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.