THREE DIPLOMATS AT ROME—THE GUARDIANSHIP OF THE HOLY TOMB
IN Rome I met three diplomats; as different from each other as night
from day, as the Pope of Rome from the Khalif of Islam—a false
comparison often made in New Turkey to-day.
We have described the Pope; the sanctity of his office, the odour of
piety in which he dwells. The Pope is not of the world; he is above the
world-elected, not born. The Khalif, like an hereditary king, inherits
his position as Head of Islam; which means that he owes his position to
the hazard of fortune, not to personality or virtue.
I have met all the Khalifs from Abdul Hamid to his present descendant,
who was, when I saw him, the third in succession. He appeared to me a
kindly, cultured gentleman and a talented artist. My host at that time,
Prince Youssouff Zeddine, heir to the then Sultan, had frequently
invited me to the Palace, and always spoke highly of his younger
brother. The Prince had a touching affection for England, and, with
Djémal Pasha (then Minister of Marine) for interpreter, would gladly
listen to endless stories of olden and modern days. Passing from Alfred
and the cakes; through Drake, Gordon, and Princess Mary; to his
favourite tale of the Suffragettes chained to the grille at Westminster,
I sought to inspire this unhappy man with memories of the greatness of
the England he loved so well.
If, by any chance, I varied a phrase or omitted the slightest detail, he
would beg Djémal “to respectfully remind Mademoiselle that she is going
too fast!” It is difficult, indeed, to believe that the man who laughed
so heartily at the words “Votes for Women,” could have ended his own
existence. He dared to say to the Turkish Parliament, “On no account
must we be on the wrong side with England”; and the next day he was
dead!
Not only in Turkey, but throughout Islam, which includes India, there is
no institution so sacred as the Khalifate, yet the term is meaningless
if the Khalif loses Arabia. Next in sanctity to Mecca, in Moslem eyes,
comes Jerusalem, for all the prophets of that Holy City are sacred to
Islam, though her prophets have no honour in Judea or among Christians.
Should we not tremble when Christian Powers attempt to tamper with lands
of pilgrimage like Hedjaz, and when they trample upon the traditions of
the Khalifate?
* * * * *
At Rome, Osman Nyzami Pasha represented Constantinople, while
Djelaleddine Arif Bey was Minister for Angora. The former did not,
indeed, go into exile with the Nationalists; but his varied experience
as soldier, statesman, and ambassador has given him a rare knowledge of
Europe that makes him popular and useful in diplomacy. Alas, now,
however, his career ends.
Ten years ago in Constantinople he greeted me with, “Dear child, what
for did you do this dreadful thing,” as I was returning from the Persian
Mouharrem, the anniversary of the assassination of Hussein, son of the
Prophet. The Spanish Minister, who was with us, had fainted outright,
although familiar with bull-fights. His wife, Mme. M., a Swede, had more
courage than either of us; but I almost fell into the Ambassador’s arms
as I reached my hotel.
In a ring formed round a centre of blazing torches, white-robed men wail
and mourn for the holy martyr, slashing their heads with swords. They
dip their hands in the flowing blood, and sprinkle it all over their
faces. I was haunted for weeks by the ghastly spectacle, which I shall
never be able to forget, of those stained robes and faces, amidst the
wild fanatical shrieks. When, as often happens, a man thus kills himself
in the fury of exaltation, he is acclaimed a martyr, and his family are
pensioned for life.
When I asked why such awful ceremonies were permitted, I was reminded of
Turkey’s “non-interference” with every creed and all the “pieties” of
all peoples.
* * * * *
At Rome, I lodged in a quiet convent, which closed at 7.30. But the
Ambassador called at eight and was followed by a succession of Turkish
friends, until Mihrinour and her husband arrived at 10.30. I apologised
next morning to the Mother Superior for such unseemly interruptions of
her ordered life; explaining, in a fifteen minutes’ lecture, how anxious
a Turk would always feel for the comfort of any friend. “You are
perfectly right,” she said, “I know them well. I lived eighteen years on
the shores of the Bosphorus!”
Djelaleddine Arif Bey gave me a right royal welcome to Rome, and allowed
me to trouble him with all sorts of questions. In Constantinople he had
been what we call Dean of the Faculty of Law, and one day, on an
official visit to the Sultan, wearing a frock-coat and patent-leather
shoes, _he had just time to escape to Angora_, dressed as he was. His
knowledge of both the Cheriat and European Laws was invaluable to the
Assembly, and it is a delight to hear from his own lips that Turkey is
going to establish her _own_ Constitution, not a poor imitation of ours.
“Our justice has been paralysed by capitulations,” he said; and told me
of an Italian murderer who had found sanctuary in his Consulate, because
the Kavass would not give him up. “We have been bound and fettered all
these years, but it cannot go on.”
His admirable organisation of Justice in Angora developed from one
colleague to twenty-five assistants, for work which occupied three
hundred men in Constantinople! Yet he very soon established complete
order, though after the peace he hopes for still greater perfection.
He was interested in the personality of Cardinal Gasparri, whom I had
met for the first time. I found him a great contrast to Cardinal Merry
de Val, with whom I had long discussions about Islam ten years ago.
Shrewdest of diplomats, keenest of observers, is there one move of the
world’s political chess-board he has not penetrated? Seeing, knowing,
judging everything, could he make a mistake? In a State Church he would
be a grave danger; but the days of State Churches are almost no more. As
the Turkish minister remarked: “A Church needs more than anything a
level-headed diplomatist having no connection with politics.” The
Cardinal, then, is far too clever a man to undervalue Islam.
He has studied the greatest living authorities, in translations when he
cannot read the originals, upon all the wonderful books of the East, and
listens to men learned in the Koran. In theology, as in politics, none
could catch him napping. One may, perhaps, guess something of his
opinions by listening carefully to such questions as he may put to you;
for he tells you nothing and seems to gather up all you know almost
before you are conscious of having spoken. I _do_ remember, however,
that he asked me what the Turks proposed to do about the Holy Tomb?
To this I answered that Djelaleddini Arif Bey had said: “There could be
no decision taken about Palestine without consulting the Turks. This
astute lawyer had always bidden the Catholic authorities to remember
that Christ, according to the Koran, is of miraculous birth, is one of
Islam’s most venerated prophets. For the Moslem to blaspheme the Virgin
Mary would be a heinous offence. To hand over the guardianship of the
Holy Tomb to the Israelites is, therefore, a direct insult to Islam.”
Fethi Bey also said: “We have all our work cut out looking after our own
frontiers, yet we have always faithfully guarded the tomb of Christ, our
prophet. What can we think, if the Powers now prefer to entrust it to
the Jews who crucified Him and still deny Him?”
Even as Mecca is to the Moslem, should Calvary be to us. Shall we who
are called Christians suffer the Tomb we do not guard ourselves, to be
taken from those who have faith in Christ?
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