Certainly the physical condition of the Turkish Army betrayed the need of assistance from some source. The picture it presented, before the Germans arrived, I have always regarded as portraying the condition of the whole Empire. When I issued invitations for my first reception a large number of Turkish officials asked to be permitted to come in evening clothes; they said that they had no uniforms and no money with which to purchase or to hire them. They had not received their salaries for three and a half months. As the Grand Vizier, who regulates the etiquette of such functions, still insisted on full military dress, many of those officials had to absent themselves. About the same time the new German mission asked the Commander of the Second Army Corps to exercise his men, but the Commander replied that he could not do so as his men had no shoes!
Desperate and wicked as Talaat subsequently showed himself to be, I still think that he, at least then, was not a willing tool of Germany. An episode that involved myself bears out this view. In describing the relations of the great Powers to Turkey I have said nothing about the United States. In fact, we had no important business relations at that time. The Turks regarded us as a country of idealists and altruists, and the fact that we spent millions in building wonderful educational institutions in their country purely from philanthropic motives aroused their astonishment and possibly their admiration. They liked Americans and regarded us as about the only disinterested friends whom they had among the nations. But our interest in Turkey was small; the Standard Oil Company did a growing business, the Singer Company sold sewing machines to the Armenians, we bought much of their tobacco, figs, and rugs, and gathered their liquorice root. In addition to these activities, missionaries and educational experts were about our only contacts with the Turkish Empire. The Turks knew that we had no desire to dismember their country or to mingle in Balkan politics. The very fact that my country was so disinterested was perhaps the reason why Talaat discussed Turkish affairs so freely with me. In the course of these conversations I frequently expressed my desire to serve them, and Talaat and some of the other members of the Cabinet got into the habit of consulting me on business matters. Soon after my arrival, I made a speech at the American Chamber of Commerce in Constantinople; Talaat, Djemal, and other important leaders were present. I talked about the backward economic state of Turkey, and admonished them not to be discouraged. I described the condition of the United States after the Civil War, and made the point that our devastated Southern States presented a spectacle not unlike that of Turkey at that present moment. I then related how we had gone to work, realised on our resources, and built up the present thriving nation. My remarks apparently made a deep impression, especially my statement that after the Civil War the United States had become a large borrower in foreign money markets and had invited immigration from all parts of the world.
This speech apparently gave Talaat a new idea. It was not impossible that the United States might furnish him the material support which he had been seeking in Europe. Already I had suggested that an American financial expert should be sent to study Turkish finance, and in this connection I had mentioned Mr. Henry Bruère, of New York—a suggestion which the Turks had favourably received. At that time Turkey’s greatest need was money. France had financed Turkey for many years, and French bankers, in the spring of 1914, were negotiating for another large loan. Though Germany had made some loans, the condition of the Berlin money market at that time did not encourage the Turks to expect much assistance from that source.
In late December, 1913, Bustány Effendi, a Christian Arab, and Minister of Commerce and Agriculture, who spoke English fluently—he had been Turkish commissioner to the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893—called and approached me on the question of an American loan. Bustány asked if there were not American financiers who would take entire charge of the reorganisation of Turkish finance. His plea was really a cry of despair and it touched me deeply. As I wrote in my diary at the time, “They seem to be scraping the box for money.” But I had been in Turkey only six weeks, and obviously I had no information on which I could recommend such a large contract to American bankers. I informed him that my advice would not carry much weight in the United States unless it were based on a complete knowledge of economic conditions in Turkey. Talaat came to me a few days later, suggesting that I make a prolonged tour over the Empire and study the situation at first hand. Meanwhile he asked if I could not arrange a small temporary loan to tide them over the interim. He said there was no money in the Turkish Treasury; if I could only get them $5,000,000, that would satisfy them. I told Talaat that I would try to get this money for them and that I would adopt his suggestion and inspect his Empire with the possible idea of interesting American investors. After obtaining the consent of the State Department I wrote to my nephew and business associate, Mr. Robert E. Simon, asking him to sound certain New York institutions and bankers on making a small short-time collateral loan to Turkey. Mr. Simon’s investigations soon disclosed that a Turkish loan did not seem to be regarded as an attractive business undertaking in New York. Mr. Simon wrote, however, that Mr. C. K. G. Billings had shown much interest in the idea; and that, if I desired, Mr. Billings would come out in his yacht and discuss the matter with the Turkish Cabinet and with me. In a few days Mr. Billings had started for Constantinople.
The news of Mr. Billings’s approach spread with great rapidity all over the Turkish capital; the fact that he was coming in his own private yacht seemed to magnify the importance and the glamour of the event. That a great American millionaire was prepared to reinforce the depleted Turkish Treasury and that this support was merely the preliminary step in the reorganisation of Turkish finances by American capitalists produced a tremendous flutter in the foreign embassies. So rapidly did the information spread, indeed, that I rather suspected that the Turkish Cabinet had taken no particular pains to keep it secret. This suspicion was strengthened by a visit which I received from the Chief Rabbi Nahoum, who informed me that he had come at the request of Talaat. “There is a rumour,” said the Chief Rabbi, “that Americans are about to make a loan to Turkey. Talaat would be greatly pleased if you would not contradict it.” Wangenheim displayed an almost hysterical interest; the idea of America coming to the financial assistance of Turkey did not fall in with his plans at all, for in his eyes Turkey’s poverty was chiefly valuable as a means of forcing the Empire into Germany’s hands. One day I showed Wangenheim a book containing etchings of Mr. Billings’s homes, pictures, and horses; he showed a great interest, not only in the horses—Wangenheim was something of a horseman himself—but in this tangible evidence of great wealth. For the next few days ambassador after ambassador and minister after minister filed into my office, each solemnly asking for a glimpse at this book! As the time approached for Mr. Billings’s arrival Talaat began making elaborate plans for his entertainment; he consulted with me as to whom we should invite to the proposed dinners, lunches, and receptions. As usual, Wangenheim got in ahead of the rest. He could not come to the dinner which we had planned, and asked me to have him for lunch, and in this way he met Mr. Billings several hours before the other diplomats. Mr. Billings frankly told him that he was interested in Turkey and that it was not unlikely that he would make the loan.
In the evening we gave the Billings party a dinner, all the important members of the Turkish Cabinet being present. Before this dinner, Talaat, Mr. Billings, and myself had a long talk about the loan. Talaat informed us that the French bankers had accepted their terms that very day, and that they would, therefore, need no American money at that time. He was exceedingly gracious and grateful to Mr. Billings and profuse in expressing his thanks. Indeed, he might well have been, for Mr. Billings’s arrival enabled Turkey at last to close negotiations with the French bankers. His attempt to express his appreciation had one curious manifestation. Enver, the second man in the Cabinet, was celebrating his wedding when Mr. Billings arrived. The progress which Enver was making in the Turkish world is evidenced from the fact that, although Enver, as I have said, came of the humblest stock, his bride was a daughter of the Turkish Imperial House. Turkish weddings are prolonged affairs, lasting two or three days. The day following the Embassy dinner Talaat gave the Billings party a luncheon at the Cercle d’Orient, and he insisted that Enver should leave his wedding ceremony long enough to attend this function. Enver, therefore, came to the luncheon, sat through all the speeches, and then returned to his bridal party.
I am convinced that Talaat did not regard this Billings episode as closed. As I look back upon this transaction I see clearly that he was seeking to extricate his country, and that the possibility that the United States would assist him in performing the rescue was ever present in his mind. He frequently spoke to me of Mr. “Beelings,” as he called him, and even after Turkey had broken with France and England and was depending on Germany for money, his mind still reverted to Mr. Billings’s visit.
CHAPTER III
“THE PERSONAL REPRESENTATIVE OF THE KAISER”—WANGENHEIM OPPOSES THE SALE OF AMERICAN WARSHIPS IN GREECE
But even in March, 1914, the Germans had pretty well tightened their hold on Turkey. Liman von Sanders, who had arrived in December, had become the predominant influence in the Turkish Army. At first von Sanders’s appointment aroused no particular hostility, for German missions had been called in before to instruct the Turkish Army, notably that of von der Goltz; and an English naval mission, headed by Admiral Limpus, was even then in Turkey attempting the difficult task of reorganising the Turkish Navy. We soon discovered, however, that the Von Sanders military mission was something quite different from those which I have named. Even before Von Sanders’s arrival it had been announced that he was to take command of the First Turkish Army Corps, and that General Broussart von Schnellendorf was to become Chief of Staff. The appointments signified nothing less than that the Kaiser had almost completed his plans to annex the Turkish Army to his own. To show the power which von Sanders’s appointment had given him, it is only necessary to say that the First Army Corps practically controlled Constantinople. These changes clearly showed to what an extent Enver Pasha had become a cog in the Prussian system. Naturally the representations of the Entente Powers could not tolerate such a usurpation by Germany. The British, French, and Russian Ambassadors immediately called upon the Grand Vizier and protested with more warmth than politeness over von Sanders’s elevation. The Turkish Cabinet hummed and hawed in the usual way, protested that the change was not important, but finally withdrew von Sanders’s appointment as head of the First Army Corps, and made him Inspector-General. However, this did not greatly improve the situation, for this post really gave Von Sanders greater power than the one which he had held before. Thus, by January, 1914, seven months before the Great War began, Germany held this position in the Turkish Army: a German general was Chief of Staff; another was Inspector-General; scores of German officers held commands of the first importance, and the Turkish politician who was even then an outspoken champion of Germany, Enver Bey, was Minister of War.
After securing this diplomatic triumph Wangenheim was granted a vacation—he had certainly earned it—and Giers, the Russian Ambassador, went off on a vacation at the same time. Baroness Wangenheim explained to me—I was ignorant at this time of all these subtleties of diplomacy—precisely what these vacations signified. Wangenheim’s leave of absence, she said, meant that the German Foreign Office regarded the von Sanders episode as closed—and closed with a German victory. Giers’s furlough, she explained, meant that Russia declined to accept this point of view, end that, so far as Russia was concerned, the von Sanders affair had not ended. I remember writing to my family that, in this mysterious Balkan diplomacy, the nations talked to each other with acts, not words, and I instanced Baroness Wangenheim’s explanation of these diplomatic vacations as a case in point.