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PREFACE.

The expedition of which an account is given in the following pages was undertaken in the year 1871, and it was originally intended that a narrative of the proceedings should be given to the public soon after our return to England. Sir Joseph D. Hooker, who made careful notes throughout the journey, hoped to complete the work without much delay, and actually wrote the greater part of the first two chapters; but the constant demands upon his time arising from his official duties at Kew, and the important botanical works to which he is a chief contributor, further increased by his election, in 1873, to the Presidency of the Royal Society, so far interfered with the completion of the original design as to compel him to request his fellow-traveller, Mr. Ball, to undertake the completion of the work. The latter was at the time engaged in preparing for publication a memoir on the Flora of Marocco, which has since appeared in the Journal of the Linnæan Society, wherein the botanical collections made during the journey are enumerated and described; and his performance of the task allotted to him has been further delayed by several prolonged absences from England.

As regards many countries visited by travellers a delay of several years in publication might seriously affect the accuracy of a narrative intended to represent the existing condition of the country and its inhabitants; but in the case of Marocco, where, from a comparison with the accounts of early travellers, no notable change is apparent during the last two centuries, the effect of a few years’ interval may be considered insensible. Up to the date of our visit the Great Atlas was little better known to geographers than it was in the time of Strabo and Pliny; and it may be hoped that whatever interest belongs to our journey is as great now as it was at the moment of our return.

The narrative now published is mainly founded on the journals kept by Sir J. Hooker and Mr. Ball, supplemented in some particulars by that of our fellow-traveller, Mr. G. Maw. To the latter we owe a sketch of the Geology of Marocco, which appears in the Appendix. Along with this we have published some interesting contributions received from Mr. H. B. Brady and Mr. Freeman Bogers, as well as some papers upon various matters connected with the physical geography and the flora of Marocco.

It is impossible to present these pages to the public without repeating the expression of our obligations to some of those to whose assistance we largely owe whatever success we were able to attain. Foremost amongst these we must name H. E. Sir John Drummond Hay, K.C.B., British Minister Plenipotentiary in Marocco. From the moment when, in compliance with the request of Sir J. Hooker, Lord Granville, then Foreign Secretary, instructed our Minister to apply for the permission of the Sultan to visit the Great Atlas, Sir J. D. Hay, by his extensive knowledge of the country and the people, and by his great personal influence, afforded invaluable assistance to the expedition.

We were also much indebted for assistance and hospitality to the British Consular agents on the Marocco coast, and especially to the late Mr. Carstensen, then Vice-Consul at Mogador. We should not omit our acknowledgments of the courtesy and valuable information received from the late M. Beaumier, French Consul at the same port.

We trust that in the course of the following pages we have not omitted to express our thanks to other friends who have kindly contributed valuable information. The scope of this volume being mainly to give an account of our personal experience and observations, we have used, but sparingly, other materials, which might be in place if we had aimed at the production of a work of a more elaborate character.

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CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
	PAGE
Voyage to Gibraltar — View of Tangier — Interior of the town — Portuguese and English occupation — Hospitable reception by Sir John Drummond Hay — Ravensrock — Government of Marocco — Climate of North Marocco — Exceptional season — The Djebel Kebir and its vegetation — Cistus and Heath region — Cape Spartel — Night at the Lighthouse — Cave of Hercules — Arab village — Return to Tangier	1
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	25
CHAPTER III.
Sail to Algeciras — Vegetation of the neighbouring hills — Comparison between the opposite sides of the Strait of Gibraltar — Return to Tangier — Troubles of a botanist — Fez pottery — Voyage in French steamer — Rabat and Sallee — Land at Casa Blanca — Vegetation of the neighbourhood — Humidity of the coast climate — Mazagan — View of Saffi	58
CHAPTER IV.
Arrival at Mogador — The Sultan’s letter — Preparations for our journey — The town of Mogador — The neighbouring country — Ravages of locusts — Native races of South Marocco — Excursion to the island — Climate of Mogador — Its influence on consumption — Dinner with the Governor	75
CHAPTER V.
Departure from Mogador — Argan forest — Hilly country of Haha — Fertile province of Shedma — Hospitality of the Governor — Turkish visitor — Offering of provisions — Kasbah of the Governor — Ride to Aïn Oumast — First view of the Great Atlas — Pseudo-Sahara — Tomb of a saint — Nzelas — Ascend the ‘Camel’s Back’ — Oasis of Sheshaoua — Coolness of the night temperature — Rarity of ancient buildings — Halt at Aïn Beida — Tents and luggage gone astray — Night at Misra ben Kara — Cross the Oued Nfys — Plain of Marocco — Range of the Great Atlas — Halt under tamarisk tree	95
CHAPTER VI.
Approach to the city of Marocco — Pleasant encounter — Halt in an olive garden — Interior of the city — Difficulty as to lodging — Governor unfriendly — Camp in the great square — Negotiations with the Viceroy — Successful result — Palace of Ben Dreis — Diplomatic difficulties — Gardens of Marocco — Interview with El Graoui	125
CHAPTER VII.
Choice of a route in the Atlas — Difficulty of procuring information — Hills near the city — Panorama of the Great Atlas — Probable height of the range — Wild birds of Marocco — Condition of the Jews — Departure from the city — Farewell interview with El Graoui — District of Mesfioua — Interview with the Kaïd — Approach to the Great Atlas — Aspect of the vegetation — Castle of Tasseremout — Washington’s visit — Jewish suppliants — Great boulder mounds — Ourika valley — Peculiarities of Moorish character — Rapacity of our escort	149
CHAPTER VIII.
Vegetation of Ourika valley — Destruction of the native trees — Our progress checked — Enforced return — Shelluh village — Ride from Ourika to Reraya — Trouble with our escort — A friendly Shelluh sheik — Native desire for medical advice — Characteristics of the Shelluhs — Zaouia of Moulaï Ibrahim — Camp in Aït Mesan valley — Excursion to the head of the valley — Reach the snow — Night travelling in the Atlas	175
CHAPTER IX.
The Shelluh sheik bribed — Arrangements for stopping at Arround — Medical practice among the Shelluhs — Arabic correspondence — Unexpected difficulty — Strange fancies of the natives — Threatening weather — Our house at Arround — Gloomy morning — Saint’s tomb — Escape from our guides — Strange encounter — Snow-storm — Tagherot pass — Descent to Arround — Continuance of bad weather — Sacrifice of a sheep — Shelluh mountaineers — Fauna of the Great Atlas — Return to Hasni — Deplorable condition of our camp	207
CHAPTER X.
Departure from Hasni — Plateau of Sektana — Grand view of the Great Atlas — Departure of Maw — Village of Gurgouri — Intrigues of Kaïd el Hasbi — Passage of the Oued Nfys — Arrival at Amsmiz — Friendly Governor — Difficulties as to further progress — Position of Amsmiz — Sleeping quarters in the Kasbah — Fanatical sheik — Shelluh market — View of the Amsmiz valley — Village of Iminteli — Friendly Jews — Geological structure and vegetation of the valley — Sheik’s opposition overcome — Ascent of Djebel Tezah — The guide left behind — View from the summit — Anti-Atlas seen at last — Deserted dwellings on the peak — Ancient oak forest — Rapid descent — Night ride to Iminteli	239
CHAPTER XI.
Return to Amsmiz — Arround villagers in trouble — Pains and pleasures of a botanist — Ride across the plain — Mzouda — Experiences of a Governor in Marocco — Hospitable chief of Keira — A village in excitement — Arrival at Seksaoua — Fresh difficulties as to our route — A faithful black soldier — Rock vegetation at Seksaoua — Ascent of a neighbouring mountain — View of the Great Atlas — Absence of perpetual snow — Return of our envoy from Mtouga — Pass leading to Tarudant — Native names for the mountains — Milhaïn — Botanising in the rocks	271
CHAPTER XII.
Departure from Milhaïn — Defile of Aïn Tarsil — Dwellings of the troglodytes — Arrival at Mtouga — Gloomy evening — Governor’s return from the fight — Prisoners of war — Their fate — Ride to Mskala — A venerable Moor — Return to the Kasbah of Shedma — Poisoned guests — Ride to Aïn el-Hadjar — The Iron mountain — Ancient mining work — Eccentric soldier — Ascent of Djebel Hadid — Ruins of Akermout — Ride to Mogador — A Kasbah in ruins — Powder-play on the beach — Return to Mogador	299
CHAPTER XIII.
Second stay at Mogador — Plants obtained through native collectors — Outrage committed by the Haha people — Story of the troubles in Haha — Farewell presents to our servants and escort — An unpunctual tradesman corrected — Exports from Mogador — Caravans from Timbuktou — Jewish wedding — Voyage in the Lady Havelock — Land at Saffi — Excursion ashore — Land at Mazagan — Return to Tangier, and thence to England	326
CHAPTER XIV.
Resources of Marocco — Moorish government a hopeless failure — Future prospects of Marocco — Objections to European interference — Answers to such objections	348

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APPENDICES.

APPENDIX A.
	PAGE
Observations for determining Altitudes of Stations in Marocco. By John Ball	357
APPENDIX B.
Itineraries of Routes from the City of Marocco through the Great Atlas. By Salomon ben Daoud	366
APPENDIX C.
Notes on the Geography of South Marocco. By John Ball	371
APPENDIX D.
On some Economic Plants of Marocco. By Joseph Dalton Hooker	386
APPENDIX E.
A Comparison between the Flora of the Canary Islands and that of Marocco. By Joseph Dalton Hooker	404
APPENDIX F.
A Comparison between the Mountain Flora of Tropical Africa and that of Marocco. By Joseph Dalton Hooker	421
APPENDIX G.
On the Mountain Flora of two Valleys of the Great Atlas. By John Ball	423
APPENDIX H.
Notes on the Geology of the Plain of Marocco and the Great Atlas. By George Maw, F.G.S., F.L.S., &c.	444
APPENDIX I.
Moorish Stories and Fables	468
APPENDIX K.
On the Shelluh Language. By John Ball	478
APPENDIX L.
Note on the Roman Remains known to the Moors as the Castle of Pharaoh, near Mouley Edris el Kebir. Communicated by Messrs. W. H. Richardson and H. B. Brady, F.R.S.	485
INDEX	491

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ILLUSTRATIONS.

Panorama on the Great Atlas from the City of Marocco	Frontispiece
Cape Spartel	Title-page
Tetuan	To face page	39
Saffi	„	73
Tower of the Koutoubia at Marocco	„	142
Great Atlas from Lower Valley of Aït Mesan	„	193
West End of the Marocco Atlas from Sektana	„	242
Djebel Tezah from Iminteli	„	257
Geological section of the Plain of Marocco and the Great Atlas	„	460
WOODCUTS IN TEXT.
		PAGE
Argan Trees		97
Reed Screen for Locust destruction		159
Fort at Tasseremout		166
Houses at Arround		215
Isolated Mass in Great Atlas		265
Cliff Section, Saffi		451
Rotuloidea fimbriata (Etheridge)		452
Calcareous Crust (Surface and Section)		455
‘Camel’s Back,’ flat-topped Hills in the Plain of Marocco		456
Boulder Mounds, skirting Atlas Plateau Escarpment (Section and Surface)		459, 460
Roman Ruins of Volubilis		487
Moulding of Double Interlaced Lines		488
MAP
A New Map of South Marocco, by John Ball, F.R.S.
	At the end of volume.

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JOURNAL
OF A
TOUR IN MAROCCO.

CHAPTER I.

Voyage to Gibraltar — View of Tangier — Interior of the town — Portuguese and English occupation — Hospitable reception by Sir John Drummond Hay — Ravensrock — Government of Marocco — Climate of North Marocco — Exceptional season — The Djebel Kebir and its vegetation — Cistus and Heath region — Cape Spartel — Night at the Lighthouse — Cave of Hercules — Arab village — Return to Tangier.

On Saturday, April 1, 1871, our party, consisting of Sir Joseph (then Dr.) Hooker, Mr. Maw, and Mr. Ball, with a young gardener, named Crump, from the Royal Gardens at Kew, left Southampton for Gibraltar, in the Peninsular and Oriental Company’s Steamship Massilia.

Even for the ordinary tourist it is a pleasant thing to turn his face towards the South in the early part of the year, and to feel that he is about to exchange six or eight weeks of bitter easterly winds for the bright skies and soft breezes of the Mediterranean region. Still more does the botanist rejoice to quit the poverty of our slowly unfolding spring flora for the wealth of varied vegetation that is spread around the shores of the Inland Sea. But for us, the occasion was one of deeper and more special interest. We were starting, under unusually favourable conditions, to explore a country which, though close to Europe, is among the least known regions of the earth. Although the obstacles we were sure to encounter and the limited time at our disposal, might not allow us to accomplish much, we felt a confident hope that we should learn something of a great mountain chain all but absolutely unknown to geographers, and be able to fill up some missing pages in the records of our favourite science. The thrill of pleasurable anticipation at the prospect of setting foot within the boundaries of terra incognita was heightened by the fact that for each of us this land of Marocco had long been the object of especial interest and curiosity.

From an early period Hooker had conceived the desire to explore the range of the Great Atlas, to become acquainted with its vegetation, and to ascertain whether this supplies connecting links between that of the Mediterranean region and the peculiar flora of the Canary Islands. This desire was increased during a journey in Syria, in 1860, made in company with Admiral Washington, the late Hydrographer of the Navy, one of the very few Europeans who had reached the flanks of the Great Atlas chain, when, as a young naval officer, he accompanied the late Sir John Drummond Hay on his mission to the city of Marocco in 1829.

Maw had already made collections of living plants in the neighbourhood of Tangier, and had also visited Tetuan, where he had pushed his excursions farther than any but one preceding traveller.

Ball had landed at Tetuan in 1851 with the hope of attaining some of the higher summits of the neighbouring Riff Mountains; but the disturbed state of the country in that year made it impossible to advance beyond the immediate outskirts of the city.

From the moment when it seemed likely that the permission to visit the Great Atlas sought for by Hooker, through the intervention of our Foreign Office, would be accorded by the Sultan of Marocco, no time was lost in making the requisite preparations. Although everything was done within about a fortnight, our equipment was tolerably complete; and when, after the first excitement of departure had subsided, we thought it over on board ship, we found but one serious omission to deplore. Two mercurial barometers, provided by Hooker, had been entrusted to Crump, and were by him left behind at the last moment. Thus, in the important matter of determining heights, we were forced to rely upon aneroid barometers and boiling water observations. It was fortunate that Ball carried an excellent aneroid, by Secrétan of Paris, which has before and since been severely tested in the Alps with very satisfactory results, and whose indications during our journey agreed closely with those given by the thermometer in boiling water.

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.

Such historical recollections as are connected with Tangier are not flattering to the self-love of the two nations of Europe that have had most to do with it.

In 1437 the Portuguese, who then held Ceuta, attacked the town, but their army was defeated under the walls, and they were forced to conclude an ignominious peace. The terms included the cession of Ceuta to the Moors, and the delivery as a hostage of Dom Fernando, the king’s brother. The other stipulations not having been executed, the victors threw Dom Fernando into prison at Fez, and when he died in captivity hung up his body by the heels over the city walls.[1]

The fortune of war was changed in 1471 when the Portuguese took Tangier and several of the towns on the Atlantic coast, and the Moorish Sultan was forced to pay tribute to King Emanuel. Under less vigorous guidance, the Portuguese were unable to retain their ascendancy, but they kept possession of Tangier till, after nearly two centuries, it was, by a secret treaty, ceded to England as part of the dowry of Catharine of Braganza on her marriage with Charles II. When the brave Governor Dom Fernando de Menezes received the information, he entreated the Queen Regent to spare him the grief of seeing the city made over to the enemies of the Catholic faith. Her answer was the offer of a Marquisate if he obeyed, and dismissal from her service if he persisted in resisting her will. He chose the latter, threw up his command, and devoted the rest of his life to writing a history of the city. The English Court set great store by the new acquisition, believing, as the Earl of Sandwich said, that if it were walled and fortified with brass it would yet repay the cost. But English policy was then at its lowest ebb, and neither vigour nor intelligence directed any branch of our affairs. The English settlers sent out were an ill-conditioned rabble, ignorant of the country, its language and manners, and the Governor and the garrison were no better than the rest. After accomplishing one useful work by constructing a mole that converted the roadstead into a secure harbour, they were disappointed in their expectation of an extensive trade with the interior, and, what was more galling, were worsted in every encounter with the Moors, till, in 1685, the Government in London decided to abandon Tangier. When this became known at Lisbon, the Portuguese strongly urged the impolicy of abandoning such a position to pirates, and requested that it should be restored to them on condition that the English should have free use of the port. With characteristic meanness and imbecility the Duke of York—soon afterwards James II.—opposed the gift, and urged that the honour of England required that the place should be dismantled, and be left for occupation to whoever could hold it. His advice prevailed; and, on the retirement of the English force, the mole was effectually blown up, destroying the only good harbour for shipping on the seaboard of Marocco—a distance of fully nine hundred miles.

Nature, however, has made Tangier the port of North Marocco, and, in spite of human perversity, it is a place of some importance. Ready access to the fertile provinces lying between the Straits of Gibraltar and Fez has made it the centre of a considerable trade in hides and grain, which go to France and England, to say nothing of cattle and other supplies for the garrison of Gibraltar. Its nearness to Europe has made it the residence of the representatives of the principal civilised Powers, and its admirable climate has attracted invalids from Gibraltar and elsewhere, in spite of such drawbacks as dirt, bad smells, and the utter absence of roads.

On our arrival, we were most kindly received by Sir John Drummond Hay, to whose intimate knowledge of the country and justly acquired influence with the Moorish Court we are largely indebted for whatever success attended our journey. We learned from him that the Sultan had issued orders to the Governor of the Atlas provinces to allow Hooker to visit the range of the Great Atlas south of the city of Marocco, and to take every precaution for his comfort and safety; but he added that, although there was no reason to doubt the Sultan’s good faith, every artifice would be used to defeat the object, and that it would not be prudent to start for the south without an autograph letter from the Sultan himself, for which he had already made application. The Court was at this time at Fez—several days’ journey from Tangier; and, as business moves at a slow pace in this country, it was probable that we might have to wait some time for the necessary document. We therefore at once decided on devoting the interval to excursions in the neighbourhood of Tangier and Tetuan. The latter city lies at no great distance from the lofty peaks of the Beni Hassan, probably the highest part of the north-western range of the Lesser Atlas, best known as the Riff Mountains. There could be no doubt as to the botanical interest attaching to a visit to that range, the higher region of which is entirely unknown to naturalists, and we were very desirous to make an attempt in that direction. After full consideration, however, Sir J. D. Hay felt it necessary to object to our project, as involving undue risk. The Riff mountaineers enjoy a virtual independence, merely paying tribute to the Sultan. They are fierce and fanatical; and the presence of a Christian on the highest mountain, which is rendered sacred by a famous marabout—tomb of a Mohammedan saint—would be regarded as a profanation. Meantime, we were led to hope that we should be able to ascend the mountains nearer to Tetuan, and there was no difficulty whatever about excursions in the neighbourhood of Tangier.

Our first walk, in the afternoon of the 7th, was in the agreeable society of Sir J. D. Hay, to Ravensrock, his summer residence, on the wooded slope of the Djebel Kebir, overlooking the straits. Near the city gate we passed the cemetery, where turbaned tombstones almost disappear amidst the copious growth of prickly pear (Opuntia vulgaris), and then went some way through dusty lanes between lines of American aloe (Agave americana), and quickset hedges surrounding gardens where palms, acacias, and a few poplars were the prevailing trees. As we cleared the enclosures, and got into irregular, open ground, where steep slopes of uncultivated land alternate with patches of tillage, our eyes were gladdened by the sight of many a bright southern flower, already blossoming abundantly, in spite of the weather which, till lately, had been unusually cold. Trefoils, Medicagos, vetches, and other leguminous plants were here the predominant forms, as they are everywhere in the spring flora of the Mediterranean region. As we began to ascend the flanks of the Djebel Kebir, the character of the vegetation changed. Where the ground has not been cleared to make a garden for some of the European residents, whose little villas are scattered over the slope, the ground is covered with masses of luxuriant shrubs, and climbing herbaceous plants, among which some familiar forms of the North are mingled with many exotic species. Thus we saw roses, brambles, bryony, honeysuckle, and white convolvulus holding their ground amidst masses of lentisk, myrtle, Phillyrea, Alaternus, dwarf prickly oak (Quercus coccifera), gum cistus, and the golden profusion of five or six species of the Cytisus tribe that replace our native broom and gorse. After ascending several hundred feet by the roughest of paths, carried along a shaded gully, we entered through a gate the terraced garden whereon stands the house.

Nothing of its kind can surpass the beauty of the view. The steep slope below is planted with oranges and pomegranates—the first laden with golden fruit, the second with crimson flowers—broken here and there by palms, figs, olives, and carob trees, standing against a background of deep blue water, dancing in the gentle westerly breeze. On our left the steep slope of the mountain, rising over against the blue outline of Cape Trafalgar, forms the portal through which the Atlantic pours its current into the Mediterranean. Along the opposite shore of Spain every undulation, from the coast to the distant purple sierra, is plainly seen. The little town of Conil and the very houses of Tarifa are discernible with the naked eye, and visitors are enabled through a glass to watch the people as they come and go, and that extraordinary phenomenon for Southern Spain, the diligence, that of late years has plied between Algeciras and Cadiz. Turning to the right, the eye reaches the entrance to the Mediterranean, between the rock of Gibraltar and the loftier summit of Ape’s Hill; and in clear weather the range of the Serrania de Ronda, stretching towards Malaga, is seen on one side, while on the other the snowy peak of the Beni Hassan, south of Tetuan, closes the view. To give variety, if that were wanting, there is the ceaseless passage of shipping through this greatest of maritime highways, in a double stream of vessels, of every size and every nation, from the great Peninsular and Oriental steamer to the Moorish felucca. It is an example of the readiness with which sound travels over an unbroken surface, that the morning and evening gun at Gibraltar, nearly forty miles distant, are usually heard at this spot.

In the course of several delightful evenings passed in the agreeable society of Sir J. D. Hay and his family, we obtained much curious and valuable information respecting the country and its inhabitants, most of which was confirmed by our own subsequent observation and experience. We already knew that Marocco is the China of the West, and that while other Mohammedan States have been drawn, though at a tardy and halting pace, into following the general movement of European progress, this has remained more isolated and more impenetrable than even the Celestial Empire itself. But we were scarcely prepared to find that the utmost excesses of barbarism are matters of daily occurrence in a country so close at hand; and though we had read startling statements in the books of preceding travellers, and heard confirmatory tales during our stay in North Marocco, we were inclined to think that, at the worst, these referred to solitary acts of cruelty, probably magnified by the proverbial tendency to exaggerate all that is strange and horrible. It was not until we had spent some time in the southern provinces, beyond the reach of European prying observation, that we could persuade ourselves that these terrible stories of cruelty and wrong merely give a true representation of the ordinary condition of the country. Sir J. D. Hay, who probably knows it better than any other European, was not slow to testify to the good qualities of the rural population of Marocco, and the general absence of crime. We were afterwards led to believe that if life and property may be said to be tolerably secure throughout the portion of the empire really subject to the Sultan’s authority, this is due rather to the fact that temptation is rare, and the danger of swift and bloody retribution imminent, than to the existence of any high moral standard among the people. It is a strange inversion of all notions of government, that crime should come from above rather than below, and that the dread that men feel for the safety of their persons and goods is directed rather to the constituted guardians of order than to the outcasts from society. The first feeling of one unused to a barbarous government is surprise that it should be allowed even to exist, much more that it should possess considerable stability, and be handed on from one generation to the next, without a general outburst of resistance. Observation tends to explain this seeming enigma. Bad as it may be, the oppression exercised by the few strikes only those who are in some way conspicuous. The common mass, who offer no special temptation to extortion, escape comparatively unhurt, and feel little sympathy for the victim. Accordingly it is only when a Sultan or a Governor indulges in mere gratuitous acts of cruelty against his humbler subjects, that we hear of a general revolt. Oppression is, after all, less intolerable than anarchy; and at that very time most men would have chosen to live in Marocco rather than in Sicily.

Among other objects of interest Sir J. D. Hay showed us a coloured view of the Great Atlas range, as seen from the neighbourhood of the city of Marocco, executed at the time of his father’s mission to that city in 1829, and this naturally engaged our special attention.[2] The most singular point in the structure of the mountains was a very long range of what were represented as precipitous rocks of seemingly uniform height and structure, that appeared to rise abruptly from the plain, and to form an almost continuous outer wall or rampart on the north side of the chain. We were also shown a copy of Hollar’s[3] rare engraving, representing Tangier at the period of the English occupation, with the soldiers of Charles II., in their cumbrous uniforms, strutting on the mole.

Those who have read his interesting and lively little work, ‘Morocco and the Moors,’ will not be surprised that so keen a sportsman and close an observer of the habits of wild animals as our host should have many curious anecdotes to tell; but we were not prepared to hear that less than twenty-five years before a lion had been killed close to the spot where his beautiful villa now stands. At the present time no animal of prey larger than a jackal is seen in this part of the country, but the wild boar is as abundant there as it is everywhere throughout Marocco. No doubt the religious scruples that forbid the use of the flesh have gone far to prevent the natives from reducing the numbers of these mischievous brutes. One anecdote in favour of an animal whose moral character stands in low repute may here be permitted.

Sir J. D. Hay had brought up a young leopard in his house until the animal had reached his full size and strength, and it seemed a scarcely safe companion for the younger members of his family. He therefore resolved to present it to the Zoological Gardens in London, where it was duly installed. Some two years later, when on a visit to England, its former master bethought him of the leopard, and, going to the gardens, recognised the animal and spoke to him in Arabic. The once familiar sounds immediately awoke the animal’s memory, and it at once displayed the appearance of unbounded, but joyous, excitement. On explaining the circumstances the cage was opened, and the animal showed the utmost delight at the approach of its early friend and master.

On the night of Easter Sunday, while enjoying the cool air and the view from the roof of the British Residency, we beheld that grand display of the Aurora Borealis, which was visible at the same time throughout Western Europe. As in the equally brilliant auroras of the preceding autumn, which the popular imagination in many different parts of Europe had attributed to the burning of Paris, the characteristic feature of this display was the pale flickering crimson tinge that rose from the northern and western horizon towards the zenith. Brilliant auroral phenomena are rarely seen in so low a latitude as Tangier; but thirty-two years earlier Hooker had beheld them from a still more southern station, during the visit of the Antarctic Expedition to Madeira in 1839, as described by Sir James Ross in the narrative of that voyage.

We were much impressed by the accounts we received of the remarkable salubrity of the climate of North Marocco, and we gathered abundant evidence to the same effect in regard to other parts of the territory. Nothing is more rare than to find a country where neither the natives nor foreign visitors have any complaint to make against the climate, and in that respect Marocco is almost unique. As regards the season of our visit, however, our case was that of nearly all travellers in whatever country they may find themselves. We had arrived in an exceptional season! How often is this fact gravely stated as something remarkable and unusual in the experience of the narrator, whereas, if he would but reflect, it merely represents the common experience of mankind in most countries of the earth! Excepting some portions of the equatorial zone, where the seasons recur with tolerable constancy, our notions of the climate of a place are got at by taking an average among a great many successive seasons. It is true that our own islands afford an extreme instance of variability; but elsewhere in the temperate zones of both hemispheres, the difference between corresponding seasons in successive years is often very great. Any one who watches the meteorological notices published in our newspapers, must be aware that if any particular day, week, or month be compared with the general average for the same period during a long term of years, he will find it to be either considerably hotter, or colder, or drier, or moister than the corresponding average day, week, or month; and when registers shall have been kept for a sufficient time in other countries, the same result will be seen to hold good, though in a somewhat lesser degree. Travellers will then be prepared to find that they should expect to enjoy or suffer from an exceptional season, and will think it more remarkable when they happen to alight on a season that approaches near to the average. That preceding our visit had been unusually severe; snow had been seen at Tangier, and had lain for some hours on the rock of Gibraltar, and, as a consequence affecting the object of our journey, the spring vegetation in North Marocco was unusually retarded. At the same time, so far as our sensations went, nothing could be more agreeable than the climate of this season, the thermometer in the shade during the day varying from 60° to 66° Fahr., and the air being delightfully clear and bracing.

On April 8 we started for a short excursion to the headland of Cape Spartel. In the immediate neighbourhood of Tangier Europeans may safely walk or ride unattended; but, as we were going a little beyond the ordinary limits, it was considered prudent to give us the escort of two soldiers, and to these we added a baggage mule and a native guide. In a botanical sense we were about to travel over beaten ground—the only spot in all Marocco where a naturalist can without difficulty wander at will over rocky hills that retain their natural vegetation. The little that was then known of the flora of the empire would have dwindled to a scanty list if we had struck out the rich collections that successive botanists during the last 100 years have brought from the Djebel Kebir and the adjoining hilly district west of Tangier. Although there was little prospect of new discovery, the expedition could not fail to offer a veritable feast to a botanist, and especially to one not already familiar with the vegetation of the opposite coast and the adjoining region of southern Portugal.

After standing the fire of some harmless ‘chaff’ from the Jew and Moorish boys that loitered about the city gate, we soon got clear of the enclosures near the town, and descended through cultivated land into a little grassy valley that lies below the hilly range of the Djebel Kebir. Bright spring annuals—blue and yellow lupen, crimson Adonis, a deep orange marigold (Calendula suffruticosa), blue pimpernel, and other less conspicuous flowers—enlivened the tillage ground; but the northern botanist is more struck by the perennial species that hold their ground on the large portion of the soil which the plough has not touched. Predominant among these, as elsewhere throughout a large part of the Mediterranean region, is the palmetto, or dwarf palm (Chamærops humilis). Where unmolested by animals, and protected from the periodic fires that the native herdsmen renew for the sake of getting herbage for their cattle, it forms a thick trunk, ten or twelve feet in height, which probably takes a long time to attain its full size; but in the open places it is commonly stemless, and covers the ground with its radiating tufts of stiff fan-shaped leaves. Many plants of the lily tribe abound; but in this mild climate most of them had flowered in winter, and few now showed more than their tufts of large root-leaves. Most conspicuous is the large maritime squill (Scilla maritima of Linnæus). The flowers are not large or showy, and do not correspond with the size of the bulb which often equals that of a man’s head. Another species of the same genus (Scilla hemisphærica) is more ornamental, as are the two common asphodels. The slender iris (I. Sisyrhynchium of Linnæus), whose delicate flower lasts only a few hours—opening one at a time on successive days, appearing about mid-day and withering in the afternoon—is very abundant.

On reaching the hollow ground, where a slender stream runs through damp meadows, we were charmed by the delicate tint of a pale blue daisy that enamels the green turf. It is merely a slight variety of the little annual daisy (Bellis annua), so common in many parts of Southern Europe; but the blue tint does not seem to have been noticed elsewhere. The larger blue daisy, afterwards seen as one of the ornaments of the mountain region of the Great Atlas, was at first supposed to belong to the same species; but, besides that this is perennial, it shows other less obvious differences.

It was on the slopes of the Djebel Kebir, where the stony ground is almost exclusively occupied by a dense mass of small shrubs, few of them rising more than three or four feet from the ground, but nearly all covered with brilliant flowers, that we first began to seize the really characteristic features of the North Marocco flora. A great variety and abundance of flowering perennials of shrubby habit is, indeed, a distinguishing feature of the whole Mediterranean region; but very little observation was needed to show that we were here in that well marked division that includes Southern Portugal, South-western Spain, and the opposite corner of Africa. This may be called for distinction the Cistus and Heath region; for though most of the same kinds of Cistus and Helianthemum extend as far as the south of France, and many species of heath inhabit the Atlantic coasts of Europe as far north as Connemara, it is only here that both these tribes flourish together, and give a prevailing character to the vegetation. Most conspicuous of all is the gum-cistus (C. ladaniferus), which in the Sierra Morena and the adjoining parts of Spain and Portugal obtains such predominance that for twenty miles together one may ride through a continuous thicket where the peculiar scent of the gum that covers the leaves and young branches is never absent. About Tangier the rich purple spot that usually adorns the base of the large petals is wanting, and the flowers show unmixed snowy white. Of the same tribe, besides several true Cisti, there are many species of Helianthemum. Of heaths, along with the commoner kinds (Erica arborea and E. scoparia), we saw in abundance the rarer and more characteristic forms, E. australis and E. umbellata. E. ciliata, one of our English rarities, is here very scarce, though it grows on the opposite side of the Strait. Our common heather (Calluna vulgaris) still holds its ground, but in a poor and stunted condition. The rhododendron of the East (Rh. ponticum), that is at home in the mountain region of Asia Minor and Syria, and which strangely reappears here and there among the low hills between Tarifa and Algeciras, on the north side of the Straits, has not been found on the African shore; but until the coast between Tangier and Ceuta has become more accessible, it will not be safe to assume that it is wanting. Among the many shrubby leguminous plants whose flowers give the prevailing golden tint to the hill sides, two of the Broom tribe (Genista triacanthos and Cytisus tridentatus), plants of very peculiar aspect and characteristic of this region, attracted our attention. It is impossible to omit another ornament of the hills—a plant rather widely diffused but nowhere common (Lithospermum fruticosum), whose azure blue flowers formed a charming contrast with the surrounding masses of golden colour.

The botanical district to which the northern corner of Marocco belongs has been already called that of the Cistus and Heath, but no single species of those tribes exactly conforms to the limits above pointed out. There are, however, several less conspicuous plants whose distribution more closely agrees with those limits. The most singular of these is the Drosophyllum lusitanicum, a plant of the sun-dew tribe, whose branched stem bears several large yellow flowers. The numerous slender strap-shaped root-leaves, nearly a foot in length, that are gradually contracted to the thickness of whipcord, are beset with pellucid ruby-tipped glands, and present a peculiarity that appears to be unique in the vegetable kingdom. Any one who has remarked the growth of ferns must have seen that in the young state the leaves are rolled or curled inwards, so that in the process of unfolding the face or upper side of the leaf, which was at first concealed, is gradually opened and turned to the light. A similar process occurs in many other plants; but in Drosophyllum alone, so far as we know, the young leaf is rolled or curled the reverse way, so that the upper side of the leaf is that turned outwards. It appears to grow in many parts of Southern Portugal; reappears on the north side of the Straits of Gibraltar near Tarifa and Algeciras, and on the southern side about Cape Spartel and on the hills above Tetuan, where it commands a view of the opening of the Mediterranean, but extends no farther eastward. Very similar is the distribution in Europe of two ferns whose natural home seems to be in the Canary Islands—the graceful Davallia canariensis, and the Asplenium Hemionitis of Linnæus. Both occur here and there in shady spots, from the rock of Lisbon to Algeciras and Tangier, but are unable to travel eastward beyond the Pillars of Hercules.

The scarcity of trees in this country is mainly due to the mischievous interference of man. The same ignorant greed of the herdsman, who to procure a little meagre herbage for goats sets fire to wide tracts of brushwood, that has reduced whole provinces of Spain to a nearly desert condition, has been equally busy and equally effectual in Marocco. The evergreen oak, which might produce much valuable timber, is the chief indigenous tree of this country; but, except on the rocky western declivity of the hill above Cape Spartel, few here arrive at a moderate growth, and the same is true of the Portuguese oak (Quercus lusitanica). The latter, indeed, never attains a considerable stature; but, where preserved from damage, it forms thickets some twenty or thirty feet in height, and, if duly protected, would help to preserve the hilly districts of this region from being annually parched by the summer sun. One of the shrubby evergreen oaks of this country (Quercus coccifera, L.), whose dark green spiny leaves are more like those of a holly than of an ordinary oak, might perhaps be successfully introduced in the south-western parts of the British islands. Its very dense foliage would make it valuable as a screen, and it produces a good effect when mixed with other shrubs.

Although the distance did not exceed ten or twelve miles, we had so much to do in filling our tin boxes and portfolios that the sun was sinking in the Atlantic as we reached the lighthouse at Cape Spartel. It is impossible not to feel some interest in this structure that for so many a mariner marks the limit of the great continent, more than three times the area of Europe, that remains, in spite of all the efforts of modern enterprise, the chief home of all that is strange and mysterious and unknown in the world. It represents, too, the only concession that the Moor has made to the demands of modern civilisation; for the building has been raised at the cost of the Sultan of Marocco, though the expense of its maintenance is shared between the four Powers, England, France, Italy, and Spain. The representatives of these States at Tangier form a board of management, and each in turn undertakes the actual control and inspection of the building. It was by an especial favour, and on the ground of our scientific pursuits, that we received permission from the Spanish Consul-General, then Acting Commissioner, with the concurrence of his colleagues, to lodge for the night within the building. It stands on a rocky platform some 250 feet above the sea. The massive tower, or pharos, that bears the lantern, is about eighty feet in height, and, with the annexed building, is enclosed by a strong wall, forming an outer court. The interior of the building is singularly picturesque. An inner octagonal court, surrounded by pillared arcades, supported on round, slightly stilted arches, with a fountain of cool spring water in the middle, gives access to the rooms, small and bare but perfectly clean, of which three were given for our accommodation. Some fowls and eggs supplied by the lighthouse-keeper, eked out by the provisions we had carried from Tangier, produced an excellent supper, and the evening was fully employed till a late hour in arranging and laying out the spoils of our first day’s work in Marocco. It was near midnight when, before turning in for the night, each in turn paused in the court to enjoy the exquisite beauty of the scene. The full southern moon poured a flood of silver light through the arched spaces, converting the pattering spraydrops of the fountain into pearls and diamonds. The shadows of the slender columns lay like bars of ebony on the white flags; while, for a roof, the Great Bear, every star twinkling its brightest, stretched upward towards the zenith. The great tower rose in dark shadow, for the lantern was turned away from us; but we could discern, streaming out to seaward, in spite of the apparent clearness of the air, two faintly marked cones of yellow light that were soon quenched in the moonlight. The air was still, the sea was quiet, and at first the silence seemed unbroken; but as the listener stood, the pulses of the great ocean, though they smote but gently the cavernous rocks below, beat distinctly on the ear, and marked the passing minutes.

We rose betimes next morning, finding fresh enjoyment in each breath that we drew of the delicious air, and after breakfast set out for a walk southward along the coast. For the first two or three miles the rocky ground sloped downward towards our right, and finally fell steeply to the beach. It was apparent that the season was not quite advanced enough to enjoy the full beauty of the flora, but we found, besides the Drosophyllum already mentioned, many interesting forms. Orchids were not so abundant as they usually are at this season in the warmer part of the Mediterranean region. Platanthera diphylla, growing in shady spots, was the only uncommon species.

An indentation of the coast marks the spot where a slender stream descends to the sea through a stretch of white sand; and beyond this the rocky coast rises but slightly above the sea level. Our steps were directed towards the so-called Cave of Hercules. This was originally a mere hollow in the face of the sea cliff; but from a remote period of antiquity it has been quarried for the purpose of extracting the hand-mills universally used in this part of Marocco. These, which are quite the same as the Scotch querns, are cut out in the rudest way by hammer and chisel, leaving the surface of the rock marked by a series of circular indentations about eighteen inches in diameter. In this way the original dimensions of the cave have been greatly enlarged, and, as it is still worked for the same purpose, the process is sure to be continued. In connection with the question raised of late years as to change of relative level of land and sea within the historic period, we observed some very ancient markings that showed the works to have been carried somewhat below the present level of high tide; but we could trace none that appeared to reach so low as that of the ebb tide.

So far as the evidence at this point goes, it seems to prove a slight amount of submergence during the period for which the rock has here been quarried. This period may probably be reckoned at 2,000 years, and possibly much exceeds that limit. Taken in connection with still existing remains in Greece, Asia Minor, the Phœnician coast of Syria, and Egypt, it tends to show that the changes in the general level of the Mediterranean coasts, indicated by many geologists, must have proceeded very slowly during the historic period, and that the more considerable oscillations, that have undoubtedly occurred near Naples and on the east coast of Sicily, have been mainly due to the local influence of volcanic action.

The soil near the cave was much mixed with sand carried by the wind, and the plants seen were chiefly widely diffused species that find tolerably uniform conditions of life on the sandy shores of the west coast of Europe. The rocks near the cave produce samphire and the sea fern (Asplenium marinum), just as they do in Cornwall; while Diotis maritima and Lotus Salzmanni, a local variety of the widely spread Lotus creticus of Linnæus, were frequent on the sands. The chief ornament was Statice sinuata, whose delicate azure flowers were already in blossom, long before most of the species of that late-flowering genus.

Our course now lay inland; but, instead of following the direct way back to Tangier, we were led by a false report (our first experience of blundering interpretation of English by the help of Moorish Arabic) to bear to the left, and recross the Djebel Kebir, so as to take Sir J. D. Hay’s villa of Ravensrock on our way back to the town. Near the track we passed close to a native village, or douar, the first which we had seen. When we had heard that the native population is broadly distinguished into two classes by the fact that some retain their original nomadic habits so far as to live permanently in tents, moving from one spot to another during the course of the year, while the others live in houses, and have become rooted to the soil, it never occurred to us that there could be any difficulty in distinguishing between one class and the other with the help of such obvious characteristic marks. But we soon found that the difference is but slight, and not very apparent. The black camel’s hair tent is often, both in seeming and in fact, a more durable dwelling than the miserable huts, composed chiefly of slender branches to which the dried leaves still adhere, covered sometimes with brown straw, and oftener with some tattered fragments of cloth, the remains of worn-out garments. Only the mountain tribes, the descendants of the ancient Bereber stock, whose southern descendants we were to become acquainted with in the valleys of the Great Atlas, have preserved the familiar use of stone masonry in this part of Africa. Laden with plants, and with appetites sharpened by our climb over the hill, we returned to our comfortable quarters at the Victoria Hotel. We did not pass over the very highest point of the Djebel Kebir; but an observation taken some sixty or eighty feet lower indicated an elevation of about 800 feet above the sea level.