CHAPTER II.
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.