TURKEY’S ABROGATION OF THE CAPITULATIONS--ENVER LIVING IN A PALACE, WITH
PLENTY OF MONEY AND AN IMPERIAL BRIDE
Another question, which had been under discussion for several months,
now became involved in the Turkish international situation. That was the
matter of the capitulations. These were the treaty rights which for
centuries had regulated the position of foreigners in the Turkish
Empire. Turkey had never been admitted to a complete equality with
European nations, and in reality she had never been an independent
sovereignty. The Sultan’s laws and customs differed so radically from
those of Europe and America that no non-Moslem country could think of
submitting its citizens in Turkey to them. In many matters, therefore,
the principle of ex-territoriality had always prevailed in favour of all
citizens or subjects of countries enjoying capitulatory rights. Almost
all European countries, as well as the United States, for centuries had
had their own consular courts and prisons for trying and punishing
crimes which their nationals committed in Turkey. We all had our schools
subject, not to Turkish law and protection, but to that of the country
which maintained them. Thus Robert College and the Constantinople
College for Women, those wonderful institutions which American
philanthropy has erected on the Bosphorus, as well as hundreds of
American religious, charitable, and educational institutions,
practically stood on American territory and looked upon the American
Embassy as their guardian. Several nations had their own post-offices,
as they did not care to submit their mail to the Ottoman postal service.
Turkey, likewise, did not have unlimited power of taxation over
foreigners. It could not even increase their customs taxes without the
consent of the foreign Powers. In 1914 it could collect only 11 per
cent. in tariff dues, and was attempting to secure the right to increase
the amount to 14. We have always regarded England as the only free-trade
country, overlooking this fact, yet this limitation in Turkey’s customs
dues had practically made the Ottoman Empire an unwilling follower of
Cobden. Turkey was thus prohibited by the Powers from developing any
industries of her own; instead, she was forced to take large quantities
of inferior articles from Europe. Against these restrictions Turkish
statesmen had protested for years, declaring that they constituted an
insult to their pride as a nation and also interfered with their
progress. However, the agreement was a bi-lateral one, and Turkey could
not change it without the consent of all the contracting Powers. Yet
certainly the present moment, when both the Entente and the Central
Powers were cultivating Turkey, served to furnish a valuable opportunity
to make the change. And so, as soon as the Germans had started on their
march toward Paris, the air was filled with reports that Turkey intended
to abrogate the capitulations. Rumour said that Germany had consented as
part of the bargain for Turkish co-operation, and that England had
agreed to the abrogation as part of her payment for Turkish neutrality.
Neither of these reports was true. What was manifest, however, was the
panic which the mere suggestion of abrogation produced on the foreign
population. The idea of becoming subject to the Turkish laws, and
perhaps being thrown into Turkish prisons, made their flesh creep--and
with good reason.
About this time I had a long conference with Enver. He asked me to call
at his residence, as he was laid up with an infected toe, the result of
a surgical operation. I thus had an illuminating glimpse of the Minister
of War _en famille_. Certainly this humble man of the people had risen
in the world. His house, which was in one of the quietest and most
aristocratic parts of the city, was a splendid old building, very large
and very elaborate. I was ushered through a series of four or five
halls, and as I went by one door, the Imperial Princess, Enver’s wife,
slightly opened it and peeped through at me. Farther on another Turkish
lady opened her door and also obtained a fleeting glimpse of the
ambassadorial figure. I was finally escorted into a beautiful room in
which Enver lay reclining on a semi-sofa. He had on a long silk
dressing-gown and his stockinged feet hung languidly over the edge of
the divan. He looked much younger than in his uniform; he was an
extremely neat and well-groomed object, with a pale, smooth face, made
even more striking by his black hair, and with delicate white hands and
long tapering fingers. He might easily have passed for under thirty,
and, in fact, he was not much over that age. He had at hand a violin,
and a piano near by also testified to his musical taste. The room was
splendidly tapestried. Perhaps its most conspicuous feature was a daïs
upon which stood a golden chair; this was the marriage-throne of Enver’s
imperial wife. As I glanced around at all this luxury I must admit that
a few uncharitable thoughts came to mind, and that I could not help
pondering a question which was then being generally asked in
Constantinople. Where did Enver get the money for this expensive
establishment? He had no fortune of his own--his parents had been
wretchedly poor--and his salary as a Cabinet Minister was only about
$8,000. His wife had a moderate allowance as an Imperial Princess, but
she had no private resources. Enver has never engaged in business,
having been a revolutionist, military leader, and politician all his
life. But here he was, living at a rate that demanded a very large
income. In other ways Enver was giving evidences of great and sudden
prosperity, and already I had heard much of his investments in real
estate, which were the talk of the town.
Enver wished to discuss the capitulations. He practically said that the
Cabinet had decided on the abrogation and he wished to know the attitude
of the United States. He added that certainly a country which had fought
for its independence as we had would sympathise with Turkey’s attempt to
shake off these shackles. We had helped Japan free herself from similar
burdens, and wouldn’t we now help Turkey? Certainly Turkey was as
civilised a nation as Japan?
I answered that I thought that the United States might consent to
abandon the capitulations in so far as they were economic. It was my
opinion that Turkey should control her customs duties and be permitted
to levy the same taxes on foreigners as on her own citizens. So long as
the Turkish courts and Turkish prisons maintained their present
standards, however, we could never agree to give up the judicial
capitulations. Turkey should reform these judicial abuses; then, after
they had established European ideas in the administration of justice,
the matter could be discussed. Enver replied that Turkey would be
willing to have mixed tribunals and to have the United States designate
some of the judges, but I suggested that, inasmuch as American judges
did not know the Turkish language or Turkish law, his scheme involved
great practical difficulties. I also told him that the American schools
and colleges were very dear to Americans, and that we would never
consent to subjecting them to Turkish jurisdiction.
Despite our protests, the Cabinet issued its notification to all the
Powers that the capitulations would be abrogated on October 1st. This
abrogation was all a part of the Young Turks’ plan to free themselves of
foreign tutelage and to re-establish a new country on the basis, “Turkey
for the Turks.” It represented, as I shall show, what was the central
point of Turkish policy, not only in the Empire’s relations to foreign
Powers, but to her peoples. England’s position on this question was
about the same as our own; the British Government would consent to the
modification of the economic restrictions, but not the others.
Wangenheim was greatly disturbed, and I think that his Foreign Office
reprimanded him for letting the abrogation take place, because he
blandly asked me to announce that I was the responsible person! As
October 1st approached, the foreigners in Turkey were in a high state of
apprehension. The Dardanelles had been closed, shutting them off from
Europe, and now they felt that they were to be left at the mercy of
Turkish courts and Turkish prisons. Inasmuch as it was the habit in
Turkish prisons to herd the innocent and the guilty, and to place in the
same room with murderers people who had been charged, but not convicted,
of minor offences, and to bastinado recalcitrant witnesses, the fears of
the foreign residents may well be imagined. The educational institutions
were also apprehensive, and in their interest I appealed to Enver. He
assured me that the Turks had no hostile intention toward Americans. I
replied that he should show in unmistakable fashion that Americans would
not be harmed.
“All right,” he answered. “What would you suggest?”
“Why not ostentatiously visit Robert College on October 1st, the day the
capitulations are abrogated?” I said.
The idea was rather a unique one, for in all the history of this
institution an important Turkish official had never entered its doors.
But I knew enough of the Turkish character to understand that an open,
ceremonious visit by Enver would cause a public sensation. News of it
would reach the farthest limits of the Turkish Empire, and it was
certain that the Turks would interpret it as meaning that one of the two
most powerful men in Turkey had taken this and other American
institutions under his patronage. Such a visit would exercise a more
protecting influence over American colleges and schools in Turkey than
an army corps. I was therefore greatly pleased when Enver promptly
adopted my suggestion.
On the day that the capitulations were abrogated Enver appeared at the
American Embassy with two autos, one for himself and me, and the other
for his adjutants, all of whom were dressed in full uniform. I purposely
made the proceeding as spectacular as possible, as naturally I wished it
to have the widest publicity. On the ride up to the college I told Enver
all about these American institutions and what they were doing for
Turkey. He really knew very little about them, and, like most Turks, he
half suspected that they concealed a political purpose.
“We Americans are not looking for material advantages in Turkey,” I
said. “We merely demand that you treat kindly our children, these
colleges, for which all the people in the United States have the warmest
affection.”
I told him that Mr. Cleveland H. Dodge, president of the trustees of
Robert College, and Mr. Charles R. Crane, president of the trustees of
the Women’s College, were intimate friends of President Wilson. “These,”
I added, “represent what is best in America and the fine altruistic
spirit which in our country accumulates wealth and then uses it to found
colleges and schools. In establishing these institutions in Turkey they
are trying, not to convert your people to Christianity, but to help
train them in the sciences and arts and so prepare to make them better
citizens. Americans feel that the Bible lands have given them their
religion, and they wish to repay with the best thing America has--its
education.” I then told him about Mrs. Russell Sage and Miss Helen
Gould, who had made large gifts to the Women’s College.
“But where do these people get all the money for such benefactions?”
Enver asked.
I then entertained him for an hour or so with a few pages from our own
“American rights.” I told him how Jay Gould had arrived in New York, a
penniless and ragged boy, with a mousetrap which he had invented, and
how he had died, almost thirty years afterward, leaving a fortune of
about $1,000,000,000. I told him how Commodore Vanderbilt had started
life as a ferryman and had become America’s greatest railroad “magnate”;
how Rockefeller had begun life sitting on a high stool in a Cleveland
commission house, earning six dollars a week, and had created the
greatest fortune that had ever been accumulated by a single man in the
world’s history. I told him how the Dodges had become our great “copper
kings,” the Cranes our great manufacturers of iron pipe. Enver found
these stories more thrilling than any that had ever come out of Bagdad,
and I found afterward that he had retold them to almost all the
important people in Constantinople.
Enver was immensely impressed also by what I said about the American
institutions, especially at my statement that they also had not
converted--or attempted to convert--a single Mohammedan to Christianity.
He went through all the buildings and expressed his enthusiasm at
everything he saw, and he even suggested that he would like to send his
brother there. He took tea with Mrs. Gates, wife of President Gates,
discussed most intelligently the courses, and asked us if we could not
introduce the study of agriculture. The teachers he met seemed to be a
great revelation.
“I expected to find these missionaries as they are pictured in the
Berlin newspapers,” he said, “with long hair and hanging jaws, and hands
clasped constantly in a prayerful attitude. But here is Dr. Gates
talking Turkish like a native and acting like a man of the world. I am
more than pleased, and thank you for bringing me.”
We all saw Enver that afternoon in his most delightful aspect. My idea
that this visit in itself would protect the colleges from disturbance
proved to have been a happy one. The Turkish Empire has been a
tumultuous place in the last four years, but the American colleges have
had no difficulties, either with the Turkish Government or with the
Turkish populace.
This visit was only an agreeable interlude in events of the most
exciting character. Enver, amiable as he could be on occasion, had
deliberately determined to put Turkey in the war on Germany’s side.
Germany had now reached the point where she no longer concealed her
intentions. Once before, when I had interfered in the interest of peace,
Wangenheim had encouraged my action. The reason, as I have indicated,
was that, at that time, Germany wished Turkey to keep out of the war,
for the German General Staff expected to win without her help. But now
Wangenheim wanted Turkey in. As I was not working in Germany’s interest,
but merely attempting to help the peace idea, I still kept urging Enver
and Talaat to keep out. This made Wangenheim angry. “I thought that you
were a neutral?” he now exclaimed.
“I thought that you were--in Turkey,” I answered.
Toward the end of October Wangenheim was leaving nothing undone to start
hostilities; all he needed now was a favourable occasion.
Even after Germany had closed the Dardanelles the German Ambassador’s
task was not an easy one. Talaat was not yet entirely convinced that his
best policy was war, and, as I have already said, there was still plenty
of pro-Ally sympathy in official quarters. It was Talaat’s plan not to
seize all the Cabinet offices at once, but gradually to elbow his way
into undisputed control. At this crisis the most popularly respected
members of the Ministry were Djavid, Minister of Finance, a man who was
Jewish by race, but Mohammedan by religion; Mahmoud Pasha, Minister of
Public Works, a Circassian; Bustány Effendi, Minister of Commerce and
Agriculture, a Christian Arab; and Oskan Effendi, Minister of Posts and
Telegraphs, an Armenian--and a Christian, of course. All these leaders,
as well as the Grand Vizier, openly opposed war, and all now informed
Talaat and Enver that they would resign if Germany succeeded in her
intrigues. Thus the atmosphere was exciting; how tense the situation was
a single episode will show. Sir Louis Mallet, the British Ambassador,
had accepted an invitation to dine at the American Embassy on October
20th, but he sent word at the last moment that he was ill and could not
come. I called on the Ambassador an hour or two afterward and found him
in his garden, apparently in the best of health. Sir Louis smiled and
said that his illness had been purely political. He had received a
letter telling him that he was to be assassinated that evening, this
letter informing him of the precise spot where the tragedy was to take
place, and the time. He therefore thought that he had better stay
indoors. As I had no doubt that some such crime had been planned, I
offered Sir Louis the protection of our Embassy. I gave him the key to
the back gate of the garden, and, with Lord Wellesley, one of his
secretaries--a descendant of the Duke of Wellington--I made all
arrangements for his escape to our quarters in case a flight became
necessary. Our two Embassies were so located that, in the event of an
attack, he might go unobserved from the back gate of his to the back
gate of ours. “These people are relapsing into the Middle Ages,” said
Sir Louis, “when it was quite the thing to throw Ambassadors into
dungeons,” and I think that he anticipated that the present Turks might
treat him in the same way. I at once went to the Grand Vizier and
informed him of the situation, insisting that nothing less than a visit
from Talaat to Sir Louis, assuring him of safety, would satisfy his many
friends. I could make this demand with propriety, as we had already made
arrangements to take over British interests when the break came. Within
two hours Talaat made such a visit. Though one of the Turkish newspapers
was printing scurrilous attacks on Sir Louis, he was personally very
popular with the Turks, and the Grand Vizier expressed his amazement and
regret--and he was entirely sincere--that such threats had been made.