A ROBBER BARON OF PALESTINE
Beirut is a city of about two hundred thousand inhabitants, half of whom
are Christians and the rest Mohammedans and Jews. The pinch of hunger
was already felt there. Bread was to be had only on tickets issued by
the Government, and prices in general were extremely high. The
population were discontented and turbulent, and every day thousands of
women came before the governor's residence to cry and protest against
the scarcity of bread.
The Allies' warships often passed near the town, but the people were not
afraid of them, for it was known that the Allies had no intention of
bombarding the cities. Only once had a bombardment taken place. Toward
the end of March, 1915, a French warship approached the bay of Haifa and
landed an officer with a letter to the commandant of that town giving
notice of his intention to bombard the German Consulate at 3 P.M. sharp.
This was in retaliation for the propaganda carried on by the consul,
Leutweld von Hardegg, and chiefly because of his desecration of the
grave of Bonaparte's soldiers. The consul had time to pack up his
archives and valuables, and he left his house before three. The
bombardment began exactly at three. Fifteen shells were fired with a
wonderful precision. Not one house in the neighborhood of the consulate
was touched, but the consulate itself was a heap of ruins after a few
shells had struck it. The population was exceedingly calm. Only the
German colony was panic-stricken, and on every German house an American
flag was raised. It was rather humorous to see all the Germans who were
active in the Turkish army in one capacity or another seek safety by
means of this trick.
This bombardment had a sobering effect upon the Mohammedan population.
They saw that the Allies were not wholly ignorant of what was going on
in the country and that they could retaliate, and safety for the
non-Mohammedans increased accordingly.
In general Beirut was a rather quiet and safe place. The presence of an
American cruiser in the port had much to do with that. The American
sailors were allowed to come ashore three times a week, and they spent
their money lavishly. It was estimated that Beirut was getting more than
five thousand dollars a week out of them. But the natives were
especially impressed by the manliness and quick action of the American
boys. Frequently a few sailors were involved in a street fight with
scores of Arabs, and they always held their own. In a short time the
Americans became feared, which in the Orient is equivalent to saying
they were respected. The Beirut people are famous for their fighting
spirit, but this spirit was not manifested after a few weeks of intimate
acquaintance with the American blue-jackets.
My inspection of the devastation caused by the locusts completed, I
returned home. The news that greeted me there was alarming. I must
narrate with some detail the events which finally decided me to leave
the country. About one hour's ride on horseback from our village lives a
family of Turkish nobles, the head of which was Sadik Pasha, brother of
the famous Kiamil Pasha, several times Grand Vizier of the Empire.
Sadik, who had been exiled from Constantinople, came to Palestine and
bought great tracts of land near my people. After his death his
sons--good-for-nothing, wild fellows--were forced to sell most of the
estate--all except one Fewzi Bey, who retained his part of the land and
lived on it. Here he collected a band of friends as worthless as himself
and gradually commenced a career of plundering and "frightfulness" much
like that of the robber barons of mediaeval Germany. Before the
outbreak of the war he confined his attentions chiefly to the Arabs,
whom he treated shamefully. He raided cattle and crops and carried off
girls and women in broad daylight. On one occasion he stopped a wedding
procession and carried off the young bride. Then he seized the
bridegroom, against whom he bore a grudge, and subjected the poor
Bedouin to the bastinado until he consented to divorce his wife by
pronouncing the words, "I divorce thee," three times in the presence of
witnesses, according to Mohammedan custom. This Bedouin was the grandson
of the Sheikh Hilou, a holy man of the region upon whose grave the Arabs
are accustomed to make their prayers. But we villagers of Zicron-Jacob
had never submitted to Fewzi Bey in any way; our young men were
organized and armed, and after a few encounters he let us alone.
After the mobilization, however, and the taking away of our arms, this
outlaw saw that his chance had come. He began to send his men and his
camels into our fields to harvest our crops and carry them off. This
pillage continued until the locusts came--Fewzi, in the mean while,
becoming so bold that he would gallop through the streets of our village
with his horsemen, shooting right and left into the air and insulting
old men and women. He boasted--apparently with reason--that the
authorities at Haifa were powerless to touch him.
[ILLUSTRATION: HAIFA AND THE BAY OF AKKA. LOOKING EAST FROM MOUNT
CARMEL]
There was one hope left. Djemal Pasha had boasted that he had introduced
law and order; the country was under military rule; it remained to see
what he would say and do when the crimes of Fewzi Bey were brought to
his notice. Accordingly, armed with my _boyouroulton_, or passport, of a
locust-inspector, I rode to Jerusalem, where I procured, through my
brother, who was then in favor, an interview with Djemal Pasha. He
received me on the very day of my arrival, and listened attentively
while for a whole hour I poured out the story of Fewzi Bey's outrages. I
put my whole heart into the plea and wound up by asking if it was to the
credit of the progressive Young Turks to shelter feudal abuses of a
bygone age. Djemal seemed to be impressed. He sprang from his chair,
began walking up and down the room; then with a great dramatic gesture
he exclaimed, "Justice shall be rendered!" and assured me that a
commission of army officers would be sent at once to start an
investigation. I returned to Zicron-Jacob with high hopes.
Sure enough, a few days later Fewzi Bey was summoned to Jerusalem; at
the same time the "commission," which had dwindled to one single officer
on secret mission, put in an appearance and began to make inquiries
among the natives. He got little satisfaction at first, for they lived
in mortal terror of the outlaw; they grew bolder, however, when they
learned his purpose. Complaints and testimonies came pouring in, and in
four days the officer had the names of hundreds of witnesses,
establishing no less than fifty-two crimes of the most serious nature.
Fewzi's friends and relatives, in the mean while, were doing their
utmost to stem the tide of accusations. The Kaimakam (lieutenant-
governor) of Haifa came in person to our village and threatened the
elders with all sorts of severities if they did not retract the charges
they had made. But they stood firm. Had not Djemal Pasha, commander-in-
chief of the armies in Palestine, given his word of honor that we should
have redress?
We were soon shown the depth of our naïveté in fancying that justice
could be done in Turkey by a Turk. Fewzi Bey came back from Jerusalem,
not in convict's clothes, but in the uniform of a Turkish officer!
Djemal Pasha had commissioned him commandant of the Moujahaddeen
(religious militia) of the entire region! It was bad enough to stand him
as an outlaw; now we had to submit to him as an officer. He came riding
into our village daily, ordering everybody about and picking me out for
distinguished spitefulness.
My position soon became unbearable. I was, of course, known as the
organizer of the young men's union which for so long had put up a
spirited resistance to Fewzi; I was still looked upon as a leader of the
younger spirits, and I knew that sooner or later Fewzi would try to make
good his threat, often repeated, that he would "shoot me like a dog." It
was hardly likely that an open attempt on my life would be made. When
Ambassador Morgenthau visited Palestine, he had stayed in our village
and given my family the evidence of his sincere friendship. These things
count in the East, and I soon got the reputation of having influential
friends. However, there were other ways of disposing of me. One evening,
about sunset, while I was riding through a valley near our village, my
horse shied violently in passing a clump of bushes. I gave him the spur
and turned and rode toward the bushes just in time to see a horseman
dash out wildly with a rifle across his saddle. I kept the incident to
myself, but I was more cautious and kept my eyes open wherever I went.
One afternoon, a fortnight later, as I was riding to Hedera, another
Jewish village, two hours' ride away, a shot was fired from behind a
sand-dune. The bullet burned a hole in the lapel of my coat.
That night I had a long talk with my brother. There was no doubt
whatever in his mind that I should try to leave the country, while I, on
the contrary, could not bear to think of deserting my people at the
crisis of their fortunes. It was a beautiful night, such a night, I
think, as only Palestine can show, a white, serene, moon-bathed night.
The roar of the Mediterranean came out of the stillness as if to remind
us that help and salvation could come only from the sea, the sea upon
which scores of the warships of the Allies were sailing back and forth.
We had argued into the small hours before I yielded to his persuasion.
[ILLUSTRATION: THE BAZAAR OF JAFFA ON A MARKET DAY]