PLOTTING AND COUNTER PLOTTING
“That night there was much business at Zinat. Far away in the plain the
army slept, but there was no sleep with us. In the darkness we slipped
away to the mountains, which are ever hospitable. No one was left in all
the village. The boys drove the flocks before them and the men guarded
them with their rifles ready, but not a stallion neighed, nor a dog
barked, and Allah made the night dark for us. The women carried children
at the breast and great bundles on their heads. Each man took what he
could lift, and piled the rest on mules, together with those who were
old and sick. In a few hours a great company passed out of reach of the
mehalla, but no sentinel gave the alarm and no patrol watched their
movements. When all were gone I stood on the rocks outside my house and
looked across the plain. My servants said to me, ‘My lord, they will
burn your house, and everything will be destroyed.’ I replied to them,
‘For every stone they throw down they shall build me a wall, and for all
that I lose they shall pay me. Have no doubt of these things.’
“Then he mounted our horses and rode up to the top of a hill, from where
we could watch the day’s events, but the rest of my people went on to
Beni Mesauer where they found a refuge with Zellal, of whom it is said,
‘His hand is open like a sieve and his wealth is a wadi which runs into
the purses of others.’
“The troops of the Maghsen had become swollen like barley after the
rain, for reinforcements had come from Tangier, but there was no hurry
to advance. There was a French gunner with the guns this day.[31] The
shells no longer flew wide. Very soon I saw roofs crumble and the walls
fly up like fountains, but I said nothing. That which is destructible is
doomed to be destroyed, but material is everywhere on the ground and,
for the Sherif, labour is but limited by the numbers of the population.
Truly, building a house is no great matter. The sun was full overhead
before the mehalla advanced. They came slowly, waveringly, as you see
birds go down to the water, uncertain if there is a snare. At the
distance where a man may shoot without aiming, they raised their rifles,
and the noise of their firing reached us far away where we sat behind
the rocks. Truly they must have killed every lizard and beetle in Zinat,
so much lead did they pour into the village, but there was no answer.
“Zinat waited silently for what was written. At last the troops charged,
but they were doubtful, each man wishing to keep behind his neighbour. I
know not how soon they discovered that the village was empty, but then
their courage was great. Shouting to each other triumphantly, they
attacked the furniture we had left behind, and in a minute the whole
army was turned into porters. If we had walked in among them, they would
have paid no attention to us. Running to and fro, staggering beneath
their burdens, we watched them, and then, suddenly, the houses burst
into fire. The flames rolled up to the skies, and nothing could be seen
but smoke. . . .”
Raisuli moved his huge body with an effort. “By Allah, a house is like
this flesh of mine, an encumbrance, and a man moves quicker who has no
possessions to guard. After the destruction of Zinat, no one could say
where I lived, for I could move quicker than the imagination of the
Maghsen. At times I would be two or three days in the saddle without
food, pausing only to pray or to drink a little water from the wadi,
and, at others, I would live like a Sultan, eating a young sheep at
every meal. We have a saying, ‘A man has no right to sleep on silk, till
he has walked barefoot.’
“After a while Zellal was obliged to make his peace with the Maghsen,
for he had relatives and much property in the towns, but, before this,
we made a covenant that he should give me warning of any new move on the
part of the Government. I had spies also in Tangier and Fez, who
reported everything to me. Then I went further into the mountains, till
I lived among the Ahmas tribe, who can never be defeated because their
country is like the walls of this room and their houses the eyries of
hawks. There is a story that they have a secret city so hidden that none
may ever see it. It is said that here is an old library, with many books
and marvellous parchments written in a strange language. Concerning this
I made many enquiries, but heard nothing certain. It may be that there
is something, for there are ulema among the Beni Aros who do not learn
their wisdom at the schools.
“The Sultan made many attempts to capture me, and the armies of el
Guebbas ate up the country till the people prayed against him in the
mosques. Now there was in the service of the Sultan an Englishman called
Maclean, a man of great courage and little learning. He was a friend of
mine, for he liked the Arabs and lived after our fashion. When Mulai
Aziz grew tired of trying to capture a man who was like a shadow
changing with the position of the sun, he ordered Maclean, who was an
instructor in his army, to write to me and arrange a meeting.”
Sir Henry Maclean, about whose life el Raisuli seemed to know very
little, was at that time, perhaps, the most picturesque figure in
Morocco. From one who was at the British Legation in Tangier for several
years, I understand that Sir Henry “started life as a subaltern in a
Highland regiment quartered at Gibraltar, but, finding it impossible to
make both ends meet in a crack regiment with but little private income,
he had resigned his commission and crossed over to Morocco, in the hope
of carving out a career for himself. Finding nothing to do in the coast
towns, he had made his way to Fez, at that time an almost unknown city,
as far as Europeans were concerned. After great difficulties he
succeeded in obtaining an audience with the Sultan, to whom he commented
in scathing tones on the state of the Moorish army, and guaranteed that,
if he were given the post of Instructor-in-Chief, he would convert it
into a disciplined force.
The Sultan, favourably impressed by the young Scotsman, gave him the
appointment and saw to it that he was given every chance to make good
his promise.”[32] At the time of which el Raisuli is speaking, Sir Henry
Maclean had held this post for over thirty years, and had completely won
the confidence, not only of the Sultan, but of many of the tribal
chiefs.
It appears that, when he confided to the British Legation his scheme for
the conciliation of the Sultan and the outlawed monarch of the
mountains, he was warned against attempting a personal interview with el
Raisuli. The Sherif told me much the same thing. “When el Maclean
visited me in the neighbourhood of Al Kasr, the place arranged for our
meeting, he related that his government was afraid of some treachery on
my part. I said to him, ‘A man with a clean heart need fear nobody.’ We
discussed the situation for many hours, and he wanted me to accompany
him to Fez, that he might arrange an interview with the Sultan, but I
remembered the darkness and the pain of Mogador, and I said, ‘A bird
does not fly into the same snare twice!’ Then he swore, ‘I will be
responsible for your safety,’ but I trust no man’s word, for my life has
made me suspicious. So I said to him, ‘Go back to Mulai Abdul Aziz and
say to him this and this. Then return quickly, but bring me a letter
from the Sultan, that I may have some surety.’ After this el Maclean
journeyed back to Fez and stayed there a short time. Then I received a
message from him, saying that all was well and that he would meet me at
a certain place, to which I must come with only a few men. He would not
trust himself in the farm where my mehalla was camped, so I thought to
myself, ‘Either he has been warned again by his Minister, or else there
is a snare being prepared for the rabbit, but how strange if the hunter
falls into his own trap!’
“I went to the place arranged, with but ten horsemen, and when el
Maclean joined me at the appointed time, he also had ten followers, so
our forces were equal. Did I not tell you the ‘baraka’ was with me? Now
listen what happened. At Fez the Sultan had written two letters. One was
for me, and in it he called me his friend and said there should be peace
between us. He appointed me a Governor and promised that all my property
should be restored. He assured me that he had given orders for all his
forces to retire, so that I might move freely where I chose. The other
letter was addressed to el Guebbas, his Minister of War, and in it was
written that, in answer to the prayers of Maclean, the Sultan had
decided to pardon el Raisuli and had promised that he should be invested
with the powers of a Governor, as soon as he made his submission. El
Guebbas was to retire with all his army from the territory of the
Sherif, but, at the end, it was written that the General must in all
ways acquire the confidence of el Raisuli, so that when he came down
from the mountains it would be easy to seize him by stealth and imprison
him. ‘Make all necessary concessions,’ wrote Mulai Abdul Aziz, ‘so that
when a suitable moment arrives he will suspect nothing.’
“Now the ‘baraka’ has been very powerful in our family since the time of
Sidi Abd es Salaam, to whose tomb on Jebel Alan all young men who are
bridegrooms turn and make a salutation, saying, ‘I am under the
protection of Allah and of thee, oh, blessed Abd es Salaam.’ Our
ancestor was so humble that he would not allow a Qubba to be erected
over his grave, saying, ‘The place where I am buried shall be flat like
the earth around, for I am of no greater value than the earth.’ Many
great Sherifs who were his descendants wished to build a mosque over his
tomb, as would be fitted for so holy a man, but always it was said that
the special blessing would depart from our family if the wish of Sidi es
Salaam were set aside. So no Qubba has been built, and his protection is
ever with us.
“It happened, therefore, that the wits of the scribes who copied the
Sultan’s letters were muddled, and when Mulai Abdul Aziz had signed them
and affixed the great seal of the Empire, his secretaries put the
letters into the wrong envelopes and gave them into the hands of
Maclean, unwitting of what they had done. It happened that when the
Englishman came to me and found me seated on a carpet before my tent,
for the heat of the day was past, he saluted me and said, ‘I
congratulate you, O, Sherif, for all is arranged with the Sultan. There
will be peace between you. You are to be reinstated as Governor, and el
Guebbas is, from this moment, at your orders.’
“Then he handed me the letter from Mulai Abdul Aziz, and I read it three
times, for it was the missive intended for the Minister of War, and I
saw at once the trick that it was intended to play upon me. Maclean,
seeing me hesitate and being able to read nothing in my face, asked me,
‘Of what are you thinking?’ ‘That I am grateful to the Sultan for his
pardon,’ I answered; but my thoughts were troubled, for Maclean had with
him as many men as I had, so I could not seize him by force, for perhaps
some of my men would have been killed and he would have escaped. I said
to him, ‘Will you come into my tent and rest, while my men prepare for
the march?’ ‘Where are you going to?’ asked Maclean. ‘I must go down to
the army of el Guebbas to acquaint him with the news. I had a letter for
him also, which I sent by a messenger.’ ‘I will write a reply to the
Sultan,’ I said, ‘but first I must consult my brother, who is ill and
could not come to meet you.’ ‘Where is he?’ asked el Maclean, who did
not wish to leave me until he was sure of my intentions. ‘He is only a
little way from here, in a farm. I will send him a message to say that I
am coming.’
[Illustration: Raisuli (centre) (Signature) “Ahmed el Raisuli. God be
with him”]
“Then I left the Englishman in my tent and I called a mountaineer who
was swift of foot and sure, and I told him, ‘Go quickly to the place
where my mehalla is camped and tell them to make ready for a long march.
Let them be prepared to start as soon as I join them.’ He went, running
like a fox, and I returned to Maclean. ‘Shall I ride with you?’ he
asked. ‘As you like.’ ‘Yes, it is better that I ride with you. Then I
can take your answer to el Guebbas.’ ‘Let us ride, then,’ I said; and we
mounted.
“Now at that time I thought he was a traitor, and knew the intentions of
the Sultan, and I said to myself, ‘So the strange thing has happened—who
would have thought it?—and the hunter has fallen into the snare he made
for his prey!’ But it displeased me to ride with him in this way, as if
he were my guest. I would have liked to have tied his arms together and
bound them to my stirrup and made him run thus, but his men were still
with him, and we were not yet in my country.
“We rode in silence, for I was thinking of the future, and I took him by
roundabout ways so that the mehalla might have time to prepare. At last
he said to me, ‘Where is the farm of your brother?’ ‘We draw near to
it.’ ‘When shall we arrive?’ ‘Soon,’ I answered, and pressed my horse,
for I saw the grove behind which were encamped my troops.
“‘What is this? What have you done?’ cried Maclean when we rode into the
middle of the camp and he saw the force ready to march, the tents packed
and each man prepared with his rifle. ‘Here is your answer,’ I said, and
read him the letter of Mulai Abdul Aziz.
“El Maclean listened without speaking. Then he protested, ‘I too have
been tricked. I knew nothing of this.’ With great sincerity he repeated
that he had believed the words of Mulai Abdul Aziz. ‘In any case you are
justified,’ he said. ‘I am your prisoner. I will go with you wherever
you like.’ So we left that place and went up into the mountains of
Ahmas, and I treated the Englishman as a guest.
“The Sultan was very angry that his plans should have been discovered,
for the word of Moslem to Moslem is not lightly betrayed, so he wrote
the Kaid of the district where I camped, saying to him, ‘Take all the
armies that you will. Take all the money that is in my treasury. The
country shall be under your orders, but capture el Raisuli alive or
dead.’ Now the Kaid was my cousin, Mulai Sadiq er Raisuli, but he had
always been with the Government and I had never seen him. There are many
Sherifs Raisuli in the country and all of them have much influence.
Mulai wrote to the Sultan and said, ‘I shall need 1,000 horses and 4,000
men to capture Mulai Ahmed in these mountains,’ and the Sultan replied,
‘I will send double that number.’
“Two mehallas came from Fez and one was under the command of my cousin
and the other under the uncle of Mulai Abdul Aziz. At that time I was at
the Zawia of Sidi Jusuf el Teledi, and with me were fifteen men and
Maclean. How can a handful of men fight an army? The tribesman came to
me for my advice, and I said to them, ‘Do not waste your ammunition,
when the earth is full of it,’ and I showed them the great stones of the
mountains.
“There are few ways by which a man may climb into the Ahmas, and all
night the mountaineers worked to loosen the rocks above them. In the
morning, when the mehalla advanced, it was as if the mountain resented
their presence, for whole cliffs fell upon them and many were killed. I
sat on a boulder across the wadi, and, with a few followers, watched the
rout. My jellaba was white and very clear against the hillside and, when
the troops saw me, they said, ‘That is el Raisuli. He has bewitched the
mountain, but he shall not leave it,’ and they fired at me many times.
My companions cried out, ‘Hide yourself, Sidi—behind these rocks you
will be safe, and you can still watch what is happening with comfort.’
But I answered them, ‘Go and take refuge in a safe place, but there is
no danger for me.’ I stood up at the edge of the rocks, and the spent
bullets, which had not been able to pierce my body, fell out of my
clothes and rattled on the ground. When they saw this the people were
afraid, for they knew it was a miracle. It was told throughout the
country and added to the consternation of our enemies.”
In this way el Raisuli encouraged the superstitious reverence of his
people, but, though the trick of the spent bullets was repeated on
several occasions, the Sherif is not, and never has been, a charlatan.
Convinced that he has the ‘baraka’ and that no man can avert the fate
which is ordained for him, he risks his life and his position with the
same calmness that an inveterate gambler backs his luck when he feels
that it is in. El Raisuli is superlatively ambitious, and astute enough
to realise that the smallest details are often important factors in
success or failure. Thus he makes use of every artifice to strengthen
the position which has been won as much by mental as physical audacity,
aided, of course, by an environment unique in this century.
“When it was known that the mehalla of my cousin, Mulai Sadiq, was
defeated, terror spread through the army on the other side of the
mountain,” continued the Sherif. “In vain the Sultan’s uncle encouraged
the troops. They asked, ‘How can we fight against a man whom even the
mountains help?’ But my followers were afraid, for they said, ‘We have
defeated one army by a trick, but another will not be vanquished in the
same way.’ I said to them, ‘Put your faith in Allah, for has he not
saved us in the past? I tell you again that no harm will happen to you.’
“Before there was time for any other battle, there came messengers from
Fez, telling that the Christians (the French) had landed in Casablanca,
and were ordering the immediate return of the mehalla. Thus my people
realised that I had spoken the truth. Scarcely had the Sultan’s troops
returned to Fez when men came swiftly from Xauen with the news that my
cousin had taken refuge there after the defeat of the army. The
Ashraf[33] and Sheikhs of the town begged that I would bring an army to
their rescue, for the tribe of Ahmas, within whose borders they are, had
sworn to burn every house and level the walls to the ground. They said,
‘Your cousin, our master, sits all day on his roof, firing shots from
his rifle, but we have not enough weapons to defend the town.’ So I left
Maclean with a strong guard and went down from Jusuf el Teledi.
“I took no mehalla with me, but travelled quickly with a few servants,
and the tribesmen joined me on the way, so that, when I reached Xauen, I
had hundreds at my back. All the people came out to meet me, and the
women made their quivering noise as they do for a wedding or the birth
of a son. I could hardly pass through the streets, the crowd was so
great, and men flung themselves before me so as to kiss my robes as I
passed. When I reached the house of the Pasha, the musicians were
playing and all the people rejoicing, for they had been saved from the
slaughter promised by the Ahmas.
“I asked, ‘Where is my cousin?’ They said, ‘He is still in his house.’
So I sent a messenger to him, asking, ‘Why do you not come to bid me
welcome, for you are of my family?’ and he replied by some of his
slaves, ‘I would not come with all the people, for I am older than you,
and it is not good that a greybeard should disturb itself for youth, but
if you will receive me alone, I will come to you at midnight, when the
town is quiet.’ I answered, ‘My house is yours, and you are welcome at
any hour.’ So he came when it was dark, and I made him sit in the place
of honour. Then I said to him, ‘It was you who commanded the army
against me?’ ‘That is the truth. I was the servant of the Government,
and it was my duty to obey the orders of my master, the Sultan.’ ‘It was
you who would have taken me a prisoner, so that I should have died in
some foul dungeon?’ ‘Yes, it was my intention to take you by the neck
and put chains upon you and carry you to Fez, but this was not permitted
by the goodness of Allah.’ ‘Now that you are here with me, in my power,
do you acknowledge that you are beaten?’ ‘Yes. Allah has so willed it.
Your foot is on my neck.’ ‘Then there shall be peace between us, for it
is not good that there be war among the members of one family.’ ‘As you
will.’ ‘I will make you my Khalifa here and you shall govern for me.’
‘By Allah, I will not stay here, for, seeing me defeated and humiliated,
the people of this town have behaved badly to me and have been unwilling
even to salute me in the street.’
“Upon hearing this I called in the great men of the town and said to
them, ‘Do you know this man?’ Seeing my cousin seated on my right in the
place of honour, they were afraid and began protesting, ‘We know him
well. He is our Faqih, our dear Kaid and your honoured cousin.’ ‘You
lie,’ cried Mulai Sadiq in great anger. ‘Because you see me prosperous,
you think to wash out all your faults and negligences!’ but I
interrupted him. ‘In future, their lives are in your hands, for you will
be their Governor on my behalf,’ and so it was arranged.” From that
moment, apparently, the cousins have been the closest allies, and Mulai
Sadiq has held many important posts in the Governorates of the Sherif.
“Maclean was my prisoner for many months,” continued el Raisuli. “It was
spring when he came with me to the mountains, but it was winter when he
left. Your Government was slow to pay, and there was no money in the
treasury of the Sultan. It was a long way to Tetuan and few dared act as
messengers. Maclean was my friend and, to begin with, we hunted together
and I sent to the city for those curious pipes like cushions full of
air, which his people play. They make more noise than our music, and
even the blacks cannot sing against them.
“There was much writing between the Government and myself, and each
tried to trick the other. I said I would send them the head of Maclean,
which I could not do because he had come with me willingly, as my guest.
They threatened to send British troops to rescue him. Allah! but it is a
long way to Jebel Ahmas, so neither of us believed the other. I was
tired of war and I wanted to rebuild my houses which had been destroyed,
so I demanded in ransom for Maclean the protection of England and
twenty-five thousand of your pounds. It was a small sum for a great
nation to pay, for it is known that your wealth cannot be counted, but
there were many difficulties, and Maclean would not help me. After a
while we were no longer friends about this matter, thinking the same
thoughts, and I said to him, ‘You know the ways of your Government.
Write now a letter that will move them.’ But he refused, so I said, ‘By
Allah, it shall be written before you sleep.’ Then he was angry and left
me, so I sent for the drummers, who beat on great instruments of hide,
and stationed them outside his door and ordered them to play.
“All that night and the next day they made a great noise, and then I
sent for Maclean and said to him, ‘Without sleep a man can do nothing,
and it is not easy to sleep beside that music.’ He was wild in his
speech and said, ‘Kill me! and let us have done with this trickery.’ But
I answered, ‘It is not the custom of Arabs to kill a guest. Your life is
safe. Go back and think whether you will write again to your
government.’ All night the drums continued, and in the morning I sent
men to talk to Maclean, but he would not answer them. His head drooped
before them and his eyes were red. I was afraid even the drums would not
keep him awake, so I added to the musicians, men who clashed the
cymbals, and instructed them to make much noise. Truly I disliked it
myself, so I went away to avoid it. The third day Maclean said to me,
‘My head bursts. I hear nothing,’ but by his eyes I knew he lied, and
all his muscles twitched as you see those of a hare when its leg is
broken.
“It was a good idea, that of the drums, for a host is obliged to provide
music and entertainment for his guest and, at the same time, no man can
bear so great a noise and sleep. I left the affair in the hands of a
Wakil[34] whose invention was very great. He proved himself a master of
noise, till all the men in the house held their ears and ran. After five
days Maclean gave in, as he might have done before, for what harm was
there in writing a letter?—but he was obstinate, like all men of great
courage. A slave brought him paper and ink, but, when the drums stopped,
he looked round as if he saw jinns, and his head fell forward on the
couch, and he slept. The Wakil shook him by the shoulders, even lifted
him up on to his feet, but without effect. So I let him sleep, because
he was my guest.
“When he woke, after many hours, he wrote the letter, and perhaps he
told about the drums, for the Government offered a great sum, which I
agreed to accept, but there was not so much money in any treasury of
Mulai Abdul Aziz and there was no one who dared bring it to me. The
Sultan paid £10,000 to the English Minister at Tangier, and said, ‘Treat
with Mulai Ahmed and make him accept the rest in instalments.’
“I would not leave the mountains, for fear of a trap, so still
messengers came and went. At last Harris, the Englishman of whom I
spoke, and another whose name I have forgotten, but he was a friend of
el Menebbhe’s, came out to meet me, at a village near Tangier. I had
several thousand men with me and the whole country was guarded. Not even
a mehalla of the Sultan could have done me any harm. We had a conference
and many things were explained. It was agreed that, in future, the
Sultan should have no authority over me and that I should be under the
protection of your Government. It was arranged also that the money
should be handed over at night, in the house of the English Consul at
Tangier, in exchange for Maclean, whom the Sherif of Wazzan went to
fetch. Had it been an Arab who made the suggestion I would not have
accepted it, for always I shall remember that other time when I went
down to Tangier believing in the word of a friend. But in this manner
the affair was settled.”
The Sherif seemed to be meditating on some subject. At last he spoke,
looking at me directly. “My prisoners have always been my friends,” he
said. “I did not take them for any grudge against themselves, but
because it was necessary that I should have some hostage to treat with
the Governments who abused my people. I made them my advocates, and it
was as if el Raisuli was at the mercy of his prisoners, saying to them,
‘Explain this thing, for I am in your hands, and you are my only means
of reaching the ears of the Maghsen and attaining the justice of my
desires.’”