Dear Mr. Whitman,—My letter of yesterday will answer most of your questions, and I only write to tell you that your friendly feelings towards Sultan Abdul Hamid ought not to blind you to the real character of this unfortunate prince. He was decidedly highly gifted, though this was less apparent towards the end of his reign. He suffered from the defects of Eastern princes and of Orientals in general. His intentions may have been honest, but the means he applied were decidedly perverse and he never listened to advice, nor did he believe in anybody.
At all events I look forward to the issue of your book with interest.
Yours sincerely,
A. VAMBÉRY.
V
January 6, 1913.
Dear Mr. Whitman,—I had great pleasure in perusing the copy I duly received of your chapter on Sultan Abdul Hamid. Your able pen has lent colour to his career, even though you could not of course deal fully with his real doings.
If I have not always done full justice to this extraordinary man, I may plead some excuse. For more than twelve years I worked hard, I even risked my life, to lead him into the harbour of political security by which the present catastrophe could have been avoided, without, I regret to say, being able to achieve any result.
His entourage made him over-cautious and distrustful, and I am sure he will be haunted by remorse when he remembers our long evening conversations in the Yildiz Kiosk or Chalet Kiosk. He is not the only culprit: your statesmen, too, have made great mistakes.
I trust your poetical pen will be fully appreciated by the reading public, for, as I have told you already, Abdul Hamid has still a fair chance of coming back to the throne. But I do not envy him on that account. It would only turn out to be a midsummer night’s dream.