“Partly, of course,” said the chief of the village, “we owe the fortunate condition in which we find ourselves to our own labour and exertion; but we owe great thanks to the Emperor, whose wise and beneficent system of ruling first gave us the opportunity of using our own strength.”
“I have heard of his system,” remarked Siddha; “still, to tell you the truth, I am scarcely master of it.”
“Yet it is very simple,” replied the Hindu, “and, to one like you, very easy to comprehend. The system rests principally on a wise division of the land, and a just settlement of the taxes on land, and, above all, on the certainty of law and justice, possessed equally by proprietor and tenant. Everything used to depend on arbitrary decisions, and no one knew what he might keep or what he would be obliged to pay; and we chiefs of the villages had to decide what the yearly taxation of the fields should be. Now that is all changed: the fields are correctly measured, their boundaries fixed, and the taxation regulated with reference to their productiveness, according to which they are placed in classes, and rented for a certain number of years.[2] And what, perhaps, is the most important of all, the taxes are payable either in money or in kind; and no Government officer can decide as he will, when disputes arise, but by the law alone. The consequence of all this is, that the cultivator, proprietor, or farmer can tell beforehand what land will cost, what he will have to pay, and what will remain his own property. Is it any wonder, then, that he now, understanding his affairs, applies all his energies to them, and becomes prosperous, whereas before he was content if he could but earn his daily rice. You see the fruits of the system around you, and can form your own opinion; but you could do so far better if you had known the former condition of the country as I do.”
“The same system in any country would lead to the same results,” answered Siddha. “What a blessing for a state to possess a prince like Akbar!”
“We must also be grateful to his councillors,” said the magistrate, “particularly to Todar Mal,[3] the treasurer, who worked out the system; and to Abú-l Fazl, the great Wazir, who put the last touch to the work, and repressed with severity the extortions of the Government officers. If in the beginning these measures appeared to diminish the revenues of the state, in the long run it has been quite the contrary; but had the revenues been lessened, still they would have been far more productive, because the payments are certain and punctual.”
“But, worthy sir,” asked Siddha, “is there not danger of these excellent regulations falling to the ground if a less wise prince should ascend the throne?”
“I do not believe it,” was the reply. “No despot could easily take from our community such rights when it had once obtained them. You know that our people almost entirely govern themselves by their magistrates, and are thus, to a certain extent, independent of the sovereign. If he attempted to deprive them of their rights he would find that he must wage war against a dozen small states, and would not find soldiers enough to reduce them all to obedience. Even should he succeed in doing so, the villages would be almost entirely deserted, and the population would seek refuge in impenetrable jungles and wildernesses. On the other hand, our villagers leave the prince free to act as he will. He can carry on war against other kingdoms as much as he pleases, and as long as the state of his treasury admits; and they never concern themselves with court intrigues and disputes.”
“What a happy condition of things,” said Siddha, “for both parties.”
“But the union of state and people is not much advanced by it,” remarked Parviz, joining in the conversation.
“No, that is true,” answered the magistrate. “But do you believe it possible that there can be real unity in a State such as our present Hindustan, where so many and such different races and people are brought together under one rule?”