29th June.—“The remarks and the bearing of Midhat Pasha at the trial yesterday produced, on the whole, a very favourable impression on the public, and it was not difficult to perceive that he still enjoys a certain popularity even among good Mussulmans. As numerous Palace spies were present, the Ottoman officials carefully endeavoured to hide any latent sympathy with the accused, but some of them did not altogether succeed. More than once Midhat replied very appositely in a half‐ironical tone, which was much appreciated by the audience. All the details were at once transmitted to the Sultan, and Sourouri Effendi doubtless congratulated himself on having removed the Imperial displeasure from his own shoulders to those of his colleagues. As yet no evidence has been produced proving Midhat’s complicity, but it is not likely that he will be acquitted. Considering that the trial has been prepared, and is being conducted under the immediate influence of the Palace, which is filled with Midhat’s enemies, it would be absurd to expect impartiality and independence in the judges. I happen to know many curious facts tending to show how absurd such an expectation would be, and I may mention one by way of illustration. Yesterday morning, immediately before the trial began, Sourouri Effendi had a long private audience with the Sultan, and received from His Majesty certain instructions as to how the proceedings should be conducted. The most interesting part of the proceedings at the State trial yesterday was the incident which terminated in Midhat Pasha’s refusal to continue his defence. The facts are briefly as follows:—The President invited the accused not to continue his defence and to intrust that duty to his counsel. Midhat replied that he would defend himself, because he had not been allowed to confer freely with the counsel officially appointed. He justified his flight to the French Consulate at Smyrna, pointed out numerous errors in the procedure, expressed astonishment at such grave accusations being founded on such insufficient evidence, reproached the Public Prosecutor with having accepted the testimony of the eunuchs, who, professing to have seen the crime committed without denouncing it, should be themselves in the dock, and ridiculed the testimony of Marco Pasha, the chief physician of the Palace at that time, who professed to have seen from the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus what took place at the Palace on the European shore, and yet could not see a wound said to have been inflicted on the body of Abdul Aziz in the region of the heart. He then demanded that the Court should examine the prisoners and witnesses in his presence, as he was not present at the previous examination, and requested that the Embassy doctors who examined the body should be summoned, offering to defray the necessary expenses at his own cost, in order to compare their report with that of Marco Pasha. On the demand of the Public Prosecutor, the Court retired to consider Midhat’s request, and decided to grant it on condition that the prisoners should not be interrogated separately. To this reply Midhat opposed the text of the Code of Criminal procedure, and demanded its application, declaring that he must question those who had given evidence, in order to prove that they had committed perjury. The President answered that the article in question in the Code referred to witnesses, and not to the accused, and declared that if any person had committed perjury it would be for the Court to punish them hereafter.
“Midhat maintained that the prisoners who accused him should be regarded as witnesses against him, and considering, therefore, the decision of the tribunal as a miscarriage of justice, he declined to defend himself further, adding in a bitter tone, that he would derive little practical advantage from the punishment of a false witness after he was in his grave. The Court again retired for deliberation, and on returning after a few minutes, the President declared that Midhat’s request could not be granted. The prisoner, having three times declined to continue his defence, the President declared the proceedings at an end, and the Court retired to deliberate, returning after about an hour with a verdict of ‘Guilty’ against all the accused. The Court will meet again this morning at eleven o’clock to pronounce judgment, when this extraordinary, sensational trial, conducted as I reported, will come to a close.”
Later.—“Judgment was delivered this morning in the cases of the persons convicted of the murder of ex‐Sultan Abdul Aziz. Nine of the accused, including the Sultan’s two brothers‐in‐law and Midhat Pasha, were condemned to death. The remaining two accused were condemned to penal servitude.
“All the prisoners gave notice of appeal.”
Reuter’s Telegram.—“Constantinople, 29th June.—The Court pronounced judgment and delivered sentence of death upon Midhat Pasha, Mahmoud Damad Pasha, Nouri Pasha, Ali Bey, Nedjib Bey, Fahri Bey, Hadji Mehmed, Mustapha the Wrestler, and Mustapha the Gardener.
“Izzet and Sayd are each sentenced to ten years’ penal servitude. The prisoners have eight days allowed them to give notice of Appeal, and the indictment and document connected with the trial will be sent to the Court which will try the Appeal.”
“Times,” 4th July 1881.—“Constantinople, 1st July.”—In telegraphing about the recent State Trial, I have been hitherto working under serious restrictions, which I was not allowed to mention in my telegrams. All telegraphic despatches on the subject had to be submitted to the authorities, who naturally prevented the transmission of anything that might be disagreeable to the Palace. In the circumstances, it was, of course, impossible to criticise the proceedings, or even to give a full account of what took place. I have now, fortunately, an opportunity of communicating with you freely, and I hasten to declare that the trial was little better than a parody of European judicial procedure, which has justly roused the indignation, not only of foreign observers, but also of many Turks, who have an elementary conception of justice and fair play. In a trial in which the political element was so prominent, the first condition to be observed was complete neutrality of the Palace, and this condition was most grossly violated. It was at the Palace that the preliminary investigation was made, under the immediate personal direction of the Sultan, who is an interested party. It was at the Palace that the prisoners were confined, judges chosen, and even the counsel for the defence appointed, without the prisoners themselves being consulted. It was at the Palace that the accused were examined and various unjustifiable means were employed to extort confessions from them—as, for example, when the Grand Eunuch, one of the three highest official personages of the Empire, struck with his fists and otherwise maltreated the Chamberlain, Fahri Bey, when under examination, in the presence of His Majesty. It was in the Palace, and under the immediate influence of the Sultan, that the amount of the punishment for the accused was considered and decided. It was in the Palace that Sourouri Effendi, the President of the Tribunal, had a private audience with the Sultan, immediately before the opening of the proceedings, while a Palace dignitary appealed to the counsel for the defence in a cajoling, half‐plaintive tone, to refrain, in the fulfilment of their duty, from adding to the Sultan’s already numerous embarrassments! Lastly, it was in the immediate vicinity of the Palace that the trial was held. Soldiers of the Palace garrison surrounded the Court, aides‐de‐camp and other Palace officials were present, while eunuchs and other confidential messengers were constantly passing to and fro between the Palace and the tribunal. A certain amount of publicity was allowed with regard to the trial, for a few tickets were distributed among the Diplomatic Corps and leading representatives of the Press, but there were at the same time serious restrictions and difficulties. The date of the trial was kept strictly secret until a few hours before the proceedings began, and newspaper correspondents, nearly all of whom are imperfectly acquainted with, or entirely ignorant of, the Turkish language and judicial procedure, were not allowed to take a dragoman with them, though three‐fourths of the space reserved for the public remained all the time unoccupied. I made personal representations on this subject to some influential officials, but they all declared positively that no more tickets could be given. To the few who were admitted, I must say the greatest courtesy and consideration were shown by the Imperial aides‐de‐camp and the masters of the ceremonies, but the powers of these gentlemen were very limited. With regard to the restrictions placed on telegraphing I have already spoken above.
“It is hardly necessary to say, that with the all‐pervading influence of the Palace, there could be no independence or impartiality on the part of the judicial functionaries, and no zeal in the counsel for the defence; but there was something worse than this. The ardent desire of nearly all concerned to gain the Imperial favour by securing the condemnation of the prisoners in general, and of Midhat in particular, caused certain gross violations of the guarantees provided by the Criminal Code. I may mention a few facts by way of illustration. Sourouri Effendi, who had in the secret preliminary inquiry directed the case for the Prosecution, and who is well known to be one of Midhat’s bitter personal enemies, appeared at the trial as President of the Tribunal. He says, privately, by way of exculpating himself, that in the preliminary inquiry he never signed any official documents, and that during the trial of Midhat he ceded his presidency to one of the other judges; but these specious arguments increase rather than diminish his moral guilt. He refrained from signing official documents simply in order to avoid giving occasion for an appeal en cassation, and his making a distinction between Midhat and the other prisoners entailed new violations of judicial procedure, for it prevented Midhat from being present during a great part of the trial. Besides this, the distinction was more specious than real, for by procuring the condemnation of the other prisoners, he impliedly secured Midhat’s condemnation likewise; and though he did not sit on the bench when Midhat was present, he joined his colleagues in the consulting‐room when the ex‐Grand Vizier’s demand for permission to cross‐question the witnesses was considered and rejected. Not content with having a devoted adherent like Sourouri in the President’s chair, the Palace further controlled the proceedings by Raghib Bey, one of the Sultan’s private secretaries, and Djevdet Pasha, the obsequious Minister of Justice, who is one of Midhat’s personal enemies. These two personages sat behind the judges on a bench, and secretly gave directions in moments of hesitation and difficulty. I can state this without fear of contradiction, for during one of the sittings I was myself on the bench, and carefully observed what was invisible to the audience. The conduct of the Public Prosecutor was naturally in keeping with that of the chief judge. I am assured by eye‐witnesses that he entered the consultation‐room when the judges had retired to consider their verdict, but as I did not see this with my own eyes, I refrain from drawing any conclusion. Another act of his, however, may be commented on, because it took place in public. Midhat’s attitude during the preliminary investigation seemed to indicate that he would seek to obtain the Imperial clemency by raising no difficulties, and by making no serious attempt to defend himself at the trial; and as none of the other prisoners were sufficiently conversant with the law to embarrass the Prosecution, it was hoped that the proceedings might be hurried through in a single sitting. These plans were prevented by Midhat’s energetic action on the first day of the trial, and it was then considered necessary to find some means of effectually crushing him. A convenient instrument was at hand in the person of a certain Rifat Effendi, who professed to have heard Midhat say one day in Damascus that it was necessary to put Aziz out of the way, because otherwise he might have returned to power and have strangled the Minister who had deposed him. As Rifat was not in the list of witnesses, he could not be called without due notice having been given to the Court; but the Public Prosecutor overlooked this little formality and called him next day. When Midhat heard this new and unexpected piece of evidence, he very soon disposed of it, and was at no pains to conceal what he thought of Rifat’s character, conduct and motive.
“A few words now to show how the prisoners were treated. According to the Code of Criminal Procedure the accused has a right to choose his own advocate, and to have free communication with him. In the present trial the advocate was chosen by some anonymous personage in the Palace, without the accused having been consulted as to the choice, and free communication was not allowed. On this subject Midhat asserts that he saw his counsel only twice. On the first occasion they had only time to read about an eighth part of the indictment, and on the second they were favoured with the presence of Raghib Bey, one of the Sultan’s private secretaries, who listened to all that was said. Worse than this, with prodigious ingenuity each advocate was entrusted with the duty of defending prisoners belonging to different categories and employing mutually contradictory modes of defence. Refik Effendi, for example, was ordered to defend on the one hand Mustapha the Wrestler—who confessed his own guilt, and accused Fahri of having taken an active part in the assassination—and on the other hand the said Fahri, who maintained that Abdul Aziz committed suicide. In like manner Shukri Effendi had to defend on the one hand Midhat, and on the other hand Nouri Pasha, who endeavoured to exculpate himself at Midhat’s expense. The idea of crippling the defence in this ingenious way is exquisitely Oriental, and rendered almost superfluous the half‐pathetic, half‐menacing exhortation made to the advocates at the Palace that they should refrain from adding to the Sultan’s numerous embarrassments and trust to His Majesty’s clemency. Equally Oriental and characteristic is the fact that the learned gentlemen who undertook the so‐called defence on such conditions, showed no signs of being ashamed of themselves. It is hardly necessary to say that they carefully abstained from cross‐questioning the witnesses and sifting the evidence, and did not object when the President and the Public Prosecutor assumed important facts without proving them.
“With regard to the way in which Midhat was threatened, it is difficult to speak without using strong terms of indignation. Not a particle of carefully sifted evidence against him was produced, and he was refused means of defending himself against the unsubstantiated assertions of his accusers, though he proved from the Code that he was asking no more than he had a right to demand. If his sentence is carried out, his execution will be simply a judicial murder, perpetrated from motives of political vengeance and personal enmity. As for the other prisoners, I cannot pretend to say whether they really committed the crime with which they are charged, but I can unhesitatingly assert that their guilt was not legally proved.