JORDANA’S DEATH
“One of my worst disputes with Jordana,” said the Sherif, “was
concerning some of his police from the neighbourhood of Larache, who had
attacked a farm on my land and murdered one of the owners. This was a
case of thieving. The men left all their clothes under a convenient bush
and rubbed their bodies with oil so that they could not be held. They
came at night to the farm, naked, but with their rifles in their hands,
for they knew that the farmer had lately sold his grain and had the
price of it still in his house. A boy saw their approach and gave the
alarm. There were but two tribesmen in the place, and one was shot as he
laid hands on his rifle. The other would have fought, but they
overpowered him and demanded where the money was. He would not speak, so
they lit a fire and put his feet into it, but still he was mute. He
would have died under their tortures, but that one of them discovered
the money at the bottom of an old sack. They waited to add a few more
blows to the injuries the tribesman had already received, then fled with
their booty.
“It is difficult to keep a thing secret in Morocco, and it was soon
known who were the criminals, but justice was laggard, so I ordered el
Mudden to fetch me the bandits. This was not difficult, for there is
nothing more ready[85] than the hand of a policeman when he hears the
chink of money! The robbers were sent to patrol a certain road, and el
Mudden was waiting for them, but it was a short fight. I imprisoned them
in chains at Tazrut, waiting their sentence, and I sent an account of
the matter to Jordana. He insisted that they were employees of Spain and
liable only in her courts. I retorted that, by the pact of Khotot, it
had been agreed I alone should be responsible for the people living on
my properties. He answered that there was no evidence against the men,
and demanded their immediate release. I answered, ‘It shall be as you
wish, because of the friendship which is between us and because my
desire is to serve Spain in all ways,’ but, before I released the men, I
cut off the right hand of each, as a lesson that my people were not to
be molested, and I said to them, ‘I have shown you great mercy, because
of the intercession of the Governor, but your heads are still loose upon
your shoulders. Take care that you do nothing to lose them.’
“When he heard what had happened, Jordana wrote to me angrily, accusing
me of barbarity and injustice, but I replied, ‘Their lives were in my
hand, for they were murderers. In justice I should have beheaded them,
for this is our law. How could I rule my people, if it were known that I
could not protect them? I have shown mercy, as you desired, and if, as
you say, one of the men has died, it is the Will of Allah.’”
This affair was typical of the many which disturbed the relationship
between the High Commissioner and Raisuli. Jordana was a man whose
patriotism was only equalled by his nervous sensitiveness. He came to
Morocco aware of the mistakes of his predecessors and determined that
Spain should present a united front before the Moors. Convinced of the
importance to his country of the turbulent colony he was sent to rule,
but hampered on all sides by criticism, distrust and the kaleidoscopic
changes which marked the foreign policy of his Government, he decided
that an alliance with Raisuli was the only way of stabilising the
situation. He realised that the original occupation of Larache and Al
Kasr was due to the influence of the Sherif, and he hoped that, with
this once again on his side, further peaceful penetration would be
possible. What he did not understand was that the Arab rarely forgets or
forgives, and that these qualities would be essential on the part of
both Spain and Raisuli.
It is obvious from his correspondence that he regarded the Peace of
Khotot, with its rigid demarcation of zones, as but the first step to a
better understanding which would open up the country for material
development. His disappointment was great when he realised that, not
only were the mountains finally closed to Europeans, but that the Sherif
was fulfilling only the minimum of his promises with regard to the
coastal districts. The Tangier-Tetuan road was nominally occupied, but
no stranger might use it without a pass from Raisuli. Roads came to an
end as soon as they neared the hills, because of the mysterious
difficulty of procuring labour. The water supply of Tetuan remained
inadequate, because Raisuli refused to allow the construction of an
aqueduct from the mountains. The railway from Ceuta to Tetuan stuck at a
certain bridge, on account of inexplicable disturbances. Whenever the
Spaniards wished to occupy posts essential for the protection of the
main road, the Sherif protested that such a step would rouse the dormant
hostility of the tribesmen, alert for a recrudescence of war. In fact,
Jordana found himself struggling against well-organised, but passive,
resistance.
It is certain that, during the war, Raisuli played a waiting game. The
Spaniards say that only their influence prevented him from entering the
lists against France. This is unlikely, for the Sherif’s policy was one
of consistent neutrality in order that he might be able to secure good
terms from whichever side won. Doubtless some of the German money which
poured into Morocco found its way into the Sherif’s coffers, but he was
too astute to commit himself to any definite aggression. As his power
grew among the tribes, and with Arabs no propaganda is more popular than
a display of force and prosperity, the Sherif used the powerful weapon
which Jordana had unwittingly put into his hand.
Whenever his autocratic actions were questioned, he hinted at the
possibility of a rupture, and the High Commissioner, interpreting such a
possibility as the seal set on his failure, renewed his endeavours to
propitiate. If it was an undignified situation, it was the result of
Jordana’s passionate desire to serve the interests of his country,
without costing her blood or money. The alternatives with which he was
faced when he arrived in Tetuan seemed to him equally disastrous. They
consisted in the evacuation of the country, which would be followed by
the triumphal entry of France and the total loss of Spanish prestige, or
a war which, judging by the fruitless efforts of his predecessors, he
believed would have to be one of extermination.
He was tempted to take the middle course and the most distasteful to
him. He forced himself to labour with a persistent patience wholly at
variance to his nature, towards a solution which, though humiliating to
his pride, would satisfy the conflicting interests in Madrid. Towards
the end of 1918 he found that Raisuli was in the position of dictator,
while the High Commissioner was regarded as a puppet. Under insistent
orders against interference with the natives, inefficiency and laxity
were rife among all classes of officials. In fact, the prestige of
Spain, which Jordana hoped to vindicate at the cost of his own opinions,
had been persistently lowered by giving way to the exigencies of the
Sherif and his horde of deputies.
In one of the most pathetic letters ever written by a great pro-consul
to his Government, Jordana traced his course of action from its
initiation and, acknowledged that he had, himself, undermined the road
“which led to the forbidden mountains,” foreshadowed the possibility of
that rupture which would prove how unprofitable had been his years of
conciliation. With a hand that shook, he signed the long document, and
the pages bear repetitive evidence of a mind strained beyond endurance.
Then, dropping the pen, he fell forward over the table and died while
the ink of his apologia was still wet!
“The news of Jordana’s death was brought to me at Tazrut,” said Raisuli,
“and I was certain that this would mean the end of my relations with
Spain, for I had been watching the course of politics, and the Madrid
press was clamouring for change. I returned to my camp and at once
offered to give up the arms and ammunition entrusted to me for the
duration of the campaign against the rebel tribes. My offer was refused,
and I was assured that there was no alteration in the attitude of Spain.
Messengers came to me almost daily from the Residency in Tetuan, urging
me to stay at Kheiton, and to keep a strong hold of the tribes until the
new Governor should arrive.
“Certainly this was necessary, for, on all sides, there were displeasing
incidents as a result of a rumour that the foreigners would soon attack
us. A man was killed within a few yards of Tetuan, and some Jews robbed
in the open Suq. I sent a column to patrol the neighbourhood of the
town, and warned the Beni Hosmar that my arm was still strong enough to
punish. News came that bandits from Beni Gorfet had attacked a Spanish
farm. The landlord had been killed, his goods stolen and his wife
carried away as a captive. Immediately I sent a strong force to Khemis,
demanding the release of the woman, but the Kaid was obdurate, for he
hoped for a ransom. There was a fight, and his house was burned. While
all men rushed to put out the flames, my soldiers saw some women running
towards the hills, dragging one who went unwillingly. They pursued the
party, and the women seized stones and earth to throw at them, abusing
them for saving a Christian, but my troops took the Spaniard and brought
her in safety to my camp.
“That is the first time a European woman had been my prisoner, though my
house has always been at the disposal of your men! She was in rags, and
I had none of my family with me, so I sent to Tazrut for clothes, and
she dressed as an Arab. I had a tent pitched a little way off for her,
and put soldiers to keep anyone from staring at her. I said to her, ‘You
may go whenever you choose, and, if you tell me your destination, I will
send an escort with you.’ My men recovered the half of the goats which
had been stolen, and I told her the whole had been brought back, making
up the number from my flocks. She stayed in camp for a few days, till
she was no longer afraid, and then I sent her down to her people.
“There were many incidents of this sort, though the tribesmen concerned
themselves only with men. Farmers were captured near Larache and forced
to pay a tithe of their crops and their beasts before they were set at
liberty, but, whenever this happened, I punished the offenders.
“There was a long gap between the death of Jordana and the appointment
of a new High Commissioner. Nearly three months passed, and several
times I wrote to Tetuan announcing my departure for the mountains, for
the news from Madrid was disturbing, but each time I was held back with
promises.
“At last[86] Berenguer came out as High Commissioner, and it was known
at once that he wished to occupy the Jebala by force. He spread abroad
that he would waste no time in making effective over the whole country
the Protectorate with which Spain had charged herself, but when I sent
my cousin, Mulai Sadiq, to greet him, he received him courteously.
Ullah, thou wert deceived in him, son of my relative!” The old man
protested indignantly—“He spoke affectionately to me, and told me that
his one wish was to help all Moslems and to make the towns safe for
trade. He said his mission was peaceful and that he wanted only to
restore order in the districts where there had been trouble.” “So you
wrote,” remarked the Sherif, “but Berenguer’s first message to me was a
reproach that I had not welcomed him personally in the city. I replied,
‘Never will Raisuli be seen in Tetuan.’ Then he wrote to me by the son
of Jordana, who put the matter politely, but it was not difficult to see
what lay behind.
[Illustration: Door of mosque at Tetuan, where Raisuli’s ancestors are
buried]
“I answered that letter with many pages, and I remember the words which
a Badr ed Din wrote for me. The sense of them was thus: ‘You say that I
have not served the interests of Spain, but do you not know of the
innumerable battles I have fought for you, and all the difficulties and
suspicions I have suffered on your behalf? It is not I who have caused
the trouble in Morocco, but the indefinite policy of your Government
which is always changing. How often have I been told one thing in the
morning and another in the evening! How often has the Governor applied
to Spain for a pressing remedy, and received nothing, because of the
political commotion! You say I have not written to welcome you, but to
do this was impossible after the injudicious actions of Barera. Have you
not heard how the military commanders of your posts lose no opportunity
of detaining the tribesmen in the cities, of interfering with their
fields and their sowing, taking from them their money and leaving many
wounded by blows and other injuries? This has been the situation for a
long time, and I was so angry at the passive attitude adopted by your
officials that, as a protest, I dismissed the two telephone engineers
who were working at Ben Karrish in my zone. This was a sign to the
tribes that political relations would soon be broken between your
Government and mine.
“‘During the months before you came, I was instrumental in pacifying the
tribes who would have risen to destroy your posts, but I told them that
peace and tranquillity on our side must be unbroken, lest it should be
said that war was the result of our actions. You say the root of your
policy is your desire for peace and order. It would not appear thus, at
least outwardly, for nothing is so true as actions which are
unpremeditated. Since your arrival, incidents have been more frequent,
and the offenders have not been punished. In proof, I will relate to you
certain facts, and you will see that my silence was justified by the
alarming news which was brought to me daily. Some of my labourers who
were working at the edge of Beni Gorfet, in the vicinity of the Khotot,
informed me that the chief of the military post at Tzenin had attacked
them, taking away their herds, which were feeding peacefully in the
stretch of grass, and had restored none of these, nor had they set at
liberty the servants whom they had captured with the beasts.
“‘Tn Jebel Habib, artillery was employed against farms, not once but
five times. Shells were dropped among the beasts, and it was impossible
to continue the cultivation—all this because it was suspected that a
soldier, who had deserted from the police, had passed through that
country. The desertion of a policeman is not a strange thing. It occurs
frequently, whether from your forces or mine, and it is impossible to
avoid it. On the contrary, the use of cannon is a grave wrong, for it
was agreed between the two parties[87] that artillery should not be
employed against farms whose inhabitants were faithful to us and only
wished to live in peace and security under our rule.
“‘On the same day Your Excellency was expected in Tzenin, coming from
Sidi Laimani, the captains of the military posts at Maila and Tzenin set
out with mixed forces to round up the peoples of Bedauin and the
labourers of Beni Aros, all subjects of my jurisdiction. Your soldiers
forced these men to leave their walls by weight of blows, killing even
the dogs who barked at them as they passed, and not omitting to tear off
the clothes which the tribesmen wore upon their shoulders. They drove
them into the town and ordered them to make a crowd to receive the High
Commissioner. This was done to show the large numbers of those who had
submitted to Barera, a false action, because, if I ordered these
tribesmen and these labourers to leave all their possessions and join
me, not one of them would delay for a night. All those who escaped from
Tzenin and would not wait for Your Excellency’s arrival, were forced to
pay a fine.
“‘Another thing—the chief of the military post at Sania in the Garbia
attacked, during the night, certain farms situated in Jebel Rik, near
our own fort of Gahar Ru Gas. Your troops took away the cattle and left
one herdsman dead and two wounded, and the village lost a great quantity
of beasts, many of whom died from the wounds received from your rifles.
After this, the soldiers laid hold of a Sherif, a relative of mine, who
had been peacefully occupying himself with the care of his crops and his
herds. They maltreated him, despoiled him of his clothes and took him
away, naked. They still hold him a prisoner, without taking into
consideration that the Sherif is a personage of renown and fame, known
as a peaceful and prudent subject of great discretion.
“‘These and many other occurrences, deplorable and scandalous, occurred
in your zone precisely when Your Excellency had established yourself in
the Commissario.[88] Your officials have redoubled their campaign
against my people, molesting them in every way, ill-treating them and
giving as a reason that your jurisdiction extends over the whole
country, without any difference between my subjects and yours. Added to
this, there is the policy which Your Excellency is following with those
of Anjera, who have always been against me and who were outlawed after
the recent war, in which my forces fought by the side of your own. Your
Excellency receives these traitors, appoints them as Sheikhs, and then
attributes their nomination to Ben Azuz,[89] who, everyone knows, is
your salaried captive, and who sits, like a blind man, with his mouth
open, waiting for the charitable to come and drop food into it. It is
the same thing with Ben Torres, who now promenades in his best silk
clothes and would rule the Beni Hosmar. He forgets that, if it were not
for my arms and my sentinels, he would not be able to wear such fine
garments in security.
“‘Those who eat well and wear silk in Tetuan, who lie on soft carpets
and have nothing to do but talk, spread lies about me. I live in a camp
in the hills, with no comforts and no women. My foot is always ready for
the stirrup, my finger for the trigger, watchful night and day, in spite
of the illness Allah has sent me. I am too occupied with keeping peace
in the mountains to have time to exchange words with them.
“‘It is the harder for me to put down disorder and revolt because of the
conduct of Your Excellency. It is known that you are in communication
with that worst of all devils, Darkan ben Sadiq, who leads a rebellious
section of Gomara. It is even reported that, when Your Excellency next
embarked for Melilla, you have promised to speak with him as you pass by
the Bay of Targa, and will receive him, with various of his followers,
in your boat. Your Excellency receives men who have no standing in the
country, which surprises and flatters them, and you believe the things
which they promise you, but which they have no power to realise. Do you
not understand that these tribesmen of Anjera and Gomara were all
severely punished by our troops and have steadily refused to live in
peace with us, preferring brigandage and the capture of travellers? For
this reason, my mehalla is still camped, one portion near Xauen and one
on the sea coast.
“‘In your letter you say that the end we pursue is the same; but, under
these circumstances, I can see no similarity in our objects. If Your
Excellency decides to hold a conference with me, it is very necessary
that Zugasti should be present, in order that there may be complete
confidence between us. You refer to the full and ample powers which are
vested in you, but Jordana said the same thing. I have now in my
possession many letters written in such terms, yet nothing was
definitely completed, since, as soon as a project was begun, it was
abandoned.
“‘Even yesterday we heard the sound of cannon from the region of Ben
Aros. The firing lasted from three to six, and I do not know yet what
has happened. This cannot continue, if the people are to have faith in
my protection and your word. There is no peace anywhere in the country,
except in the town of Tetuan where men fight with their words. You know
well that the wound made by the tongue is more serious than that caused
by a sword. For this last there is a remedy, but for the first there is
none. You know well that the wall of wickedness is very low, and to jump
it is not necessary to have either wisdom or intelligence. The most
stupid of beings and the most undecided can easily jump it, but the
difficulty of all difficulties and the most arduous and the greatest, is
to do good—such is the will of Allah, from whom are patience and
resignation.’”
This letter from which Raisuli quotes is typical of his epistolary
style, and it consists of between 6,000 and 7,000 words, as do most Arab
screeds referring to any matters which the writer considers important.
It still exists in the archives of the Spanish Government and is quoted
at length in a recent work on Morocco.
Berenguer sent a frigid reply to the Sherif’s letter. Possibly he had in
mind a not dissimilar list of Arab offences, for, at this period, there
was a sort of guerilla warfare between the Spanish police posts and
Raisuli’s irregulars. Attacks and reprisals may have been equally
frequent on both sides. The High Commissioner wrote that his joy would
be much greater on the day he received from Raisuli the spoken word
rather than the written, but the Sherif knew that, if he once entered
Tetuan, he would be obliged to acknowledge the authority of Mulai el
Mehdi, so he remained in the hills and sent polite but somewhat
equivocal messages. There was no further suggestion on his part of
returning the Spanish munitions and guns. On the contrary, many
innocent-looking caravans went up into the hills laden with stores and
rifles for the Sherif. It is curious that Raisuli did not make a greater
effort to meet the new High Commissioner, for, so far, his eloquence had
served him at least as well as his mehallas. It is possible, judging
only from Marina’s half-hearted campaigns and the little that Silvestre
was allowed to do against him, that Raisuli underestimated the strength
of any European Power, armed with the modern implements of war.
His reflections on the situation showed a surprising comprehension of
Western politics. “The war in Europe had come to an end on the very day
that Jordana died. Had he lived, I could have worked with him more
sympathetically, for the need of keeping in touch with Germany was past.
The friendship of Spain was more than ever necessary to me, for France
had counted her graves and she looked to Africa to supply substitutes
for her dead. If she makes another war, it will be with her Arab
citizens, and their way to Europe will be through my country. It is easy
to see that, and why the roads are not swept in Tangier and the filth
lies piled before the houses! This is also the reason why Abdul Krim is
never short of rifles and why he boasts that he has gunners and
engineers. The French-trained Moors are helping him, just as they helped
me against Berenguer.
“When I saw that war was necessary, I went to Ben Karrish to arrange for
the defence of the road to Xauen. It was told me that Barera, whose
courage was undoubted, had ridden from Tetuan by way of the Fondak and
Suq el Khemis, to the plains. This was the first time a Spaniard had
gone without my passport. I sent word to my mehalla to close the road,
and to cut down the telegraph, which was the main communication between
East and West; but I was determined that the first shots should come
from Spain. No warning had been given me. One day there were letters
passing between my camp and the Residency. The next, troops were
disembarked at Alcazar-Seghir, and a march forced through Anjera with
the help of those chiefs who had always been rebellious. My spies
brought me news of one of these traitors, and I was able to catch him
while he hastened to poison the villages against me. Ullah, his journey
to the mountains was not comfortable, for they tied his hands to the
stirrups of two riders, one hand to each, and dragged him in this manner
across the country, and, when he clamoured, they spurred their horses
apart till his arms cracked. He arrived at my camp half-dead, but he had
enough time to recover before I let him go, for I demanded a large sum
for his release, and, though the man of Anjera could not write his
entreaties, I added them by means of an ear. Ullah, he was a bad Moslem,
and deserved death!”
Perhaps Raisuli noticed my expressions, for he broke the thread of his
discourse. “I will tell you a story,” he said. “Once a Spaniard sat in
my tent and talked with me of matters that were very important. In the
middle of our words, a slave came to me and whispered in my ear. I said
to him, ‘Wait awhile,’ but he returned again and repeated his murmur.
‘If it is anything serious,’ said the Spaniard, ‘let us continue our
conversation another time,’ but I answered, ‘It is of no importance. In
a minute I will be at your service,’ and I whispered some directions to
the slave, who said, ‘It is as the Sherif wills!’ and went away.
‘Forgive me,’ I said to my guest, ‘and let us finish our talk. I was
only ordering a man 500 lashes, so it is not sufficient matter to
disturb us.’ We continued our discussion concerning the policy of a
certain tribe, but I observed that the Spaniard was nervous. He fidgeted
and answered at random. At last I said to him, ‘Is anything the matter?
It seems something troubles you,’ and he replied, ‘It is only that I
cannot bear the cries of that man. Poor wretch! It is awful!’ I
listened, and, certainly, the criminal had a strong voice, but presently
it died away and my guest fixed his attention on his words.
“The slave returned after a while and said, ‘The will of my master has
been carried out.’ I asked him, ‘Are you sure that you have given him
the full number of lashes?’ and he answered, ‘I counted them myself,
Sidi.’ ‘And the man lives?’ ‘He is very strong, Sidi.’ ‘Ullah, just give
him another 500, to make sure. Perhaps, after all, you made a mistake.’
The Spaniard jumped up and protested. ‘This is abominable,’ he said.
‘Have you no mercy, no pity?’ ‘What do these words mean in your
language?’ I asked, and he explained, while I listened attentively.
‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘if you were walking between hedges of cactus and the
road was barred behind you, and if a very poisonous and dangerous snake
came out in front of you, what would you do? Supposing there were a
heavy stone at hand, but otherwise there was no way of escape, tell me
what would you do?’ The Spaniard laughed. ‘I should thank heaven for the
stone, and pray it to guide my aim!’ he exclaimed. ‘Would you not have
mercy or pity on the snake? No? Nor shall I have pity on one who is
worse than a snake. Go out, and ask my slave what that man has done, for
such crimes are not talked about among Arabs.’ We sat in silence, but no
cries reached our ears, and at last the slave entered. ‘We could not
carry out your orders, Sidi,’ he whispered, ‘for the man died before the
fourth hundred was completed.’”