Having made his escape, he passed into Bosnia in 1830, where he arrived wholly unknown, and it was only with difficulty he was able to engage himself as a servant in Kosrew Pacha’s house, who was then at Bosna-Serai.

The second reforming Sultan had of late organized his troops on a principle of reform, not only as to discipline, but also as to the mode of equipment. Only a year, the wide and overflowing dress, the majestic turbans, the silken shawls and rich furs had given way to the more simple fez and to the European pantaloon. He began himself to assume that costume. The Khatti Sherif ordering this change was only promulgated on the 3d of March, 1829, and the sensation which the new dress occasioned among the people did not fail, according to eye-witnesses, to draw forth tears and public mourning.

All the regular troops of the army he had formed abandoned, whether they liked it or not, the picturesque and rich costume, adopted the new uniform, and accepted the command of foreign officers. An indispensable condition to the advancement of a foreigner in the Turkish service was conversion to Islamism, and Latkes became a Mussulman, under the cognomen of Omer.

Meanwhile Old Turkey was clamorous in its protests against the progress of reform; nor was it long before its indignation broke out into acts of violence and bloodshed. Popular fury was often directed against Europeans, who were regarded as abetters of reform; and in August, 1831, ten thousand houses belonging to Europeans were a prey to the flames.

It was full time that these seditious demonstrations, and the sanguinary scenes enacted under former Sultans, should teach prudence to the fortunate, but daring and impetuous Mahmud. He felt the necessity of surrounding himself with faithful and vigorous-minded friends. He chose men qualified both as intelligent advisers and men of action. He invited to a great banquet in his palace his great state functionaries, the teachers of the law, the professors, the officers, the seven generals of the empire, the magnates of the nation, and the warmest partisans of his reforms. With glowing confidence and enthusiasm he spoke in the name of the national interest and the public cause, and called upon all to sacrifice personal feelings, party spirit, and internal divisions, to the fortune and the destinies of the empire. Mahmud’s unusual familiarity astonished the greater number of the bystanders. It was an innovation at variance with the dignity of the “Shade of Allah on earth,” but all felt themselves individually flattered by it. When the salams that Oriental courtesy prescribes had been multiplied to a countless number, at a hint given to the Great Master of the Ceremonies, a large piece of tapestry was raised, a gate was thrown open, and the Sultan invited all to enter. It was a vast hall, magnificently lighted. A large number of splendid ensigns covered a table inlaid with amber, and upon it lay the Prophet’s mantle. All prostrated themselves before the holy ensign; and by order of Mahmud, the Grand Seraskier pronounced a formula, and the sovereign, with his own hands, put on his minister’s breast the great decoration of the civil and military order. The ceremony was a kind of Masonic inauguration; the ribbons of the several degrees were distributed to all present, who were invited to pledge themselves to the Sultan and to each other. The mystery attending the meeting had given it a more solemn character. All repeated the Grand Seraskier’s formula; and the work of the regeneration of the empire had commenced.

This happened in October, 1831.

That Grand Seraskier was Kosrew Pacha, in whose service the Croat fugitive Latkes, now Mussulman Omer, had lived for the last year.

Eight years afterwards, on the 3d of November, 1839, the same hall was opened in broad day, and there, with all the solemnity of a national ceremony, the warmest supporters of Old Turkey, Sheik-ul-Islam, (the chief of the faith,) and the members of the body of Ulemas, who before the same holy shrine were sworn on the hands of the Mufti (ecclesiastical president) to observe the Tanzimat, were assembled. The ashes of Mahmud were still warm: it was the first act of the reign of Abdul Medjid. The victory had been rapid: Young Turkey had, on that day, triumphed over Old Turkey.

In the gardens called Gul-hane, near the kiosks of the palace, Reschid Pacha proclaimed the new organization of the empire, granting concessions “to all subjects, of whatever sect or religion.” That act so celebrated, virtually abolished capital punishment, by reserving the right of pronouncing it to the Sultan alone, who has never had recourse to it. The political, civil, and moral character of the Turks was raised by this memorable charter to a high standard.