CHAPTER I_The life of Midhat Pasha; a record of his services, political reforms, banishment, and judicial murder

THE LIFE OF MIDHAT PASHA

[Illustration:

_From a Photograph._

_The Typographic Etching Co. Ph. Sc._

_Midhat Pasha._]

THE LIFE OF

MIDHAT PASHA

A RECORD OF HIS SERVICES,

POLITICAL REFORMS, BANISHMENT,

AND JUDICIAL MURDER

DERIVED FROM PRIVATE DOCUMENTS AND

REMINISCENCES

BY HIS SON ALI HAYDAR MIDHAT BEY

WITH PORTRAITS

LONDON

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.

1903

PREFACE

As the Son of Midhat Pasha I was for fifteen years compelled to reside

as an exile in Smyrna, but finding the physical and moral sufferings to

which I was there subjected greater than I could endure, I succeeded

in quitting the territories of the Sultan, and came to take up my

residence in this hospitable land, and among this great and free people.

In the following pages I have endeavoured to carry out a duty which has

long been incumbent on me, by letting the public, and especially the

English public, know the true story of my father’s career, and of his

death.

The record is based mainly on documents and notes left by him. In

obedience to requests from high quarters I abstain from publishing

certain documents and correspondence which, bearing as they do on

International affairs, might be calculated to cause embarrassment and

do harm.

It is possible that some of my father’s papers which I have now

printed, and which were written in Turkish, may have lost some of their

original brightness in the process of translation, but at least, most

scrupulous care has been taken to give the sense of them accurately.

There can be no doubt that at the present time Turkey is suffering

from a Reign of Terror, and is in a state of anarchy. I hope that the

narrative contained in these pages may afford some evidence of the

methods by which this condition of affairs has been produced.

My readers will learn how the Sovereign of the Ottoman Empire, in order

to carry out his own system of Government, has suppressed every effort

for reform, and has removed those men, who by their force of character,

by their uprightness, and by their popularity, seemed capable of

thwarting his designs, and amending the condition of the country and of

the people.

I wish to state here that I have a profound respect for the Imperial

Throne, and it is this consideration alone, I repeat it, and the honour

of my country, which makes me regard it as a duty to humanity to expose

the nefarious system of Sultan Abdul Hamid.

In conclusion, I would beg to offer my thanks to the Proprietors of the

_Times_ newspaper for giving me permission to reprint the excellent

report of my father’s trial which appeared in their columns.

ALI HAYDAR MIDHAT.

EASTBOURNE, _August 6, 1903_.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

EARLY HISTORY OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE

Page

Christians in Turkey—Turkish treatment of Subject

Races—Corruptions of the Ottoman System—Persistent policy of

Russia—Panslavic Committees—The Palace and the Porte—Growth

of Autocracy—The Janissaries—Revolt of Mehemet Ali—Reforms

of Abdul Medjid—The Czar Nicholas—Origins of the Crimean

War—The Crimean War—Attitude of France—Attitude of Austria 1–31

CHAPTER II

MIDHAT’S EARLY YEARS

Midhat in the Balkan Provinces—Governorship of Nish,

etc.—Widdin and Silistria—Midhat’s Success in Danube

Provinces—Intrigues of General Ignatieff—Insurrection

stirred up—Organisation of local Militia—Appointed Vali

of Bagdad—Fighting and Reforms—Finance and Engineering

Work—Bussora—Koweit, the Nedjed—The Conquest of

Nedjed—Defeat of Abdul Kerim—Aali Pasha—Extravagance of

Abdul Aziz—Midhat as Grand Vizier 32–66

CHAPTER III

DEPOSITION AND DEATH OF ABDUL AZIZ

Troubles in Herzegovina—Riots at Salonica—Outbreak

in Bulgaria—Meeting at Reichstadt—The Andrassy

Memorandum—The Sultan opposes Reform—Deposition of Abdul

Aziz—Preparations for the _Coup d’État_—Sultan Murad—Death

of Abdul Aziz—Breakdown of Sultan Murad—Damad Mahmoud’s

Conspiracy—Prince Hamid—Deposition of Murad 67–99

CHAPTER IV

ABDUL HAMID SULTAN

Abdul Hamid II.—The Imperial Household—The Speech from the

Throne—Nominal Reforms—Midhat’s Difficulties—Nominal and

Real Reforms—The New Constitution—Sovereign Rights 100–115

CHAPTER V

SECOND GRAND VIZIERATE OF MIDHAT PASHA

Opposition Intrigues—“Midhat’s Constitution”—Intrigues

against Midhat—Zia Bey—The Press—Promulgation of the

Constitution—Rescript of Abdul Hamid—Favourable Reception of

the Constitution 116–131

CHAPTER VI

THE CONFERENCE AND MIDHAT’S EXILE

Conference at Constantinople—General Ignatieff’s Conduct—The

New Constitution and the Powers—Galib Pasha and the

Finances—Mixed Schools—Protest of Midhat—Midhat Exiled—The

Sultan’s Precautions—Prince Gortchakoff and General

Ignatieff—Russian Declaration—Prince Gortchakoff’s Circular 132–154

CHAPTER VII

MIDHAT PASHA IN EUROPE

The Sultan’s Speech—Russia Declares War—Midhat in

Naples—Midhat’s Efforts for Peace—Midhat’s Recall by the

Sultan—Midhat and Kiamil Bey 155–171

CHAPTER VIII

THE RETURN OF MIDHAT PASHA TO TURKEY

Midhat in Crete—Appointed Governor of Syria 172–175

CHAPTER IX

MIDHAT PASHA, GOVERNOR‐GENERAL OF SYRIA

The Sultan Opposes Reforms—Cause of Midhat’s

Resignation—Condition of Syria—The Druses and the Arabs—The

Turbulent Druses—Troops to be sent—The Druses—Resignation

of Midhat—The Palace and Judicial Reforms—Midhat and Syria 176–195

CHAPTER X

MIDHAT, GOVERNOR‐GENERAL OF SMYRNA

Abdul Aziz’ Death—The _Terdjumani Hakikat_—Attack on

Midhat—Attitude of the French Consul—Midhat’s Arrest 196–206

CHAPTER XI

THE TRIAL OF MIDHAT PASHA

Mustapha the Wrestler—The Case for the Defence—Midhat’s

Defence—A Parody of Justice—The Public Prosecutor—Before

the Court of Appeal—Grand Council—The British

Parliament—Questions in Parliament—Mr M’Coan—Mr

Gladstone—Lord Stratheden and Campbell—England’s

Intervention 207–233

CHAPTER XII

EXILE OF MIDHAT PASHA

Midhat in Prison—Attempt to Poison Midhat—Arrest of Shereef

Abdul Mutalib—Haïroullah Effendi 234–241

CHAPTER XIII

DETAILS OF THE ASSASSINATION OF MIDHAT PASHA, ACCORDING

TO INFORMATION DERIVED FROM HAÏROULLAH EFFENDI

Return of Bekir—Midhat and Bekir—Tampering with

Food—Attempts to Poison—Preparations for the Murder—The

Murder 242–256

APPENDIX A

THE NEGOTIATIONS BETWEEN THE BERLIN NOTE AND THE

CONFERENCE OF CONSTANTINOPLE

Negotiations following the Berlin Note—The Conference at

Reichstadt—Servian Diplomacy and Defeat—England Proposes

Terms—An Ultimatum to the Porte—Disagreement among the

Powers 257–270

APPENDIX B

THE INSURRECTION OF HERZEGOVINA AND BOSNIA AND THE

BERLIN NOTE

Herzegovina and Bosnia—Lord Derby and Austria—Intentional

Bad Faith—Austrian Diplomacy—The Berlin Note—Austria and

Russia—Mr Monson’s Despatch 271–284

APPENDIX C

BULGARIAN ATROCITIES

A Bulgarian Insurrection—Revolutionary Agents at

Work—Fictions and Ingenious Credulity 285–292

MIDHAT PASHA

CHAPTER I

EARLY HISTORY OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE

It would be inconsistent with the general plan of this book to give

more than a very summary and cursory view of the early history of the

Ottoman Empire before the time of Midhat Pasha; but it will not be

inappropriate, and may possibly aid in elucidating the history of his

times, and throw light on his work of reform, if the main features of

that history be here drawn in outline, and some of the phases traced

through which the Turkish Empire passed during the four centuries that

elapsed between the taking of Constantinople by Mehemet II. and the

Crimean War.

It has sometimes been objected to Midhat Pasha and the Constitution

of 1876, by those who have given a very superficial study to the

subject, or who have a political object in depreciating all reforms

in Turkey, that, however admirable the Constitution may have been

in itself, it was prematurely and precipitately introduced, and ill

adapted to the peculiar conditions of the Ottoman people. One of the

aims of this book is to show that, so far from this being the case,

the reforms associated with the name of Midhat Pasha were conceived in

the very spirit of the early Ottoman Constitution, and were expressly

suggested by the wants and requirements of that country as revealed

in the course of its administration to a succession of statesmen, who

found themselves in practice hampered at every turn, and their best

efforts continually thwarted by the absence of the very checks and

safeguards which Midhat’s Constitution endeavoured to impose. Within

half a century of the taking of Constantinople (1454) by Mehemet II.,

Bulgaria, Servia, Moldavia, Wallachia and large portions of Hungary and

Poland were added to the Ottoman dominions. It was (as all impartial

writers now admit) as much by virtue of the simplicity and purity

of its creed, and the force of propagandism that it in consequence

possessed, as by the force of arms, that Islam made such astounding

progress in those days. If extensive provinces and important kingdoms

yielded with slight resistance before the advance of the Ottoman

armies, and if large masses of the conquered populations adopted the

religion of the conquerors, it was because their moral conquest was

effected before their political subjection was attempted.

The reputation, too, for justice and moderation enjoyed by the early

Ottoman sovereigns was no insignificant factor in conciliating the

goodwill and blunting the opposition of nations, who might under

different conditions have opposed a more serious resistance to the

advance of the Ottoman armies. Sixty years before the appearance of

the Turks before Constantinople, the people of the ancient kingdoms

of Roumania were called upon to choose between the Magyars—who,

in conformity with their traditional policy, desired to Magyarise

Wallachia—and the Ottoman sovereign, who offered the inhabitants the

enjoyment of their religious and civil liberty. They did not hesitate

between the two, and Mircea signed, with the Sultan Bayazid, the first

capitulation of Roumania (1393). Twenty‐six years later, in 1419, the

Servian ruler Brankovich, pressed by John Hunyadi, ruler of Hungary,

to join him in an alliance against the Turks, invited him to state the

policy in respect to religion that he proposed to adopt, in the event

of victory attending their joint military efforts. Hunyadi answered

without periphrasis, that the Servians would have to adopt the Catholic

worship. Brankovich then addressed a similar question to Mehemet I. “I

propose,” replied the latter, “to build a church next to every mosque,

and proclaim that every one shall be at liberty to follow his own

worship and religion.” Brankovich rejected the Hungarian alliance, and

declared himself the vassal of the Turkish Sultan.

But, it has been contended, the condition of the Christian populations

(_Raias_) of the countries actually conquered by Islam was very

different; and there is even a widespread popular belief that these

populations were forced to “opt” (to use a modern phrase) between the

religion of the conquerors and death, the poll‐tax (_kharadj_) being

the money composition imposed in commutation of the death sentence.

Nothing can be more erroneous. The _kharadj_ was the tax imposed on the

Christian population in lieu of the military service and other similar

duties from which they were exempted, disabilities generally regarded

by them as privileges, and in consequence of which they have increased

and multiplied and become rich and prosperous in the land. An entirely

false interpretation has been given to a passage in the Koran, which

was even quoted by the Austrian plenipotentiaries at the Conference

of Niemirow, in 1737, in support of the “Death or Koran” theory here

referred to. The true answer, which indeed is obvious from the context,

was given by the Ottoman negotiators on this occasion, viz., that the

text quoted applied only to idolaters and not to the “people of the

Book.” Anyone who knows anything of the religion of Mahomet is aware

of the important distinction recognised therein between the “people of

the Book” (_kitabi_) and idolaters (_medjous_), and knows that whereas

little mercy, it is true, was shown to the latter, the former were

included in the Dar‐ul‐Islam (the house of Islam), where they formed an

integral portion of the empire, and that the true Mahomedan was taught,

with respect to the latter, that “their substance is as our substance,

their eyes as our eyes, and their souls as our souls.” The fable, too,

that the murder of a Christian by a Mahomedan was considered by the

Cheri (sacred law) as a trivial offence, and was visited by a lighter

punishment than the same crime committed on the person of a Mussulman,

is disposed of by the _Fetva_ delivered by the Mufti (Supreme Judge

of the Sacred Law), and quoted by Cantimer[1] in answer to the

question, “What should be the penalty if eleven Mussulmans murdered one

Christian?” “If the Mussulmans were one thousand and one in number,

instead of only eleven, they should all be put to death.”

So far indeed is it from being historically true that the conquered

Christian populations were forced by the sword to adopt the religion of

Mahomet, that when Selim I. desired, for reasons of what he considered

long‐sighted policy, so to convert the Christians of the Balkans, he

was stopped short in the attempt by a _Fetva_ of the Sheik‐ul‐Islam,

Zenbilli Ali Effendi, who pronounced such a proceeding to be contrary

to the Koran and the Cheri (sacred law), and the attempt was

accordingly abandoned.

It may be remarked, in passing, that history does not relate that

Cromwell was ever diverted from a policy similar to that from which

Selim was deflected, or hampered in his enactment of the penal laws

in Ireland by any such scruples or protests on the part of the

ecclesiastical authorities of his day. However that may be, the policy

of the Ottoman sovereigns with reference to the conquered Raias was

the exact opposite to that popularly supposed. Nor was the policy

actually adopted the result of any idiosyncracy or peculiar generosity

on their part. It was in strict obedience to the injunctions of the

Prophet, and in conformity with the policy pursued by himself in the

“letters patent,” accorded to the Christians (_nassara_) on the 4th day

of Moharem of the year 11 of the Hegira. It was in fact the fixed and

settled policy of the Mussulman political system.

In proof of this position some European authorities, by no means

particularly inclined to the Ottoman cause, Montesquieu for example,

may be quoted. This author bears testimony to the happy change effected

in the condition of the Greek population of the empire after the

occupation of their capital by the Turks: “The people,” he says, “in

place of that continued series of vexations which the subtle avarice

of the Byzantine Emperors had devised, were now subjected to a simple

tribute, easily paid and lightly borne, happy in having to submit to

even a barbarous nation (_sic_) rather than to a corrupt government

under which they suffered all the inconveniences of a fictitious

liberty with all the horrors of a real servitude.”

The reports of the Venetian ambassadors, and the narratives of

travellers in the sixteenth century, like La Motraye, offer concurrent

testimony to the tolerance and moderation of this “barbarous nation.”

“The other (_i.e._ the Christian) subjects of the Empire,” says La

Motraye, “enjoy all the liberty of conscience that they can desire.

They go to the churches and pilgrimages and practise all the rights of

their religion, without fear or molestation. The same thing applies

to their commerce and temporal affairs. They have no dread of being

deprived of the fruits of their labours, which they enjoy without let

or hindrance.”[2]

Compare with this condition of the Greek Raias of the Ottoman Empire

that, for instance, of the Greek population of Chio under Genoese

domination, as described by Genoese writers themselves, and quoted by

Mr Fustel de Coulanges, where the unfortunate population, in addition

to daily exactions and injustices, were compelled four times a year, at

Christmas, Easter, Whitsunday, and the Feast of the Circumcision, to

attend a ceremony, best described as “a feast of humiliation,” at which

their clergy and chief citizens were summoned to the palace of the

Podesta, where a herald, mounted on a stand, with a wand in his hand,

read four prayers for the Pope, the Emperor, the Republic of Genoa, and

the family of the Justiniani, and obliged the assembled Chiotes, at

the end of each prayer, to answer in responsive and quasi‐enthusiastic

acclamations; these poor Chiotes being thus compelled to acclaim and

pray for the Pope—their greatest enemy—the Emperor they knew nothing

about, the Republic that had subjected them, and the family of the

Justiniani whom they detested, representing as it did the “Maona” (a

financial company) that ruthlessly pillaged them.

Take again the case of the Candiotes under the domination of the

Venetians, in which the Greek population of the island did not hesitate

to conspire with the Turkish besiegers in order to deliver their

capital into their hands, and thus free themselves from the oppression

of the Italian Republic.[3]

Even the Greeks of the Morea complained bitterly of the religious

persecution of the Venetians, whereas, said they, “the Turks allowed

us all the liberty we required.”[4]

These quotations, which could be multiplied _ad infinitum_, will

probably suffice. It was indeed the universal cry of all the Christian

population in the East, from the middle of the fifteenth century to the

beginning of the eighteenth—“A thousand times rather the Turks than

the Latins.”

That corruptions gradually grew up in the land of the Osmanli; that

perversions of the law crept into its practice, and that prejudices,

engendered by ignorance, created abuses which in earlier days were

sternly repressed, it is not intended here to deny. Indeed it is the

contention of this book that such perversions, the causes of which

it will be its purpose to trace, did spring up, as rank weeds, in

the Ottoman system; but what is strenuously asserted, and what will,

it is hoped, be proved, is that they formed no part or parcel of the

original Ottoman Constitution, but were, on the contrary, excrescences

in that system, violations of its spirit and essence; and further, that

the efforts of the reforming party in the nation, from the days of

Selim III. to the accession of Abdul Hamid II., through an apostolic

succession of patriots and statesmen—including the Keuprulu Mehemets,

the Reshids, the Aalis, the Fuads and the Midhats—were directed to the

end of restoring the spirit of that Constitution, with such adaptation

of it to the requirements of the day as the experience, science and

political conditions of the world required.

Mehemet II., from the moment he sheathed his sword on victory being

assured, manifested his determination that the lives and properties of

the conquered populations should be respected, and, in order to give

weight to his orders to that effect, took immediate measures to offer

a conspicuous example of respect for the religion of his new subjects

by his conduct as its hierarchical chief. He summoned the Greek

Patriarch (_Roum milleti patriki_) to a solemn Divan, stepped down from

his throne, and breaking through all established usage, advanced ten

steps to meet him, took him by the hand, and seated him next to himself

in the place of honour, delivering into his hands, as a symbol of

power, a golden sceptre, which to this day is carried in processions on

occasions of great ceremonies, investing him with unlimited authority

over all Orthodox schools, monasteries and churches, and with judicial

and administrative functions over all his co‐religionists.

Such a delegation of power was the nearest approach to the

establishment of an _imperium in imperio_ as is afforded in history,

with, let it be added, all the weakness that attaches to such a

_régime_, as was subsequently too clearly proved by the pernicious use

made of these privileges by a foreign Power, in founding on them a

claim to interfere in the internal affairs of the empire, and in using

them as a lever to overthrow it.

But wise or unwise, such at any rate was the policy adopted by the

Sultans of Turkey towards their Christian subjects, and the legend of

conversion by the sword must be relegated, with so many similar fables

with respect to Turkey, to the mythology of history.

From the foundation of the empire, and under the ægis of its

government, the Hellenisation of the Raias, under the authority of

the Patriarch of the Phanar, proceeded apace throughout the country.

So effectually indeed was this taking place, that the very name of

Slav, or Bulgarian, implying as it did an inferior social status, was

gradually falling into disuse, and the prouder appellation of “Roum,”

or Greek, substituted for it.

It is probable that another half‐century of this process would have

blotted out the very name of Slav, had not a new Power appeared on

the world’s stage, introducing a new factor in the Eastern problem,

and profoundly modifying its conditions. This was the rise of Russia

as a world Power, under the rule of that extraordinary man of genius,

Peter I. After finally breaking the power of Sweden at the great battle

of Pultava, and after adding Livonia, Esthonia, Ingria, Finland, and

Lithuania to his already vast dominions, and founding a capital with

a maritime outlet on the Northern Seas, he turned his ambition to

the sunny lands of the South, which the legend of the marriage of

a Byzantine princess with a Russian _Kneze_ had already annexed in

imagination to the Empire of Moscovy.

This is the place to refer to an historical event which has more than

a passing interest, as it may be said to be the source and origin of

the undeviating policy of Russia in her dealings with Turkey. At the

historical interview between Peter the Great and Cantimir, Voivode of

Moldavia, the latter initiated the Russian Czar into the secret of the

Eastern problem, and explained to him the profit that might be derived

from taking adroit advantage of the privileges of self‐government

enjoyed by the Christians in the East, and from the steady pursuit of a

policy exploiting this autonomy to the best advantage.

The lesson here learnt was never forgotten, and the political strategy

here determined on became henceforth the very keystone of Russia’s

policy in regard to Turkey.

Whether the famous will of Peter the Great be apocryphal or not,

as historically speaking it probably is, there is no doubt that it

expresses, with prophetic instinct at any rate, the great lines of

policy that have ever since been pursued with reference to Turkey by

all Peter’s successors.

Two distinct phases have marked the manner of Russia’s dealings

with the Christians of the East, although those dealings have been

undeviating in their aims and in general plan of attack on the Ottoman

Empire.

The first phase was marked by a close alliance with a Greek Patriarch

and his Metropolitans, and a general identification of views between

the Russian and Greek propaganda.

The Greek liturgy and the Greek priesthood were accepted without

a question, whilst portraits of the Czar, with the superscription

“Emperor of the Greco‐Russians,” were freely circulated by the Greek

clergy among their flocks. Colonel Repnin’s plot, in 1837, took

place in connivance with the Greek Patriarch, and a few years later

Marshal Munich was received by the peasants of Moldavia with the

Greek archbishop and his clergy marching at their head. The convents

and monasteries in Moldavia, Wallachia, Servia, and Montenegro were

used as _dépôts_ for arms, and monks were not the least audacious

of the leaders of the revolutionists. Piccolo Stefano in Servia

and Montenegro, Papazoglou in Greece, and Gamana in Wallachia, put

themselves at the head of armed bands, that were joined by others from

across the frontier. This alliance continued until Russia, having by

her victories and prestige acquired the position of the recognised

leader of the anti‐Turkish movement, was strong enough to dispense with

the Greek alliance and to champion the cause of pure Slavism undiluted

with Hellenism.

The second phase of Russian policy in the Slav provinces was marked

by the feverish activity of the Panslavic Committees of Bucharest,

Kischnoff, Moscow and Kieff, the cynical intrigues of the Russian

ambassadors at Constantinople, and the fanatical articles of Katkoff

in the _Moscow Gazette_, the aim of all which was to give a national

direction to the Slavic movement in the Turkish provinces. The

nationalisation of the religion of the people, the substitution of

the authority of national Exarchs as heads of their churches, in the

place of the Greek Patriarch, and of a native clergy educated in

Russia in the place of that nominated at the Phanar, were the measures

called for, and successively adopted, to stimulate a movement that now

embraced all Slav dependencies of Turkey in its action. The pretext of

protecting and securing the privileges of the Christian communities

in the Turkish Empire was finally dropped, and the liberation of

the oppressed nationalities of the South‐West of Europe became the

watchword of the new propaganda.

All the machinery of the heavily subsidised Panslavic Committee was

set in motion; band after band was raised and sent across the frontier;

rebellion was openly preached, and the ignorant peasantry were deluded,

by arguments which they did not understand, to complain of grievances

which they did not feel.

The answer to the question of how such an encroaching and cynically

pursued policy, violating as it did every principle of international

law and comity in its dealings with a neighbouring nation, was

possible—in a century, too, that was roused to indignation against

a not dissimilar but entirely unofficial raid in South Africa—must

be sought in the unfortunate condition and weakness of the Ottoman

Empire that exposed it, almost defenceless, to the attacks of its

powerful neighbour, and dispensed the latter from even the decencies of

international intercourse as practised among civilised nations.

This weakness in its turn was the result, as this work is specially

intended to show, of corruptions and perversions that had crept into

an originally admirable Constitution, and had produced a paralysis of

all its important functions, placing its nation almost as much at the

mercy of its enemies as had the _Liberum Veto_ the fair land of Poland.

The successive steps of these innovations must now be rapidly traced.

When the conquering energies of the new empire were exhausted, and its

victorious armies checked under the walls of Vienna by Sobieski and

his Poles, and the maritime power of its fleet broken by Don John of

Austria’s victory at Lepanto, a new phase was entered upon in which

internal re‐organisation took the place of external conquest.

The latter half of the sixteenth century was devoted to attempts to

organise the empire on quasi‐feudal principles. It was divided into

_timars_ and _zeamets_ (fiefs), represented by the great feudatories,

the Derebeys. This was the first serious innovation, involving a

perversion of the cardinal principle of the Ottoman Constitution,

which was in spirit and essence purely democratic; and when the

counter‐revolution took place, and the Sultans determined to get rid

of the Derebeys, so as to establish their own exclusive power, the

mischief was already done, for the old principle of democracy, as

understood by the companions of Othman, was by this time seriously

impaired by the long disuse of its ancient rights and functions; so

that this counter‐revolution, instead of restoring the old order of

things, only redounded to the exclusive profit of autocracy. Nothing

but the Porte (that is the Government), and the traditional authority

it exercised, now stood in the way of the complete absolutism of

the Sultan, and, owing to the veneration of the Ottoman people for

their sovereigns—a veneration founded partly on religious, partly on

secular, sentiments, and due in no small measure to the exceptional

merits of their early rulers—the Sultans entered on the struggle for

absolutism equipped with superior advantages. Having no fear of popular

encroachments before their eyes, or of popular passion directed

against their persons, they could devote their entire thoughts and

energies to the task of dominating the Porte and monopolising power in

the State.

The struggle of these two contending forces, the Palace and the Porte,

continued for a long time, with alternate preponderance on either

side, a strong Sultan and a weak vizier inclining the scales towards

autocracy, whilst a strong vizier with a weak or luxurious Sultan,

redressed the balance to the other side. The Keuprulu Mehemets,

Reshids, Aalis and Fuads left the impress of their minds on the

Ottoman policy and administration, whilst a host of so‐called Grand

Viziers—whom it would be superfluous to name singly, inasmuch as

their collective name is legion—were the mere registers of the will,

and instruments of the caprices, of their masters. The Sultan Abdul

Medjid counted with Reshid Pasha, and Abdul Aziz with Aali and Fuad,

as long as they were alive; but it was reserved for his successor,

after he had suppressed a Constitution that he had sworn to observe as

the very condition of his mounting to the throne, to brush all checks

and counterpoises of every kind aside, and to set up a pure, unmixed

despotism, based on caprice and corruption alone. Such a system of

government had been hitherto unknown to the Ottoman Constitution, was

emphatically denounced by the prophets, was contrary to the express

provisions of the Sacred Law, was repudiated by Mehemet II. and all the

early Sultans as well as Caliphs of Islam, and ran counter to all the

traditions of the Ottoman people.

Simultaneously with the beginning of this fatal perversion and this

gradual absorption by the Sultans of all power in the State, another

change was taking place, closely connected with it, and aggravating all

its worst effects.

The high character of the early Sultans of Turkey—to which all

contemporary authorities, Christian and Mahomedan alike, bear

testimony—had, as has been said, profoundly affected the Ottoman

character. Their fervid loyalty to their rulers sprang in no small

measure from the lessons inculcated by their early history and their

most cherished traditions. Now, up to the reign of Selim II., the

Sultan of Turkey received a very superior education. They were not

merely patrons of learning, but often themselves men of letters of

no mean order. Mehemet II., the conqueror of Constantinople, was a

distinguished poet; Selim I., a poet and a litterateur, prided himself,

above all his prerogatives, on being the patron of men of letters

and of science. This pursuit of science and learning was, moreover,

in strict conformity with the spirit and letter of the Koran. “Seek

science, even if it be in China”; “The wise and learned are the heirs

of the Prophet,” are not isolated texts in a book teeming with passages

of a similar kind. The early Caliphs, too, of Bagdad and Cordova, the

Abdur Rahmans, Solimans, and Haroun el Reshid, were living proofs and

typical examples of enlightened Mahomedan teaching.

But from the middle of the seventeenth century a change came over the

spirit of the Sultanate in Turkey. Instead of identifying themselves

with the life of their people and priding themselves on being the light

that guided them, the Sultans now retired into the harems and gave

themselves up to a life of ease and indulgence utterly foreign to the

habits and principles of their great predecessors. They surrendered the

reins of government into the hands of their Kizlar‐Agassi (chiefs of

eunuchs), or Bostandji Bashi, and as one favourite succeeded another,

or one palace clique displaced another, so vizier followed vizier

in rapid and bewildering succession. All the corrupt and turbulent

elements in the State were now unchained, justice was sacrificed to

private interests, the muscles of the State were relaxed, and its most

vital interests neglected and ignored. To such a pass had things come

in this “State of Denmark,” that when at last a reforming Sultan arose

in the person of Selim III., he had to pay with his life his reforming

ardour, and leave to his successor, Mahmoud II., a task almost beyond

human strength to accomplish. The reigns of the next three Sultans

after Selim are the history of honest, though intermittent, struggles

against the fatal legacies of the past two centuries, and of many

abortive attempts to grapple with the evils that a departure from the

primitive Constitution of the Empire had entailed on it, aggravated as

these evils were by revolutions organised across its borders, and the

systematic intrigues and almost uninterrupted hostility of its nearest

neighbours.

But in following the evolution of the struggle between autocracy and

the Ottoman people, and endeavouring to trace its origin, we have been

anticipating the chronological order of events. We must now return to

the narrative of the military movement of the eighteenth century, from

the time that Peter the Great turned the energies of his diplomacy and

his armies in the direction of the Ottoman provinces.

The first collision between the armed forces of Turkey and Russia ended

unfavourably for the latter. By the treaty of Falksen (1711), Russia

was compelled to restore Azov, that she had seized, and to undertake to

abstain from meddling in the affairs of Poland. But for the treachery

of Baltadji Mehemet Pasha, it is probable that this first campaign

would have ended still more disastrously for Russian arms, and possibly

the final partition of Poland would have been averted. That unhappy

country found, at this crisis of her history, in the Sultan of Turkey

her sole champion and defender among the sovereigns of Europe, and her

name figured for the last time in history in a public instrument in

which her rights were safeguarded by a Mahomedan sovereign against the

deadly machinations of her Christian neighbour.

It was certainly unfortunate for the Ottoman Empire—and it may

possibly not have been altogether fortunate for the rest of

Europe—that the rise of the power of Russia should have been

synchronous with the period of the greatest weakness of Turkey.

Russia’s principal attacks on the integrity and independence of Turkey

were skilfully timed so as to coincide with the moment when that empire

was in the throes of internal revolution, and could offer the least

resistance to an external foe. At the time of Mahmoud II.’s accession

to the throne, after the murder of Selim III., the accumulation of

difficulties and dangers that beset the empire were such that it

seemed as if nothing short of a miracle could prevent its complete

destruction. It required at any rate some very potent principles of

internal strength and cohesion to resist the centrifugal forces in

full activity at that crisis. Servia was in open revolt under Michel

Obrenowitz, Egypt was in the hands of the able and ambitious Mehemet

Ali, Arabia was in the effervescence of a Wahabee rising, the Pasha of

Janina had raised the standard of revolt, and the Governor of Widdin,

the famous Pasvan Oglou, had proclaimed his independence, and—most

serious danger of all—the insurrection of Greece, supported by a

consensus of enthusiasm in Europe, threatened the integrity of the

empire; all this, too, at the very moment when the military forces of

the empire were undergoing the complete re‐organisation which Selim had

begun, and Mahmoud was resolved to carry out. This revolution, for it

was nothing less, consisted in the abolition of the ancient corps

of Janissaries and the substitution for it of a regular force (the

_Nizam_) drilled and organised on the European model.

The Janissaries from being a redoubtable _corps d’élite_ recruited

from Christian youths, who embraced the military as a life‐long

profession, and were imbued with a military spirit which proved its

worth on the hard‐fought fields of Mohacs, Nicopolis and Cossovo, had

become through successive relaxings of the bonds of discipline and

the ruin of its military _esprit de corps_, nothing but an unruly

Pretorian Guard, a greater terror to the sovereign and to peaceful

citizens than to the enemies of the empire. The gratuities that they

were accustomed to receive on the accession of a new Sultan, and the

licensed pillagings that invariably ensued on these occasions, were

irresistible temptations to them to render this event as frequent as

possible, and they consequently deposed sovereigns and proclaimed

new ones almost at their will. The privileges, moreover, that they

wrested from the terrified sovereigns, especially after the death of

Soliman I.—such as the right to marry, to desert barrack life (their

_odjaks_), and to pursue trades and industries—completely changed and

deteriorated their martial character, and from the victorious soldiery

that they were in the days of Ilderim Bayazid they became nothing but

a turbulent militia. At last the scandal caused by their depredations

and violence became intolerable, and their disbandment was loudly

demanded by public opinion in all classes of the population. Selim

III. determined to suppress them, and, as a necessary preliminary,

commenced the re‐organisation of the naval and military forces of the

empire by inviting French engineers to build ships of war, and French

officers to drill and discipline a new army on European principles.

Unfortunately Bonaparte’s expedition to Egypt, and the declaration

of war that ensued between France and Turkey, recalled these military

instructors before the work of instruction and re‐organisation was half

completed. It was these threatened Janissaries who, on their return to

Constantinople from an expedition to Syria, willingly lent themselves

as instruments of the ambition of the Sultan’s brother, Mustafa, and

who deposed and finally murdered Selim. But the deposed sovereign,

in his retirement and before his death, found time and opportunity

thoroughly to imbue with his reforming enthusiasm his cousin Mahmoud,

and he, on ascending the throne, determined, as the only means of

saving the empire from ruin, and in spite of the menacing attitude

of the new Czar Nicholas of Russia—who inaugurated his accession by

sending an Ultimatum to Constantinople—to carry out unflinchingly

the whole programme of reforms conceived by Selim. At a Grand Council

(_Divan_) assembled in 1826, a unanimous vote was passed in favour of

the total suppression of the Janissaries, and shortly afterwards, the

decree being resisted by the mutinous soldiery, they were surrounded

and overpowered, and in the massacre that ensued this famous Pretorian

Guard finally disappeared.

The organisation, however, of the regular forces (_Nizam_), which were

to take their place, being only half complete, it was just at the

moment when the military organisation of the empire was undergoing a

radical transformation that the new Sultan was called upon to face

all the complications of internal revolution and foreign wars that

confronted him on his accession. Mahmoud, however, set resolutely

about the task, and a certain measure of success attended his first

efforts. The Pashas of Widdin and Janina were successively reduced to

subjection, and by the help of the Pasha of Egypt who had not yet

thrown off his allegiance, the Morea was reconquered by the troops

of Ibrahim Pasha, and Greece would undoubtedly have been restored to

her position as the Western horn of the Ottoman Crescent but for the

forcible interference of Europe and the military expedition of Marshal

Maison.

By a protocol, signed at St Petersburg, on 4th April 1826, Greece was

declared an autonomous and vassal State; but after the rejection by

the Sultan of the collective mediation of the four Great Powers (5th

February 1827), Austria, France, Great Britain and Russia (Protocol

of London), and the destruction by the allied forces, without the

formality of a declaration of war, of the Turkish fleet at Navarino

(1827), immediately followed by a declaration of war on the part of

Russia, and the campaigns of Diebitch in Europe, and Paskiewitz in

Asia Minor, terminating in the disastrous Treaty of Adrianople (14th

September 1829), Mahmoud had no choice but to consent in the following

year (1830) to the creation of Greece into an independent kingdom, an

arrangement confirmed by the Treaty of London on the 13th July 1841.

The still more serious revolt of Mehemet Ali—imperilling as it

did not only the integrity of the empire, but the solidarity of

Islam—immediately followed. On the Ottoman sovereign refusing to

concede the government of Syria to Mehemet Ali, in return for his

services in the campaign against Greece, the latter, picking a quarrel

with the governor of the coveted province, quickly invaded Syria, and,

defeating the Ottoman troops in a great battle at Konia, compelled the

Sultan to agree to a truce (credited with the name of peace), whilst

both sides prepared for an early resumption of hostilities. When this

took place the Egyptian troops were again successful in a decisive

battle at Nezib (24th June 1839), which placed the whole of Syria,

up to the walls of Acre, in the possession of the victorious Pasha of

Egypt.

Russia was, of course, too alert in following the traditional policy

in regard to Turkey not to profit by these distractions, and it was

at this mortal crisis of the Ottoman Empire that she stepped in and

secured the secret clauses of the Treaty of Unkiar Iskelessi (8th July

1833), by which she bound Turkey to an offensive and defensive alliance

that was to last for eight years, and to exclude all flags but her own

from passing through the Bosphorus.

These events, however, at last brought England and Austria into the

field, and an English fleet under Napier appeared before Alexandria,

and an English force under Sydney Smith before Acre (Saint Jean

d’Acre). Mehemet Ali, who was now deserted by France, was thus obliged

to sign the Convention of Alexandria, by which Egypt was restored to

the suzerainty of the Sultan, with, however, the viceroyalty of the

country made hereditary in his family. By the Treaty of London (13th

July 1841), this arrangement became part of the public law of Europe,

and at the same time the clauses of the Treaty of Unkiar Iskelessi were

revised, and the neutrality of the Straits was solemnly reaffirmed.

Six days after the disastrous battle of Nezib (June 25, 1839), the

Sultan Mahmoud died, and was succeeded by his son, Abdul Medjid. The

youthful sovereign, who was only seventeen years old, in spite of the

misfortunes that had befallen his country, or, perhaps, rather on

account of them, resolved to persevere steadily in the course of reform

initiated by his two predecessors. Fortunately he possessed in Reshid

Pasha a great Minister, who shared and seconded, and perhaps prompted,

the reforming ardour of his master; and on the 3rd November 1839 an

Imperial Rescript, the famous Hatti Humayoun of Gulhané, proclaimed

the following reforms for the whole empire:—

I. A guarantee of life and honour to all Ottoman subjects, without

distinction.

II. A regulation of taxation so as to put an end to arbitrary

exactions.

III. The equality of all before the law.

IV. Public instruction to be secularised.

V. The slave trade to be abolished.

VI. The decentralisation of the provincial governments, and a

separation of civil, military, and fiscal functions.

This great charter was certainly not intended by its author to be a

dead letter. It was, on the contrary, an earnest attempt to grapple

with the new conditions of the empire, and to restore the spirit of its

ancient Constitution, whilst reconciling it to the new requirements of

the day.

This double purpose was clearly manifested in every line of the new

decree, the preamble of which ran as follows:—

“Every one knows that when the Empire was first founded, its laws and

precepts, which were of a high standard, were scrupulously obeyed.

Therefore the Empire grew in strength and grandeur, and all its

subjects, without distinction, attained to a high degree of ease and

prosperity. For the last five hundred years a succession of accidents

and divers causes have brought it about that men have ceased to

conform to the sacred code of laws and regulations that flow from

it, and therefore the force and prosperity of former days have been

converted into weakness and poverty—for a nation always loses all

stability when it ceases to observe its laws. These considerations

have been ceaselessly present to our mind, and since the day of

our accession to the throne the thoughts of the common weal, the

amelioration of the condition of the provinces, and the lessening of

the burdens of the people, have been the subjects of our constant

preoccupation. Moreover, if the geographical position of the Empire;

the fertility of its soil; the aptitude and intelligence of its

inhabitants; be considered, they will lead to the conviction that

if a ruler applies himself diligently to discover the efficacious

means to effect necessary reforms, the results that we hope to

attain, with the help of the Almighty, may be achieved in the course

of a few short years. Therefore, full of trust in the help of the

Almighty, and leaning on the intercession of our Prophet, we consider

it right and proper to set about, by the help of new institutions,

procuring for the provinces of our Empire the blessings of a sound

administration.”

Reshid Pasha, by order of the Sultan, set himself earnestly to the task

of translating the general principles enunciated in the Hatti Humayoun,

with special laws and regulations that should reduce them to practice,

and four years after its promulgation at Gulhané, the _Tanzimat_, or

regulations for the organisation of all the branches of administration,

was published throughout the empire. Under the four general heads:—

I. The Government proper (_Mejalice devleti aliie_);

II. The Administration (_Zaptié ve mulkie memourlari_);

III. Justice and Public Instruction (_Ylmie_);

IV. The Army and Navy (_Seifiie_),

it gave the most elaborate directions for the organisation of each

branch of the public service. Considering the condition of confusion

into which the administration of the country had fallen in the course

of ages, and the absence of any guiding principle in it, the _Tanzimat_

must be considered one of the most remarkable efforts of administrative

organisation ever displayed in any country, and a monument of the

genius of Reshid Pasha. It is not altogether without reason that he has

been called the “Richelieu of Turkey.”

But it does not suffice to decree great changes; it is in the endeavour

to reduce them to practice that the chief difficulty arises. And no

great wonder if in a country like Turkey, where vested interests had

grown around the old order of things; where conservative prejudices,

as in every country in the world, obstruct the path of reform; where

trained civil servants did not exist but had to be created, that the

execution of these important and all‐embracing reforms should not

have taken place by decree as by a magician’s wand, but required time

and patience for their realisation. Events, too, were taking place in

Europe which were destined to change the aspect of things and divert

the minds of statesmen from internal organisation to the necessities of

defending the existence of the national independence. The revolutionary

movement of 1848–1849 in Europe afforded a little respite to a country

outside the sphere of this movement, and it was just at this disturbed

period of the rest of Europe that Turkey enjoyed the greatest peace

and made the greatest progress in the work of re‐organisation. But

scarcely had the revolutionary effervescence calmed down in Europe,

and the fears connected with it been laid to rest, when the Emperor

Nicholas—who had finally suppressed the Magyar insurrection and

restored Hungary to the House of Hapsburg—turned his attention once

more to Turkey, and resolved on decisive action. To suppose that the

progress in organisation that was being effected in that country was

not entirely unconnected with this determination would be only to deny

that the arguments and reasons of State put forward by Pozzo di Borgo,

in 1828, were operative in the mind of the Emperor Nicholas twenty

years later:

“When the Imperial Cabinet examines the question as to whether the

moment had not arrived to take up arms against the Porte, some doubt

might possibly have existed as to the urgency of such a measure

in the minds of those who had not sufficiently meditated on the

effects of the sanguinary reform (destruction of Janissaries)

that the Ottoman ruler had just executed with such terrible force.

Now, however, the experience that we have just had ought to enlist

the sympathy of all in favour of the course that we have adopted.

The Emperor has put the new Turkish system to the proof, and His

Majesty has discovered in it a commencement of moral and physical

organisation which it never possessed before. If the Sultan has been

enabled to oppose to us a more spirited and regular resistance than

before, whilst scarcely able to put together the elements of his new

plan of reform and amelioration, how much the more formidable should

we have found him if he had had the time to give it more solidity.”[5]

However that may be, hardly had the Russian troops withdrawn from

Hungary than the Emperor Nicholas, addressing Sir Hamilton Seymour, the

English Ambassador at St Petersburg, dwelt on the moribund condition

of the Turkish Empire, and proposed to him its partition. Crete and

Egypt were to be the spoils of England, whereas Servia, Montenegro,

Wallachia, Moldavia, and Bulgaria were to fall to the share of

Russia. This offer was duly reported to the Cabinet of St James, and

categorically declined by it. The state of Europe at the time was

not unfavourable to the Czar’s designs. Austria was bound to Russia

by gratitude for important services rendered, and only Metternich

suspected her to be then capable of “stupendous ingratitude.” Prussia

was united to the Czar by ties of near kindred, and by her traditional

indifference to the affairs of the East. France having fallen into the

hands of a sovereign capable of reviving Napoleonic traditions, was

as much an object of suspicion to all the crowned heads of Europe as

by his _coup d’état_ he was to liberal opinion throughout the world.

The last thing that seemed likely, or even possible, was a coalition

between Napoleonic France and the England of Lord Aberdeen. The omens

seemed favourable for striking a decisive blow.

A quarrel in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, between

Greek and Latin monks, afforded the desired pretext. After some

diplomatic haggling between the Porte and France, in which the latter

first put forward and then withdrew claims which would have afforded

a precedent and pretext for Russian pretensions, Prince Mentchikoff

suddenly appeared, with much bluster, at Constantinople, as the bearer

of an Ultimatum demanding the assent of the Porte, within the space of

five days, to a Russian protectorate over all the Orthodox subjects of

the Sultan in his dominions. Europe, startled by the brusqueness of

this action, as well as the serious import of the demand, endeavoured

immediately to interpose her mediation to avert a crisis. Sir

Strafford de Redcliffe and Mr de la Cour, who happened to be absent

from Constantinople on the arrival of Prince Mentchikoff, returned

precipitately to their posts, and, seconded by the Austrian Ambassador,

Prince Leiningen, spared no effort that ingenuity could devise to give

effect to their conciliatory instructions. But as no compromise could

possibly be found between the pretensions put forward in the Ultimatum

and what the Porte was willing to concede, Prince Mentchikoff had the

escutcheon removed from the Russian Embassy at Pera, and with his whole

suite quitted Constantinople.

Three weeks after this (31st May 1853), Count Nesselrode despatched

another Ultimatum reiterating the same demands, and giving the Porte

eight days within which to execute them. The only answer vouchsafed

to this document was the proclamation by the Sultan, on the 6th June,

of a new Hatti Cherif confirming the rights and privileges of all the

Christian subjects of the empire. The combined French and English

fleets, at the same time, received orders to sail to Besika Bay, and

although war was not formally declared, the Emperor Nicholas gave

orders for his armies to cross the Pruth and to seize the Danubian

principalities as a “material guarantee” for compliance with his

demands.

It was not till 28th September that war was formally declared between

Russia and Turkey, and that Omar Pasha received orders to summon the

Russian Commander to evacuate the principalities. The interval between

this period and the date of Prince Mentchikoff’s mission had been

employed by a lively diplomatic correspondence between Lord Clarendon

and Mr Drouyn de Lluys, on one side, and Prince Gortchakoff on the

other, relative to the interpretation of the seventh clause of the

Treaty of Kainardje, on which Russia based her claims to interfere with

the Christian subjects of the Ottoman Empire. The destruction of a

Turkish squadron by a superior Russian fleet in the harbour of Sinope

at last terminated this diplomatic interlude, and brought the armed

forces of England and France into the field. On the 27th December the

allied fleets entered the Black Sea, and an expeditionary force was

sent to Varna and the Dobrutcha.

Here is the place to note the influence exercised on the course of

events by the action of Austria.

It was one of the principal aims of English and French diplomacy at

this period to secure the co‐operation of the Middle Empire. By her

geographical position and the revived force of her empire, as well

as by the magnitude of her interests in the Eastern Question, she

seemed called upon to exercise a preponderant influence on the issue

of the coming struggle. It was even generally taken for granted that,

could her active co‐operation be secured, such powerful pressure

could be brought to bear on Russia as would secure the objects of the

Western nations without actual recourse to arms; and, at any rate,

that if Russia were still to persist in her policy of encroachment,

the military forces at the command of the coalition would be so

overwhelming as to compel her rapidly to retreat from the position she

had taken up. Austria was generally considered to hold the key of the

situation.

There was no lack of political motive on the part of Austria to bring

her into line with Western Powers. The free navigation of the Danube,

the arrest of the dangerous Panslavic propaganda of Russia, the curbing

of limitless ambition of her colossal neighbour, were undoubtedly

objects of State policy of the first magnitude. On the other hand,

strong dynastic sympathies, and the obligations of gratitude for

important services recently rendered, weighed heavily in the opposite

scales. The result of these conflicting motives was a line of conduct

which, whilst diplomatically supporting the contentions of the allied

Cabinets, seriously hampered their military resolutions.

Had Austria not placed her veto on the march of the allied armies

into Poland, that country would have become the battle‐field between

the forces of the East and West, and as far as human forecast can

determine, the whole face of Europe would have been changed, the

Eastern Question would have been settled for ever, and the nightmare of

Cossack preponderance lifted once for all from the shoulders of Western

civilisation.

Instead of prosecuting the war on the continent of Europe, an

expedition to the Crimea was resolved upon, and a French and English

army landed at Eupatoria, and after a victorious advance across the

Alma, and making a flank march to the south side of Sevastopol, they

invested that portion of the great arsenal of Sevastopol which after

two years’ siege and the taking of the fortress of Malakoff, at last

surrendered to the allied army.

On the 25th February 1856, a congress was assembled at Paris, and on

the 30th March the Treaty of Paris was signed by the plenipotentiaries

of Russia, Turkey, England, France, Prussia and Italy, by which Turkey

was admitted into the full benefits of international law, and into

the Concert of Europe, and all right of interference in her internal

affairs was expressly disclaimed and repudiated by all the Signatories.

Russia and Turkey were expressly debarred from maintaining any armed

forces in the Black Sea, and a small strip of Bessarabia was ceded by

Russia to the Danubian principalities.

This was followed by the proclamation of a new Hatti Cherif on the part

of the Sultan, which closed this particular chapter of the history of

Europe.

Before concluding this short epitome of the history of the Ottoman

Empire, and proceeding with the narrative of the life of Midhat Pasha,

the incidents of whose career begin at this point to be interwoven with

the general history of his country, it will be useful to cast a glance

at the state of Europe and the general trend of events and alliances

that succeeded the settlement of 1856.

The death of the Sultan, Abdul Medjid (1861), and the character

of his successor were the chief factors, as will shortly be seen,

that influenced the direct destinies of Turkey. Unfortunately, in a

country where absolutism had gradually become the established form of

government, this was, and could only be, the determining element in the

problem of government

Russia, defeated but not humiliated, or even seriously crippled in a

war which had, however, strained her resources, and absorbed by the

great measure of the emancipation of her serfs, which inaugurated and

rendered illustrious the reign of the successor of Nicholas, was,

to employ the now classic phrase of Prince Gortchakoff, “collecting

herself” (_La Russie se recueille_). This did not, however, prevent

her giving a free hand, and even officious support, to the Panslavic

Committees of Moscow and of Kieff, that now, through the promptings and

under the direction of Katkoff and his school, entered upon a militant

career, and the crafty Ignatieff was sent to Constantinople to defend

and support the machinations of these committees, and to play with

consummate astuteness on the weaknesses and vices of a sovereign who

possessed none of the qualities of his three predecessors, but was

remarkable only for an inordinate passion for expenditure and a morbid

jealousy of his autocratic power. His perfect sanity, moreover, became