Among the various preparations made for our journey there was none more important for our purpose than a manuscript catalogue of all the plants hitherto known or believed to have been found in the Empire of Marocco, which we owed to the kindness of our excellent friend M. Cosson, the eminent French botanist. Up to that date the information to be found in books was extremely scanty, and scattered throughout various systematic works, and the whole when summed up would have given a most incomplete account of the two or three districts partially explored by botanists. M. Cosson, by his unequalled knowledge of the North African flora, and by careful study of all the collections made in Marocco, many of which are in his exclusive possession, was the only person who could have supplied the materials which were so serviceable throughout our journey.
In the agreeable society of old friends and new acquaintances, whom we met on board the rather crowded steamer, the voyage to Gibraltar did not appear too tedious, but we were well pleased when, on the afternoon of the 6th, the moment came for landing.
We were not destined to see much of the famous ‘Rock’ or its native ‘scorpions,’ whether biped or hexapod. Scarcely had our voluminous baggage been transported to the hotel, when news reached us that an English steamer was about to sail within two hours for Tangier, and we at once decided that not a moment’s time should be wasted. Back again our heavy goods, in which botanical paper was a chief ingredient, were carried to the mole, and after paying the innkeeper a pretty heavy ransom, on account of rooms ordered but not used, and a hastily swallowed dinner, we once more found ourselves afloat. So much haste was not necessary, for the steamer did not start till some time after midnight; but the time was not badly spent, for the steamer was one of those that ply between London and the Canary Islands, touching at the ports on the Atlantic coast of Marocco; and the skipper, who was an old stager, and had formed his own opinions about the country, had plenty of information, of a more or less authentic, but mainly discouraging, character, which he was most ready to impart.
The distance from Gibraltar to Tangier is not more than thirty-five miles, and we came to anchor in the open roadstead soon after daylight on April 7. Unlike the ports on the Atlantic coast, the shape of the land here gives some protection from the prevailing westerly seas and winds; but in other respects this is a bad one. The ruined mole, round which sand has accumulated, forms on one side a dangerous reef, and elsewhere the shore shelves very slowly to a moderate depth. Ships of any burthen are forced to lie out far from shore, and the landing from boats is usually effected on the backs of Jews, inasmuch as no Moslem will degrade himself by performing such a service for a Christian.
On Good Friday the Jews were all engaged in the ceremonies of the Passover; but, as the sea was unusually calm, we were able to land on the ruins of the mole, and, after floundering through slippery seaweed, we were not long in reaching the sea gate of the city.
We had already perceived that, although no longer in Europe, we were yet under the shadow of European manners and customs. High above the city walls we espied, as we neared the shore, several conspicuous inscriptions, announcing the titles of various places of entertainment. In the centre the ‘Hôtel de France’ gave promise of culinary skill; but we preferred the ‘Royal Victoria Hotel,’ whose title, in quite gigantic letters, first attracted our notice, and which had been well recommended for cleanliness and comfort. Our subsequent experience justified the choice, and we had every reason to be satisfied with the attention we received from the intelligent and obliging coloured proprietor, Mr. Martin.
Tangier stands on the western side of a shallow bay, on rocky ground that rises steeply from the shore. Westward the hills gradually rise in swelling undulations towards the Djebel Kebir, or Great Mountain, covered with dwarf oaks and flowering shrubs, that ends in the promontory of Cape Spartel. On the opposite, or eastern, side the shores of the bay are low and sandy, but are backed by the rugged range of the Angera Mountains, culminating in the Ape’s Hill opposite Gibraltar.
As seen from the sea the town has a singular, though not an imposing, appearance. Cubical blocks of white-washed masonry, with scarcely an opening to represent a window, rise one above another on the steep slope of a recess in the hills that faces the NE. A few slender square towers belong to as many mosques of paltry proportions. Numerous consular flagstaffs remind the European that he still enjoys the protection of his own government, and on the summit of the hill a massive gaunt castle of forbidding aspect shows where he might expect to lodge if that protection were removed, and he were to give offence to the native functionaries. Zigzag walls encompass the city on all sides, pierced by three gates, which are closed at nightfall.
The stranger, who knows that Tangier is one of the most important towns of Marocco, and the residence of the representatives of the chief civilised States, is apt to be shocked when he first sets foot within its walls. The main street is as rough and steep as the most neglected of Alpine mule-tracks, and disfigured by heaps of filth—importunate beggars of revolting aspect, led about by young boys, assail him at every step—there is no bazaar, as in eastern towns, and the miserable shops are mere recesses, where, in an unglazed opening, little larger than a berth in a ship’s cabin, the dealer squats surrounded by his paltry wares.
On longer acquaintance, he will somewhat modify his first unfavourable impression. Unlike the towns of Southern Europe, where the main thoroughfares are cared for by the local authorities, while filth is allowed to accumulate in the byeways, the dirt and offal are here let to lie under his nose in the most public places, while the steep narrow lanes—reminding him of Genoa—that intersect the masses of closely packed houses, are generally kept clean and bright with frequent whitewash. The silent dead walls that front the public thoroughfares conceal the interiors of houses that are rarely opened to the eyes of Europeans, but are not wanting in the signs of wealth and of artistic taste. The dread of arbitrary exactions, that elsewhere in Marocco drives the Moor as well as the Jew to conceal the possession of property as carefully as men elsewhere hide the evidence of guilt, is less keenly felt here. For in and around Tangier, but nowhere else in this country, it may be said that life and property are tolerably secure, not only from outward violence, but from the caprice and cupidity of men in authority. The presence of foreign diplomatic agents, and the constant communication with Europe, have brought the Moorish authorities at this spot to some extent under the control of civilised opinion, and the disastrous encounters with France and Spain have convinced the Moor that, with all his personal bravery, he cannot resist the regular forces of his European neighbours, and must not provoke an unequal conflict.