PRISON, TORTURE AND ESCAPE
“Sidi Abderrahman tried many things against me. A wise man uses every
tool, but the tools of the Bey broke in his hands. He could not take
away the mountains, or make flat the whole country, and, wherever there
was a ditch or a shrub, el Raisuli could hide in safety. Perhaps there
would be a small boy driving goats along the hillside. He notices the
troops of the Maghsen. One of his goats goes astray and he runs after
it, crying and waving his stick. Another, threshing in the valley, sees
him and beats his donkey with uplifted arms. So the news is carried, and
no one knows where has flown the ‘Eagle of Zinat.’
“Many joined me in those days, and I grew rich, but I took nothing from
the poor. To them I gave much, and they blessed me. To some of the great
also I rendered service, so that, when it was finished, I had many
friends, even among the Ministers and the Pashas, but the townsfolk
dared not leave their walls. In every shadow they saw el Raisuli.
“With my share of the money we made under the noses of the Sultan’s
troops, I bought land, so that I had farms in many places, but always in
the names of my family. One day a collector of taxes came to my brother
and said, ‘This house is not really yours. It was bought by Mulai Ahmed
and, if the Maghsen knew that, they would confiscate it. Give me certain
cattle and sheep, and I will say nothing.’ It happened that I came to
the house while still my brother was arguing. When they told me what was
happening, I expounded the law of inheritance to the tax-collector,
citing him verses from the Koran and the four Imams.[19] After this, as
he was still obstinate, I cut off his head and sent it in a basket of
fruit to Sidi Abderrahman. The Bey began to wonder if his own head would
soon follow, and, as all his efforts against me had been useless, he
took counsel of Haj el Arbi el Mo-allem of Wadi Ras, a man whose
audacity and courage were equal to any enterprise.
“Truly it is said, ‘In difficulty, consult a friend, for the truth is
not hidden from the minds of two,’ and also, ‘By means of a mirror a man
may see his face, but by means of two he can see also his back.’ El Arbi
was wise, and he knew the minds of men and their desires. So he came to
me in the hills and hunted with me, and we talked of guns and war. Then
he said to me, ‘Have you seen the rifles of the Bey of Tangier? By
Allah, they are the newest and the most wonderful things yet invented.
By means of them you can kill a bird out of sight.’ He extolled these
rifles to such an extent that I became curious and begged him to arrange
for me to see them. ‘That would be difficult,’ answered el Arbi, knowing
that opposition always makes a man more determined, ‘for you are at war
with the Bey, and he is your enemy.’
“‘Tell him that I am willing to treat with him. Arrange a meeting,’ I
urged. El Arbi shook his head doubtfully, but, after much persuasion, he
agreed to try and arrange the matter. You do not know what a gun is to
an Arab—it is his son and his master. Note how lovingly he holds it
across his knee, even at the council, or when eating. Without it he does
not feel himself a man.
“Some days later, I received a letter from el Arbi, saying that the Bey
would meet me and perhaps he would give me one of the rifles, if I would
surrender some hostages I had taken from the outskirts of Tangier. By
Allah, I walked into that trap as the serpent into the hands of the
charmer. Since then I have never made a pact with a townsman! On the
appointed day I went to Tangier, with a few of my men, and the people
ran into their houses, peeping out from behind their shutters, saying,
‘See, he has come! For what reason? What new thing is he plotting?’ I
rode straight to the house of Sidi Abderrahman, who received me with
great honour, but, before I went inside, I asked for bread, and they
brought me some. I ate this on my horse, with my men beside me, their
fingers on the trigger, for, if once you have partaken of a man’s
hospitality, his house is yours, and you are safe.
“‘Welcome, in the name of Allah,’ said the Bey, and took me to the room
where the food was prepared. There were many men present, both his
friends and his servants. Sheep had been cooked whole and stuffed with
rice and eggs—all the things that we do for the honour and entertainment
of a guest. I looked round for el Arbi, but he was not there. ‘With
health, with appetite!’ invited the host, but, as soon as I sat down,
men threw themselves upon me and seized my weapons. I could have killed
many in the open, for there was no man strong enough to oppose me, but I
was seated and cramped for space, so that they overpowered me and
dragged me to another room. All the time I called to Sidi Abderrahman,
for he had broken the law of ‘deafa’ but he would not come; so they put
chains on me and took me away to the prison of Mogador. It was written
that el Raisuli should fall by treachery and not by the weapon of an
enemy. My men, waiting outside, heard the noise, but were told that I
was dead; so they were afraid, and escaped to the mountains.”
So far the Sherif had told his story in the presence of various
retainers, but he would not speak before them of his years in prison. It
was on another occasion, when we were standing on the hillside above the
mosque, from which there was a wide view of the tumbled mountain country
sloping towards Suq el Khemis, that he began suddenly:
“It is good for a man to see far away, that he may judge of things in
proportion. You think this land is empty—you see no one?”
I looked at the rough country and confessed that it appeared utterly
deserted. “Watch,” said Raisuli, and strode forward on monstrous limbs.
He gave a curious sort of cry, which carried very far, and, instantly,
from behind each group of trees or rocks, appeared a tribesman. It
seemed to me even that some of the stones had become men, so exactly did
the rough brown jellabas match the surrounding earth.
“That is one of the results of Mogador,” said the Sherif; “I trust no
man now, and tell none my plans. Each of my tribes sends me a guard, but
they are changed every month, and I am the Captain of my guard; so I
watch over myself. I sleep very little, and, at night, I go out and see
that there is peace. You wish to hear about Mogador? The marks of the
chains are still on my body! My gaolers were more afraid of me than I of
them; so they heaped iron on me, a weight that no other man could have
borne.
“It was the intention of the Government to send me to the island, from
which no prisoner ever returns, being buried there for his life, till
the will of Allah releases him. But the moving of the prisoners takes
place on Saturdays. The first Saturday there was a great tempest, so
that no boat could set out, and, for three Saturdays afterwards, the
wind raged and it was not possible to launch a felucca.[20] Then they
knew it was a sign that the ‘baraka’ was with me, and they said. ‘One
day he will be a Sultan, and it is not the will of Allah that he shall
die,’ because we have a saying that the sea is a sultan and no king may
travel on it, for it is not suitable that one sultan should put his foot
on the back of another.
“At first I was chained in the patio of the Kashba, a collar round my
neck, riveted to the wall.[21] The sun used to creep across the court
till it licked my feet, and then my knees, so that my whole body burned
and the sweat ran down into my eyes. There was no time, only torture.
Days of heat that burned and blistered, nights which froze so that my
bones rattled against the wall. The men of the mountains, who were my
friends, came down to watch over me. They brought me food and water, but
I said to them, ‘Come in the morning; then I will talk with you,’ and
they used to sit with me, and I would lecture on the law and its
interpretation. They went away, saying, ‘He is a Faqih, a saint, and
above afflictions of the body.’ But one of the gaolers hated me, for my
friends had rebuked him for his treatment of a Sherif, and one day when
the sun was like fire, he upset the jar of water that my people had put
beside me. When he saw the drops trickle into the dust he laughed; I
would have thrown myself down to suck them from the filth but for the
chain about my neck. My hand went out for the support of the walls, for
my thoughts were clouded, and it happened that Allah provided a stone! I
threw it with all my force, and the man dropped, the bones of his head
showing and the blood running out faster than the water he had spilled.
“After that they sent for a mason to break the chains from the wall.
‘Allah make you strong,’ said the smith. ‘I had thought to do this only
with your death.’ How long it was that I had been in the patio I do not
know, but, after this, they put me in a dungeon that was dark except for
a little window, so shadowed by a wall that the sun never came in, and
the light but for a few minutes at midday. Here I was chained to two
other prisoners, and one of them was weak and could not support the
weight of his fetters; so we lifted him between us when he would have
moved. Seeing in his face that he would soon die, I occupied his
attention by reciting the Koran, and he asked my blessing and
recommended his family to my care. All this time my friends fed me, and
they would have bribed the gaolers for my release, but for the strict
orders of Sidi Abderrahman, who feared that if I were free, his life
would not be a long one.
“It is good for a man to suffer. Here one sees with one’s eyes and does
not consider. In prison one uses the eyes of the mind. I reflected
deeply on my life and saw my mistakes. I knew that, in the future, I
should be free, for my luck is indestructible, but how soon I did not
know. It is useless to fight against the fate which is ordained before
man is born. All must accept the will of Allah, but poets die in prison
and politicians are born! ‘What will you do when you are free?’ asked
the men who were with me, but, though, I wanted only two things,
vengeance and my books, I would tell nobody my thoughts. The smell and
the filth of the cell bred all sorts of vermin. After a little while
they were the only things that moved, for we were too exhausted. Each
end of the chain that held us together was riveted to a wall and the
sick man was in the middle between us. The sores on our limbs festered
and were black with flies and lice, but we did not feel them. Suffering
comes to an end in time, and I was surprised one morning when the man on
my right did not answer.
“At that time they had altered the chains so that I could not touch him.
We had to wait till nearly noon, when the light came faintly and we
could just see that he was dead. It was summer and very foul, but for
three days his corpse hung there rotting, for the gaolers did not dare
to remove it for fear the Governor should say he had escaped. The rats
came and ate the feet and the legs, and we could not keep them away; but
truly he was mostly bones, and their meal was poor. When at last the
corpse was taken away, the collar had sunk so deeply into the flesh that
they had to tear it off, and it remained empty as a witness of man’s
destiny.
“All this time my friends had worked for me, and even Sidi Mohammed
Torres interceded for me, so that, in time, they gave me a better
cell—one with a barred window, through which my people could pass food,
but the light hurt my eyes and I did not wish to move. Effort seemed to
me in vain. The Arab race is very old and it is used to resignation. You
Europeans are so much in love with your possessions—you care for your
houses and your lands more than your sons. We are different. At one
moment a man has great wealth, with slaves and horses and property. It
is good. Suddenly fortune changes, and he has nothing but a torn mantle
and the shoes on his feet. He keeps the goats of one who was once his
servant, but he is happy, for the time may come again when he will be
great. Carpets and furniture and great rooms are not necessary to us, as
they are to you. See that man asleep in the dust under the tree. He is
so poor that he cannot buy food to keep the skin on his bones, but he is
contented, for he is an Alim of Teledi, and the people of his village
kiss his footsteps as he passes.
“That is why I did not die in prison. I had my thoughts. I cannot tell
you how many years I was there, four or five perhaps, before I escaped
with two others. A man of the Beni Aros brought me a loaf of bread with
his lips pursed between his fingers. I broke it open at night, and there
was a file inside. Then, for many days, months probably, I worked when
it was dark, till I had cut through each bar. A thousand times I thought
someone would hear the noise, like the cry of a small animal; but the
gaolers were careless. I had been there for so long, and, in the
daytime, I pretended to be ill and unable to move.
“Just when my work was accomplished, two men were brought to my cell,
and I was obliged to take them into my confidence, but they were weak
and afraid to try and escape. One had received so many lashes that
strips of his shirt had been beaten into his body and could not be
removed. All day he lay silent and would not move, but the second night
I showed him the broken bars, and the sight cheered him. He said, if I
would wait four days more, he would come. As he was young and of my
people, I would not leave him to die by repeated lashes.
“When my friends came with food, I told them to be ready with a boat on
the fourth night. It was not written thus. The next day it was known
that the Governor would make a tour of the prison, and most certainly he
would discover the state of the bars, for there went with him a smith
who tested the chains and other metals with a hammer. Therefore we
decided to make an attempt that very night; but we had not realized the
difficulty of our chains, which we did not have time to cut. I crawled
out the first, with a noise that should have awakened the town. Then the
man who had been beaten and who still had no strength of his own, was
lifted up and, one pushing, one pulling, we dragged him through the
window. The other followed, and when I found myself in the air, under
the stars, I trembled and could hardly breathe. A soldier by the door
had been bribed and gave no alarm when we climbed the wall where it was
broken. Then we were in the town, dragging our chains and stumbling as
we moved.
[Illustration: Raisuli’s prison in Tazrut]
[Illustration: Xauen with the ancient castle, originally a Berber
stronghold]
“There were some who saw us and hid, for my companion cried, ‘It is the
Sherif el Raisuli, the great, the holy man, who will reward you.’ We got
down to the sea with great difficulty, for our fetters were heavy, but
there was no boat, for the escape had been planned for some nights
later. We prayed on the shore, and said the ‘Fatha’[22] together, and
then, as it was near dawn, we sought a hiding-place in the town. A man
who was a friend of the youth offered us hospitality, but I would not
accept it, for I knew that he would be punished for protecting Raisuli.
My companions went into his house and he sheltered them, but I went on
round the edge of the town, hoping to meet some people, for all the
years that I was in prison men of the mountain tribes watch in Mogador.
“It was the first dawn that I had seen for very long, and I stopped to
watch it and breathe the sea air. Suddenly, while I stood, forgetting my
chains, two soldiers of the Maghsen came round the corner. Hidden by a
doorway, I sprang suddenly upon them before they saw me. Truly it was
not so much a leap as a fall! One went down beneath the weight of iron I
carried, and I killed him with my hands. The other thought he was
attacked by a Jinn, and ran, screaming. There was alarm in the town, and
the news was brought to the Governor of the prison. I could hear a drum
beating as I lay behind a buttress of the wall, but now I had a rifle
and ammunition. I was a warrior again!
“When the soldiers of the Maghsen appeared at the end of the street, I
looked along the barrel of the rifle and said to myself, ‘That old one
on the right, he is not of much use.’ So I fired at him and he died. A
shower of bullets like crickets shot over my head, but, in those days,
the troops did not use the sights of their rifles, so that no missile
went near me. Besides, the buttress protected me. I fired again, and
another man fell, writhing on the ground and crying out. Then I stood up
and laughed when they could not hit me. ‘Don’t you know that I am Mulai
Ahmed el Raisuli, and that no lead or steel can hurt me, for I have a
special blessing from Allah? See, I have twenty bullets here, and for
each of them a man will die.’ They believed me, for there was one there
who had fought against me in the mountains.[23] There was much talk, but
no more shots were fired, and, at last, the Governor came and spoke
persuasively. ‘You are one against three hundred. What can you do? Give
yourself up, and I promise you I will intercede with the Sultan for
you.’
“It was a curious sight for the townsfolk who crowded on the roofs to
see us—a prisoner in chains who treated with the Governor at the head of
a troop! It was written that I should not escape, for the sea was behind
me and the troops of the Maghsen in front. Truly I might have killed
many others, but whether I could have escaped I doubt, for the fetters
impeded my reach—and weighted down my feet. In any case, I was young,
though much of my youth had been robbed, and I wanted life for my own
purposes. So I said to the Kaid, ‘Swear to me before Allah that you will
obtain my release, and say the Fatha as a covenant between us, in the
presence of these soldiers; and I will give myself up.’ He did this, and
I made him promise also that he would not search for my companions.
‘They are gone in a boat,’ I said, for sometimes a lie is permitted.
Then I surrendered myself to the Kaid, and they took me back to the
prison on a mule, for I could no longer walk.”
At the end of this story, coloured, I imagine, by el Raisuli’s
appreciation of his own phraseology, my host looked at me suspiciously.
“I tell you this to show that, if I have tortured others, I myself have
been tortured; but it is between me and thee, for it is not good that
such things should be told of the Sherif.”
The Kaid of Mogador kept his promise, and, as Mulai Hassan had died and
his son Abdul Aziz ruled in his stead, there was little difficulty in
pardoning a criminal of the preceding reign. El Raisuli’s prestige must
have been great, for so powerful an individual as Mohamed Torres, the
Sultan’s representative at Tangier, added his intercession to that of
the Kaid. The Minister of the moment was el Menebbhe, a wise and a just
man, whose influence in Moroccan affairs has always been great. In
signing the order of release for el Raisuli, he wrote the prologue of a
friendship which lasted for a long time and developed into a business
association, for the two shared various interests in land and property.
According to el Raisuli, he left his prison imbued with the desire for a
life of study. “I wished to live in a secluded place, where there was
much sun and space, and yet I wished to hear the voices of women
babbling about common things: you permit me to say that generally the
conversation of women does not interest me much, but, in prison, one
loses a sense of proportion. At first I lived in Tangier, where I
collected numbers of books, for there were many things I had forgotten
at Mogador, and I wished to learn them again. I was contented, as men
who have had nothing are contented with little.”
Apparently, however, the Sherif’s desire for vengeance grew as he
recovered his health and strength, for not long after his release he is
said to have instigated the murder of a cousin who had lately become the
wife of a relation of his enemy, the Bey of Tangier. This was perhaps
the most ruthless of all the Sherif’s acts, for, with his own relative,
were assassinated the old, half-crippled mother and young sister of her
husband. El Raisuli would never talk about this affair, except to say
that treachery was hateful in the sight of Allah, and that to live in
the house of a traitor was to merit his fate. “I did not know that Arabs
fought against women,” I told him. “In the countries of the East where I
have travelled, no man would hurt ‘a woman, a Jew or a barber.’” El
Raisuli very nearly smiled. “Here in Morocco, the Jews have much money,
so how should we become rich unless we killed them? In the mountains we
have no dealings with barbers, and, as for women, they fight as well as
the men. It is they who carry the ammunition and load the rifles. Many a
Berber woman can shoot better than a man.”
El Raisuli’s sisters seemed to have been the cause of a good deal of
bloodshed, for it is told that one of them, who had been married for
some years to a Moor of high standing, was very angry when her husband
proposed to take a second wife. Possibly the destined bride was one of
whom she particularly disapproved—history does not relate—for Islam
permits four wives, and divorce is extremely simple, since it consists
merely of saying, “I divorce thee,” three times in the presence of
witnesses. However, on this occasion the first wife appealed to her
powerful brother for help. No answer came, and the day of the wedding
arrived. The feast was over, the musicians had departed, and the
quivering cry of the woman was stilled. The bride sat in state on a pile
of mattresses, awaiting her husband. Her mother was there waiting to
untie the ceremonious knot in her haik. A negress stood by the door,
with a bowl of milk and a platter of dates, signifying fertility and
chastity.
Suddenly there was a sound of galloping hoofs, and shouts of warning
came from the court, “Robbers, robbers!” The men rushed out with their
guns, and the attacking party, after firing a few shots, allowed
themselves to be driven off towards the hills. The defenders followed.
Then, while the house was deserted, except for the women who huddled
together in an upper room, some men crept silently from the bushes where
they had been hiding, and, with a warning cry to the sister of el
Raisuli, “Cover yourself, lady,—we are the followers of your brother!”
they burst into the Harem and dragged out the bride and her mother. When
the men of the house returned, they found the bodies of the two women
lying across the threshold where, only a few hours before, a bullock had
been sacrificed for luck.
El Raisuli did not tell me of this episode, but when I asked him why his
men had killed the girl, instead of merely removing her from his
brother-in-law’s house, he answered, “It was better to kill her. She had
been seen by men who were not of her family,” from which I imagine that
the bride was town-bred and of a good family, for the mountain women
work in the fields with the men, their faces uncovered and their
garments kilted up over sturdy limbs.
El Raisuli explained his return to the wilderness in this manner: “The
ways of the Maghsen were strange. When Mulai Abdul Aziz gave me my
liberty, I had no wish for further war. The people of Tangier respected
me as a learned and sainted Faqih, and I wrote on the interpretation of
Koranic law, which is a high honour in Islam. I had many pupils, but one
day when I wanted money to give to some of them who were in need, I
learned that the Government had confiscated my property in El Fahs. I
was told that it had been given to friends of the Sultan, and some of it
was in the hands of my enemy, Abderrahman es Sadiq. I appealed to Fez
for redress, but nothing was done. There was no answer to my letter and
my property was being wasted by others.
“What I had done once I could do again, but this time, when I returned
to the mountains, it was with the intention of fighting Mulai Abdul
Aziz. My flag flew again in Beni Mesauer, and from the house of Zellal
my messengers went forth to the tribes. All the jebala was discontented
with the rule of the Sultan. There was famine in Fez, and the soldiers
were unpaid. El Roghbi—he of whom I told you—brought his forces to the
walls of the capital, and the Sultan sent to Abd es Sadiq for help. The
tribes of the mountains joined me, and I had an army greater than el
Roghbi’s. News came that the Bey of Tangier had gathered a force for the
relief of Fez. It was to be under the command of Kaid Abd el Melak, who
was hated by all the tribes for his cruelty and rapacity. Abd es Sadiq
was to travel with the mehalla[24] to ensure safety.
I was glad when I heard this, for I thought that, at last, I should hold
my enemy in my hands. We lay in wait in a wadi where the road was a
ribbon between the bushes. It was the hour before night, when a man may
scarce distinguish if a thread is black or white. Below us we saw the
mehalla approaching, but it was difficult to tell where was Abd es
Sadiq. At last I picked out the stallion of the Bey with his personal
guard, and the Kaid Abd el Malak beside him. Then I gave the signal, and
the men rushed down on either side, till the enemy were squeezed between
the two parties like a fruit in the fingers. Many were killed and others
fled, but, when Abd el Malak had been captured, and we fought our way to
the Bey’s horse as it was turned for flight, we saw a party riding
swiftly towards Tangier, and we did not trouble about them, thinking
them but servants or camp followers.
“There was furious fighting in the bed of the stream, while the Bey, cut
off from escape, sat on his horse, watching, with his jellaba over his
face. A man of Beni Mesauer caught his bridle, and the stallion reared,
striking out with his forefeet. ‘Take him alive,’ I ordered, for I
wished to see his face. I had not looked on it since the day he broke
faith with me after I had eaten his bread. At that moment the jellaba
was blown back, and, by Allah, it was a slave dressed in the Bey’s robe
and riding his horse! Sidi Abderrahman was nearing Tangier, and
congratulating himself on the wisdom of a fox. He was right. It is well
to be prepared for everything.
“The tribesmen judged Abd el Malak, and every man’s voice was against
him, so his eyes, which had seen much injustice, were burned out with
two red-hot coins, the size of a peseta. He deserved to die, but, when
he heard of the affair, the Sherif of Wazzan, who was always inclined to
mercy, pleaded for him, and I let him go.
“From that day I was supreme in the mountains, and even Mulai Abdul Aziz
could not question my authority. The tribes of Tetuan joined me, and my
rule extended to the farthest horizon—beyond that to Azeila, where my
sister was married to one of the great, and to Al Kasr, where it is too
hot for men to fight. Against Europe on the one side and the Sultan on
the other I protected the rights of the people, for they were my
people.”
From this moment el Raisuli appeared in a new rôle. He was no longer a
brigand, alternately quixotic and ferocious. All his actions were
governed by a definite purpose. It was as a potentate that he treated
with the Sultan and, in his dealings with European Powers, he showed
himself no mean politician. Before his imprisonment he had been
illogically cruel and equally inconsequently generous. He had never
looked ahead, living for the moment and the adventure thereof. Now he
set to work deliberately to gain the power which would make him secure.
He played off the tribes one against another until he had them all at
his service. He used his scientific and strategic knowledge, his
eloquence and the ever-growing reputation for saintliness as means to
ensure his alliance with other great houses. To the warriors of the
mountains his courage and his still unbroken physique were sufficient
appeal, but it was his fanaticism which won the Ulema[25] and the tribal
Sheikhs. He stood for the old order that was passing, and they followed
him to avoid the change which they presaged and could not understand. It
says much for el Raisuli’s intelligence that, while treating at
different times with various European Powers, and always to his material
profit, he should yet represent to Morocco the champion of Islam against
the Christian, of tradition against innovation.