Shakespeare, Henry VIII
As I indite these pages, the rule of the Turk seems to be irrevocably destined to pass from Europe, not in consequence of his religious fanaticism, even less on account of his supposed cruelty, but owing to a feature of the Turkish character which is shared by other races whose instincts are in perpetual conflict with the modern surroundings of their existence. The North American Indian cannot be converted from habits engendered in the past. In a lesser degree the same may be said of the Celt in conflict with the Anglo-Saxon, and the Slav with the Teuton. In spite of a dominion of centuries in Europe, the Turk is still in his heart, and even in his habits, an Asiatic, and not only an Asiatic, but an Asiatic of a peculiar type—a born horseman with little aptitude for plodding, sedentary occupations, herein displaying marked divergence from the highly cultivated Chinese and Japanese.
In the most recent development of affairs in the Near East there is indeed something pathetic in the evident yearning of the Turk to turn towards his home—Asia. Instinctively his longing is directed towards the East, the resting-place where he may hope to be unmolested.
Professor Vambéry, writing to me under date November 12, 1912,[[20]] says: “The fate of our poor Turkish friends is sealed. They will get rid of the cumbersome European ballast, and it is to be wished that they should be able to recuperate in Asia, where they cannot be replaced by any other Moslem nation. Their collapse in Europe was inevitable, and it is only the suddenness of the fall which has surprised me.”
But even if we accept the view that the Turk is by nature something of a nomad, and as such has never been much else than a stranger, an Asiatic in Europe, this should not deter us from recognizing the sterling human qualities which every unbiased foreigner who has visited the country must have observed as innate in the Turks as a people, and which mark the best of all classes.
And yet, with their minds centred on material aims, immersed in the humdrum conditions of life which this all-absorbing activity indicates, accustomed to subdue their feelings until many of them have lost the faculty of expressing, let alone giving way to, strong passion, how difficult it is for Europeans to form an idea, to realize what unrestrained human passions are like when they flare up in fierce hearts, and to make allowance for them. This must be more particularly the case when they are called into play by those traditional antagonisms of race to which many of the harrowing tragedies of the East are due; for other forms of crime, or rather instigations to crime, are probably fewer among the Turks than among Europeans. I was once a witness to a desperate encounter between some Montenegrins and Greeks in a German beer-house in Pera, and the memory of the diabolical fury of the Montenegrins is still present to my mind, together with the quiet self-control of the proprietor, an old Prussian soldier of ’66 and of ’70, who at last succeeded in calming the disputants. The passionate hatreds of the Near East are practically unknown to us.
With due reservation regarding these fierce outbursts, commonly, but in my humble opinion most unjustly, attributed to religious fanaticism, I am still of opinion that the Turk is far from being inclined by nature to cruelty. His kind treatment of animals, of horses and dogs, and of the birds in the air, which he takes no pleasure in shooting, speaks volumes for the humane attributes of the Turk, whose deep attachment to his own family and kindness to dependents nobody who knows the East can call into question. For instance, English governesses in Turkish families are treated with such consideration that they endeavour to avoid meeting their own countrymen and countrywomen, for fear that the difference in our treatment of dependents should expose them to humiliation in the eyes of their Turkish masters and mistresses.
As regards the accusation of fanaticism and intolerance so liberally levelled against the Turk, what are we to say to the incontrovertible fact that the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem has been under the protection of Turkish soldiers for centuries, and that no instance has ever been put on record of sacrilege or desecration at their hands, or could have been, since the Koran prescribes veneration for Christ and everything appertaining to our Saviour? How does this fit in by contrast with the record of rapine and destruction which all through the Reformation marked the struggles between Roman Catholics and Protestants, not only on the Continent of Europe, but also in England and Scotland, where, for instance, the ruins of the Cathedral of St. Andrews bespeak savage passions which are not extirpated even to-day from the hearts of many so-called Christians? Is it not a fact that only a few years ago, when the Eucharistic Congress was being held in London, the British Government could not see its way to allow the Host to be paraded through the streets of Westminster, whilst in Constantinople, on the day of Corpus Christi, the Host is borne through the streets escorted by Turkish Mohammedan soldiers? The dead of the Orthodox Greek Church are publicly exposed to view, a proceeding not allowed in Greece. Only a short time ago the dead body of their Archbishop, attired in his full robes, seated in his Archiepiscopal chair, was paraded through the streets and followed by a crowd of Greek prelates, accompanied and protected by Turkish soldiery. This happened whilst fierce war was raging between Greek and Turk, without a voice being raised by the Turks to deprecate a religious ceremony being held in public by enemies of their faith and country, and belonging to a creed which the Turks are supposed to loathe and detest.
The very words “The Terrible Turk,” with their grim alliteration, seem to flow naturally from our tongue, without ever suggesting the thought that the Turk might be more than justified in applying the epithet to others. The Anglo-Saxon pesters him with his missionary activity, the Italian has robbed him of Tripoli, the Greek has annexed Crete and several islands, the latter-day German intrudes upon him with his noisy presence and his pestering commercial-traveller instincts, but above all the terrible Russian silently hovers ready to swoop on his country like some huge bird of prey.