Journal of a tour in Marocco and the Great Atlas

by Joseph Dalton Hooker; John Ball

After dinner, we adjourned from our tent to pay our promised visit to the Kaïd, who, according to custom, had green tea served in a small low room, which was reached through intricate passages. As a matter of course, the object of our journey was the chief topic of conversation. Among other plants we spoke of the furbioun,[3] or Gum Euphorbium, which we knew to be produced by a cactoïd Euphorbia that grows about the base of the Great Atlas, east of the city of Marocco. Concurrent native testimony fixes the province of Demenet as its chief home; and it must be very rare, or altogether absent, in the districts traversed by us, as it is scarcely possible that it should have been overlooked. Apparently conciliated by some trifling presents, the Kaïd informed us that he had in his garden some plants brought from Demenet, and offered one of these, which was safely forwarded to Kew, as a gift to Hooker.

When nearly ready to start on the morning of May 9, we were informed that the Kaïd meant to accompany us on the way to Tasseremout.[4] This caused a slight delay, which was not unpleasantly occupied in looking around us. The morning air was delightfully cool (58° Fahr. at 6 A.M.), although the day before had been hot, and at 11 P.M. the thermometer had fallen only to 73°. The position of the Kaïd’s dwelling was in itself very beautiful, in the midst of a fertile country encircled by hills, and these backed by a majestic range of lofty mountains. The line of escarpment skirting the base of the Atlas, already distinctly seen in the view from Marocco, was conspicuous on the eastern side, but towards the south was partly concealed by fine olive groves. The mean of two nearly concordant observations gives for the height of this place 2,399 feet (731·1 m.) above the sea.

At about 7 A.M. we moved, and, crossing the dry riverbed, very soon began to ascend among low hills, apparently formed by erosion from an upper plateau that surrounds the base of the mountains. We often rode along hollow ways between high banks or lofty hedges formed of tangled shrubs and climbing plants, in which were mingled some familiar forms with several altogether new to us. A dog-rose, scarcely distinguishable from the common British Rosa canina, was common in some places, along with profuse masses of Ephedra altissima and other southern forms. Climbing high over all these was a beautiful Coronilla, with very large white and lilac-blue flowers. We knew that a fine species of this genus, first brought from Marocco by Broussonnet, had been formerly cultivated in England, though long since lost from our gardens; but the Coronilla viminalis figured by Salisbury shows yellow flowers, and is placed amongst the shrubby species of the genus. It was clear that in the plant before us the stems die down nearly to the root every winter; and our belief that this was an entirely new species only yielded to subsequent careful examination, which proved that it is no other than Broussonnet’s plant.

The date-palm had disappeared soon after we entered the hills; here, and elsewhere on our route, it seems to be confined to the lower region, rarely attaining the level of 3,000 feet above the sea. Its place was here supplied by the palmetto (Chamærops humilis), which seldom forms a trunk, perhaps because it is not allowed to attain a sufficient age. As we advanced, the vegetation constantly offered a more varied and attractive aspect; and one of our first prizes was a new species of thyme (Thymus maroccanus, Ball), somewhat like the species of the Argan zone, but with oblong leaves and uncoloured bracts. Of comparatively familiar forms there were Cistus monspeliensis, and C. polymorphus, the first species of that genus that we had seen in South Marocco, the pretty little Cleonia lusitanica, with many other Labiatæ. Of plants new to our eyes by far the most interesting was the curious Polygala Balansæ. To those who know only the milkworts of Europe and North America, it must seem strange to hear of a large shrubby Polygala, with branches that end in a sharp point, few small leaves, so quickly deciduous that it generally appears quite leafless, and large flowers of a showy purple-red colour. In truth, although there is great variety of form in this large genus, the species which is common throughout the lower valleys of the Great Atlas is very distinct from all its congeners. In Arabia and South Africa there are some species forming dwarf bushes with spinescent branches, but in other respects very different. When full grown this is six or eight feet in height; and the round, green, almost leafless stems give it, when the flowers are absent, much the appearance of Spartium junceum, the large broom of Southern Europe.

After riding some way up a rather steep stony track, we reached a grove of very fine olive trees, and our escort came to a halt. We had reached Tasseremout. For some time we had seen a large pile of solid masonry which crowned the hill immediately above the olive grove. This seemed to deserve a visit; but, on the other hand, the attractions of the surrounding vegetation were irresistible to botanists. The matter was settled by Hooker proceeding to visit the castle with the Kaïd, while Ball botanised,

FORT AT TASSEREMOUT.

and Maw secured living specimens of some of the more interesting plants.

The castle of Tasseremout is one out of a large number of similar buildings standing on the northern outworks of the Great Atlas chain that will afford interesting matter for inquiry to future travellers when the country becomes more accessible, and the lessened jealousy of the natives will make a thorough examination of them less impossible than it would be at present. The natives vaguely attribute their construction to Christians or Romans, the same word conveying either meaning; but the Jews often explain this to mean Portuguese. The general character of these buildings, as far as our information goes, is tolerably uniform. The walls are of great thickness and built of rough hewn stone: the arches are always rounded and the lower chambers vaulted; and they are evidently places of defence. There is little reason to believe that the Portuguese, who held at one time or other most of the Atlantic coast of Marocco, ever established a firm footing inland, and still less that they had such a hold on South Marocco as would be implied by the erection of a chain of forts along the foot of the Atlas. On the other hand, the history of Mauritania during the long period of the decline of Rome, and preceding the Saracen conquest, is an almost complete blank, save for a few apocryphal stories. It is certain that the lower country was once completely subject to Roman power and Roman institutions, and it remains to be ascertained how far an organised government survived the weakening of the central authority. That the independent tribes of the Atlas may have been inconvenient neighbours to the half-Romanised inhabitants of the plain is more than probable, and that the forts should have been erected to hold the former in check seems the most likely conjecture as to their origin. Excavation, whenever that may be practicable, will scarcely fail to tell something of the original occupants of these buildings, and to diminish our ignorance of a dark period of past history.

As to the question which interested us most nearly, the Kaïd had at first been reserved; and when it became necessary to decide, his language was decidedly unfavourable. It was impossible, he said, to reach the high mountains with snow on them from Tasseremout. Any one attempting to do so would pass beyond his district, where he could not protect us, and he could not allow us to incur such a risk. We remembered Washington’s account of his winter excursion from this place; and, what was more curious, we found that a tradition of the visit of Christians who have gone up the mountains here many years before survived among the people. When, in December, 1829, the late Sir J. Drummond Hay was received at Marocco with great distinction by the then Sultan, it was arranged that, after taking leave of the sovereign, the party should enjoy two or three days’ hunting towards the foot of the Atlas, and they accordingly encamped somewhere below Tasseremout. Washington and some other officers attached to the mission resolved to take the opportunity for ascending the mountains as far as possible. At starting they evidently thought it practicable to attain the higher peaks from this place by a continuous ascent, and appear to have been surprised to find, after several hours’ climbing, when they had reached and somewhat passed the limit of the winter snow, that the ‘highest peaks were still far beyond their reach.’ To one familiar with high mountain countries, the natural course for attaining to the backbone of a considerable chain is by penetrating to the head of one of the deeper valleys; and the course taken by Washington’s party would appear no more promising than the attempt to scale Monte Rosa from the plain of Piedmont by ascending the mountains behind Ivrea. The mountain stream that flows below Tasseremout seems to come from the SE., where the range presents no conspicuous summits; whereas the higher points visible from our camp at Mesfioua lay nearly due south. We were therefore not inclined to insist on carrying out our original design of making Tasseremout our base of operations; and when we were told that the valley of Ourika, lying some distance to the west, led to the snowy mountains, we at once decided on moving thither in the course of the afternoon. To console us for our disappointment, the Kaïd invited us to a repast which, like the food supplied at Mesfioua, was much better cooked than usual. We especially appreciated some cakes, or bannocks, of wheaten flour that made an agreeable change from the biscuit to which we were often reduced.