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 4,000,000l. 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:

[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.