Arrival at Mogador — The Sultan’s letter — Preparations for
our journey — The town of Mogador — The neighbouring country —
Ravages of locusts — Native races of South Marocco — Excursion
to the island — Climate of Mogador — Its influence on consumption
— Dinner with the Governor.
At 5 A.M. on April 26 we at length reached the port of
Mogador. Before many minutes a boat was alongside, and we were warmly
welcomed by a gentleman who introduced himself as Mr. Carstensen, the
British Vice-Consul, brother-in-law of Sir J. D. Hay. He was, indeed,
no stranger; for, as a correspondent and active contributor to the
Royal Gardens at Kew, he had long been in friendly relations with
the chief of our party. To his energetic good offices and hospitable
attentions we owe deep obligations, and it was with sincere regret
that we subsequently heard of his premature death in 1873.
At an early hour we were comfortably established in the British
Consulate, where our host and hostess received us as old friends,
and we were soon engaged in discussion as to the arrangements for
the prosecution of our journey, in all of which Mr. Carstensen’s
familiarity with the country and perfect command of the language
were of the utmost value. Having received previous notice of our
arrival and of the objects of our journey, he had already prepared
the way, and thus very much abridged the delays that are inevitable
in such a country.
The first step necessary was to call on the Governor and present
to him the Sultan’s letter. We were courteously received by El
Hadj Hamara, a well-looking man of middle age, in a small plain
room, whose only furniture consisted in cushions laid round the
walls. After shaking hands in European fashion, we proceeded to seat
ourselves, cross-legged—no doubt looking very uncomfortable during
the experiment—while the Sultan’s letter was produced. This
was written on a small sheet of inferior paper, folded to the size
of a note, and sealed with coarse sealing-wax. It was received
by the Governor, the seal reverently applied to his forehead,
and then broken. After reading aloud the few lines of writing,
the Governor handed the letter to Mr. Carstensen, who proceeded to
translate literally for our benefit. It ran thus: ‘On receiving
this, you will send the English hakeem and his companions to the
care of my slave, El Graoui, to whom I have sent orders what he
is to do.’ It should be explained that El Graoui, spoken of as
the Sultan’s slave, was the Governor of the portion of the Great
Atlas that is practically subject to the Imperial authority, and
precisely the person whose favour and assistance it was essential
for our objects to secure.
To strangers unused to the style of the Marocco Court, the Imperial
letter did not seem a very promising document; but it was evident
that, so far as the Governor of Mogador was concerned, it conveyed
the impression that we were to be treated with respect and attention;
and this was doubtless confirmed by the arrival of a courier
from Marocco, bearing a letter from the Sultan’s eldest son,
then acting as viceroy in the southern provinces of the empire,
with orders to take every care for our safety and comfort during
the journey to the capital.
We soon had a specimen of the shape in which official protection
displays itself in this country. On a representation from
Mr. Carstensen that we should require numerous baggage animals,
besides horses and mules to ride, the order had gone forth a week
before our arrival that no horses or mules should be sold or hired in
the town of Mogador until we had selected such as we required. This
accordingly was one of our first cares, and the embargo was raised
in the course of the day. We followed local advice, confirmed by
our own previous experience in warm countries, in choosing mules in
preference to horses. On a long journey they are far less liable to
be laid up, and, to a scientific traveller who has frequent occasion
to dismount, they give less trouble. Their obstinate temper is,
however, often annoying, and, though surefooted, they sometimes have
a very unpleasant trick of tripping or stumbling over stony ground.
A precaution which we took this day is much to be recommended to
travellers. This was to make a trial of pitching our tents on a piece
of rough open ground. People readily suppose that a tent that is
easily set up in an English lawn must answer their expectations on
a march, and have little notion of the amount of discomfort caused
by trifling defects. We speedily found that the pegs supplied in
England are not nearly hard enough to pierce the stiff-baked clay
or stony paste that forms the prevailing soil in this country; and
it was fortunate for our comfort that we took from Mogador an ample
supply of rough pegs, made from the wood of the argan tree. We were
each provided with a tent which satisfied our individual wants, but
scarcely corresponded with the native ideas of what befits personages
of distinction. We were well aware that in this country _prestige_
was an essential element in success, and therefore willingly accepted
the liberal offer of a large handsome native tent made by the local
agent of Messrs. Perry & Co. of Liverpool. This was available only
for the journey across the plains between Mogador and Marocco, as
it was very heavy, forming a load for two camels, and therefore
not suitable for a hilly country. It supplied a comparatively
spacious saloon, wherein we passed our evenings very pleasantly,
before retiring to our separate quarters for the night.
The next matter requiring attention was our costume. It was
foreseen that during some part of our journey, at least, it might
be expedient to adopt the native dress, or such an approximation to
it as would prevent our attracting notice from afar as strange and
outlandish creatures. After due deliberation, the _haïk_ was finally
rejected. This is the ordinary outer garment of natives of the upper
class. An ample robe of fine white woollen stuff is a graceful and
picturesque garment, especially on those who know how to group its
folds about the person; but it is absolutely incompatible with the
free use of the limbs, and more especially for botanists, whose
pursuit brings them into frequent contact with the numberless spiny
plants of this region. The unsightly _jellabia_, a blouse of rough
white woollen stuff, with the addition of a hood that may be drawn
over the head, was adopted, and was not found very inconvenient.
Anticipating unavoidable exposure to a nearly vertical sun, we
had provided ourselves with the grey pith ventilating helmets so
commonly used by Englishmen in the tropics. It was found that by
winding round one of these a moderate strip of the usual material
for turbans, it might be made to pass muster at a distance. But for
head-gear on important occasions the turban was indispensable. The
material, a broad band of light muslin, about thirteen or fourteen
yards in length, is supplied from England, but the art of winding
it round the head requires long practice, and we always resorted
to the aid of one of our attendants. It certainly gives protection
against a hot sun; but it is never quite convenient to a European
of active habits, who finds it hard to acquire the orthodox gravity
of Oriental demeanour, and is sadly apt to disturb the folds of
the turban by some abrupt movement.
There was one article of dress as to which no compromise was
possible. The slippers down at heel that are commonly used by all
classes of natives, and even the red or yellow loose boots that are
sometimes worn on a journey, were equally unsuited to our habits
and pursuits, and we held fast to our accustomed foot-covering.
Mr. Carstensen had kindly made excellent arrangements for our
convenience during our journey by selecting such native attendants
as we should require. One was told off to each of us as a personal
servant, expected to be always in readiness to render any required
assistance; and Hooker’s English attendant, Crump, was included
in this arrangement. This may appear superfluous, and so it might
be to ordinary travellers; but for a party of naturalists anxious to
make the best use of their time, it was almost indispensable. Several
other men were attached to the camp in various capacities, one of the
most useful being a saddler, daily in requisition to repair damage
done to leather work; but by far the most important member of our
suite was the interpreter to the British Consulate, whose services
were spared for fully five weeks. Even with Mr. Carstensen’s
thorough knowledge of the language, this must have been felt as
a serious inconvenience, for Abraham proved himself active and
intelligent; and the duties of a consular agent on the Marocco
coast being by no means of a hum-drum character, the need of a
man familiar with the country and the people in the capacity of
secretary and assistant is daily felt. Being a Marocco Jew, born
in a position of relative inferiority to his Mohammedan neighbours,
Abraham no doubt felt a keen satisfaction in the sense of security
which he derived from his position in the British service. To be
able to converse in a tone approaching to equality with powerful
officials; to emancipate oneself from restrictions trifling, yet
galling, in matters of dress and demeanour; to share in some measure
in the vague sense of power vested in the representatives of the
great European States—must be the climax of ambition to a member
of a despised nationality in a land where neither intelligence nor
wealth nor good reputation give a man security or social recognition.
It had been arranged that our escort was to consist of four soldiers,
under the command of a _kaïd_, nearly equivalent, as we were told,
to a captain in European army rank. This was more than was requisite
for security, as, with all its barbarism, the Marocco Government
is efficient enough within the parts of the territory where the
Sultan’s authority is recognised and feared. Within those limits
it is enough to let it be known that a traveller enjoys the Imperial
protection; no one will ever think of daring to molest him.
After devoting a good part of the day to indispensable preparations
for our future journey, we were free to look about us in the
singular little town which, as the chief port of South Marocco,
is the last outpost of civilisation on the African coast at this
side of the French settlements of Senegal. Like many other places
in Marocco, this owes its existence to the caprice of a Sultan. It
was founded in 1760 by Sidi Mohammed, the most energetic of recent
Moorish sovereigns, and became a considerable place when, a few years
later, the same ruler destroyed Agadir, and ordered the merchants
established there to remove to Mogador. Jackson tells us that it
received its European name from the sanctuary of Sidi Mogodol,
standing somewhere among the neighbouring sandhills; but a town of
Mogador is shown in a map published in 1608,[1] standing a short
way north of the island, which is there marked ‘I. Domegador.’
As have most of those marked on the early maps, the ancient town
had doubtless disappeared before the foundation of the present one,
called by the Moors Soueira; but the old name must have survived
in the country.
The low rocky island lying opposite to the town, and separated by a
navigable channel, affords shelter from all winds except those from
the SW.; but the depth of water is not great, and there are numerous
dangerous reefs, so that in threatening weather steam is always kept
up, and ships proceed to sea when SW. winds are expected. Although
the island is shown on the oldest maps, and the channel is
represented much as we now see it in the plates to Jackson’s
work, from drawings made about the beginning of this century, we
were positively assured that old people in Mogador recollected the
time when the island was connected with the mainland by an isthmus,
over which cattle could be driven at low water; and this story
seemed to have gained credence with the European inhabitants.
Though it has no buildings of importance, the town is in one respect
the most habitable in Marocco, being remarkably clean, and in that
respect superior to very many seaports in Europe. This is largely
due to the efforts of two intelligent French physicians, who have
at various periods visited Mogador, but especially to the exertions
of Dr. Thevenin, who has resided there for many years.
The Governor and other officials, with the European consuls and
merchants, all reside in the Kasbah—the chief of the three
quarters into which the town is divided. Here are several narrow
but regularly-built streets; the houses are mostly of two stories,
enclosing a small courtyard, which is entered by a low and narrow
doorway from the street. In the Moorish town, inhabited by natives
of the lower class, the houses are of one story, and poor in
appearance; but the practice of whitewashing within and without
once every week makes them look clean, and, no doubt, has much to
do with the remarkable immunity of this place from contagious and
endemic diseases. The Jewish town is much overcrowded; but we were
assured that even here the modern gospel of soap and water has made
much progress.
In the afternoon we sallied forth with our portfolios; but in
deference to public opinion, which could not endure that strangers
of consequence should be seen trudging on foot, we rode for about a
mile out of the town. Its surroundings are not prepossessing. The low
tertiary limestone rock, on which it is built, and which doubtless
extends inland for some distance, is covered up to the city walls
by blown sand, driven along the shore before the SW. winds, forming
dunes that cover the whole surface; and in most directions one may
ride two or three miles before encountering any other vegetation
than a few paltry attempts at cultivating vegetables for the table
within little enclosed plots, whose owners are constantly disputing
the ground with the intrusive sand. The chief break in the monotony
of the sand ridges is due to the small stream of the Oued Kseb
(called Oued el-Ghoreb on Beaudouin’s map), which reaches the sea
little more than a mile away on the south side of the town. Much
of the water being diverted, the current is not strong enough to
keep a channel through the sands, but forms at its mouth a marsh,
where many of the most interesting plants of the neighbourhood are
to be found. The drip from the small aqueduct that supplies water to
the town suffices to give nourishment to other less uncommon species.
Mogador has long been tolerably well known to botanists. It was
visited by Broussonet at the latter end of the last century,
and was for some time the residence of Schousboë. More recently
the neighbourhood has been explored by the late Mr. Lowe and by
M. Balansa. We could not, therefore, reasonably expect to find here
anything new to science; but our short excursion was nevertheless
full of interest, though not altogether of an agreeable kind. We
here saw for the first time a district recently ravaged by locusts;
and while we acquired a lively sense of the amount of mischief
effected by these destructive creatures, we also found out how
it happens that the damage is confined within tolerable limits;
how, in short, they fail to turn the country into a desert. When
one reads the reports of credible eye-witnesses, who describe the
arrival of swarms of locusts that devour every green thing, one
asks oneself how it can be possible for man or animals to survive
such destruction. In the first place, it may be remarked that, like
most other sweeping statements, these are not strictly true. The
locusts do not, in point of fact, devour every green thing. In
the spots where they were most destructive we always remarked that
certain plants escaped untouched. The result of this immunity would
naturally be to substitute the latter for the species destroyed by
the locusts, were there not some very efficient agency for repairing
the damage and maintaining the life of the species, if not of the
individual. An important element in considering this question is the
season at which the mischief is effected. The young locust grows
very fast, and it is mainly during the period of growth that it
consumes vegetation. When once the animal has attained its full size,
it becomes comparatively inert, and its capacity for destruction
is vastly diminished. If the swarm of young locusts arrives before
the middle of April, when the rainy season is not quite over, the
first showers revive the plants that have been devoured almost to
the root with surprising rapidity. Perennial species throw out new
buds, and are soon again covered with leaf and flower; and the same
often happens with annuals, unless these have already shed their
seed, and then a new crop soon reappears. It may be supposed that
the vast amount of decaying animal matter left on the surface,
even in the most barren spot, contributes not a little to the
vigour of the vegetation, and thus compensates for the destruction
effected at an earlier stage. It is when the swarms appear late,
and attack the wheat or maize after the flowers are developed,
that the consequences to the population are very serious, and
famines result that periodically affect large districts.
In the present year it was clear that rain had fallen since the
locust invasion, and although much damage had been done, tolerable
specimens of many plants here seen for the first time were to be
found. A few of these are common to the Canary Islands and this part
of Africa; others are not yet known except on this coast. The most
curious of them is the _Senecio_ (_Kleinia_) _pteroneura_, whose
succulent almost leafless branches, as thick as a man’s finger,
bear a few heads of flowers that differ little, save in their
larger size, from those of the common groundsel. Well pleased with
our first glance at the South Marocco flora, we returned to our
comfortable quarters, and spent a pleasant evening in discussing
our future movements, and in drawing upon our host’s ample stores
of information respecting the country and its inhabitants.
We were now for the first time brought into contact with the
primitive stock of this part of Africa, one main branch of the
Bereber race, which is distinguished by speaking some dialect of the
Shelluh (Shleuh) language.[2] The affinity of this people with the
Berebers of the Lesser Atlas—including under that name the Kabyles
of Algeria, with the Riff tribes of North-west Marocco—has been
denied, but does not appear to be open to reasonable doubt. The
type is physically the same, excepting among some of the tribes
south of the Great Atlas, where the intermixture of Negro blood
has introduced new and very diverse elements. The languages now
spoken among these tribes doubtless exhibit marked differences,
especially to the ear of a foreigner. Jackson long ago denied the
relationship between the Shelluh and the Bereber, while Washington,
in the paper already quoted, came to a contrary conclusion. It may
now be considered as beyond question that the differences between
the Shelluh and the Kabyle are merely dialectic.[3] The value of
linguistic evidence in ethnological inquiries has of late been
questioned by eminent critics, and it must be conceded that such
evidence, when it merely rests on lexicographical coincidences, is
of less value than when it is derived from grammatical structure;
yet, after all deductions, the facts remain to be accounted for,
and, in the absence of proof to the contrary, it goes far towards
proving community of origin. It must be remembered, that unlettered
races are subject to far greater and more rapid changes of dialect
than those who preserve in sacred books or popular poetry fixed
standards of correct speech; add to this, the chances of error when
a traveller, communicating with a native through an interpreter,
and contending with sounds unusual to his ear, attempts to form
a vocabulary. These causes, acting together, tend to increase the
difficulty of recognizing linguistic affinities that really exist.
In the absence of any indication of the intrusion of a conquering
race that can be supposed to have imposed its language on the
previous population, it seems most probable that the native races
of North Africa, between the Libyan Desert and the Atlantic coast,
including also the Canary Islands, all belong to a single stock,
which may best be called Bereber. The two main branches are both
mountain peoples. To the north we have the tribes of the Lesser
Atlas, extending from the gates of Tetuan to the hill country
of Tunis, who may best bear the common name of Kabyles—to the
south-west the population of the Great Atlas, from the neighbourhood
of Fez to the coast between Agadir and Oued Noun, broken up into
numerous tribes, but all speaking some dialect of the same language,
and thence called generically Shelluhs. Of the scattered fragments
of the Bereber stock that have spread far through the oases of
the Great Desert, till they have come into contact with the Negro
tribes from the south of that barrier, our information is still
most imperfect. In constant conflict with each other, and with the
Arab and Negro tribes who dispute with them the scanty means of
subsistence that Nature here provides, they appear on the whole to
predominate over their competitors. The Touarecks, scattered over a
territory as large as half of Europe, from Algeria to Soudan, form
a separate branch of the same stock; while we learn from Gerhard
Rohlfs that the predatory tribes of the desert south of Marocco
are merely Shelluhs who have changed their habits and manner of
life to suit altered conditions of existence.
The character of the Bereber has scarcely received justice at
the hands either of ancient or modern writers. They have been
inconvenient neighbours for those who have sought to encroach on
their territory, and they are justly dreaded by the traveller through
the Great Desert as the most active and enterprising of the human
enemies he must confront or evade. Comparing them with the Moor and
Arab population of South Marocco, our report agrees with that of
Jackson, who probably knew them better than any other European has
done. They are decidedly superior in intelligence, in industry,
and general activity to their neighbours. Two of our retinue,
selected by Mr. Carstensen among the mountaineers who resort to
Mogador to pick up a living about the port, distinguished themselves
over all the rest both in physical and mental qualities; and one of
these especially, who became Hooker’s personal attendant, showed
an amount of general intelligence and unfailing cheerfulness that
made him a favourite with the entire party.
On the morning of the 27th we made an excursion to the island. It is
formed of an irregular, low, knobby mass of very friable tertiary
rock, which seems to yield rapidly to the erosive action of the
heavy waves that almost constantly break on its seaward face, where
the overhanging cliffs are hollowed into caverns. At the time of
our visit it appeared to be uninhabited. Two or three heavy pieces
of cannon, honeycombed with rust, lay near the highest point, but
seemed never to have been placed in position. A small building was
said to have been sometimes used for the custody of State prisoners,
but otherwise there was no indication here of the presence of
man. In such a spot we expected to find the coast vegetation fully
developed, but we counted without the locusts. Nowhere else did we
observe such complete destruction. A good many plants growing on
the rocks, within constant reach of the sea-spray, had escaped;
but on the rest of the island scarcely a green leaf remained,
and it required a patient search to discover a few fruits of some
leguminous plants that appear to abound in this locality. Of the
seaside rock-plants three were supposed to be peculiar to this single
spot. _Andryala mogadorensis_, of Cosson, a very showy species of
an unattractive genus, has been well figured in the ‘Botanical
Magazine’ for 1873; _Frankenia velutina_, the most ornamental
species of that variable genus, appeared at first quite distinct,
but we were afterwards led to suspect it to be a local form or
subspecies of the widely spread perennial _Frankenia_, so common
in the Mediterranean region. Both of these we afterwards found on
the coast near Saffi. Of the third plant—_Asteriscus imbricatus_,
of Decandolle—but a single stunted specimen was found by Ball,
and as yet it has no other known habitat. We here saw for the first
time a plant which turned out to be rather common in South Marocco,
and which was taken by us, as it had been by preceding botanists,
to be the _Apteranthes Gussoniana_, of Mikan, first described by
Gussone as _Stapelia europæa_, and in truth closely resembling
in habit and appearance some of the South African species of
_Stapelia_. The fruit, which we afterwards found in abundance,
did not appear different from that of Gussone’s plant; but when
the specimens carried to England by Maw flowered two years later,
the structure of the flower showed that it should be recognised
as a distinct species of the group which has received the generic
name _Boucerosia_, and it was accordingly published by Hooker, in
the ‘Botanical Magazine’ (No. 6137), under the name _Boucerosia
maroccana_.
In the course of the day we called on Monsieur Beaumier, the French
Consul, in company with Dr. Thevenin, an intelligent physician,
who has spent several years at Mogador, much to the advantage
of the inhabitants whether Christian or native. M. Beaumier not
only received us with the proverbial courtesy of his country, but
showed a warm interest in the success of our journey, and kindly
supplied us with many items of information, along with manuscript
notes prepared by himself during his residence in South Marocco. His
premature death, from an illness contracted during a visit to France
in 1875, has been a serious loss to the country which he had made
his second home.
Amongst other items of information, we owe to M. Beaumier a series
of meteorological observations carried on at Mogador with a single
interruption for nearly nine years, and supplying all requisite
particulars for eight complete years. The results are so remarkable
that they have attracted the attention of many physicians, and may
probably lead at some not distant date to the selection of this
place as a sanitarium for consumptive patients.
Dr. Thevenin mentioned several facts of much interest in their
bearing on this question. In the first place, phthisis is all but
completely unknown among the inhabitants of this part of Africa;
while in Algeria cases are not rare among the natives, and in
Egypt they are rather frequent. In the course of ten years he had
met but five cases among his very numerous native patients, and in
three of these the disease had been contracted at a distance. He
further mentioned several cases among Europeans who had arrived
in an advanced stage of the disease, on whom the influence of the
climate had exercised a remarkable curative effect.
An examination of the tables, showing the results of M. Beaumier’s
observations, and especially those for temperature, may help to
explain these facts, as they certainly show that Mogador enjoys a
more equable climate than any place within the temperate zone as
to which we possess accurate information.
It should be mentioned that these observations were made with good
instruments, sufficiently well situated on the shady side of the
open court-yard of the French Consulate, about thirty feet above
the sea level. The hours of observation were 8 A.M., 2 P.M., and 10
P.M.—not perhaps the best that could be selected, but sufficient
in a climate where rapid transitions are unknown.
A few of the results here stated in Fahrenheit’s scale are derived
from M. Beaumier’s tables as continued to the end of 1874:—
Mean temperature during eight years = 66.9°
Do. for the hottest year (1867) = 68.65
Do. for the coldest year (1872) = 65.75
Mean of the annual maxima = 82.5
Mean of the annual minima = 53.0
Highest temperature observed = 87.8
Lowest temperature observed = 50.7
More striking still is the comparison between the temperature of
summer and winter. The following results show the monthly mean
temperature, derived from eight years’ observations:—
{June = 70.8
Summer {July = 71.1
{August = 71.2
{December = 61.4
Winter {January = 61.2
{February = 61.8
showing a difference of only 10° of Fahrenheit’s scale between
the hottest and coldest months. It has not been possible to
ascertain accurately the daily range of the thermometer, as there
were no self-recording instruments employed; but there is reason
to believe that this would exhibit a still more remarkable proof
of the equability of the climate. So far as the observations go
they show an ordinary daily range of about 5° Fahr., and rarely
exceeding 8° Fahr. It may be added, that in the course of six
weeks from our arrival on April 26 to our departure on June 7,
the lowest night temperature observed at Mogador was 61° Fahr.,
and the highest by day 77° Fahr.
If the climate of Mogador be compared with that of such places as
Algiers, Madeira (Funchal), and Cairo, which have nearly the same
mean winter temperature, it will be found that in each of those
places the mercury is occasionally liable to fall considerably below
50°, and that the summer heat is greatly in excess of the limits
that suit delicate constitutions, the mean of the three hottest
months being about 80° Fahr. at Algiers, about 82° at Funchal,
and 85° at Cairo. It will help to complete the impression as to the
Mogador climate to say, that rain falls on an average on forty-five
days in the year; and that, per 1,000 observations on the state of
the sky, the proportions are
Clear 785; Clouded 175; Foggy 40:
the latter entry referring to days when a fog or thick haze prevails
in the morning, but disappears before mid-day. The desert wind is
scarcely felt at Mogador. On an average it blows on about two days
in each year, and on these rare occasions it has much less effect
on the thermometer than it has in Madeira, doubtless owing to the
protective effect of the chain of the Great Atlas.
These remarkable climatal conditions have been mainly attributed
to the influence of the north-east trade wind, which sets along the
coast, and prevails, especially in summer, throughout a great part
of the year; the average of north and north-east winds being about
271 days out of 365. West and south-west winds blow chiefly in winter
on about fifty-seven days in each year, and variable winds from the
remaining four points prevail on an average of thirty-seven days. The
north-east breeze, increasing in force as the sun approaches the
meridian, maintains the exceptionally cool summer temperature already
indicated as characteristic of the Mogador climate—a privilege
which is not shared by Saffi or Mazagan, where the summer heat
is sometimes excessive. It must be noted that although the summer
temperature of the interior of Marocco is much higher than that of
Mogador, it yet falls far short of what is found in places lying
in the same latitude in North Africa or Asia. This is evidently
owing to the influence of the Great Atlas chain, with its branches
that diverge northward towards the Mediterranean, which screen the
entire region from the burning winds of the desert, and send down
streams that cover the land with vegetation.
When one comes to consider how it happens that a place possessing
such extraordinary natural advantages has not become frequented
by the class of invalids to whom climate offers the only chance
of recovering health, or prolonging life, the obvious answer is,
that invalids cannot live on air alone, and that few persons
in that condition have the courage to select a place where they
may reasonably expect much difficulty in procuring the comforts
and even the necessaries of life, competent medical advice, and
some reasonable opportunities for occupation or amusement. The
difficulties under the first two heads are perhaps not very
serious. Lodging and food may apparently be procured on reasonable
terms, and for many years past there has always been a competent
French physician residing here. The resources of the place in point
of society are of course limited, and must vary with the arrival
and departure of the few European residents; but any one fortunate
enough to be interested in any branch of natural history would find
constant occupation of an agreeable kind in a place where there are
not half a dozen days in the year that may not be agreeably passed
out of doors.[4]
A special subject, to be earnestly recommended to any competent
inquirer, whether invalid or not, who may pass six months at Mogador,
is the language and ethnology of the Shelluh branch of the Bereber
race. Many of these mountain people come to seek a living at Mogador,
and from our experience it would not be difficult to find one who
would become a useful servant.
In the course of the day we visited the extensive stores of
Messrs. E. Bonnet & Co., who export large quantities of olive oil
from the neighbouring provinces. By increased care in the preparation
and subsequent purification of the oil, its quality has been much
improved. The cultivation of the vine has of late rapidly increased,
and wine of tolerable quality has taken a place among the products
which Marocco supplies to England.
Notwithstanding all that we had heard of the excellence of the
climate, we had to confess that at this season Mogador is not a
paradise for the botanist. The NNE. winds come saturated with vapour,
and charged with minute particles of salt from the breaking of the
Atlantic waves on the reefs near the town; and, as the temperature
of the land is scarcely higher than that of the sea, the air has
little or no drying effect on paper and plants. The consequence was
that Mr. Carstensen’s kitchen was used both by day and night to
save our specimens from destruction by damp.
As our interpreter, besides the cook and one or two more of our
retinue, were Jews, it was decided that, in order to spare their
feelings and those of the Jewish community in Mogador in respect
to the Sabbath, we should despatch them along with our heavy
baggage on April 28, while we should follow on the succeeding day
to the spot where they were to await us. Later in the day, after
completing the arrangements for our journey, we went by invitation
to dine with the Governor. We found that our host had had a table
prepared with chairs for Mrs. Carstensen, who with two European
ladies graced the entertainment. Beside them a carpet was spread
for Mr. Carstensen and our party; while the Governor himself, with
three native functionaries, sat in their usual fashion, cross-legged,
on another carpet several yards distant. The first preliminary was
the washing of fingers. One attendant bore water, another a brass
bowl or basin, and a third presented to each in turn an embroidered
towel. This process is always repeated at the close of dinner,
and is common to all classes in the country. The feast then began,
as every well-ordered Moorish banquet must do, by green tea. Three
cups, carefully prepared in the presence of the guests, in a silver
teapot half filled with sugar, were handed in succession to each,
and then fresh tea, with mint leaves added, is again prepared,
and of this decoction the natives usually take one or two cups
more. The serious part of the repast then followed. A large dish
of coarse earthenware, covered with a conical cap of fine straw,
twice the size of a beehive, is laid on a low wooden frame in the
centre of the circle of guests. On the present occasion duplicate
dishes were prepared for us, and for the Governor and his native
friends. When the cover was removed, we were introduced to the
national dish which was destined to be our frequent acquaintance
during our journey in the South. The basis of _keskossou_ is coarse
wheaten, or sometimes millet flour, cooked with butter, for which
oil is occasionally substituted. To this is added mutton, lamb,
or fowls, cut up into pieces, with various vegetables, either
laid on the farinaceous substratum or mixed up with it. Numerous
dishes succeeded each other, but they appeared to be all variations
on the same gastronomic theme. The cookery on this occasion was
better than we often found it; but the pervading flavour of rancid
butter, long kept in great earthen pots, is repulsive to European
stomachs, and few strangers are ever fortunate enough to be able
to enjoy Moorish feasts. To some of us this was the first occasion
for practising the art of eating with our fingers, and it was lucky
that our host was not at hand to observe the awkwardness of our first
essays. We improved somewhat with practice, but never could approach
the dexterity and neatness with which the natives accomplish the
operation, using only the fingers of the right hand. Conversation
was completely drowned during dinner by the native music provided
in compliment to the distinguished guests. Four men, squatting on
the ground, struck the stretched metal strings of an instrument
somewhat resembling a very rude Tyrolese _zither_, and kept up a
constant chant or recitation in loud nasal tones, very different
from the slow monotonous almost always melancholy songs of the Arabs
in the East. These men, on the contrary, declaimed the words with
unflagging energy, as though determined that the hearers should
understand the story; and it was a moment of intense relief when
at the end of dinner the deafening clang of strings and voices
ceased. The fingers were again washed, green tea again served,
courtesy requiring that each guest should take at least three cups,
and then the Governor and his friends advanced and joined our party.
Mr. Carstensen had asked permission to bring some wine for our
use during dinner, and afterwards naturally took the occasion to
invite the Moors present to take a share. With very slight show of
reluctance, they accepted; and, though the quantity consumed was
but trifling, the effect was unmistakable. The conversation became
very lively, and jokes passed which excited peals of laughter,
though most of them evaporated in the process of translation. One of
the Moorish guests—Director of the Tobacco monopoly, as we were
told—from the first struck us as a man of jovial temperament;
and on him the extra glass or two of wine had a potent effect,
the jollity culminating in an extemporised dance, reminding one
of the dancing bears, once the delight of our youth, that have
disappeared since the era of Zoological Gardens. The copious doses
of green tea did not prevent some of the party from sleeping; while
others sat up till near morning, engaged in the almost hopeless
endeavour to get large piles of botanical paper thoroughly dry,
before we finally started on our journey into the interior.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: See Appendix C.]
[Footnote 2: The usage of preceding English writers is hereafter
followed by writing the name, Shelluh; but to our ears the native
pronunciation is more accurately given by the spelling Shleuh
or Shloo.]
[Footnote 3: See Appendix H.]
[Footnote 4: Those who are interested in the subject should
consult a pamphlet entitled ‘_Mogador et son Climat_,’ par
V. Seux, Marseille, 1870, and a paper in the Bulletin of the French
Geographical Society for 1875, by Dr. Ollive, now residing at that
place, styled ‘_Climat de Mogador et de son influence sur la
Phthisie_.’ There are some errors in the tables included in the
latter paper, and especially in that headed ‘_Tableau comparatif
des Températures moyennes de diverses stations hivernales_.’]