From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn

by Henry M. Field

To tell the whole truth, these powers have themselves partly to blame for having led the Turkish government into the easy and slippery ways of borrowing money. Before the Crimean war Turkey had no national debt. Whatever she spent she wrung out of the sweat and blood of her wretched people, and left no burden of hopeless indebtedness to curse its successors.

But the war brought great expenses, and having rich allies, what so natural as to borrow a few of their superfluous millions? Once begun, the operation had to be repeated year after year. Nothing is so seductive as the habit of borrowing money. It is such an easy way to pay one's debts and to gratify one's love of spending; and as long as one's credit lasts, he may indulge his dreams to the very limit of Oriental magnificence. So the Sultan found it. He had but to contract a loan in London or Paris, and he had millions of pounds sterling to build palaces, and to carry out every Imperial desire.

But borrowing money is like taking opium, the dose must be constantly increased, till finally the system gives way, and death ends the scene. Every year the Sultan had to borrow more money to pay the interest on his debts, and to borrow at ever increasing rates; and so at last came, what always comes as the result of a long course of extravagance, a complete collapse of money and credit together.

The indignation felt at this would not have been so great, if the money borrowed had been spent for legitimate objects—to construct public works; to build railroads (which are greatly needed to open communications with the interior of the empire); and to create new branches of industry and new sources of wealth. Turkey is a very rich country in its natural resources, rich in a fertile soil, rich in mines, with an immense line of sea-coast, and great harbors, offering every facility for commerce; and it needs only a very little political economy to turn all these resources to account. If the money borrowed in England and France had been spent in building railroads all over European Turkey, in opening mines, and in promoting agriculture and commerce, the country to-day, instead of being bankrupt, would be rich and independent, and not compelled to ask the help or the compassion of Europe.

But instead of applying his borrowed money to developing the resources of his empire, there has not been a freak of folly that the Sultan did not gratify. He has literally thrown his money into the Bosphorus, spending it chiefly for ships on the water, or palaces on the shore. I have already spoken of his passion for building new palaces. Next to this, his caprice has been the buying of ironclads. A few years since, when Russia, taking advantage of the Franco-German war, which rendered France powerless to resist, nullified the clause in the treaty made after the Crimean war, which forbade her keeping a navy in the Black Sea, and began to show her armed ships again in those waters, the Sultan seems to have taken it into his wise head that she was about to attack Constantinople, and immediately began preparations for defence on land and sea. He bought a million or so of the best rifles that could be found in Europe or America; and cannon enough to furnish the Grand Army of Napoleon; and some fifteen tremendous ships of war, which have cost nearly two millions of dollars apiece. The enormous folly of this expense appears in this, that, in case of war, these ships would be almost useless. The safety of Turkey is not in such defences, but in the fact that it is for the interest of Europe to hold her up awhile longer. If once France and England were to leave her to her fate, all these ships would not save her against Russia coming from the Black Sea—or marching an army overland and attacking Constantinople in the rear. But the Sultan would have these ships, and here they are. They have been lying idle in the Bosphorus all summer, their only use being to fire salutes every Friday when the Sultan goes to mosque. They never go to sea; if they did they would probably not return, for they are very unwieldy, and the Turks are no sailors, and do not know how to manage them; and they would be likely to sink in the first gale. The only voyage they make is twice in the year: once in the spring, when they are taken out of the Golden Horn to be anchored in the Bosphorus, a mile or two distant—about as far as from the Battery to the Navy Yard in Brooklyn—and again in the autumn, when they are taken back again to be laid up for the winter. They have just made their annual voyage back to their winter quarters, and are now lying quietly in the Golden Horn—not doing any harm, nor any good to anybody.

Then not only must the Sultan have a great navy, but a great army. Poor as Turkey is, she has one of the largest armies in Europe. I have found it difficult to obtain exact statistics. A gentleman who has lived long in Constantinople tells me that they claim to be able, in case of war, to put seven hundred thousand men under arms, but this includes the reserves—there are perhaps half that number now in barracks or in camp. A hundred thousand men have been sent to Herzegovina to suppress the insurrection there. So much does it cost to extinguish a rising among a few mountaineers in a distant province, a mere strip of territory lying far off on the borders of the Adriatic. What a fearful drain must the support of all these troops be upon the resources of an exhausted empire!

While thus bleeding at every pore, Turkey takes no course to keep up a supply of fresh life-blood. England spends freely, but, she makes freely also, and so has always an abundant revenue for her vast empire. So might Turkey, if she had but a grain of financial or political wisdom. But her policy is suicidal in the management of all the great industries of the country. For example, the first great interest is agriculture, and this the government, so far from encouraging, seems to set itself to ruin. Of course the people must till the ground to get food to live. Of all the produce of the earth the government takes one-tenth. Even this might be borne, if it would only take it and have done with it, and let the poor peasants gather in the rest. But no; after a farmer has reaped his grain, he cannot store it in his barn until the tax-gatherer has surveyed it and taken out his share. Perhaps the official is busy elsewhere, or he is waiting for a bribe; and so it may lie on the ground for days or weeks, exposed to the rains till the whole crop is spoiled. Such is the beautiful system of political economy practised in administering the internal affairs of this country, which nature has made so rich, and man has made so poor.

So as to the fisheries by which the people on the sea-coast live. All along the Bosphorus we saw them drawing their nets. But we were told that not a single fish could be sold until the whole were taken down to Constantinople, a distance of some miles, and the government had taken its share, and then the rest could be brought back again.

Another great source of wealth to Turkey—or which might prove so—is its mines. The country is very rich in mineral resources. If it were only farmed out to English or Welsh miners, they would bring treasures out of the earth. The hills would be found to be of brass, and the mountains of iron. But the Turkish government does nothing. It keeps a few men at work, just enough to scratch the surface here and there, but leaving the vast wealth that is in the bowels of the earth untouched.

And not only will it do nothing itself, but it will not allow anybody else to do anything. Never did a great government play more completely the part of the dog in the manger. For years English capitalists have been trying to get permission to work certain mines, offering to pay millions of pounds for the concession. If once opportunity were given, and they were sure of protection, that their property would not be confiscated, English wealth would flow into Turkey in a constant stream. But on the contrary the government puts every obstacle in their way. With the bigotry and stupidity of its race, it is intensely jealous of foreigners, even while it exists only by foreign protection—and its policy is, not only not one of progress—it is absolutely one of obstruction. If it would only get out of the way and let foreign enterprise and capital come in, it might reap the benefit. But it opposes everything. Only a few days since a meeting was held here of foreign capitalists, who were ready and anxious to put their money into Turkish mines to an almost unlimited extent, but they all declared that the restrictions were so many, and the requirements so complicated and vexatious, and so evidently intended to prevent anything being done, that it was quite hopeless to attempt it.