CHAPTER XII

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!”