LEGENDS OF CRUELTY
Many legends have grown up round the government of Raisuli at Azeila,
but most of them are palpably untrue. It is said that he tortured his
prisoners in dungeons where the light never entered, but there is not
even a cellar in the “House of Tears.” The following is a typical fable.
The townsfolk were protesting more indignantly than usual against the
severity of the Pasha’s judgments, so it was decided to arrange a
“miracle” for the benefit of the ignorant. In a yard near the hall of
audience was a pit for baking tiles. The slabs of chalk are put into
this depression and surrounded by live charcoal, after which a domed
clay roof is built over them, with a hole for the smoke to escape. One
day, when the pit was empty, the Sherif put a slave into it, and, after
the cover had been duly erected, there was just one small hole through
which the man could breathe. When the people were assembled, and Raisuli
had pronounced his verdicts, the assembled townsfolk were surprised by
his suddenly appealing to heaven. “Allah, they complain about my
judgements, but thou knowest I am just,” he cried, and, from the depths
of the earth beside him, came a voice which had strange echoes in
it—“Thou art just and merciful in all thine acts, and in all the
punishments which are inflicted by thine orders.” The terrified
listeners flung themselves on their faces and could hardly be persuaded
to look up, for fear of what they would see. When the hollow voice died
away, they crept forward humbly to kiss the robes of the Sherif or the
shoes which he had discarded on the threshold. “The voice of God has
spoken from the furnace,” said Raisuli. “Close up the hole, for it is
sacred and cannot be used any more.” So the slave died of suffocation,
but without uttering a sound, for it was the will of Allah and the
Sherif.
It is obvious that such stories are without foundation, for Raisuli has
always been deeply religious and, while capable of encouraging the
superstitious credence of his followers by tricks, he would neither take
the name of God in vain nor treacherously condemn to death a loyal
servitor. His punishments have, at times, been terrible, even inhuman,
but they have been a just rendering of that law which demands an eye for
an eye and a life for a life. It is often said of the Sherif that he
knows the guilt in a man’s heart from his face, but I have never heard
it suggested by Arabs that the innocent suffered at his hands. He
exacted implicit obedience and he was held in such awe that even his
prisoners did not try to escape.
“Prisons were not necessary,” said Raisuli, “for I had only to tell a
man that he was a captive, and, believing that my eye would follow him
wherever he went, he would sit down in the market-place and say, ‘Allah
is with the Sherif, and no one can escape from God.’ In those days many
men walked freely about the town who were my prisoners, and if I sent
for a man he came without protest, though he did not know his fate.”
“It is true,” interposed Badr ed Din, “for it happened one day that I
was riding from Jebel Habib to Azeila, and I passed a man going slowly
on a donkey. He was a Sheikh, so I asked him the object of his journey,
and he answered, ‘The Sherif has sent for me. There was a dispute in my
village, and my brother stole some of my grain, so I burned his house
over him, and, because there was a wind, the fire spread, and fifteen
perished in the flames.’ ‘Ullah, Sidi, you will not long keep your head
between your shoulder-blades, for the Pasha will put it on the gate,’ I
told him. ‘If Allah wills,’ he returned. ‘But the Sherif has sent for
me, and I must go to him.’”
“These occurrences were rare,” said Raisuli. “On the whole there was
peace, and the country was quiet, till a band of the men of Beni Kholot
established themselves in a certain hill and killed all who tried to
pass. They had a secret hiding-place which my men could not find, and
many complaints were brought to me, for the way was no longer safe, and
the Ahl Serif were cut off from the coast. At last three of the bandits
were killed and their heads were sent to me, for they had fallen into an
ambush when they went to loot a village which they thought was
undefended. Their fate frightened one of their leaders, and he wrote to
me secretly, saying that if I would guarantee his security, he would
come by night to Azeila and describe to me the hiding-place of the band.
“Treachery is of all things hateful in the sight of Allah, but I
promised him his safety in order to ensure the capture of his followers.
He came one morning when the sea was not distinguishable from the land,
and I kept him waiting for many hours. He had much time to wonder if he
had risked his head, and, when at last he was brought to me, he was
uncertain, for a traitor is always a coward. I received him sitting on a
carpet and, in front of me, were the heads of his friends. He trembled,
and would have prostrated himself a long way off, but I beckoned to him
to sit beside me on the carpet. ‘You are the guest of my house,’ I said,
‘and I cannot hurt you, but if ever we meet in the mountains, it will be
your last day.’ Then he told me of the cave where his companions hid and
of the way to reach it. When he ceased talking, I said nothing, and we
sat in silence for a long time. Then I got up and called to a slave.
‘Take this man and put him in safety outside the town. Give him also the
carpet upon which we have been sitting, for it has been soiled by the
dust from his feet, and can no longer stay in my house.’”
There was a pause, while a minute slave crept in and saluted the
Sherif’s sleeve, touching it only with his lips. However unimportant the
message, it was always whispered into the ears for which it was
intended, and was completely inaudible to anyone else. “Perhaps it is a
woman who asks for something, for that is one of the slaves of the
harem,” murmured the Spaniard, but the Sherif took no notice of the
little servitor, except a muttered “Later on; I am busy.”
“If you tell your thoughts to anyone,” he said, “you lose control over
them, and they are no longer your own; but I had a friend who was like
my brother. He was a Spaniard, by name Zugasti, and he was the Consul at
Larache. Europe never had another like him. Whatever he asked me I would
have done, for his spirit was like a mirror and all his thoughts were
good. He had the courage of a lion, but he went about the country
unarmed, for he said, ‘Spain must convince the people by her actions,
not persuade them by force of powder and shot.’ Once there was a ship
loaded with cartridges at the mouth of the Luccus. It was hot, and there
was no one willing to work. The crew slept on the deck, and at first the
men ashore took no notice of a little smoke issuing from her stern. Then
it was seen that she was on fire, and everybody was afraid, for there
would be a great explosion, and even the town might suffer. The crew
woke up, but they could not extinguish the fire. Zugasti, passing, heard
the shouts and, when he discovered what was the matter, he seized the
revolver of a policeman and jumped into the first boat he saw. By force
he made the men row out to the ship, and his coming was life to the
crew. Under his orders they worked to sink the ship and, while people
expected every moment to hear an explosion, he sent the sailors ashore,
but he was the last man to leave, and beneath him the water was sucking
up the flames. Ullah, Zugasti was worthy of respect! The Arabs called
him the Christian Sherif, and he would not gain one douro out of the
country. He came to Larache richer than he left it. He was then about
thirty or forty[37], but he had more wisdom than years. He had studied
the customs and laws of Islam, and talked Arabic better than I do.
“To this man, my brother, I told some of my thoughts, for, like the sun
in the morning, the French were creeping slowly nearer to my country. In
the neighbourhood of Al Kasr I had a mehalla of 500 men, under the Kaid
Bussa el Melsuni, and always it watched the progress of France. I knew
that soon there would be a battle, and then, Allah forbid! we should
have been lost, for the French never go back. Therefore I consulted with
Zugasti and also with your Minister, Lister, and I thought, ‘The
Spaniards are strong enough to help us, but not so strong that they will
oppress us.’
“Then one night Zugasti came to me. He was covered with dust and the
sweat ran into his eyes. His horse stood in the yard where he left it,
and there was death in its eye. An enemy of mine, Tazya of the Beni
Aros, had captured Hamed ben Malek and his two sons and had imprisoned
them in his house at Mesmuda. He had taken their mules, their horses,
all their possessions, and he threatened their lives, if a ransom were
not paid. He demanded 24,000 dollars and a quantity of arms and tents.
Now Hamed ben Malek was under the protection of Spain, as were many
merchants in Larache and Al Kasr. In those days when a man wished to
avoid the just punishment of his actions he put himself under the
protection of a European Power.” “As you did, Sidi, after the capture of
Maclean,” I murmured. “Ullah, your tongue is a sword,” retorted the
Sherif imperturbably. “Zugasti said to me, ‘If these things are allowed,
it will be bad for the honour of my Government,’ but I was glad of this
event, for I had been wondering how I could introduce the forces of
Spain into the country, and what reason I could give to the people; so I
answered, ‘Wait a few days, and all that you desire will happen.’
“Two ships came from Spain and anchored in the Luccus, and the next day
news was brought that Hamed ben Malek had been killed, with his sons.
The bodies had been disembowelled and stuffed with straw, and the heads
had been mounted on posts from which fluttered the flags of the tribe.
In this manner they were taken round the country, while Tazya incited
men to rebellion, saying, ‘The Pasha is afraid to attack us.’ It would
have been easy for my troops to put down the revolt, and I could have
done to mine enemies the double of that which they had inflicted on Ibn
Malek, but I saw that Allah was with me in my design and that the weapon
I had sought was already in my hands. I said to Zugasti, ‘Do not doubt
that the offenders will be punished, but, as you fear for the respect of
your country, let your soldiers land from the boats and make a
demonstration in the town, for if the weather is bad, the boats will
have to leave, and then our opportunity will be lost.’
“The next day there was trouble in Al Kasr. A body of mountaineers rode
into the town and fired on the people in the market. There was much
alarm, and the cavalry turned out. The bandits were chased back to the
hills, and some were killed, but the merchants protected by Spain
appealed to their Consul, who reported the matter to Zugasti. There was
a meeting between the European representatives, and then my friend came
to me and said, “All are willing, but we wait for your help. If a shot
is fired at the landing of our troops, it will echo throughout Europe.’
I replied, ‘If Allah wills, you shall land in peace,’ and I looked out
over the sea which has never belonged to the Arabs. What is written is
written, but my responsibility was great. I remembered the oath which I
had sworn to Mulai Hafid, and I said to Zugasti, ‘My country needs help,
and you have promised to serve her interests, but a man cannot forget
his own nation. Make a covenant with me that you will always be a friend
to the Arabs, and that this thing you ask is for their good.’ He
answered in our words, ‘On my head and my eyes it is so.’ Then I said,
‘You are of my family, and we will repeat the Fatha together, for if I
have made a mistake, Allah witness my intentions were good.’ That is the
only time I have said the Fatha with a Christian.
“The troops disembarked at night, for it was June and very hot by day. A
red flag flew from the Consulate, and Spanish police patrolled the
streets, but the peace of the town was in the charge of the Pasha,
Mohamed Faddel Ben Zaich. The principal men had met in his house, and he
had told them, ‘This is the will of the Sherif, and there must be no
opposition,’ so all the hours of the night my people were in the
streets, calming the citizens and consoling them. Wherever there was a
group whose voices were raised and whose gestures became violent, there
also was one of my men, murmuring, ‘It is in the hands of Allah and the
Sherif. Do not interfere.’ The balconies and the roofs were crowded with
people, who watched in silence.
“There were some who said, ‘We have been sold to the Christians,’ but
others covered their faces and answered, ‘Allah alone knows.’ The Jews
did not hide their rejoicing, for they had been subject to us and of
little account. They were not allowed to wear shoes when they passed
through a street wherein was a mosque, nor might they sit down in the
presence of the ulema. It happened perhaps that a man wanted money, and
the Jews had it, though their wealth could not be judged by their
clothes. The man might go to a Hebrew and demand charity, but if the Jew
was not quick to open his purse, he got a few blows on the skull; yet,
if such things were reported to me, I punished the offender and restored
his property to the Jew, for the Prophet has said, ‘I came not to
destroy, but to construct,’ and ‘Take what is good from every religion
and leave what is bad.’ So, when the light failed, for the moon was
hidden and there was a mist on the river, the Jews brought lanterns and
hung them on sticks so that the troops might see. The Arabs were sad,
but resigned, for they believed the words spread by the Pasha, and
before the dawn it was finished. For the first time the sun rose on
Spanish troops encamped in the Kasbah of Nadir Ras Remel, and all this
was done by my help.
“After this began the mistakes, and nobody can tell whose was the fault.
I thought Spain would be guided by my knowledge and that, very slowly, I
could induce the tribes to recognise her protection, but the Government
sent Silvestre to command the troops which had been disembarked, and he
was impatient and wanted to go too quickly. Truly he has been the enemy
of my life, just as Zugasti has been its friend, but, one by one, all my
enemies have gone, and I remain. Mulai Abdul Aziz came against me, and
he fell. He burned my houses, but they are rebuilt. In the same way,
Silvestre opposed me, and he died from his own bullet, which is a
forbidden thing; but I am still here. It is the ‘baraka’ which is
strong.
“When Silvestre landed, the people of Larache had learned that the
troops would not do them any harm. On the contrary, they spent money,
and the Arab cannot see beyond a douro, so the Colonel was received with
rejoicing and the curious lined the streets to see him. Immediately he
wished to march to Al Kasr, a town in the neighbourhood, which they
regarded as an army in the pay of the Sherif. Truly he is great.”
[Illustration: Sacred tree in Raisuli’s house, now enclosed in a room.
Taken during Spanish occupation]
“Between Larache and Al Kasr the country is flat. It is the richest land
in Morocco, and the only place where there are no crops is in the sacred
forest, where the trees are blessed with healing. It is said, a sick man
may be cured of his illness under their branches, and many lepers used
to go out and live there, hoping to lose their sores. There is no place
for sudden attack, and the Spaniards came safely to Sidi Aissa, which is
on my own property. It would have been better to wait a little at Al
Kasr, for, in Morocco, all things must go slowly. An Arab’s imagination
is like a lantern swinging in the wind, for it distorts the truth. But
Silvestre was impatient. He was a conqueror dreaming of success, and his
ambition was unlimited. Suq el Teleta was occupied by my help, but all
the country was anxious, and, had I not been strong, there would have
been much bloodshed.”
Sidi Badr ed Din, commenting on this story on a later occasion, said to
me, “I have been with the Sherif all my life, and that is the only time
I have seen him troubled. Even then he said nothing, and no man could
tell it from his face, but I knew of his anxiety, for one of his family
had died, and he went to make his Confession to the corpse. You do not
know of that custom? It is common in our country, but, to my knowledge,
Raisuli has only once followed it. You make your confession through a
priest, who is no nearer God than yourselves, but in moments of great
trouble, we whisper it into the ear of a dead man whose spirit is
already with Allah. It is done when life has just passed and the soul is
still linked with its yet unburied body. Its lips are sealed, so the
secret is safe on earth, but the spirit is near enough to hear and carry
the words to God.” It was a revelation of Raisuli’s character, dominant
and determined in his decisions, but aware of the vast responsibility
they imposed on him. It was a great step for a Moslem, and the appointed
champion of his country, to have introduced a Christian army within its
borders. However much the Sherif regretted his action or apprehended its
results, he would never confide in the living, but perhaps he whispered
his hopes and his fears, perhaps even his dawning disappointment, into
the ears of the dead.
El Raisuli once said of Silvestre, “He was a brave man, and in any other
country I could have loved him, but there cannot be two lions in one
forest.” This is the explanation of the wearisome sequence of quarrels
which followed. Silvestre knew nothing of the Arabs and he believed too
much of what was told him. Impulsive, hot-headed and courageous, he was
a typical conquistador, and the last man who should have been sent to
Morocco. He saw a country which appeared to be groaning under injustice,
and he did not realise that even tyranny can be a cherished custom in
the East. He rushed in to save a people who had not the slightest desire
to be rescued, and found himself baffled by endless prevarication, and
fighting, not against one man, but against the most complicated social
system the world has yet invented. There is no place for change in the
traditions of Islam, and the moment an Arab is hard-pressed, he forgets
everything except that he is a Moslem. Full of good intentions and
admirably sincere, Silvestre found himself among people who always said
exactly the opposite of what they meant, and who abhorred strangers as
being little less dangerous than the devil. Most unfortunately, he was
unable to convince his Government, still less in sympathy with Arab
politics, that Raisuli was the only hope of dealing with them.
“After Suq el Telata had been occupied, Silvestre came to see me at
Azeila,” said the Sherif. “He came with one called Ovila and eight men,
and I received them with the greatest honour, and went out into the
courtyard to meet them. It was the first time I had seen the Colonel,
and, like Zugasti, he looked me straight in the eyes, but he was too
quick in his speech. I remember he brought me five Mauser rifles, which
is the best present you can give to an Arab, and he thanked me for my
help, which I assured him would always be at his service. We talked of
many things, but perhaps we were both blinded by our fear of a common
enemy and we did not see the other difficulties which were before us. My
influence has always extended from Al Kasr to Tetuan, and no man moves
in the mountains without Raisuli knowing of it. I explained to Silvestre
that Suq el Had must be occupied, for it was but an hour’s journey from
Azeila, and the French used to go there twice a week to buy provisions
and pay their police. On many of these occasions money filtered into the
pockets of the Kaids, and the only way to stop this was to instal the
Spaniards at Suq el Tzenin, which would cut off the French from the Had.
“It was agreed that this should be done and that Spain should undertake
the payment of the garrisons at Al Kasr and Azeila, that there might be
no question of a French protectorate. All these things I arranged, not
because I dislike the French, for they are warriors, and the side on
which they fight will never lose, but because they are too strong, and I
wanted the boundaries of their country to be fixed. The Governor of
Ceuta had asked for the release of some Angera prisoners, though they
well deserved punishment, so I said to Silvestre, ‘They are yours. Take
them with you. My men will point them out to you in the town,’ and he
was surprised.
“After a while, he asked me how soon his troops could arrive at the
Fondak of Ain Yerida, and I told him, ‘If you wish to reap millet, you
must first plant it. Perhaps the towns are ready for civilisation, but
the mountains are not. You must prepare the ground carefully, and you
cannot use rifles as ploughs. I suggested that he should send out
patrols to make short marches in the neighbourhood, so that the people
would get used to the sight of his soldiers and realise there was no
danger from them. We parted as friends, and I asked him to assure his
Government that the word of Raisuli would never be broken.”
After this memorable interview Silvestre wrote to Madrid, approximately
in these terms: “My personal impression is that Raisuli at present
serves us loyally and that the French work incessantly to bring him over
to their cause, for which reason we should lose no time in assuring his
unconditional support, gathering the fruit of what has already been
conceded to the Pasha. If we do not lose any time, we may avoid that. In
the end, he may, like a good Moor, become venal and change his
affections. Taking advantage of the complications which today menace
France through the exigences and suspicious attitude of Germany, we
should occupy Suq el Tzenin and establish a post 20 kils. from Tangier,
etc. . . .”
This letter shows complete lack of comprehension of Raisuli’s policy,
which has never changed. It has always been to leave France undisturbed
in her zone, but, by means of Spain, to protect his own. His way of
expressing it is more picturesque. “If there is a hornet’s nest across
the mountains, the wise man does not disturb it, but neither does he
leave honey unguarded in his house. . . . After Silvestre came to see
me, he sent an officer to Azeila to instruct my troops, and all my freed
slaves joined the army because they liked his drill. He used also to pay
the garrison, and there were some outside who were angry because no
money slipped into their hands, but they were ‘mesqueen,’[38] for my
servants do not accept bribes.
“There was once a Spaniard who went into Jebel Bu Hashim to look for
birds, and Ghabah went with him, that the mountaineers might know he was
under protection of the Sherif. When they returned, the Spaniard gave my
slave 25 pesetas, and would not allow him to refuse. The next day he
came to me to take his leave and, after we had talked, I gave him a note
for 25 pesetas. ‘What is this?’ he asked. ‘Why do you give me money?’
‘It is yours. Are you unwilling to take it from me?’ I answered. ‘I do
not understand this. I cannot take it,’ he repeated. ‘You were not
ashamed to give money to my slave yesterday,’ I said, ‘so why should you
be ashamed to take it from me today?’” “It is true,” said Badr ed Din.
“No slave would receive a penny from a guest of the house. They are
ignorant men, but very wise in their ignorance.” I remembered how two of
the said slaves had watched a visitor at the camp nearest Tazrut
performing violent exercises with a pair of dumb-bells. “Ullah, he seems
angry! What is he doing?” asked one. “Be quiet!” said the other. “Do not
disturb him. He is saying his prayers.”
The Sherif continued his story. “Silvestre wanted to send flying columns
into the heart of the country, and always he wrote to me of Ain el
Yerida, yet at the same time he had insisted on the release of the
Anjera prisoners, while still men from Wadi Ras were held captives by
the tribe.[39] When I told him of this he believed me, for he saw how
the country waited on my word, but his Government wrote to him often,
urging him to do the wrong things, so that he was between the two blades
of the scissors. At one time he wrote to the Qadi of Al Kasr and ordered
him not to sign any documents for the sale of houses without his
permission, especially in those districts occupied by Spanish troops. At
this the people were indignant and cried out that their liberty was
being interfered with. The French papers published an exaggerated
account of the incident and the news spread through Morocco that
Silvestre had forbidden the Qadi to pass any sentence without his
approval, or to make any disposition concerning the public funds, even
including the auqaf.[40] The Minister of the Sultan, El Guebbas,
protested, and it was expected that there would be a rising throughout
the country. Fortunately, through my secret agents, I heard all these
things before they were whispered in the markets, and I made a little
politics among the tribes, and the story was forgotten.
“Silvestre went on a journey along the Luccus, on the left banks of
which were encamped the French, and was well received by all the people.
He had a troop of cavalry with him and many officers, and the people
brought out bullocks and sheep and sacrificed them in front of him, that
he might listen to their petitions. Many thought, ‘Here is a new Pasha.
Now is the time to triumph over our enemies and be revenged.’ And they
told him numerous stories, while they cut off the forelegs of their
bullocks, so that the animals sank down on their knees in an attitude of
prayer, and so bled to death. Ullah, his camp was like a slaughter-
house, for this was done at his tent-door for the more honour; and
sometimes they cut the throats of sheep and laid them on his threshold
as a gift. I told you the Moors were savages!” By this time Silvestre
was finding his position very difficult, for he was appealed to on all
sides by individuals who had grievances, real or imaginary, and he was
confronted by the impossible task of introducing European law and order
without interfering with the customs of the country. Moreover, in
attempting to do so, he was obliged to undermine the authority of the
man who was his only guarantee of security.
Raisuli watched these manœuvres with considerable impassivity. Sometimes
men came to him and asked the reasons of certain transactions. The
Sherif’s reply is famous. “The blind have a special ‘baraka’—as to the
meaning of these actions, Allah knows, and I would rather not!”