by all classes of society
around them than to be daily reminded that they formed a class
apart—the proper objects of general contempt and aversion. It
is true that until late years the Marocco Jew was exposed to some
vexatious regulations. He was required to put off his sandals on
passing the outside of a mosque, to wear a peculiar dress, and is
still confined to a separate quarter in each town. But in ordinary
intercourse between man and man the Jews of the coast towns seemed
to us to have attained a footing of almost complete equality, due as
well to their superior intelligence and commercial instinct, as to
the tolerance which affinity of race and creed has developed among
the people of Arab stock. In truth, the Moor feels that the Jew is
indispensable to him. In despite of his aversion to intercourse with
the Christian, trade, in which the Jew serves as intermediary, has
become a practical necessity, and it has procured for him foreign
luxuries which he is now little inclined to forego.
In point of fact, Tetuan boasts of being the cradle of more wealthy
Jewish families than any other town in the world; and among the
practical concessions enjoyed by them, there now appears to be no
difficulty in the way of Jews leaving the empire and returning
to it, and frequent intercourse is carried on between the city
and Europe by the way of Ceuta. The ceremonial observances of the
Mosaic law are strictly adhered to. The first question put to us
on our arrival was to know whether we had with us leavened bread,
as such could not be admitted to the house during the feast of the
Passover; and during our stay we were given cakes, some of plain
flour, others prepared with orange juice.
The houses are quite on the same plan as those of the Moors, or
in other words they merely differ in architectural detail from
the ancient type that is preserved for us in the smaller houses of
Pompeii. A single court (atrium) has several small rooms or closets
used for kitchen, offices, and sleeping place for servants, and
one large apartment, the chief living room of the family, filling
one side. This remains open to the court by day, but is closed at
night by a curtain. On the upper floor a gallery surrounds the court,
and into this open upper rooms of moderate size. In Nahum’s house
a second floor above the first had been added, but this appeared
to be an unusual arrangement. On our arrival we had been struck by
the superior neatness and cleanliness of the Jewish, as compared to
the Moorish, quarter, and the same remark applied to their persons.
No European traders appear to have settled at Tetuan, and such
trade as it possesses is in the hands of the Jews. Oranges, and
a sort of brandy, called Mahaya, distilled from the grape, are
the chief exports. The coarse pottery made here is much the same
as that produced in Algeria and throughout Western Marocco. Rude
geometrical patterns in ill-defined blue and green tints are usually
enriched by round spots of bright red, laid on with something like
sealing-wax over the glazing, and easily removed with spirit. The
only thing deserving notice as representing art-manufacture is the
gold embroidery, usually worked on silk or velvet. This is used for
curtains or hangings by some wealthy Moors, and for personal wear by
the Jewish women and children. At this festival season the younger
children frequently appeared with caps or diadems richly embroidered;
but the women more often wear a light silk handkerchief, with the
fringe hanging freely, but kept in its place by a fillet of black or
red velvet worked in gold, and forming a very ornamental head-dress.
Travellers have indulged in enthusiastic descriptions of the beauty
of the Marocco Jewesses. Those who have visited Tetuan will have seen
a fair specimen in the person of our host’s sister, a tall comely
girl, free from the tendency to corpulence which is too common, and
whose regular features are set off by a pair of fine dark eyes. But
those for whom expression is an essential element of beauty in the
human countenance will usually find something wanting to complete
the attractions of the undeniably handsome women of this country.
It so happened that the occasion was especially favourable for
seeing something of the life of the Israelite society of the
city. This was the last of the festival days of the Passover,
and towards evening there was a large gathering of neighbours in
the ground-floor apartments of our house. The women were richly
dressed in loose garments of light silk and a profusion of gold
embroidery. It was almost impossible to recognise our host’s
mother, a corpulent woman, who had hitherto appeared in a shabby
costume of the scantiest proportions in which the developments of
her ample person were unpleasantly apparent. Arrayed in festival
splendour, she now assumed a regal attitude, and her figure appeared
to be modelled on that of the nearest Christian potentate, the
unregretted Queen Isabella. The men wore long blue coats of the
dressing-gown pattern, with white cotton stockings and slippers, and,
if not picturesque in appearance, showed to advantage beside our
host who, mindful of his dignity as interpreter to the Consulate,
appeared in European black frock coat and trousers. The children
were especially gorgeous in head-dresses of crimson or purple
velvet richly embroidered in gold. During the evening there was an
attempt at dancing to the music of an accordion; but the space was
too limited, and this was speedily given up. The party continued,
however, till a late hour, and midnight passed before the sound of
lively talk and laughter ceased in the lower chambers of our house.
On the morning of April 13 we started for Ceuta, about thirty
miles distant from Tetuan. The track for several miles lies at some
distance from the coast, which on the north side of the mouth of
the river forms a projecting headland, called by the Spaniards Cabo
Negro. After riding through green lanes, we mounted gradually by
a broad path that winds amidst bushy hills for a couple of hours,
and then descended towards the sandy shore; and for the remainder of
the way kept close to the beach. After fording one or two smaller
streams issuing from the marshy pools that lay between us and
the hills on our left, we had a little trouble in crossing a more
considerable torrent that seems to bring down most of the drainage
of the Angera Mountains lying behind Ape’s Hill. The horses’
feet sank deeply in the yielding sand of the bed, though we were
able to wade across without difficulty. It was an anxious moment
for us as we watched the baggage mules struggling and floundering,
until the water rose very nearly to the precious packages of paper
that contained the fruits of our work since we left Tangier. Several
villages were seen on the slopes of the hills to our left, but
during the entire day we passed only three or four small houses.
Our day’s ride lay over the scene of the Spanish campaign in
Marocco in the winter of 1859-60—a military event so completely
eclipsed by the great wars that have since desolated many parts of
Europe, as to be now almost forgotten. An intelligent and animated
account of it was published by the late Mr. Hardman, who accompanied
the Spanish army as correspondent of the _Times_ newspaper. The
advance of O’Donnell, the Spanish commander-in-chief, was slow and
cautious; but considering the natural difficulties, and his complete
ignorance of the resources and designs of the enemy, any other course
would have been chargeable with rashness. The Moors, although at the
last they showed the utmost personal intrepidity, failed to display
the slightest military capacity—even such as has been found
among many savage tribes—failing to take advantage of natural
difficulties, and exposing themselves in fruitless and desultory
attacks when the Spanish force occupied strong positions. The most
serious difficulty for the Spanish general arose from the necessity
for moving his army along the narrow strip of shore, where for
several miles the ground between this and the stony hills of the
interior is partly covered by shallow lagoons, and the soft soil is
intersected by streams. An active enemy knowing the ground might have
inflicted heavy loss on the advancing force; but, contrary to all
expectation, the Moors scarcely showed themselves at the critical
moment, and the Spaniards had none but the natural obstacles to
contend with. After crossing the pass over which the ordinary track
runs to Tetuan, the Spaniards marched to the left, and established
themselves in an entrenched camp near the mouth of the Tetuan river,
where they received by sea reinforcements in men, heavy guns, and
provisions. After some delay, a brilliant action, terminated by
the storming of their camp near Tetuan, cowed the Moorish leaders,
and the Spanish occupied the city, but only after it had been sacked
by the irregular forces of the retreating army. The Moors then sued
for peace; but whether the negotiations were merely opened to gain
time, or that the terms demanded by Spain, including the permanent
cession of Tetuan, were deemed exorbitant, hostilities were resumed
in March, and the Spanish army commenced to move towards Tangier. A
final effort was made by the Moors; and in the battle which ensued,
on the slopes of the hills by which we descended a few days ago
into the valley of Tetuan, their men, though fighting against
nearly 25,000 regular troops, well provided with artillery, seemed
for a moment likely to win the day by sheer desperate valour. The
victory cost the Spaniards some 1,300 men in killed and wounded,
but achieved the object of the campaign. Guided by wiser counsels,
the Spanish Government ceased to insist on the permanent occupation
of Tetuan, and the city was restored to the Moors, on the payment
of a war indemnity of about 4,000,000_l_. sterling. In the judgment
of impartial foreign critics, the Spanish troops behaved extremely
well throughout this campaign: when well led they showed no lack
of fighting qualities, and to their patience under hardship, their
temperance, and general good conduct, all observers bore testimony.
One result of the war was to increase the customs’ duties
throughout Marocco, and to cause more strenuous efforts to keep
down contraband trade than had ever been used before. The indemnity
was partly provided by a five per cent. loan, raised in London;
and the customs duties supply the means for paying the interest,
with instalments of the principal. These have been so punctually
discharged, that the stock usually stands at par. On the Atlantic
sea-board the points accessible to sea-going ships are so few
that little smuggling can exist. The long strip of Mediterranean
coast between Tetuan and the French frontier is nearly all held
by the semi-independent tribes of the Riff mountaineers, and it
may be presumed that these pay no duties on the few articles of
foreign produce that they consume; but the southern shore of the
Straits of Gibraltar and the coast between Ceuta and Tetuan are
easy of access in fine weather, and here the Moorish authorities
are obliged to maintain a force of coast-guards. We met several
wild-looking fellows, who became more frequent as we approached
the Spanish lines before Ceuta, each scantily clothed and armed
with a long gun. They must suffer much in cold and rainy weather,
as they have no other protection than a slight screen of branches,
interlaced with straw or reeds.
Ceuta stands upon a narrow promontory that forms the eastern
extremity of a spur projecting from the high range of Ape’s
Hill. As this promontory is only the last in a series of conical
summits that gradually diminish in height as they approach the
Mediterranean, the fortress is completely commanded on the land
side. But the Spaniards have erected small forts on the nearer
heights, and with moderate watchfulness are secure enough from
any assault that could be made by the Moors. As we rode over the
neck of land connecting the fortress with the adjoining hills,
and finally approached the only entrance, which is reached by a
succession of gates and drawbridges, we had leisure to admire the
elaborate character of the defences, in which every known resource
of military engineering, as understood at the beginning of the last
century, seems to have been accumulated. The soul of Uncle Toby would
have delighted in the multiplication of ditches, curtains, ravelins,
demi-lunes, hornworks, and palisades that have been expended here for
the purpose of astonishing the untutored mind of the ignorant Moor.
The little town that forms the kernel of these vast fortifications
far surpassed our expectations. Say what we will, there is a vast
gap between the condition of the least advanced countries of Europe
and the barbarism from which no Mohammedan State has yet contrived
to raise itself. Ceuta, however, is a very favourable sample of
a Spanish town, and is far superior in aspect to most places of
equal importance in the mother-country. The well-built houses in
the main street, all dazzling with fresh whitewash, were gay with
bright flowers that stood in pots and boxes on the balconies behind
ironwork of elaborately ornate character, and the inhabitants had
an air of activity and animation not common in Spain, anywhere out
of Catalonia. We drew our bridles at the Fonda Italiana, the best
looking of several inns, where we learned that all the bedrooms
were occupied, and were sent for sleeping quarters to a neighbouring
house. We got a large room with two good beds, and found everything
both there and at the inn, where we were well fed, scrupulously
clean. Our remark, which probably would not have been approved
in Downing Street, was, ‘What a pity, when they were about it,
that the Spaniards did not annex the whole of North Marocco!’
The course of events in Spain during the last six or eight years
has gone far to justify Downing Street, and to show that European
anarchy may be even worse than Moorish misgovernment.
As, in accordance with our daily custom, we reviewed the produce
of our day’s botanising, before committing our plants to paper,
it seemed to fall rather short of our expectations. The season was
not yet advanced enough for many seaside species, and, besides, as
every naturalist knows, one’s power of observation on horseback
is comparatively limited. When the eye is carried forward by an
external agency, and its motion is not altogether regulated by
the will, many minute objects are too imperfectly seen to convey
a definite image; and however often one may dismount, many slight
suggestions that would be tested by one on foot are allowed to pass
without verification. Along with most of the shrubs that we had seen
about Tangier, we passed many small trees of _Tamarix africana_ and
stout bushes of _Juniperus phœnicea_. The most ornamental plant that
we gathered was _Phaca bætica_, with fine purplish blue flowers,
very unlike any of the forms of the same genus with which we were
familiar in the Alps. The most interesting plant, in a scientific
sense, that we found this day was so minute as to be altogether
overlooked at the time; and it was only some time after our return
to England that two minute specimens (less than an inch in height)
were found engaged in a tuft of some stouter plant. They belong to
a little crucifer, called _Malcolmia nana_. It has been found in a
few spots scattered at wide intervals throughout the Mediterranean
region, and as far eastward as the shores of the Caspian Sea.
At Ceuta we had the spectacle—always a painful one—of gangs of
convicts chained together, and working under the charge of soldiers,
which meets the eye in so many parts of Southern Europe. Difficult
as is the subject of penal discipline for criminals, it may safely
be said that this is one of the worst—if not the very worst—
system that has ever been devised. The punishment, however hard,
loses through familiarity most of its deterrent effect; while,
far from reforming, it seems to be the most efficient method known
for finally corrupting the less hardened offender. The objections
are somewhat lessened when the convict station is removed from the
general gaze, and where the prisoners have little hope and even
little temptation to escape.
These conditions are satisfied in the three fortified posts which,
besides Ceuta, the Spaniards hold on the coast of Marocco. The most
considerable of these is Melilla, on a promontory a few miles south
of Cape Tres Forcas, said to be a strong fort, but grievously damaged
by an earthquake in 1848. It must be little better than a prison for
the garrison as well as for the convicts, if it be true, as we were
told, that it is considered unsafe to venture beyond musket-shot from
the walls, and the Riff mountaineers amuse themselves from time to
time by taking pot-shots at the sentries on the ramparts. The other
posts are on rocky islets near the shore. El Peñon de Velez, also
called Velez de Gomera, is about half-way between Ceuta and Melilla,
and only about eight miles from the site of the Carthaginian city
of Bedis—Belis of the Arabs—whence some etymologists derive
the Spanish Velez. From the rank of an episcopal city in early
Christian times, Bedis fell into bad repute as a pirate port, until
it was taken and destroyed by the Spaniards. The third Spanish
post is on the larger of the Zaffarine Islands, that rise from
the Mediterranean nearly opposite the mouth of the Oued Moulouya,
not far from the French frontier. To judge from a small packet of
plants collected there by Mr. Webb, the only scientific traveller
known to have visited them, these are mere barren rocks, affording
no shelter to any but the common seaside species.
Of late years the Riff people have kept to their mountain fastnesses,
and piracy is no longer an habitual occupation; but it would not
be safe to suppose that it has been completely extinguished. The
coast has many inlets and creeks that shelter fishing boats,
which may easily be used for cutting out unarmed merchantmen when
becalmed near the coast. As late as 1855 two or three cases of that
nature were reported to the home authorities by the Governor of
Gibraltar: and as pursuit was out of the question, and the Moorish
Government owns no control over the Riff population, no redress
was obtainable. The increasing use of steam has probably made the
occupation tedious and unprofitable.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: From this Moorish word the Spaniards have taken _Fonda_,
the common designation for an inn of the better class; while it is
more accurately preserved in the Venetian _Fondaco_—e.g. Fondaco
dei Turchi, &c.]
[Footnote 2: These sandhills were revisited by one of our party in
the month of June, and then supplied many interesting plants not
seen during our first stay at Tangier.]
[Footnote 3: In the Herbarium of the late Mr. Webb, now in the Museum
at Florence, the plants gathered by him during his short expedition
to Marocco are preserved as a separate collection. Amongst these
are some fragments of the Atlantic cedar, which would appear from
the accompanying label to have been obtained by him at Tetuan from
some native of the Riff Mountains. It is probable that the same tree
may be widely spread throughout the unexplored mountain districts of
North-eastern Marocco. Gerhard Rohlfs, the only European who is known
to have traversed the high mountain region S. of Fez, describing the
fine valleys inhabited by the powerful tribe of the Beni M’ghill,
says that the prevailing trees were larches of greater dimensions
than he had ever seen elsewhere. He declares that he measured several
stems from three to four metres in girth, and that such were not
uncommon. It is in the highest degree improbable that the larch,
which in Europe finds its southern limit in the Pyrenees, should
extend to Marocco; and, as Mr. Rohlfs has no knowledge of botany,
it is most likely that the tree which called forth his admiration
is the Atlantic cedar.]