Finally, in 1895, the Sultan recalled him to Turkey and promoted him to be Minister of Foreign Affairs, a powerful position which he still holds. For the past eleven years he has directed the destinies of the Ottoman Empire with broad-mindedness, tact, and patience, that have, without doubt, been highly beneficial to his country’s interests. His post is no sinecure, as recent history has shown us. Yet he is a conscientious man of Western ideas and Western views; one of the cleverest diplomatists in the whole of Europe, and yet at the same time just and honourable in his dealings. However much we in England may criticise the policy of the Sublime Porte, we can have only admiration for Tewfik Pasha, both as a man and as the faithful servant of his Imperial master.
In Turkey fresh diplomatic difficulties arise every minute, yet with Noury Pasha’s assistance he grapples with them and deals with them in a manner which the diplomatists of few other nations could ever hope to do. Honoured by the most complete confidence of his sovereign, who possesses for him a particular esteem, Tewfik Pasha is universally known and liked. The diplomatic corps in Constantinople are ever loud in their praises of his extreme kindness and courtesy and his readiness to accede to all requests that are in reason.
His Excellency’s courtesy towards myself was very marked. Hardly had I been ushered into his anteroom at the Sublime Porte—a very shabby, unimposing building of long dreary corridors with broken windows and broken wooden flooring—when the usual coffee was brought, and I signed his big visitors’ book. In that book I noticed the signatures of all the diplomatic world of Constantinople. Then there entered the Russian Ambassador, who, with a cheery “Bon jour, m’sieur,” crossed, and also signed the book.
A moment later the secretary came, and presenting His Excellency’s regrets to the Ambassador, pointed out that he already had an appointment with me, and asked whether he would call later. The representative of the Tzar said he would call the following morning, and I was then ushered into Tewfik’s private room, a big, cheerful apartment with splendid Persian carpets, long windows and a large writing-table at one end, where sat the grey-bearded Minister in frock-coat and fez. He rose and greeted me with a hearty hand-shake. With him was seated the Grand Vizier and Noury Pasha, both of whom also greeted me.
We four had a long and very interesting conversation in French, its drift, however, being such as would be injudicious to print in these pages. The chat was of a purely private character, although it closely concerned the present political situation in the Near East.
“The fact is,” remarked His Excellency presently, smiling as he sat back in his arm-chair before his littered writing-table, “we Turks are not understood abroad. Writers in England, and especially your journalists, not knowing Turkey and never having visited the East, criticise us, and say all sorts of hard things about Turkish rule and Turkish diplomacy. They call us intolerant and fanatical. But surely there are evidences in Constantinople that we are tolerant? We allow Christians to erect churches wherever they want them; and again, have we not done everything possible in Macedonia to preserve for its inhabitants their religious liberty? Really, the English ought to know the truth concerning Turkey. Unfortunately, the fashion of late seems to be to denounce our land and all its ways!” And he laughed again.
The entrance to the Bosphorus.[Bosphorus.]
In Constantinople.