CHAPTER XXVIII
THREE DIPLOMATS AT ROME—THE GUARDIANSHIP OF THE HOLY TOMB
In Rome I met three diplomats; as different from each other as night from day, as the Pope of Rome from the Khalif of Islam—a false comparison often made in New Turkey to-day.
We have described the Pope; the sanctity of his office, the odour of piety in which he dwells. The Pope is not of the world; he is above the world-elected, not born. The Khalif, like an hereditary king, inherits his position as Head of Islam; which means that he owes his position to the hazard of fortune, not to personality or virtue.
I have met all the Khalifs from Abdul Hamid to his present descendant, who was, when I saw him, the third in succession. He appeared to me a kindly, cultured gentleman and a talented artist. My host at that time, Prince Youssouff Zeddine, heir to the then Sultan, had frequently invited me to the Palace, and always spoke highly of his younger brother. The Prince had a touching affection for England, and, with Djémal Pasha (then Minister of Marine) for interpreter, would gladly listen to endless stories of olden and modern days. Passing from Alfred and the cakes; through Drake, Gordon, and Princess Mary; to his favourite tale of the Suffragettes chained to the grille at Westminster, I sought to inspire this unhappy man with memories of the greatness of the England he loved so well.
If, by any chance, I varied a phrase or omitted the slightest detail, he would beg Djémal “to respectfully remind Mademoiselle that she is going too fast!” It is difficult, indeed, to believe that the man who laughed so heartily at the words “Votes for Women,” could have ended his own existence. He dared to say to the Turkish Parliament, “On no account must we be on the wrong side with England”; and the next day he was dead!
Not only in Turkey, but throughout Islam, which includes India, there is no institution so sacred as the Khalifate, yet the term is meaningless if the Khalif loses Arabia. Next in sanctity to Mecca, in Moslem eyes, comes Jerusalem, for all the prophets of that Holy City are sacred to Islam, though her prophets have no honour in Judea or among Christians. Should we not tremble when Christian Powers attempt to tamper with lands of pilgrimage like Hedjaz, and when they trample upon the traditions of the Khalifate?
At Rome, Osman Nyzami Pasha represented Constantinople, while Djelaleddine Arif Bey was Minister for Angora. The former did not, indeed, go into exile with the Nationalists; but his varied experience as soldier, statesman, and ambassador has given him a rare knowledge of Europe that makes him popular and useful in diplomacy. Alas, now, however, his career ends.
Ten years ago in Constantinople he greeted me with, “Dear child, what for did you do this dreadful thing,” as I was returning from the Persian Mouharrem, the anniversary of the assassination of Hussein, son of the Prophet. The Spanish Minister, who was with us, had fainted outright, although familiar with bull-fights. His wife, Mme. M., a Swede, had more courage than either of us; but I almost fell into the Ambassador’s arms as I reached my hotel.
In a ring formed round a centre of blazing torches, white-robed men wail and mourn for the holy martyr, slashing their heads with swords. They dip their hands in the flowing blood, and sprinkle it all over their faces. I was haunted for weeks by the ghastly spectacle, which I shall never be able to forget, of those stained robes and faces, amidst the wild fanatical shrieks. When, as often happens, a man thus kills himself in the fury of exaltation, he is acclaimed a martyr, and his family are pensioned for life.
When I asked why such awful ceremonies were permitted, I was reminded of Turkey’s “non-interference” with every creed and all the “pieties” of all peoples.
At Rome, I lodged in a quiet convent, which closed at 7.30. But the Ambassador called at eight and was followed by a succession of Turkish friends, until Mihrinour and her husband arrived at 10.30. I apologised next morning to the Mother Superior for such unseemly interruptions of her ordered life; explaining, in a fifteen minutes’ lecture, how anxious a Turk would always feel for the comfort of any friend. “You are perfectly right,” she said, “I know them well. I lived eighteen years on the shores of the Bosphorus!”
Djelaleddine Arif Bey gave me a right royal welcome to Rome, and allowed me to trouble him with all sorts of questions. In Constantinople he had been what we call Dean of the Faculty of Law, and one day, on an official visit to the Sultan, wearing a frock-coat and patent-leather shoes, he had just time to escape to Angora, dressed as he was. His knowledge of both the Cheriat and European Laws was invaluable to the Assembly, and it is a delight to hear from his own lips that Turkey is going to establish her own Constitution, not a poor imitation of ours.
“Our justice has been paralysed by capitulations,” he said; and told me of an Italian murderer who had found sanctuary in his Consulate, because the Kavass would not give him up. “We have been bound and fettered all these years, but it cannot go on.”
His admirable organisation of Justice in Angora developed from one colleague to twenty-five assistants, for work which occupied three hundred men in Constantinople! Yet he very soon established complete order, though after the peace he hopes for still greater perfection.
He was interested in the personality of Cardinal Gasparri, whom I had met for the first time. I found him a great contrast to Cardinal Merry de Val, with whom I had long discussions about Islam ten years ago.
Shrewdest of diplomats, keenest of observers, is there one move of the world’s political chess-board he has not penetrated? Seeing, knowing, judging everything, could he make a mistake? In a State Church he would be a grave danger; but the days of State Churches are almost no more. As the Turkish minister remarked: “A Church needs more than anything a level-headed diplomatist having no connection with politics.” The Cardinal, then, is far too clever a man to undervalue Islam.
He has studied the greatest living authorities, in translations when he cannot read the originals, upon all the wonderful books of the East, and listens to men learned in the Koran. In theology, as in politics, none could catch him napping. One may, perhaps, guess something of his opinions by listening carefully to such questions as he may put to you; for he tells you nothing and seems to gather up all you know almost before you are conscious of having spoken. I do remember, however, that he asked me what the Turks proposed to do about the Holy Tomb?
To this I answered that Djelaleddini Arif Bey had said: “There could be no decision taken about Palestine without consulting the Turks. This astute lawyer had always bidden the Catholic authorities to remember that Christ, according to the Koran, is of miraculous birth, is one of Islam’s most venerated prophets. For the Moslem to blaspheme the Virgin Mary would be a heinous offence. To hand over the guardianship of the Holy Tomb to the Israelites is, therefore, a direct insult to Islam.”
Fethi Bey also said: “We have all our work cut out looking after our own frontiers, yet we have always faithfully guarded the tomb of Christ, our prophet. What can we think, if the Powers now prefer to entrust it to the Jews who crucified Him and still deny Him?”
Even as Mecca is to the Moslem, should Calvary be to us. Shall we who are called Christians suffer the Tomb we do not guard ourselves, to be taken from those who have faith in Christ?