proved quite as fatal as the plague. In 1865 the city was decimated by
it, some 75,000 dying in two months, a loss of life almost as great as
in the great plague seasons of 1812 and 1837. These great epidemics of
plague were, however, in some respects more terrible than the cholera,
for they continued many months. Life became a burden. The wealthiest
often suffered for want of food and clothing, as they remained shut
up in their houses for fear of contagion. Those who were forced to go
out, dressed in long oil-cloth cloaks, and carefully avoided touching
anything. Every one entering a house was fumigated with sulphur, in
a sort of sentry-box kept for the purpose at the door. All ties of
family and society were broken. But even in these great epidemics very
few Europeans died, while in the cholera epidemics there has been no
exemption. It is now forty years since the last appearance of plague
at Constantinople, and, whatever theorists may say, no one here who
remembers the old times has any doubt that its disappearance was due
to the strict enforcement of quarantine regulations, which before that
time the Turks would not accept.
There was another source of constant anxiety for the people of
Constantinople fifty years ago, in regard to which there has
unfortunately been but little change. The city was often visited by
terrible conflagrations. In those days they were generally attributed
to the Janissaries, who always improved such opportunities to enrich
themselves by wholesale plunder. To this day it is often suspected
that the Government itself is responsible for these fires, especially
as they frequently occur in quarters where it is proposed to widen
the streets. Sometimes, on the other hand, they are supposed to have a
political significance, as a manifestation of popular discontent; but
probably, then as now, they generally resulted from carelessness,
and when once they had commenced there were no adequate means for
extinguishing them. Only two months after the destruction of the
Janissaries, at the moment when the sacred standard of the Prophet was
being taken back from the mosque, a fire broke out in Stamboul which
raged for thirty-six hours, destroying the bazaars and about an eighth
part of the city, including the richest Turkish quarters. The people
universally attributed this to the friends of the Janissaries, and the
discontent with the Sultan was general; but he acted with the greatest
vigour. He opened his palaces for the reception of those who had no
shelter, distributed food and clothing, and undertook to rebuild the
bazaars. At the same time, he sent his spies into every public place,
and every one who was heard complaining of the Government was at once
arrested and decapitated. Even the women were not spared, but many
were strangled and thrown into the Bosphorus, without any form of
trial. These vigorous measures soon put an end to all complaints, but
unhappily did not prevent the burning of Pera in 1831, when 10,000
houses were destroyed, a calamity which the Mussulmans attributed
to the wrath of God against the Europeans for the destruction of
the Turkish fleet at Navarino, but which the Christians naturally
attributed to the wrath of the Mohammedans themselves. It is probable
that both these fires were accidental, as were those which burned over
almost the same ground in 1865 and 1870; but the alarm and suffering
of the people were as real and as great as they would have been if
these fires had resulted from the cause to which they were attributed.
It is a very curious fact that, in both cases, just five years
intervened between the destruction of Stamboul and of Pera.
Another characteristic of the time of which we write was the
insecurity of property. There were no regular taxes at that time
in Constantinople, for all the residents of the Imperial city were
considered to be the guests of the Sultan. It is only within ten
years that this pleasant fiction has been altogether abandoned. But
in Constantinople, as well as in other parts of the Empire, the people
were liable to be called upon to contribute "voluntarily" to meet the
wants of the Government. This system of voluntary contributions has
not yet been altogether abandoned, but was enforced during the late
war all through the Empire, in addition to the regular taxes. Even
foreigners were made very uncomfortable if they refused to contribute.
The financial system of Mahmoud II. was like that of his ancestors.
There was no national debt, there were no budgets, and yet there was
no lack of money even for such long and expensive wars as were carried
on all through the reign of this Sultan. With what envy Abd-ul-Hamid
must look back upon those happy days! The system was a simple one.
Whatever money the Sultan needed he took from the people. Orders were
sent to the governor of such a town to send so much to Constantinople,
or to such a Pacha. He summoned the principal men, informed them that
the Sultan needed so much money as a free gift from each of them. The
unhappy contributors entered into private negotiations with him, and
bribed him to reduce their quota and increase that of some one else.
He took the bribes and rapidly accumulated wealth, but he did not fail
to secure and forward the money demanded by the Sultan. What is more,
the Sultan looked upon the governor himself as nothing better than a
sponge. As soon as it was known that he had absorbed a large amount of
wealth, he was squeezed for the benefit of the Imperial Treasury. He
was disgraced, and his property confiscated. It was very seldom that
a Pacha bequeathed much of his ill-gotten wealth to his children.
Unfortunately, this custom has been abandoned of late years, and the
Treasury no longer derives any benefit from the plunder of the people.
But this system of confiscation was not confined to the Pachas who had
robbed the people. The wealthy men of Constantinople, especially the
Christians, were never safe. Their property might be seized any day,
and they might consider themselves happy if by giving it up without
reserve they escaped the bow-string. They feared the Sultan as much
as they feared the Janissaries. The Armenians suffered less than any
other nationality from these extortions, because they acted as the
bankers of the Government and of individual Pachas who found it for
their interest to protect them. They understood the Turkish character,
and had acquired infinite skill in managing them; but even they lived
in constant fear. When a man heard a knock at his door in the night,
he at once took it for granted that his last hour had come, bade
farewell to his family, and, if possible, escaped from his house with
what jewels he could carry. I have heard many very amusing stories of
this kind resulting from evening visits of belated friends as well as
many very sad ones, where the end was the bow-string for the father
and a life of poverty for the family. The change in the financial
system of the Empire, which led to regular taxation and foreign loans,
destroyed the influence of the Armenians, and threw the Turks into the
hands of the Greeks and Europeans. It is hardly probable that they can
ever recover their former importance under Turkish rule. Another means
adopted by the Government to raise money was the old expedient of
debasing the coinage, which was perhaps quite as honest as the modern
plan of issuing paper-money and then repudiating it. The Turkish
piastre is said to have been originally the same as the Spanish, worth
four shillings and sixpence. In the time of Mahmoud II. it was worth
fourpence, and the silver piastre is now worth twopence, while the
copper piastre is worth only a farthing and a half.
The comparative cost of living in Constantinople in 1827 and 1879 may
be seen from the following Table, the prices being reduced to English
money:--
1827. 1879.
Mutton, the oke (2-3/10 lbs.) 4_d._ 1_s._ 6_d._
Bread " 4_d._ 4_d._
Fish " 4_d._ 1_s._ 4_d._
Grapes " 1/2_d._ 4_d._
Figs " 1/2_d._ 4_d._
Geese, each 6_d._ 5_s._ 0_d._
Turkeys " 6_d._ 5_s._ 0_d._
Wine, the oke 2_d._ 6_d._
Game was also very abundant and very cheap in 1827.
This Table tends to prove that, so far as Constantinople is concerned,
the old system of "voluntary contributions" and confiscations was much
more favourable to production than the present ill-conceived system
of taxation. My impression is that the same was true in other parts of
the Empire. Prices were unusually high in 1827, on account of the war
and the general confusion in the Empire, and the increase in fifty
years can only be explained by the destructive system of taxation
adopted by the Government, which falls almost exclusively upon the
agriculturist. The price of bread is the same, but Constantinople
now depends upon Russia for its wheat, and the price depends upon the
harvests in other countries. Everything produced here has increased in
price enormously, and the result is that bread is now almost the sole
food of the poor. Fifty years ago for one oke of bread a man might
have one oke of meat, or eight okes of fruit or two okes of wine. Now
he can obtain only about one-fifth of an oke of meat, or one oke
of fruit, or two-thirds of an oke of wine, and this in spite of the
improved communications by steamer and railway with other parts of
the Empire. Then the Bosphorus was lined with vineyards, and it was
profitable to cultivate them, to exchange eight okes of grapes or two
okes of wine for one of bread. Now it is unprofitable to raise grapes
at eight times the former price, and the vineyards have almost
all disappeared. They have been destroyed by unwise and vexatious
taxation. The condition of the rich, especially of the rich Turkish
Pachas, has greatly improved; but it may well be doubted whether the
poor, those who had nothing to fear from the jealousy of the Turks or
the confiscations of the Sultan, can live as well now as they could
fifty years ago. The poor Mussulmans have certainly gained nothing,
and the Turkish population of Constantinople was probably never in
so wretched a condition as it is now. With the Christian poor it is
different. In many respects their condition has greatly improved.
Then they had no rights which a Turk was bound to respect. They
were sometimes shot down in their vineyards, like dogs, by passing
Mussulmans who wished to try their guns. Their children were kidnapped
with impunity. They were forced to wear a peculiar dress, which marked
them everywhere as an inferior race. They were insulted and abused in
the streets, and trembled at the sight of a Turk. They find it harder
now to get food, but they can eat it in peace. The poor Turks have
gained no such advantages. They are no freer than they were then, and
have not the satisfaction which they then had of domineering over a
subject race. The Christians are still treated as inferiors and suffer
under many disabilities, but in Constantinople their lives, their
families, and their property are comparatively secure, and they are
seldom maltreated because they are Christians. They no longer fear to
look a Turk in the face. The change for them is certainly a happy one,
and it is not strange that the Turks who remember the old times feel
that the power of Islam is waning, and that reform has gone quite
far enough. It is this old Turkish spirit which inspires the present
Government to choose the most inopportune moment to proclaim to the
world its determination to repress all free thought among Mohammedans.
A Turkish Khodja has just been condemned to death for assisting an
English missionary to translate the English Prayer Book and some
Tracts into Turkish. This is not done secretly. The Turkish papers
have discussed the case, and one of the most liberal of them speaks of
his offence as follows:--"The abject author of this act of profanation
has been drawn into his sin by Satan and by his own evil heart, and
has thus dared to commit a sacrilege, by which he is condemned to
the curse of God and to eternal torture. We demand that the miserable
creature may receive an overwhelming punishment, so that he may,
by his example, deter others from selling their religion for a few
pence." This is an act of intolerance and barbarity worthy of the
bloody days of Mahmoud II., and is far less excusable than it would
have been then. It remains to be seen whether it will be approved by
those Powers who maintain the Turkish Empire.
In one respect Constantinople has undoubtedly suffered by the changes
of the last fifty years. It is no longer the picturesque Oriental city
that it was then. Its natural beauties remain, but in everything else
it has become less interesting as it has become more European. The
steamers, whose smoke clouds the clear air of the Bosphorus and
blackens the white palaces, are no doubt very convenient; but they are
a sad contrast to the tens of thousands of gay caiques which used to
give life to the transparent waters of the strait. Ugly north-country
colliers are no doubt profitable to their owners, but there is very
little interest in watching their passage in comparison with the
wonderful displays which were formerly seen when, after a long north
wind, a southerly gale would take hundreds of vessels, under full
sail, through the Bosphorus in a single day. I have counted over three
hundred in sight at once. The square walls and narrow eaves of
modern Turkish houses may be more European, but they do not compare
favourably with the light Moorish architecture and gilded arabesques
of the olden time. German ready-made clothing may be very cheap, and
the European style of dress may be adapted to active pursuits; but it
is not likely to rouse the enthusiasm of a lover of the picturesque
who remembers the gorgeous costumes of fifty years ago, when the
streets of Constantinople were crowded with gay and fantastic dresses,
as in a perpetual carnival, and each rank, profession, and creed
had its own peculiar costume. Even the Sultan is now no longer worth
looking at, with his little red fez in place of the magnificent turban
with plume and diamonds, and his tight black coat in place of his
flowing sable robe, his attendants covered with tawdry brass in place
of the gorgeous robes of the olden time. The pachas are pachas no
longer in appearance: you may see them running for steamers, or
sitting on crowded benches on the deck reading their daily papers.
What a contrast to the stately pacha of seven tails, who lived fifty
years ago, whose very title was picturesque, who could not read at
all, and if he had ever heard of a newspaper looked upon it as a
device of Satan; but who never ran for anything, and who never wore a
red cap or a black coat. A graceful caique, with many oarsmen, awaited
his convenience; richly caparisoned Arab horses stood at his door;
when he appeared--with slow and dignified step--with turban, robes of
silk, and Cashmere or diamond girdle--his slaves kissing the ground at
his feet, his pipe-bearers and guards behind him--he was an ornament
to the city, and perhaps quite as great an ornament to the State as
his successor, without any tails to his title, who reads newspapers
and wears black clothes, but who has no fear of being bow-strung and
thrown into the Bosphorus if he betrays the interests of the State for
a consideration, or plunders the people for his own profit. Even the
bazaars are no longer Oriental, although the buildings remain. They
are little more than storehouses for the Manchester goods which have
destroyed native manufactures. The only relics of the olden time are
the Turkish women; but even they have become less picturesque. They
are not so attractive, when crowded like sheep into the stern of a
Bosphorus steamer, as they were when they rode in lofty arabas drawn
by white oxen; and their dress is gradually changing in spite of the
frequent decrees of the Sheik-ul-Islam, who declared two years ago
in one of these that the disasters of the war were due, among other
things specified, to the fact that the women wore French boots in
place of heelless yellow slippers. Constantinople has lost all the
peculiar charm of an Oriental city without having as yet attained the
regularity, cleanliness, and elegance of a European capital; just as
the Government has ceased to be an Oriental despotism, careless of
human life and individual rights, without having as yet learned the
principles of European civilization; just as the individual Turk has
ceased to be a fanatical Mussulman, with the peculiar virtues which
once belonged to his religion, without having as yet acquired anything
but the vices of European society.
If we seek the cause of these changes which fifty years have wrought
in life in Constantinople, they may be summed up as the result of
the constantly increasing influence of the European Powers at
Constantinople and the corresponding decay of the Ottoman Empire.
Sultan Mahmoud II. was one of the greatest as well as one of the most
unfortunate of the sovereigns of Turkey; but he was a Sultan of the
old school, whose many attempts at reform had no other object than to
revive the power of Islam and restore his Empire to its former rank.
He did not wish to Europeanize his people, as Peter the Great did, but
simply to adopt such improvements, especially in the organization of
his army, as would enable him the better to maintain himself against
his European enemies. But, unhappily, he had to contend against Moslem
as well as Christian foes, and to save himself from the former he
had to call in the aid of the latter. His dynasty was saved by the
intervention of Europe; but when Sultan Abd-ul-Medjid ascended the
throne at the death of his father it was by the favour and under the
protection of Europe, and from that day Turkey ceased to be the old
Empire of the Ottoman Turks. Mahmoud was the last of the Sultans.
Nothing remained to his successors but the shadow of a great name.
Europe is undoubtedly responsible for the evils which have befallen
the Empire since that day. She has neither allowed the Turks to rule
in their own way, with fire and sword, as their ancestors did,
nor forced them to emancipate the Christians and establish a civil
government in place of their religious despotism. She has sought to
maintain the Empire, but to maintain it as a weak and decaying Empire.
Austria and Russia, and at times other Powers, have sought to hasten
the process of disintegration, and the limits of the Empire have been
gradually narrowed until they now approach the capital itself. The
Turks are abused for their stupidity, as if it were all their fault;
and no doubt they have done and are doing many unwise things; but
after all they are not to be too harshly condemned. They have probably
done what seemed to them wise and politic, and they have often
outwitted the keenest statesmen; but they have been doomed by Europe
to struggle against the inevitable. Turkey can never again be what
she was fifty years ago, and as a Mohammedan despotism, ruled by Turks
alone, she can never become a great or even a civilized Power and
command the respect of Europe. She must soon disappear. But with the
full emancipation of the Christians, the abolition of the present
system of religious government, and the support of Western Europe, she
might settle the Eastern Question for herself, win the loyal support
of her own subjects and the respect of the world.
AN EASTERN STATESMAN.
MIRACLES, PRAYER, AND LAW.
In the following remarks I assume the existence of God, All-knowing
and All-powerful; and of a spirit in men which is not matter. I do not
say that either is demonstrated or can be demonstrated, still less
do I presume to define either, but I address only those who already
assent to both.
Many, however, of those who give such assent are troubled about the
ways of God and the nature of man's relation to Him. On the one hand
is the Bible, which declares that all things on earth as well as in
heaven are regulated by Divine will at every moment, which records
frequent miracles, and which bids men ask from Him whatsoever they
would, in absolute confidence that they shall have their desires.
On the other hand stands the Book of Nature, as Divine as that of
Revelation, being in fact another revelation of God, which tells of
an unchanging sequence of events, of laws incapable of modification
by isolated acts of will, laws which, indeed, if subject to such
modification, would fall into disorder. Which of these revelations
shall they believe? Or can they be reconciled so that both are
credible?
The tendency of recent belief in those who have studied the Book of
Nature, and perhaps most decidedly in those who have only turned some
of its pages, is that the two revelations are irreconcilable. The
immutability of Nature's laws is to them a gospel taught by every
stone, by every plant, by every animated being. All that they have
learnt to know of matter rests on the assurance that its properties
are absolutely fixed. The progress of science, of art, of
civilization, of the human race, depends on the fact that what has
been found to be true will be always true, that there is an ordered
sequence of events which may be trusted to be invariable, to which we
must conform our lives if we would be happy, and which, if we cross
it in ignorance or defiance, will revenge the outrage by inevitable
penalties. Those laws, which some call of matter, may by others be
called laws of God, and the most devout minds find in their fixity
only a confirmation of their faith in His unchanging promises. But if
thus fixed, it seems to many who are devout as well as to many who
are sceptical, that it becomes impossible to believe that their Author
should ever set them aside by what are called miracles; still less
that He should bid men pray for events which are, in fact, not
regulated by wish or will, but by what has gone before up to the
beginning of time. To meet this dilemma there seem to such minds only
two courses, either to believe that Scripture is not the word of a God
at all, or to give to its language an interpretation which is not
the natural sense of the words, and which was certainly not meant or
understood by those who first wrote or first heard it.
Yet it is not possible to abandon the conviction that the words and
the acts of God cannot really be at variance. Before surrendering His
words contained in the Scripture, as either spurious or misunderstood,
no effort can be too often reiterated to show them to be compatible
with what we have learned of His works. I propose to make one more
such effort, based on the closest examination of what both really
tell, or imply.
Let us first understand accurately what it is we are to deal with,
both as facts and as expressed in language. The inquiry is to be
limited (with exceptions which will be noted as they occur) to the
laws of matter. It will be assumed that matter exists as our ordinary
perceptions inform us, but if it shall hereafter be proved to be only
a form of motion, or of force, the arguments will still be applicable.
By laws, we shall understand what in a different expression we call
the properties of matter. The advantage of thus explaining law is that
it excludes some other senses of a vague and misleading character,
while it includes the sense in which alone law can properly be applied
to physical nature. Thus, the law of gravity is the same thing as the
property of matter which we call weight, and if there be any matter or
ether which is imponderable, then the law of gravity does not apply
to it. So the law of attraction, in its different forms, expresses the
property of cohesion, and of capillary ascent, and so on; the law of
chemical affinities expresses the property of the combination of one
species of matter with another in definite proportions; the laws of
sound, light, or electricity express the properties of vibrations,
either of air or of subtler forms of matter, as they affect our
senses. In thus limiting the meaning of law, it is therefore obvious
that we embrace all which the materialist can desire to include when
he insists that law is permanent and unchangeable.