Not the least corrupt of these dignitaries was the Kâdy, but with this difference—the Pacha or Kaimakâm affected no special piety or principle, regarding the state of affairs with jovial cynicism; but the Kâdy was a religious character, a judge whose statute book was the Koran, who had been a Sokhtah (or, as we say, Softa), an “inquirer,” taught in the school of the ’Ulema at Constantinople. He wore a white turban, and said his prayers regularly; he had paid a high price for his appointment, and expected some return for his capital. Thus the land was cursed not only with tyrannous governors, but with corrupt and unjust judges.
The system of government is simple. The only duties are to collect the taxes, and to put down riots, which constantly occur. The crown-lands are farmed to the highest bidder, who, I believe, occasionally under-farms the taxes. Soldiers are sent to collect the money, and the crop is assessed before reaping. This is one of the most crying evils in the land. In order to save the overripe grain, the peasant is often obliged to give away half of it, as a bribe to those whose duty it is to assess the tax, and who deliberately delay so doing until the last moment.
The Miri tax has been definitely fixed, without regard to the difference of the harvests in good and bad years; this again is a crying evil, and leads to the ruin of many a village. At Kurâwa, in 1873, the people told me, with tears in their eyes, that the olive crop had been so poor that the value was not as much as the amount of the tax about to be collected.
The taxes are also very unevenly assessed. In one case 4000 acres paid £140; in another, 6000 acres paid £65; in a third, 3000 acres paid £320.
The taxes are brought into the towns by the Bashi-Bazouks; sometimes the Kaimakâm will himself make a tour to collect them, and he, with all his followers, is received as an honoured guest, and fed and housed at the village expense. The soldiers also live at free quarters, and exact money under a variety of pretexts from the luckless villagers, who have no man to speak for them.
There is a third evil, almost as fatal to the prosperity of the land—the conscription, which often carries off the flower of the bread-winning population. The number taken from a village varies, and as a punishment, the whole adult male population is sometimes marched off in irons to the head-quarters. Few of the poor fellows, who are thus torn away from the weeping women, ever see again the dark olives and the shining dome of their own hamlet, or come back to plough their yellow fields, and tend the red oxen or the black goats in their far-off native land. Hurried away to Europe, or to Armenia, they lead a miserable life, receiving but little pay, and bullied by ignorant officers. There is no sadder sight than that of the recruits leaving a village in Palestine.
In spite of the appointment of Midhat Pacha as Wâly in 1879, the abuses of local government were little affected, and the designs of this honest and patriotic statesman were thwarted by the venality and obstinacy of his subordinates.
Under such a government it can scarcely be a matter of surprise that the Fellahîn should be lazy, thriftless, and sullen. They have no inducement to industry, and, indeed, as one of the better class said to me, “What is the use of my trying to get money, when the soldiers and the Kaimakâm would eat it all.” There is only one way of becoming rich in this unhappy land, namely, by extortion. If in the time of Christ the country suffered as much as it does now, from unjust judges and tyrannical rulers, what wonder that to be rich was thought synonymous with being wicked, or that it should be Lazarus only who was considered fit for Abraham’s bosom?
The improvidence of the Fellahîn is very great, and is due principally to a feeling of uncertainty as to their immediate future. Living is cheap enough, and I have heard of a family of five who spent only twenty-five pounds in a year. But the peasantry are eaten up by usury; their very clothes are bought with money borrowed at forty or fifty per cent; and a company which would lend money at twenty per cent would be a boon to the villagers, if it could induce the government to assist it in collecting the interest.
The self-government of the peasants is a reproof to their foreign rulers. Naturally a docile people, they obey their Sheikhs and elders implicitly, and have notions of equity, as well as of charity and mutual helpfulness among neighbours. Their moral code is theoretically strict, especially as regards the women. In the bottom of a valley west of Beit ’Atâb, is a curious cavern with a stalagmitic gallery round it, which is called Mughâret Umm et Tûeimîn—“cavern of the two side galleries.” At the end of it is a great well-shaft in the rock, some sixty feet deep. It is said that a woman pronounced guilty by the elders is brought to the cave and cast down this horrible well. A similar cave exists in the Anti-Libanus, and a similar use is there made of it. In spite of this, the stories told by lepers and others make it clear that the Fellahîn are as immoral as they well can be.