Chapter II: Introduction

The 14th century of Islam has produced a number of remarkable personalities, but none is surrounded with such fabulous glamour as that of Mulai Ahmed er Raisuli Sherif, warrior and philosopher, saint, tyrant and psychologist. This Haroun er Raschid of Morocco is descended from the Prophet through an older branch of the imperial house which now reins in Fez.

By race, therefore, he is entitled to the respect of his people and he makes the most of the superstitious awe which has surrounded him since his childhood. Yet his personality is in no way the result of his great descent. Raisuli is a man whose mind, critical and peculiarly impersonal, must often have been at war with his spirit—a spirit steeped in the mysticism of the “baraka,” the traditional blessing which protects his house. Profoundly intelligent, with a knowledge of human nature, whether European or Arab, which is the result of unusual powers of observation, but which, to the Moor, appears supernatural, the Sherif’s audacity is as much mental as physical. He believes in the luck which invariably turns the most adverse circumstances to his final advantage, and is not above staking his remarkable immunity from danger against the credulity of his followers, but below this is the conviction of divine right. His charm, as powerful as it is elusive, is a revelation of the “baraka,” for it is purely spiritual and has no connection with the concentrated energy of his mind.

Raisuli represents to the Moors the champion of Islam against the Christian, of the old against the new; yet, from his youth, he foresaw the inevitable intervention of Europe in Morocco and determined to manipulate such intervention to his own ends. The project, though ambitious, was not egoistic, for the Sherif conceives himself an instrument of fate—“This is _my_ land and you are _my_ people. While I live nothing shall be taken from me.” His ancient race is part of the soil of the mountains, and the 1,500 Alani Sherifs, of whom he is the head, are inseparable from the land they alternately oppress and protect.

Since there are no years in desert or hills, Mulai Ahmed has little idea of his age. A Spanish authority gives the date of his birth as 1868. Raisuli suggests 1871. As a child he was a student and a lover of books, with no other ambition than to write poetry and be a teacher of law and theology.

Adventure first called to him in the guise of a woman seeking redress against the bandits who had despoiled her house. The young Mulai Ahmed went to the hills with a band whose original quixotry was soon merged in lust of war and lust of gold—the two strongest passions in a primitive heart. The Sultan, Mulai Hassan, heard of the tribute levied on his caravans and ordered the arrest of the offenders. By treachery the capture was accomplished, and, for five years, Raisuli existed in the dungeons of Mogador. His imprisonment was probably the turning point of his life, for, with the Moslem heritage of patience and simplicity, he accepted his fate as “the will of Allah” and immersed himself in meditation. It is incredible to the European mind that any human being could support such tortures as the Sherif describes, but “What it is written, that shall a man endure.” Released before he was thirty, Raisuli had known the whole scale of suffering and emotion. His energy of mind and body had crystallized into a determination to wrest from circumstance a stable independence which should be the basis of his power. From this date (about 1900) he judged everything as a means to his ultimate end. The capture of Mr. Harris had neither financial nor political significance, but the American, Perdicaris, was used as a pawn in a great game. His seizure in 1904 forced 70,000 dollars from the American Government and the province of El Fahs from the Sultan.

Cruelty like morality, is a matter of latitude, for even tyranny is cherished if it is the result of tradition. Raisuli reduced his district to exemplary peacefulness, but the European Powers, objecting to their horizon being punctuated by decapitated heads, complained to the Sultan. The Sherif, as usual, retired to his mountains, successfully resisted the troops sent against him, and, in 1907, captured Sir Henry Maclean, which allowed him to make the last trick in a game played for profit rather than adventure. For the Englishman’s release, Raisuli acquired £20,000 and the protection of Great Britain. That such a transaction was but a step in his chosen career was proved when he waived his claim to both assets and identified himself with Mulai Hafid’s rebellion. In 1908 he visited the new Sultan at Fez, and, in secret, they swore the oath which affected the Sherif’s outlook as much as his subsequent life—“Never to cease from protecting the Moslem land and the Moslem people against the Christian.” It must have been a curious meeting between two such different characters, whose only bond was their mutual responsibility for the nation and the Faith in their charge. Both were far-seeing, but, whereas Mulai Hafid was afraid of a future in which he was destined to become the tool of France, Raisuli, arrogant because of his strength, a little baffled, perhaps, by the casuistry of a more subtle intelligence, saw only the need of unity among his co- religionists in face of a menace from which profit might yet be extracted. The compact between the _roi fainéant_ who spent his last weeks of power haggling over the size of his pension, and the Sultan of the mountains to whom money was no more than the handmaid of power was sealed by the gift of the Western governorate, and it was never broken by Raisuli. The Sherif repaired to Azeila, where, as Pasha, he attempted to weld together different interests in the hopes of founding a united party among the educated which would be able to benefit by the advent of civilization.

Doubtless his projects were influenced by his friendship with Zugasti, the Spanish Consul at Larache, but from the beginning of his political life he chose Spain as the most suitable protector for his zone, believing her “strong enough to help the Arabs, but not strong enough to oppress them.” In accordance with the Sherif’s plan, Spanish troops landed at Larache in June, 1911, and the importance of his help can hardly be overestimated. It was a supreme step for a Moslem, the appointed champion of his Faith, to introduce a Christian army within the borders of the country he had sworn to hold inviolate, but Raisuli never wavered from his determination to benefit by the inevitable advent of Europe, rather than to oppose it. Had any other man but Silvestre, typical conquistador, been sent to command the Protectorate’s forces, the history of Morocco might have been different, but between two such imperious natures friction was inevitable. Raisuli protested against the General’s impatience, which made no allowance for circumstance and would brook neither advice nor the reasoning of a greater experience. Silvestre, dreaming of colonization rather than the gentle tutelage the situation demanded, was baffled by passive resistance and bewildered by the blunting of his most ardent weapons against walls of tradition and suspicion.

At one moment, owing to the Sherif’s eloquence, there was a rapprochement between the two men, during which the Spaniard strongly recommended Mulai Ahmed for the vacant Kaliphate. Since this was the only logical solution of the problem, it is possible that Raisuli’s candidacy was tentatively approved by Madrid, but refused by France always afraid of his influence and suspicious of his attitude towards the Southern zone. The appointment of a puppet Kaliph, one Mulai el Mehdi, a cousin of the Sultan, was regarded by Raisuli as a deliberate betrayal, and the series of quarrels which ensued with Silvestre culminated in the Sherif’s departure for Tangier in January, 1913. From there he went to the hills and inaugurated a campaign which was defensive rather than offensive. At one time the Ulema of Xauen offered to proclaim him Sultan, on the ground that Mulai Adul Aziz was entirely in the hands of France and that Islam acknowledged no Kaliph under foreign protection. Raisuli refused, saying that he would resist the advance of his enemy Silvestre, but would not lead Moslem against Christian in a Jehad which must have disastrous results for his country. It is probable that at this time he still hoped to arrive at a satisfactory understanding with Spain, for he welcomed the High Commissioner’s conciliatory despatches from Tetuan while opposing Silvestre’s offensive from Larache. In May of 1915, owing to the unfortunate mistake of a subordinate, one of the Sherif’s envoys and intimate friends, Ali Alkali, was murdered while travelling with a Spanish “laisser passer.” General Marina (the High Commissioner), who had always been opposed to war, held himself responsible for the action, and sent in his resignation, insisting that Silvestre should follow his example.

The first action of the new High Commissioner, General Jordana, was to make peace with the Sherif, and, by the Pact of Khotot (September, 1915), Raisuli was virtually left in possession of the hill country, while Spain occupied the littoral. For some months the mountaineers fought side by side with the Spanish army and the Tangier-Tetuan road was opened to Europeans, but this was the second year of the Great War and German intrigue was rife in Morocco.

The Sherif, determined that his country should benefit from whichever side won, kept in touch with both parties. While he paid little attention to the dazzling offers made by Mannisman, and categorically refused to attack the French zone, he considered the possibility of German protection for his son, made use of the Teuton arms and money which flowed into North Africa and took refuge in procrastination whenever Jordana wished to extend the active influence of the Protectorate.

The European Armistice and the death of Jordana occurred almost simultaneously (November, 1918). Consequently, at the very moment when Raisuli, relieved from the necessity of propitiating Germany, would have cooperated whole-heartedly with Spain, a new High Commissioner, Berenguer, arrived (in January, 1919) with the avowed intention of enforcing the authority of Spain by military occupation.

Raisuli gathered the tribes around him and succeeded in closing the Tangier-Tetuan road until October, 1919, when the key to inland communication, the famous Fondak of Ain Yerida was taken from him by a combined attack of three columns. During the summer he had been declared Sultan of the Jehad in a midnight ceremony before the tomb of his ancestor, Sidi Abd es Salaam, and it is probable that during the following year he had some 8,000 men behind him.

Xauen fell in October, 1920, and the Spanish armies, operating from there and from Larache attempted to effect a junction in the Ahmas Mountains south of the Sherif’s headquarters at Tazrut, thus completing the circle which enclosed Raisuli. The nature of the country made this impracticable, and, after a check at Akbar Kola, Berenguer advanced on Tazrut from the north through Beni Aros. After a three days’ bombardment the village was deserted and a few hundred mountaineers followed the Sherif to his last refuge among the forests and caves of Bu Hashim. The end of the war was in sight, when the “baraka,” or chance, intervened to save Raisuli from his enemies.

In July, 1921, news came of the disaster of Melilla and Berenguer hastened to the Eastern zone. Negotiations were begun with Raisuli, who took advantage of the respite, which he knew would only be temporary, to replenish his stores and ammunition. In September, the Spanish forces renewed the attack, and during the winter they captured the last outpost of the tribesmen, the Zawia of Teledi in the Ahmas. Still Raisuli held out. His people were starving, for the crops had been destroyed with the villages. Woman and children died from exposure and lack of food. All his most intimate friends had been killed. Every day deputations came to him imploring him to make peace. The illness, which is now expected to prove fatal, caused the man hours of agony when he could neither stand upright nor speak, but his answer was always the same: “It is Spain who will make peace.” “You talk of miracles, Sidi.” “A miracle will happen.” The miracle was the force of his personality which encouraged the doubting, strengthened the weak, imbued them with a reflection of his own faith. It is to the “baraka,” of course, that the Arabs attribute the fall of the Spanish Government early in 1922 and Berenguer’s recall, but it was on this that Raisuli, astute student of politics, had been counting.

Burguete was appointed High Commissioner in the summer of 1922, and, as soon as he arrived at Tetuan, he sent Zugasti and Cerdeira, lifelong friends of the Sherif, to arrange a permanent peace. The conferences began in August, 1922, and an agreement was arrived at by which Spain was confirmed in her occupation of the whole Western zone. The Sherif disbanded his forces and returned to Tazrut. His nephews and other relatives were installed as Governors of the principal provinces, but Raisuli would accept no position nor stipend for himself, maintaining that his attitude had not changed since 1911. He would support the Spanish Protectorate, but he would not acknowledge the authority of the puppet Kaliph, Mulai el Mehdi.

True to this determination, Raisuli has never made his submission at Tetuan, though, at the urgent request of the High Commissioner, he sent some of his followers to represent him. He lives with the utmost simplicity in his mountain village, praying, fasting and studying. He is tired and his interests are mental rather than material, but the flame still burns. The flicker of it is seen when the tribesmen come in from the furthest limits of his country to consult him. He still manipulates the threads of Moroccan politics in those huge hands which, living, will never relax their hold.

Superficially Raisuli’s life appears one of wild adventure, of war, cruelty and political ambition, but his own story reveals him as a man of single purpose with considerable breadth of judgment. In so profound a nature there is room for many cross currents. One of the strongest and most secret of these is the mysticism which rises to the surface when he describes such ceremonies as the oath at Fez, his initiation at the hands of the Ulema of Xauen, his election as “Sultan el Jehad” on the moonlit peak of Jebel Alan. It is this faith, passionate, simple, indomitable, which marks him, in spite of his ruthless mentality, as a spiritual pilgrim, a searcher after Truth.

ROSITA FORBES

THE SULTAN OF THE MOUNTAINS