THE FIRST GRAND VIZIERATE OF MIDHAT PASHA.
On his arrival in Constantinople, Midhat found that an order had been issued for his banishment from the capital, under cloak of nominating him to the government of Adrianople. Insisting, however, on the exercise of his right of audience with the sovereign before setting out for his new post, he made such strong representations to the Sultan with respect to the general situation of the empire, that Abdul Aziz thereupon abruptly dismissed Mahmoud Nedim, and appointed Midhat Grand Vizier in his place (1873).
As soon as he had filled the principal offices of State with the best material he could find—Chirvani Rushdi Pasha, Djémil Pasha, and Sadik Pasha—the first and most pressing necessity that confronted him was to endeavour to put the Finances in order. This was no easy task. The public accounts presented were entirely fictitious. His first discovery was to the effect that whereas the budget showed a surplus of half a million (£T), there was in point of fact a deficit of three millions. The actual appropriation of the sums debited in the accounts presented another difficulty. A sum of £T100,000 disbursed by the Treasury was not accounted for at all. Midhat insisted on a full inquiry, and, discovering that this sum had been appropriated by the late Grand Vizier, directed an investigation into the matter before the members of the Council of State, who ordered its immediate restitution by Mahmoud Nedim, and recommended his banishment. He, however, alleging in private that this sum in question although nominally attributed to him was really allotted to the Palace, found in the Valide Sultan and her entourage most powerful allies in his duel with Midhat. Banished by the insistence of the Grand Vizier, first to Adrianople and then to Trebizond, he soon obtained permission to return to Constantinople.
Two distinct parties began now to stand out in clear relief. On the one side was Midhat, warmly supported by public opinion in the capital and in the provinces, and by all that was most enlightened among the Softas and Ulemas, headed by Chakir Effendi, and on the other side the whole army of corruption, headed by Mahmoud Nedim and protected by the Valide Sultan and the Palace Camarilla. Another powerful ally of the late Grand Vizier was General Ignatieff, who by the most ingenious and persistent methods—condescending even to the resources of the stage—worked on the mind of the Sultan in order to restore Mahmoud Nedim to power.
An incident soon occurred which brought matters to a crisis. The Khedive of Egypt, desirous of changing the order of succession in his family and of obtaining various privileges and prerogatives from his suzerain, was in the habit of making periodical visits to Constantinople, carrying away with him each time, by judicious payments, some shred of the sovereign rights of the Porte. These visits became a regular source of income and emolument to the Palace and all its myrmidons. Arriving at Constantinople on the occasion of one of these visits he found Midhat Pasha installed as Grand Vizier, and to his surprise and disappointment, and to the discomfiture of the Palace clique, he was obliged this time to return to Alexandria with his presents, re infectâ.
It soon became apparent that one of two things must happen: the Sultan would either have to change the whole régime and scale of expenditure of the Palace, or change his Grand Vizier; and as he never really contemplated the former course, he adopted the latter. The determining cause was Midhat’s action with reference to certain scandals—incidents connected with Baron Hirsch’s railway schemes.
It is only in a despotic country, where State contracts are signed in the dark, and cahiers de charge are examined by carefully chosen experts and passed by complaisant accountants, that such a scandal as the Hirsch railways is possible or conceivable. If the cynicism of the whole transaction had not become notorious, and thus excited as much laughter as its nefariousness caused indignation, it would be worth while to set out in detail all the circumstances of this stupendous business.
To obtain a contract giving unlimited control over the richest forests in the world, on the pretext of cutting sleepers, is in itself a pretty smart stroke of business. To stipulate for payment of railways according to the mileage executed, irrespective of topographical considerations or local requirements, is a triumph of contracting skill; but to claim payment for work done in the plains only, on the basis of an average calculated for working through plains and mountain‐chains alike, is the very glory of financial genius. The secret, too, of the art was as simple as the result was lucrative. Backsheesh in adequate amounts, distributed at appropriate moments in the right quarters, was the alpha and omega of the business.
Midhat, in his determination to strike at the root of the whole system of corruption, irrespective of persons or of consequences, having discovered that the highest person in the land was himself a recipient of the largesses of the Austrian baron, insisted on the restitution of the sums received. The Sultan listened to the advice tendered, returned the money, and dismissed his Grand Vizier.
CHAPTER III
DEPOSITION AND DEATH OF ABDUL AZIZ
After an honourable exile as Governor of Salonica, Midhat obtained leave to return to Constantinople, and after a brief tenure of the office of Minister of Justice and of the Presidency of the Council of State, he handed in his resignation in the following terms, and retired to his Konak in the neighbourhood of the capital and awaited developments:
To Midhat Pasha, President of the Council of State.
“I beg that your Highness will be good enough to instruct me as to the reply I am to make to His Majesty, in case he should question me as to the motives for your resignation.
“Hafiz Mehemed
“Head Chamberlain (of Sultan Aziz).”
Reply.
“Excellency,—My request is not based upon any personal motives. I have nothing but praise for all my colleagues, both high and low; but the motives which have forced me to this decision are, as I have already set out in my petition, the difficulties of the position in which we are placed, that is to say, our finances are in a hopeless condition, the civil administration is utterly disorganised, and the state of the army is beyond description; all this compromised the security and credit of the country, and the non‐Mussulman element loudly proclaims the intention that it long ago formed of placing itself under foreign protection. While the faults and mistakes made twenty years ago have prepared the way for the disasters which are now showing themselves in rapid succession, and which are sufficient to employ all our time, our foreign policy has also been misdirected, the feelings of the Powers have changed towards us, and they entertain hostile intentions towards our country to such a degree that the most friendly Power has lost all confidence in us. It is impossible for us not to deplore the unfortunate results which this line of conduct cannot fail to produce for Turkey, and for the faithful servants of His Majesty—that of being unable to see the future clearly before them. In view of the attitude adopted by His Highness the Grand Vizier, which gives reason to hope that this state of affairs may be remedied, I feel compelled to devote my feeble efforts and support to those duties which are specially incumbent on me in the existing crisis through which the Ministry is passing. But as I have explained in the petition which I have already sent in, I have passed the greater portion of my life in provincial service, and have never taken part in such delicate and complicated affairs, and am therefore compelled to ask you to have the goodness to intercede with His Majesty to accept my resignation.
“I am, etc.,
“Midhat.
“29 Cheval, 1291 (1874).”
In the meantime things went from bad to worse in the affairs of the State. Grand Viziers one after the other were appointed and dismissed. Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, Essad Pasha, Chervani Rushdi Pasha, held office for a few months only, and with the best of intentions were utterly unable to grapple with the situation, and the “villain of the piece,” Mahmoud Nedim, was at last recalled to office. The finances of the country were fast getting beyond all remedy. Although it was only twenty years since the fatal secret of a national debt had been learnt in Turkey, bankruptcy was already staring the country in the face. So palpable was this to the best friends of Turkey, that Mr Yorke in the British Parliament, in the interests of a long‐standing ally of Great Britain, and of the alliance itself, called attention to the state of Turkish finances, and summoned the British Government to intervene through its ambassador at Constantinople to endeavour to ward off impending catastrophes. Three months after this warning the Turkish Treasury suspended payment on half the amount of the coupons of the public debt.
The outcry caused by this measure throughout Europe, not only in strictly commercial and financial circles, but in every class of the community, was indescribable. Tempted by the high rate of interest, and confiding in the assurances of financiers interested in floating successive loans that “Turkey always has paid and therefore always would pay” the coupons of its debts, the petite bourgeoisie and the small investor had largely placed their savings in Turkish bonds, and the “tightness” and misery caused by the suspension was undoubtedly very great (1875). Meetings of indignant bond‐holders were held in every capital and large city in Europe, and the Turkish Government and the Turkish nation, the Pasha and the people, were confounded in a common anathema. The ground was admirably prepared for an explosion of political passion directed against Turkey. The occasion for this was not long in presenting itself.
During the second Vizierate of Essad Pasha, certain movements of a suspicious nature took place on the Montenegrin frontier which would have arrested the attention of a more vigilant Government. A party of sixty Slav peasants from the village of Nevesinje in the Commune of Mostar, on some trivial quarrel with the local authorities, emigrated in a body across the frontier into Montenegro. In a short time, through the good offices of the Russian Ambassador, they obtained leave to return to their homes; but very soon, in concert with their Montenegrin friends, they organised a razzia on the lands of the neighbouring Mussulmans. Instead of nipping this incipient rebellion in the bud and enquiring into its cause, the local authorities temporised with its leaders and awaited instructions from Constantinople as to how they were to proceed. Encouraged by this impunity, and with the assurance of external support, the insurgent bands rapidly increased in numbers, and when at last the Government determined to act, it found itself in presence of a serious rebellion. Essad Pasha, well‐intentioned but weak, and preoccupied with the serious outlook of affairs generally, accepted the insidious offer of the Russian and Austrian Ambassadors to intervene between the leaders of the bands and the Supreme Government. No policy could have been more fatal. It afforded the greatest possible encouragement to the rebels, who considered the step an acknowledgment by the Government of its own inability to deal with the movement; it practically conceded belligerent rights to the rebels, and it encouraged the habit and consecrated the principle of interference by foreign governments in the internal affairs of the empire.
The hollowness of the offer was apparent the moment the terms of surrender came to be discussed, and the net result of this diplomatic comedy was, as was no doubt intended, that what was at first an insignificant rising of a handful of peasants was raised to the dignity of a recognised rebellion that could negotiate on equal terms with the Imperial Government through the medium of foreign consuls and ambassadors.
Mahmoud Nedim had now succeeded Essad Pasha as Grand Vizier (1875), and as no effective measures were taken to suppress the rising, it went on spreading from village to village and district to district till the contagion was caught in Bulgaria. There, in the beginning of 1874, a commencement of unrest showed itself in the districts of Drenova, Kazanlik, and Zagra; but the local authorities (warned by what had taken place in the Herzegovina through the neglect of initial precautions) had all the leaders of the movement arrested. Thereupon General Ignatieff made such energetic representations to the Porte, that orders arrived not only for the release of the imprisoned malcontents, but for the dismissal of all the functionaries concerned in their arrest.[6]
The effect of this novel and original mode of dealing with an insurrection was soon apparent in the effervescence and excitement it caused among the Mussulman population throughout the province. They saw rebel bands, the leaders of which were patronised and supported by foreign consuls and diplomatists, being organised without disguise and approaching their own hearths, whereas all defensive measures on the part of their own natural leaders were discountenanced and punished. They thereupon resolved to take the matter into their own hands, and formed vigilance committees and organised local bands under the command of retired zaptiés throughout the province.
In such psychological conditions an explosion of popular passions was certain sooner or later to take place. The occasion for this was furnished by an incident that occurred at Salonica on the 5th May 1875. This incident was, with the Bulgarian insurrection and the Berlin Note, one of the external difficulties that confronted the Government, and placed it in a very critical position. A young Bulgarian girl had come by rail to Salonica from a neighbouring village on the evening of the 5th May, accompanied by a hoadja, with a view to making a declaration of conversion to Mahomedanism before the Grand Council of Salonica—a formality required by the law, as a preliminary to her being married to a young Mahomedan of her village. On her arrival at the station she was met by a mob of Greeks and Bulgarians who pulled off her yashmak and feradje (mantle and veil), and forcing her into a carriage, in spite of the efforts of four zaptiés who came up in the middle of the disturbance, drove her at a gallop to the American Consulate, where the brother of the Vice‐Consul (a Bulgarian), who had arranged the abduction, concealed her during the night. The next day he had her removed to the house of a friend, so that all trace of the girl should be lost. But early next morning a Mussulman mob, comprising (as in such occurrences is certain to be the case) the worst and most violent sections of the population, had assembled at the Konak and loudly demanded the restoration of the girl and her appearance before the Grand Council. As their demands were not complied with, they retired to the Saatli Mosque, adjacent to the Governor’s Konak, where they reiterated their demands for the restoration of the girl. Unfortunately, by some fatality which was never satisfactorily explained, the German and French Consuls found their way into the mosque in the very midst of excited Mussulmans. Whether they went there of their own accord to remonstrate and argue with the people, or approaching the scene of the demonstration were hustled into the mosque, was never cleared up. But once they appeared there, the frenzy of the mob burst all bounds, and the most violent amongst them, pursuing the Consuls into one of the apartments of the Muderris (Academy) in connection with the mosque, fell on them with iron bars hastily snatched from the windows of the mosque, and murdered them on the spot. The English Consul, Mr Blunt, accompanied by his cavass, seems to have been the only one who kept his head on this occasion and acted with presence of mind and sagacity; for, at the risk of his own life, he forced his way to the Konak, and when he found that the Governor could not effect the restoration of the girl, which was the only way to calm the mob and rescue the Consuls, he sent to the American Vice‐Consulate to apprize Mr Lazaro, who was the cause of the whole disturbance, of the perilous situation of his colleagues, the French and German Consuls, and to implore him to restore the girl. Unfortunately, Mr Lazaro at first procrastinated and pretended that he did not know where the girl was, and so precious time was lost; and when subsequently, on a further appeal from Mr Consul Blunt, he delivered up the girl, it was too late, for the crime against the foreign Consuls who had intervened had been accomplished.
Although the Ottoman Government took immediate steps to punish the authors of this crime—the six principal leaders of which were immediately executed, and the remainder punished with severe terms of penal servitude—the effect of the outrage on the public opinion of Europe, in the existing state of feeling in regard to Turkey, can easily be conceived. It excited indignation everywhere; but the anti‐Turkish Press, now pretty numerous, seized on it with avidity and pointed to it as irrefragable evidence of the incorrigible fanaticism of the whole Mussulman population of the empire, and called for various coercive measures, amounting in some cases to a combined crusade, to protect the Christians in the country, now threatened with wholesale massacre.[7]
It was in vain that Europeans who had lived all their lives in the country, and were acquainted from personal experience with the feelings and opinions of the inhabitants, protested against these exaggerations and deprecated their vain terrors. Colonel James Baker, an English resident for twenty years in the neighbourhood of Salonica, where he had been farming on a large scale, and whose occupation had brought him in contact with all sorts and conditions of men, Christian and Mahomedan alike, wrote a book ridiculing these apprehensions, and communicating his experiences of the harmony and good fellowship existing among the adherents of both religions, with whom he had for twenty years been brought into contact.
But the experience of people living on the spot could not stem the torrent of hostile prejudice fortified by such dramatic examples as the murder of the Consuls at Salonica. General Ignatieff, whose plans were being admirably served by events, was not slow in lending the weight of his authority to the propagation of these imaginary terrors. He embodied 300 Montenegrin workmen at Constantinople to serve as a body‐guard of his Embassy, to the amusement of his more sensible colleagues, who were quite aware of the baselessness of the fears that were the pretext of these ostentatious precautions. But the mise en scène contrived by the ingenious ambassador was not the less effective, and these picturesque mountaineers as they lounged about the streets of Pera, in their handsome national costume, bristling with multifarious arms in their embroidered sashes, were striking advertisements of the terrible dangers that threatened all Christians in the fanatical land of the Osmanli.
Servia, too, was preparing to enter the lists. Although without the shred of a grievance against the suzerain Power, nor indeed alleging any, Prince Milan, moved by the sole ambition to convert his principality into a kingdom, had easily allowed himself to be drawn into the conspiracy of a concerted attack on the Ottoman Empire. All the reserves of his army were called out and armed with newly imported rifles; and trains full of Russian officers of all grades and ranks, from Generals of divisions to corporals and sergeants, arrived daily at the capital to organise this militia into a fighting machine, and to drill the raw peasants into soldiers. The whole country, in fact, from Belgrade to Alexinatz, was an armed camp.
Everything portended important developments for the ensuing spring (1875). Early in the year, information reached the Porte that a serious outbreak would take place in Bulgaria in the month of April, and that the districts of Philippopolis, Eski‐Zagra, and Tirnova would be the scene of the explosion. The information which was very detailed and supported by evidence as to its accuracy, was accompanied by an earnest request by the authorities of the threatened districts that a body of regular troops should be despatched to the spot to inspire confidence in the inhabitants and to protect the lives and property of peaceful citizens. General Ignatieff again interfered, and in the capacity of amicus curiæ, insisted that the presence of regular troops would only inflame the passions of the population and precipitate a crisis. Mahmoud Nedim allowed himself to be persuaded by the Russian Ambassador, and persisted in turning a deaf ear to the reiterated requests of the local authorities for the despatch of a regular force.
Three weeks before the appointed day (16th April 1875) the anticipated rising took place. It was accompanied by exactly the same incidents that had characterised every previous rising that obeyed a mot d’ordre from outside. The armed bands fell on the first Mussulmans they met with, and massacred them all, regardless of age or sex, with the obvious aim of provoking reprisals that should play into the hands of the enemies of Turkey.[8] These reprisals did, in fact, take place, and were, no doubt, of a sanguinary and wholesale character. It is not intended here to defend or condemn the atrocities that took place on this occasion; but human nature being what it is, and the provocation endured by the Mussulman population being taken into account, and due allowance being made for the contagion of passion and panic, it is no great wonder if scenes were enacted in Bulgaria that have marked revolution and jacqueries in all ages in every part of the world; and perhaps still less if a confessedly and bitterly hostile Press in Europe denounced “methods of barbarism” with little sifting of evidence and with much dramatic exaggeration. Party spirit has occasionally not scrupled to apply exactly the same terms without much reason to the methods of warfare of its own regular troops. One fact was clearly and conclusively established by the various commissions subsequently sent to prosecute enquiries on the spot, viz., that not a single instance occurred of an unarmed Christian being injured, or of a Christian village being destroyed whose inhabitants had not actually risen in armed rebellion. Fanaticism, in the strict acceptation of the term, is not so discriminating.
Matters had now come to such a pass that a general cataclysm was to be apprehended. Bulgaria, Montenegro and Herzegovina in flames, Servia arming to the teeth under the supervision of competent foreign officers, Roumania preparing to move in the same direction, a bankrupt treasury at home, a Grand Vizier whose sole resource seemed to be in the promises and counsels of a perfidious ambassador, the arch‐enemy of his country, and a sovereign wholly unconscious, or careless, of the condition of the empire, provided his own extravagant caprices were gratified—such was the aspect of affairs in Turkey in the spring of 1876. But that was not all.
Under the spur of public opinion, and moved by secret springs in the same direction, European diplomacy was meddling with the matter. Rulers of State and masters of many legions were holding meetings to discuss the situation in the East, and “Notes” and “Memorandums” were flying about the Chancellories of Europe. The diplomatic outlook was quite as menacing as the situation at home was critical.
It was in such a condition of affairs that counsel was being taken in Midhat’s Konak, among a few patriots who did not yet despair of their country, as to the best mode of saving the empire. But before the events that led up to the deposition of the Sultan Abdul Aziz are detailed, it will be useful to cast a glance at what was passing in the diplomatic world in Europe.
The first and most important event in this respect, inasmuch as it was the key of all that subsequently occurred, was the meeting of the Czar and the Emperor of Austria at Reichstadt, 8th July 1876.[9]
The outcome of that interview, with respect to Turkey, is no secret to‐day, but twenty‐five years ago it was certainly ignored in London, otherwise the negotiations that took place between the English and Austrian Governments relative to the contingency of an armed intervention in the Turko‐Russian War—carried on through the Austrian Embassy in London in the significant absence of the Ambassador, which went so far as to discuss the terms of a guaranteed war loan—would certainly not have occurred. The acumen of the English Government on this occasion would seem to have been somewhat at fault, and the information that came to it from Vienna strangely unreliable; for it acted, throughout negotiations extending over two years, in undisturbed reliance on the bonâ fides of the Austrian Chancellor’s assurances, and apparently in a secure trust in the force of his Magyar prejudices with respect to Russia. The fact is patent to‐day—and was well known at Berlin, and was not ignored in Paris—that Austria was, if not the actual instigator of the Herzegovinian rising—which is by no means certain—the Power that was determined to profit by it, and that her whole policy and diplomatic action with respect to the events that were taking place in the South‐East of Europe was governed by this determination.
The turning‐point of Austrian policy with respect to Turkey has already been indicated: the abandonment by England of Austria’s interests on the Danube left her free, or even compelled her to have regard to what she considered her own exclusive interests; and the meeting of the two Emperors, at the breaking out of the Herzegovinian disturbances, was the confirmation of this change of policy.
Two assurances seem to have been given by the Czar at this now historic interview. First, that whatever might be the outcome of events in Turkey, he would not seek for Russia any territorial aggrandisement in Europe; and secondly, with regard to Bosnia and Herzegovina, that in the contingency of the continuance of disturbances there he would not oppose the occupation of those provinces by Austria if sanctioned by the rest of Europe.
If this agreement had not been a secret one, and the terms of it had been known or suspected in London, does any one imagine that events would have followed the course they did, or that the “Notes” and “Memorandums” coming from Vienna and Berlin would have been taken seriously by the English Cabinet? The pact between the two Emperors, sealed at Reichstadt, was quite as much at the expense of England in Asia as of Turkey in Europe. It was a practical corollary of Prince Bismarck’s avowed Eastern policy.
There is only an academical interest now in pointing out the rôle that the personality of Count Andrassy and his reputed Magyar sentiments played in all these transactions, and it is not necessary to interrupt the course of this narrative by dwelling on them.
After the Andrassy Memorandum had prepared the Cabinets of Europe for some sort of diplomatic interference in the affairs of Turkey, and familiarised them with the idea, the natural course of events in the Turkish Empire did the rest. The ball set going at Vienna was taken up at Berlin. The comparatively colourless diplomatic Memorandum concocted in the first‐named capital was followed by a far more coercive Note emanating from the latter. The former contained recommendations, the latter added external sanctions to them. The policy intended to be pursued with reference to Turkey was contained in germ in this remarkable “Note,” and the diplomatic strategy to be employed was herein clearly revealed. The “Conference,” which was to impose the conditions and insist on the sanction, was already on the tapis, and formed the subject of an interchange of views between the various European governments; and it was, as it were, under the shadow of this menace to the integrity and independence of the country that the friends of Midhat now hastened their deliberations.
As early as the winter of 1875, Midhat, with a view of profiting by the lights, and seeking the advice of the eminent diplomatist who represented the Court of St James at Constantinople, paid a visit to Sir Henry Elliot, the purpose of which can best be described in the words of the Ambassador himself.[10]
“In the beginning of December 1875, I was informed by one of Midhat’s partisans, a Pasha who had filled some of the highest offices of the State, that the object of his party was to obtain a ‘Constitution.’ This was more than a year before its promulgation, when it was declared to have been invented only to defeat the Conference then sitting at Constantinople.... A few days later Midhat himself called upon me and explained his views more fully than he had ever done before, though I was acquainted with their general tenor. The Empire, he said, was being rapidly brought to destruction; corruption had reached a pitch that it had never before attained; the service of the State was starved, while untold millions were poured into the Palace, and the provinces were being ruined by the uncontrolled exertions of governors who purchased their appointments at the Palace, and nothing could save the country but a complete change of system. The only remedy that he could perceive, lay, first, in securing a control over the sovereign by making the Ministers—and especially as regarded the finances—responsible to a national popular Assembly; and secondly in making this Assembly truly national, by doing away with all distinctions of classes and religions, and by placing the Christians on a footing of entire equality with the Mussulmans; thirdly, by decentralisation and by the establishment of provincial control over the governors. It must surely be admitted that these were enlightened and statesmanlike views, deserving of every encouragement.... He dwelt repeatedly on the value that the sympathy of the British nation would be to the reformers, and on the manner in which his countrymen were now looking to England as the example they hoped to follow. I told him in reply that I could not doubt that measures framed upon the lines he had laid down must command the approval and ensure the good wishes of every Englishman who, like myself, had faith in the advantages of constitutional checks upon arbitrary power. I gave him this assurance confidently and in good faith; for certainly the very last thing that I anticipated was that those who in this country make the greatest parade of their devotion to constitutional principles would be the first to heap contumely upon men who were trying to introduce it into theirs, and to hold up their proposals to ridicule....”
The first of the many incidents that soon after this conversation began to follow each other closely, took place on the 10th May 1876, when an assemblage of several thousand Softas stopped Prince Izzeddine, the Sultan’s eldest son, on his way to the Seraskierat (Ministry of War), desiring him to return to the Palace, and to inform the Sultan that they demanded the dismissal of Mahmoud Nedim, the Grand Vizier and of Hassan Fehmi Effendi, the Sheik‐ul‐Islam. The Sultan did not venture to reject the demand. Mahmoud and Hassan Fehmi were dismissed, the latter being replaced by Hassan Hairullah Effendi, who enjoyed a high and exceptional reputation for learning and enlightenment. Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, an old man universally respected, was named Grand Vizier; and as he insisted on Midhat joining his Cabinet (although holding no specific office), it was believed that he would be the guiding spirit, and general satisfaction was felt. Sir Henry Elliot proceeds to say:
“This general satisfaction did not last long. The Sultan quickly showed his determination to resist all reforms by appointing to high posts several of the worst of the old school of Pashas, and it then became so evident to me that an attempt to depose him would certainly very shortly be made, that on the 25th May I put my conviction on record in a despatch in which I wrote that the word ‘Constitution’ was in every mouth; that the Softas, representing the intelligent public opinion of the Capital, knowing themselves to be supported by the bulk of the Nation—Christian as well as Mahomedan—would not, I believed, relax their efforts till they obtained it, and that should the Sultan refuse to grant it, an attempt to depose him appeared almost inevitable; that texts from the Koran were circulated proving to the faithful that the form of Government sanctioned by it was properly democratic, and that the absolute authority now wielded by the Sovereign was an usurpation of the rights of the people and not sanctioned by the Sacred Law; and both texts and precedents were appealed to to show that allegiance was not due to a Sovereign who neglected the interests of the State. The disaffection, I said, now ran through every class, and from the Pashas down to the porters in the streets and the boatmen on the Bosphorus, no one thought any longer of concealing his opinions.... Within a week after my reports were written, the deposition had been effected....”
The two moving spirits in the deposition of Sultan Abdul Aziz were undoubtedly Midhat Pasha and Hussein Avni Pasha, the Minister of War (seraskier). The latter, a thorough soldier and a sterling patriot, distinguished for the great energy and decision of his character as well as the impetuosity of his temper, had occupied the highest military posts in the country, and had been repeatedly exiled from Constantinople by the Sultan. He was particularly feared and disliked by Mahmoud Nedim, who had procured his banishment each time that he had been made Grand Vizier. Although not sharing all Midhat’s constitutional views and professing more confidence in the efficacy of the sword than in the saving grace of popular institutions, he had lent a willing and energetic support to his colleague’s views as to the indisputable necessity of deposing the Sultan as a preliminary to any attempted amelioration in the condition of the State.
As soon as the final resolution of Ministers was arrived at, and before any commencement of execution could be given to it, it was indispensable to obtain a Fetva (authoritative decree) of the Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Hassan Hairullah, the highest authority and mouthpiece of the Sacred Law, in order to give legal validity to the act of deposition. Accordingly the following Fetva was issued for the deposition:—
“If the Chief of the Faithful gives proof of mental derangement; if he displays ignorance of State matters; if he employs the public revenues for his personal expenditure, beyond what the Nation and the State can support; if he introduces confusion into political and spiritual concerns, and if his continuance in power becomes injurious to the nation, may he be deposed?”
Answer: “The Cheri pronounces ‘Yes.’
“Signed by the humble
“Hassan Hairullah,
“To whom God grant His indulgence.
“Djemaziel Evel, 1293, Hegira.”
xxxxx(30th May 1876.)
Armed with this Fetva, Ministers decided on the immediate execution of their plans, the details of which, it was agreed, should be left to the Grand Vizier, to Midhat, and to the Minister of War.
There was a slight divergence of views between Midhat and the Seraskier with reference to the form of procedure which should accompany the deposition. Hussein Avni inclined to a simple military pronunciamento, whereas Midhat wished to give the consecration of popular sanction to the act. For this purpose he proposed that the Softas and the population of Stamboul should be convoked en masse to the Noure‐Osmanieh Mosque, where they should set forth the griefs of the nation and demand a change of régime; and that on this demand being refused or ignored, they should proceed at once to the execution of the decree of deposition. The majority of Ministers inclined to this latter method of proceeding; but a circumstance occurred which necessitated a change of plans and determined the abandonment of the proposal for a popular demonstration.
The 31st May was chosen for the execution of the plan agreed upon. On the eve of that day information reached Midhat from a woman of the Palace that the Sultan had had wind of the affair, and that the whole plot was about to be discovered. This was corroborated by the fact that twice that same day Hussein Avni had been peremptorily summoned to the Palace, although on the first summons he had pleaded illness as a reason for disregarding it.
It was decided thereupon by the Ministers to anticipate the hour fixed upon, and to proceed at once with the execution of their design.
At midnight accordingly, of the 30th of May, Mehemet Rushdi and Midhat, accompanied each by a single attendant carrying a lamp, proceeded to Sirkedji to embark on a caïque[11] for Pachalimani on the Bosphorus, the residence of Hussein Avni. It was a pitch‐dark night with rain falling in torrents, and it was with some difficulty that they reached the place of rendezvous. Here they found Hussein Avni anxiously waiting for them, and after a hurried interview in which the final dispositions were made, they separated to their respective posts. Hussein Avni started for the palace of Dolma‐Bagtche, whilst Rushdi and Midhat proceeded to the Seraskierat.
It had been decided that the Ministers and high civil and military dignitaries should assemble at the War Office and await the arrival of Prince Murad, whom Hussein Avni had undertaken to conduct there in person; and that as soon as he should arrive, the proclamation and investiture of the Prince as the new Sultan should take place. It was further arranged that immediately on the arrival of the Prince a bonfire should be lit on the tower of the Seraskierat, as a signal to the fleet of what was taking place, and thereupon a Royal salute should be fired by Kaisserli Ahmed’s ironclads, to announce to the whole city the commencement of a new reign.
Hussein Avni, proceeding in the direction of the Palace, was, according to preconcerted arrangement, met by Suleiman Pasha, to whom the delicate task of executing the measures necessary to be taken at the Palace had been entrusted.
Suleiman Pasha, marshal in the army and director‐in‐chief of the school of military cadets at Pancaldi, the trusted lieutenant and right‐hand man of Hussein Avni, himself a strong partisan of Midhat Pasha and the young hope of the Reform Party, was the very man to carry out an operation requiring careful preparation and unflinching resolution for its successful execution.
The troops in the barracks of Tash‐Kishla and Kumuch‐Suyou had already received their orders from Redif Pasha, the commander of the corps d’armée of Constantinople, and had been so posted as to blockade all approaches by land. The fleet of ironclads under the personal command of Kaiseli Ahmed, the captain Pasha, had taken the same precautions by sea, so that nothing remained but to disarm the sentinels and corps de garde along the immediate approaches to the Palace. Suleiman, taking with him a selected body of military students from Pancaldi, under the command of Ahmed Bey (colonel) and Bedry and Rifat Beys (captains), after successfully performing, without disturbance but not without some opposition, the delicate operation of disarmament, hastened to the apartments of Prince Murad. Although the Prince had been made aware of the intentions of the Ministers, and had acquiesced in their general arrangements, it had been found impossible to acquaint him with the change of date resolved upon. He, therefore, fearing some surprise or treachery, hesitated for some time before he could be induced to comply with Suleiman’s urgent request that he should immediately join Hussein Avni, who was waiting for him in a carriage at the gates of the Palace to drive him to the Seraskierat, where his proclamation and investiture as the new sovereign were to take place. At one moment it looked as if the solemn drama about to be enacted would have to be played out with the part of the “Prince of Denmark” omitted.
Having surmounted this unexpected difficulty and despatched Murad on his way to the Seraskierat, Suleiman proceeded to discharge the second and more distasteful part of the mandate confided to him. Making his way to the Imperial apartments, and overcoming the hesitation of the attendants by presenting an order signed by all the Ministers, he peremptorily demanded to be immediately led into the presence of the Sultan. The demand being at last complied with, he proceeded to communicate to Abdul Aziz the justification of his intrusion, and read to him the fetva of the deposition. Whilst the Sultan and Suleiman were engaged in parleying, the big guns of Ahmed’s ironclads were heard booming in the distance. Abdul Aziz at once took in the import of the firing, and from that moment yielded to the inevitable. He prepared to comply with the order communicated to him to quit the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche for that of Top‐Kapou, which had been assigned as a residence for him.
The new Sultan confirmed all his Ministers in their posts, addressing the following letter to the Porte:—
To my Grand Vizier and very patriotic Mehemet Rushdi Pasha—
“By the favour of the Almighty and the will of my subjects, we have ascended the throne of our ancestors, and by reason of your patriotism and ability in the discharge of your duties as Grand Vizier, we confirm you and all your colleagues in your former posts. The numerous difficulties experienced for some time past both in our domestic affairs and foreign relations, have produced uneasiness in the public mind, and caused detriment to the material and territorial interests of the country. The necessity of amending this state of things and of adopting remedial measures such as shall insure the happiness and secure the confidence of our subjects, imposes itself imperatively upon us; and to effect these purposes, it is absolutely necessary to organise the administration of the State on a basis of stability and justice. Our exclusive attention will be directed to this end, and for this purpose we desire that our Ministers, after due deliberation, shall submit to us for our approbation their views on the means by which, whilst respecting the laws of the Cheri and of Justice, the organisation of our Empire in accordance with the wants and requirements of our people can be effected, with the view of procuring to all our subjects alike, without distinction or restriction, the completest liberty compatible with order; and, moreover, that our Ministers shall communicate to us their views on the application of such just laws and regulations as shall be calculated to consolidate and unify the national and patriotic sentiments of all our subjects. It is clear, moreover, that in order to obtain these objects, it is indispensable to reorganise the Council of State, the Ministers of Justice, as well as of public Institutions and of the Finances, as well as other departments of State; and it is, moreover, evident that one of the principal reforms of all will consist in establishing on a sound foundation the financial situation of the Empire, and in taking steps that no expenditure shall be tolerated that shall not have been provided for by the Budget of the State, by which measures it may be hoped that public credit and confidence will be restored. In order to help to obtain this result, we hereby diminish our Civil list by the sum of £T300,000, and surrender to the State the coal‐mines of Heraclia and the other mines and manufactories appertaining to the Civil list; and we recommend that like economies shall be effected in all the various branches of the administration, so as to establish an equilibrium in our finances. Our liveliest desire is for a continuance of intimate relations with all the friendly Powers, by the strictest observance of treaty obligations, and all our efforts will be directed to this end, and we pray the Almighty to crown them with success.
“9 Djemaziel Evel, 1293, Hegira.”
xxxxxx(2nd June 1876.)
Besides the retention of their portfolios by all the Ministers, Kemal Bey (the best known and most distinguished poet and litterateur of Turkey) and Zia Bey (equally celebrated as a poet and patriot) were appointed as his private secretaries, and Sadullah Bey (well known for his liberal sympathies and opinions) made chief of the Sultan’s secretariat—important guarantees for the smooth working of the machinery of State, and security against the revival of the old pernicious intrigues of the Palace against the Ministers of the Porte. Murad had, moreover, undertaken to promulgate the Constitution prepared by Midhat and his colleagues at the earliest date compatible with the despatch of urgent public business.
So far everything seemed to favour the Reformers. A revolution of the most fundamental character, involving the destruction of autocratic power in Turkey, and carrying the promise of a Constitution which would lay the foundations at any rate of stable government in the country, effected not only without bloodshed or disturbance of any kind, but with the assent and approval of all classes and creeds in the land, and with a new sovereign on the throne known sincerely to share the views of his Ministers and the aspirations of his people, all this seemed to ensure the prospect of healing the wounds of the much afflicted land of the Osmanli, and of opening up a new era of progress and prosperity in the East.
But suddenly a cloud, not bigger than a man’s hand, lowered over the destinies of the country, and from this time the stars in their courses fought against Turkey, and violently set back the date of the promised era of prosperity.
On the eventful night of the 30th‐31st May, during the drive with Murad to the Seraskierat, Hussein Avni had perceived that the Prince was suffering from violent nervous excitement, and these symptoms were still further accentuated in the return journey to the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche after the ceremony of investiture was over—so much so that Midhat Pasha, who accompanied him, thought it prudent to remain in the Palace, without quitting it, for three days. The physicians called in consultation did not at first take a grave view of the case, and sanguine hopes were entertained that, in a short time, by pursuing the regimen of repose and hygiene recommended by these authorities, Sultan Murad would rapidly recover his health and be able to discharge the duties incumbent on him. Dr Lamsdorf of Vienna, the celebrated specialist, made a very favourable diagnosis of the case. A happy issue of this most unfortunate and inopportune malady was now generally hoped for and expected, when two startling events occurred in rapid succession, each seriously aggravating and affecting the Sultan Murad’s nervous condition of health, and together fatally compromising the hope of rapid recovery.
The first of these tragedies referred to was enacted in the Palace of Tcheragan, five days after the dethronement of the late Sultan. Abdul Aziz, whose imperious temper could ill brook the change of destiny that had overtaken him, had already made one or two unsuccessful attempts, which were with difficulty thwarted, to throw himself out of the windows of the Palace. On the morning of the 5th June, he asked for a pair of scissors with which to trim his beard. On the attendants demurring to comply with this request, the Valide Sultan ordered the scissors to be given to her son. Shortly after this, the ladies of her suite, looking out of a window of a corridor that commanded a view on the room occupied by the late Sultan, saw him sitting quietly in an armchair with his back turned to the window; but shortly afterwards, perceiving that his head had dropped on his lap, they ran to the door and tried to open it. Finding it locked, and fearing a catastrophe, they ran screaming to the Valide Sultan and informed her of what they suspected. Orders being given to break into the room, they found Abdul Aziz sitting in the posture already described, and in a pool of blood flowing from two wounds in his arms, evidently caused by the scissors, which had fallen beside him on the floor. The physicians, who were hastily summoned, could only confirm the apprehension that life was extinct, and the Ministers, immediately apprised of the fact of the tragedy, ordered an immediate examination of the body to be made by all the available medical men in Constantinople, hastily summoned to draw up an official report on the subject. Seventeen medical men of all nationalities, comprising all the most distinguished in the city and in the Embassies of the great Powers, signed a unanimous report to the effect that death was undoubtedly due to suicide, and handed the following certificate:—
“The year 1876 A.D., on the 23rd of May, O.S., the 4th of June, N.S., or the year of the Hegira, the 11th of the month of Djemazi‐el‐ewel 1293, Sunday, at 11 o’clock A.M., we, the undersigned doctors of medicine, namely, Marco Pasha, Nouri Pasha, Julius Millingen, Caratheodori, Sotto, Dickson, Marroin, Nouridjian, Spadare, Vitalis, S. Spagnolo, Marc Markel, Jatropoulo, Miltiadi Bey, Abdinour Effendi, Mustafa Effendi, Servet Bey, Mehmed Bey and Jacques de Castro, being summoned by the ministry by order of His Imperial Majesty to ascertain the cause of the death of the ex‐Sultan Abdul Aziz, proceeded to the guard‐house situated near the Imperial Palace of Tcheragan. There we were ushered into a chamber on the ground floor and found a body lying on a mattress on the floor. The body was covered with a new white linen cloth. On removing this cloth we recognised the ex‐Sultan Abdul Aziz. All the parts of the body were cold and bloodless, pale, or covered with coagulated blood. The corpse was not rigid, the eyelids were partially unclosed, the corneæ were slightly opaque, the mouth partly open. Linen cloths, soaked in blood covered the arms and legs. On lifting the linen coverings on the arms we discovered a gash near the joint of the left arm five centimetres long and three centimetres deep. The edges of the wound were hacked and irregular. The direction of the wound was from above to below, and from inside to outside. The veins of this region were cut, and the cubital artery at its emerging point was three‐fourths severed. At the joint of the right arm we discovered a wound, slightly oblique, also hacked, two centimetres long and one centimetre deep. On this side the wounds were only in the smaller veins; the arteries were intact.
“We were shown a pair of scissors ten centimetres long, very sharp, one point of which bore a small lateral projection near its summit. The scissors were stained with blood, and we were told that the ex‐Sultan Abdul Aziz had with these scissors inflicted upon himself the wounds above described.
“We then proceeded to the residence of the late Sultan, where we were ushered into a large chamber looking on to the sea. There we found in the corner of a sofa, placed near a window, a pool of blood spread over that article of furniture, and on the matting of the floor a great quantity of coagulated blood in one mass, and further several stains spread over the room.
“From what precedes we are unanimously of opinion:—
“1. That the death of the ex‐Sultan Abdul Aziz was caused by the loss of blood produced by the wounds of the blood‐vessels at the joints of the arms.
“2. That the instrument shown to us could certainly produce such wounds.
“3. That the direction and nature of the wounds, together with the instrument which is said to have produced them, lead us to conclude that suicide had been committed.
“In witness whereof we have accordingly drawn up and signed the present minute of proceedings at the guard‐house of Tcheragan on the day, month and year aforesaid.
“Signed:
“Dr Marco, Nouri, A. Sotto, Physician attached to the Imperial and Royal Embassy of Austria‐Hungary; Dr Spagnolo, Marc Markel, Jatropoulo, Abdinour, Servet, J. de Castro, A. Marroin, Julius Millingen, C. Caratheodori; E. D. Dickson, Physician of the British Embassy; Dr O. Vitalis, Physician of the Sanitary Board; Dr E. Spadare, J. Nouridjian, Miltiadi Bey, Mustafa, Mehmed.”
The body was transferred to Top‐Kapou and buried in the mausoleum of Sultan Mahmoud.
Ten days after the tragedy at the Palace of Tcheragan the news of which had deeply affected Sultan Murad, another quickly followed, in some respects of a still more startling character, and calculated to prostrate still further a mind already unhinged.
A Circassian captain, formerly aide‐de‐camp of the Sultan Abdul Aziz, one Hassan by name, on whom certain suspicion of violent intentions rested, had been ordered to Bagdad, and on his showing signs of recalcitrancy, he was imprisoned for insubordination by orders of Hussein Avni, the Minister of War. Feigning submission, he was released after two days’ detention. On the 15th June, during a Cabinet Council which was being held at the house of Midhat Pasha, and at which all the Ministers were present, Tcherkess Hassan, armed with no less than six revolvers, forcing the consigne without much difficulty, managed to penetrate into the room where the Council was sitting, and advancing straight up to Hussein Avni, discharged a barrel of a revolver at him, and turning sharply on Reshid Pasha, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, shot him dead on the spot. The Minister of Marine, Kaisserli Ahmed, threw himself on the assassin and tried to disarm him, but he was immediately stabbed with a poniard that Hassan carried in his left hand. Hussein Avni, although severely wounded, managed to make his way to the staircase, but Hassan, following him, struck at him furiously in the neck with his dagger and despatched him. Returning to the Council room he discharged his revolvers promiscuously all around him, smashing the chandelier suspended in the middle of the room, and consequently plunging the room into darkness. It was this that probably saved the lives of the remaining Ministers, for Kaisserli Ahmed, though wounded, and Mehemet Rushdi, and Halid succeeded in escaping into an adjoining boudoir, where they barricaded the door against their furious assailant, who, having despatched the War Minister, seemed chiefly bent on wreaking vengeance on the Minister of Marine. Midhat escaped by a miracle, and by slipping off his coat, the sleeve of which he left in the hand of Hassan who had seized it in the darkness. One of Midhat’s servants, Ahmed Aga, on hearing the firing, had rushed into the room and tried to seize the assassin from behind, but Hassan turned sharply on him and shot him dead. The same fate attended Chukri Bey, the aide‐de‐camp of the Minister of Marine, who also rushed in to the rescue. At last a guard of gendarmerie appeared on the scene, and a regular fusillade ensued between the Circassian at bay and the gendarmes reinforced by a picket of soldiers; it was only then, after a regular pitched battle, that this determined criminal was at length overpowered and seized.
He was very soon afterwards tried, and hanged in due course, stoutly denying to the last that he had any accomplices.
The effect of these compound tragedies on the mind of the Sultan Murad was disastrous. His recovery, sanguine hopes of which had been held out by Dr Lamsdorf, the famous specialist summoned from Vienna to give his opinion on the state of the Sultan’s health, seemed destined to be indefinitely postponed. Two parties, holding distinct views on the situation and the manner it should be dealt with, now showed themselves among the Ministers and the high Court officials. Mehemet Rushdi especially, the old experienced vizier and the majority of Ministers well aware of the favourable disposition of Sultan Murad towards the cause of reform, and very averse to taking a plunge in the dark, leant to the opinion that patience should be exercised and reasonable time given for the recovery of the Sultan’s health.
But another and very active party had in the meantime been formed, of which Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin Pasha (the Sultan’s brother‐in‐law) was the moving spirit, and which included, together with some high Palace officials, one or two of the influential marshals, such as Redif Pasha, the commander of the Constantinople corps d’armée and under the influence of Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin. This party—as far as it could be said to have been based on any particular political opinions, and not on the simple ground of ambition and the desire to exercise a preponderating influence in the future régime—consisted of the men who had acquiesced, and even participated, in the dethronement of the late Sultan, but did not share, and some of them were even bitterly opposed to, the constitutional views advocated by Midhat and the reforming party. Borne along by the current of events which they would have been impotent to resist, they would have constituted a helpless minority in the State without power or influence, if they had had to do with a reforming Sultan on the throne, a palace where men like Zia Bey, and Kemal Bey were the guiding spirits, and the party of reform in strong possession of the Porte. The prospect, however, of being able to change the occupant of the throne and place their own candidate upon it afforded them the precious opportunity of upsetting the whole edifice of reform, of themselves seizing the chief power of the State, and turning the revolution that had been accomplished to their own exclusive advantage. It was less a victory of reaction than a triumph of ambition.
Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin was a very ignorant and uncultivated man, and though careless and without a conviction in respect to political opinions, he enjoyed the reputation of being neither careless nor indifferent with respect to matters of personal or pecuniary concern to himself. On the other hand, he was endowed with great, almost brutal, determination of character, and was utterly reckless as to the means of carrying out his ends. His position of Damad (brother‐in‐law to the Sultan) gave him great influence in the Palace, and at the same time secured him weight in the Councils of the State. He was the very soul of the anti‐reform conspiracy.
Having described Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin, the character of his lieutenant, Redif Pasha, can be described in a sentence: he was Damad Mahmoud in petto. Whatever qualities distinguished the master were conspicuous in the lieutenant, and only in a less degree, inasmuch as he was physically of a somewhat less robust nature. He had, like Mahmoud, lent himself with all the weight of his military position to the dethronement of Abdul Aziz, but he viewed with an evil eye the advance of reform, and still more the triumph of the reformers.
These two men practically constituted the central power of the conspiracy, for those who co‐operated with them were scarcely admitted into the inner councils or secret plans of the Duumvirate, although themselves the willing participators in the conspiracy.
Among them was Djevdet Pasha, Minister of Justice, who, during all the stirring events of the Vizierate of Mehemet Rushdi, had been lying low in the Cabinet waiting for the opportune moment to show his colours and take part in the overthrow of the ministry.
Whilst enumerating the instruments of Mahmoud’s ambition, it would be impossible to omit the names of two other men who, although they had not yet emerged into the notoriety which they were soon to enjoy, were indispensable tools of Mahmoud’s ambition, and powerfully contributed to the success of his plans. These were the two Saïds. The one was brother‐in‐law of Mahmoud, and destined for the important post of first aide‐de‐camp to the Sultan Abdul Hamid. He was generally known as “Ingless Saïd Pasha,” for his having been educated at Woolwich, and though entirely wanting in initiative or political convictions, was naturally of a frank and loyal disposition, not deficient in energy, and an invaluable coadjutor in carrying out the views of his brother‐in‐law. With Redif Pasha he formed the third member of the Triumvirate, which Mahmoud intended should, during the succeeding reign, govern the country. The other Saïd, of whom a great deal more will have to be said hereafter, was known, on account of his small stature, as “Saïd Kutchouk” (small), and when he reaches the dignity of Pasha, it will be necessary to distinguish him from the other Saïd by this appellation. He was supposed to be the âme damnée of Mahmoud, especially by Mahmoud himself, who destined him for the important confidential post of First Secretary to the Sultan.
Without any doubt, Damad’s plans were well conceived, and his net was well spread. The post of Vice‐Sultan he reserved for himself.
Behind these were marshalled the whole phalanx of Reaction, and the Konak of Mahmoud become the Cave of Adullam of all the malcontents.
The means of action were not wanting to the conspirators in this respect; indeed, the material to their hand was only too abundant. A sovereign of unsound mind is not recognised by the Ottoman Constitution. The girding of the Padishah with the sword of Osman, as an essential part of the ceremony of investiture, was to the Ottoman sovereigns what the sacred oil of Rheims was to the kings of France, and this ceremony had not taken place.
No Sultan, moreover, had ever before absented himself from attendance at the mosque on Friday, and the Selamlik that follows. The public anxiety and excitement on the subject were genuine and universal. Public affairs, too, were suffering: the Constitution was, in a double sense, suspended; the new Constitution could not be promulgated, and the old Constitution, such as it was, could not be worked; the mainspring of the machinery of State was deranged. Foreign diplomacy, too, was beginning to take an active part in the matter. The ambassadors and envoys from foreign States were asking to whom, and when, they could present their credentials. The Russian Embassy—that seemed to have better information relative to Prince Hamid’s character than Ministers themselves—was particularly persistent and active in this respect. It was evident that the crisis could not be indefinitely prolonged.
In these circumstances, it was resolved by Ministers that Midhat should go to Muslou‐Oglou, where Prince Hamid, heir presumptive to the throne, resided, in order to ascertain by a personal interview with him whether Ministers could rely on his co‐operation to carry out the important reforms that they had in hand, should it become absolutely necessary to remove Murad from the throne, and in that event, to agree to certain clear and definite stipulations with the Prince as conditions of their support.
These stipulations were the following:—
1. To promulgate without delay the new Constitution.
2. To act in matters of State only with the advice of his responsible advisers.
3. To appoint Zia Bey and Kemal Bey his private secretaries, and to make Sadullah Bey the head of the Palace Secretariat.
The importance attached by Midhat and Rushdi to this last condition was very great. It afforded a guarantee against those intrigues of the Palace which had ship‐wrecked so many schemes of reform, and prevented, so far as was possible, a renewal of that mute opposition between the Palace and the Porte which had existed for centuries, and had paralysed the efforts of so many Ministers.
At this historical interview at Muslou‐Oglou Prince Hamid evidently “played a deep game” with Midhat Pasha. He promised all and more than all that was asked of him. He pretended to opinions more advanced than the most advanced of his Ministers, and in favour of even a more democratic Constitution than the one elaborated. The other condition he accepted without demur.
On receiving these clear and emphatic declarations, Midhat returned to Stamboul and reported the result of his interview to the assembled Ministers, who thereupon resolved to take the decisive step and put Prince Hamid on the throne in the place of his brother Murad.
As on the occasion of the dethronement of the Sultan Abdul Aziz, it was necessary to obtain a Fetva from the Sheik‐ul‐Islam to the effect that the contemplated step was in accordance with the Sacred Law. Mehemet Rushdi thereupon demanded an official report from six principal physicians in Constantinople—of whom four belonged to the Embassies of the Great Powers—who, after examination of Murad, handed to him the following certificates:—
“On the 31st of the month August, 1876, Chaban 11: 1293 Hegira, we have made a report on the health of His Majesty Sultan Murad, and come to certain conclusions which we hereby confirm, and add thereto the following opinion, viz. that even should the Sultan Murad after a long lapse of time, contrary to expectation, recover his intellectual faculties, these can never recover their normal condition.”
“(Signed) Castro.
Akif.
Dickson, Physician to English Embassy.
Marroin, Physician to French Embassy.
Muhlig, Physician to German Embassy.
Sotto, Physician to Austro‐Hungarian Embassy.”
Thereupon Mehemet Rushdi made a speech to the people gathered together to hear the report of these physicians at the Palace of Top‐Kapou.
“Our sovereign, the Emperor Murad,” he said, “has been enabled to reign for only twelve days, but during that time he has been afflicted with an illness which, in spite of all the efforts of human science, has shown no amendment. His intellectual faculties are in a state of great feebleness, and the physicians pronounce them incurable. Nevertheless we have waited for the expiration of the legal delay, and this delay has now expired. This is the sum total of the truth of the matter. Let us be informed of what, under such circumstances, the law of the Cheri dictates.”
The assembled crowd expressed its sense of the justice of these words, and the Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Hassan Hairullah, gave the following Fetva:—
“If the Commander of the Faithful is suffering from mental alienation and if the exercise of his function is thereby rendered impracticable, can he be deposed?
“Answer: The Cheri says ‘Yes.’
“(Signed) Hassan Hairullah,
“To whom God grant His indulgence.
“12 Chaban 1293, Hegira.”
(1st September 1876.)
CHAPTER IV
ABDUL HAMID SULTAN
The act of dethronement of Sultan Murad V. was now accomplished. On Thursday, 1st September 1876, Prince Hamid, surrounded by all the great Civil and Military dignitaries of the State, descended the Grand Rue of Pera on horseback, on his way to Top‐Kapou at Stamboul. The people thronged in large crowds to see the procession, but dazed by the series of dramatic events that were so rapidly succeeding one another, they viewed the spectacle with silence and without enthusiasm. There seemed a feeling of anxiety in the air as of the prescience of future evils.
From Stamboul the Prince passed in a State caïque to the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche. Monday, the 15th of the month Chaban, was fixed for the reception of the Biat (first ceremony of the investiture), and on that day a deputation of notabilities of Finance, accompanied by the chiefs of the five non‐Mussulman communities, headed by Jean Lorando, presented the Sultan elect with an address of congratulation in the name of the city of Galata, and to this the Sultan made the following reply:—
“I thank you for your congratulations; I have only one desire, and that is the progress of our country and peace for all our subjects. They will perceive by the logic of facts the fulfilment of the promise of the reforms made to them. They, too, on their part, must, in order to enjoy these privileges, give proof of the strict observance of the duties incumbent on them.”
To his Ministers he made a short speech, counselling union and agreement among themselves as the condition and symbol of union among all the subjects of the empire, and “counselled and ordered” them to prove their union by their acts.
The following Thursday, 18th of the month Chaban, was fixed for the great ceremony of investiture. On the morning of that day Abdul Hamid embarked in a caïque for Eyoub, the suburb on the Golden Horn, where the sword of Osman and the other sacred relics are kept, and on his passage thither he was saluted by the guns of the fleet anchored there, and the shout of the sailors manning the yards, “Padishahim tchok Yasha!”
After the important ceremony here was over, and the investiture of the new Padishah was thus completed, he proceeded, according to usage, to the mausoleum of Selim I., the founder of the Ottoman Caliphate, and thence to the mausoleum of Abdul Medjid, his father and the father of Murad, and lastly to the Palace of Top‐Kapou, where the mantle of the Prophet and the sacred Banner are deposited; and at night, the ceremony of this important day being over, he returned to the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche, where the ceremony of the investiture was completed.
Girt with the sword of Osman, Hamid II. reigned over Turkey, and the dark gloom of the Hamidian epoch was now about to settle over the land of the Osmanli.
On leaving the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche that night old Mehemet Rushdi, turning to his colleagues, said to them: “We have been in a great hurry to get rid of Murad. May we never have cause to repent what we have done.”
With these quasi‐prophetic words on his lips, feeling no doubt that a new era of struggles was about to open for which younger men were required, the veteran Grand Vizier, who had piloted the country through one coup d’état, and had very unwillingly assisted at a second dethronement, in consideration of his great age and feeble state of health, requested to be relieved of the duties of Grand Vizier. His request was granted, but three months after, Midhat, universally designated for the post, was nominated as his successor. These three months were passed under the Grand Vizierate of Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, but it was Midhat who was leader of the Cabinet, and Mehemet Rushdi was only the mouthpiece of Midhat, until the latter finally replaced him on the 16th December 1876.
The first audience accorded by the new sovereign to foreign envoys was to Count Zichy, the Austro‐Hungarian Ambassador, accompanied by the Secretary of his Embassy. Safvet Pasha, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, was present. The audience lasted one hour, and turned exclusively on the affairs of Herzegovina, the ambassador laying stress on the gravity of the events passing there, the anxiety and expenses that disturbances on its borders caused the Dual Empire, and exhortations to the new sovereign to listen to the advice of the friendly Powers. All this was, as we have seen, in the strictest conformity with the rôle that Austria had been playing for two years. Having set light to the gunpowder in her neighbour’s house, she quoted to that neighbour the familiar proverb, “Proximus ardet Ucalegon,” and warned him of the consequences.
The next audience was granted to the Russian Ambassador, General Ignatieff, recently returned from St Petersburg with the last instructions from his Court. The tone that the ambassador and envoys of Russia, the Strogonoffs, and Mentchikoffs, and Ignatieffs, had rendered familiar to the Porte on its communications on critical occasions, was not absent on this occasion:
“His Majesty the Emperor, my master, officially informed of Your Majesty’s accession to the throne, has conferred on me the signal honour to represent him at Your Majesty’s court. The friendly relations of the two countries may continue on the condition of the interests of both being assured. His Majesty the Emperor cannot view with indifference what is passing in the Ottoman Empire, possessing, as it does, the commercial routes of the Black Sea and the Mediterranean, and a portion of the inhabitants of which is of the same religion as his own.
“It is to the interest of our country that peace should reign in Turkey, and my country desires that late sad events should not be renewed, and that peace should be assured. His Majesty the Emperor is aware of the difficulties and critical moments that accompanied the accession of Your Majesty, and is convinced that the troubles will disappear, and that the re‐establishment of peace in the interior will be secured. His Majesty the Emperor prays for the success of Your Majesty.”
To this speech the Sultan made answer in a few appropriate words:
“More even than the Emperor of Russia ... I desire the progress of Turkey, peace in my provinces, and my most ardent desire is to secure the happiness of my people.”
Hardly had Abdul Hamid mounted the throne than the conflict between the two parties already described, commenced. The first act of the new reign was to appoint the personnel of the Imperial Household. Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin Pasha was named Grand Marshal of the Palace, and Saïd (Ingless) Pasha, first aide‐de‐camp to the Sultan. To these no objections had been raised or conditions imposed. Their duties had reference to what might be considered the more strictly household functions of the Palace, and their appointment lay within the exclusive domain of the sovereign’s personal choice. But it was very different with the office of First Secretary to the Sultan (or his successor) inasmuch as this important functionary has always been the right hand and mouthpiece of the sovereign, and the person by whom and through whom all communications pass between Ministers and the Sultan; and through the confidential character of his office, and his ready and continual access to the person of the sovereign, has always enjoyed a position of exceptional importance, hardly second to that of the Grand Vizier himself. It was for this reason that Midhat, attaching such importance to the worthy occupancy of this post, had not only laid stress on the necessity of its being filled by a functionary in harmony with the views of Ministers, but had actually laid down as one of the three conditions to which Prince Hamid was required to subscribe at the interview at Muslou‐Oglou, that Sadullah Bey, Zia Bey and Kemal Bey should be chosen as occupants of the post of Secretary respectively. In spite of his formal acceptance of this condition, the Sultan informed Midhat Pasha on his very first visit to the Palace, that he had appointed Saïd Bey (Mahmoud’s man) as his First Secretary. Astounded at this breach of faith, and aware of its significance—although perhaps not recognizing the full import of it—Midhat strongly remonstrated with the Sultan and urged a reconsideration of the appointment; but in spite of the remonstrances and prayers of his Ministers, the Sultan remained unmoved, and Midhat eventually acquiesced.
It is easy enough to be wise after the event and to see that Midhat ought to have put his foot down on this question and accepted the decisive battle thus offered him by the Sultan; that it ought to have been clear to him that this was only the first contest in a campaign that would decide the fate of Turkey during the whole of the coming reign, and that the first blow would probably decide the issue in the campaign. But our perspective of things is of course better than was Midhat’s. By the light of all the subsequent events that have unrolled themselves before our eyes, we now know the character of all the actors in the drama which was commencing, especially of the principal actor, and of this very First Secretary, who was the appropriate subject of the first contention. We can now appreciate the character of Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin, the backbone and arm of the reaction; of some of the Ministers who had been feigning for months past to support Midhat’s views and were only waiting the moment to betray him; and can recognise the existence of a matured and carefully laid plot to upset reform by crushing the reformers—all these things are palpable and clear to us in the broad daylight of subsequent events; but they were scarcely surmised or imagined at the time we are now dealing with. The important citadel of the Palace was delivered, with all its defences, into the hands of the conspirators, and the Palace as a whole was organised for the express purposes of the reformers. This strong position being once firmly secured, the new Sultan could afford to show his hand with little disguise. He could not yet afford to treat with Midhat; it would have been clumsy to do so at once, for Midhat in opposition would have been a force with which he would have had to reckon, and, moreover, he and the Constitution were both necessary as a means of combating the conference that was assembling; but short of a rupture with his Grand Vizier, which was to be studiously avoided, he could afford to emphasize more and more his opposition to the policy of Midhat, so that when the moment arrived he could strike a decisive blow with effect, and with less fear of the consequences.
Subjects of contention between them were not far to seek. The speech from the throne, written by Midhat, which was a pronunciamento of the policy of a new reign inaugurated under such exceptional circumstances, and looked for with great eagerness, was revised by the Sultan beyond recognition; the essential sentences were omitted, others of quite incomprehensive character substituted in their place. The keynote of the original was “a new Regime, the Constitution, and Reform”; this was changed, and meaningless colourless phrases took its place.
In order to give the reader an exact idea of the art displayed in this transformation, the speech actually delivered on this occasion is here appended, and the omitted sentences of the original, placed in parentheses: