his subjects issued a firman (the Hatti-Humayun), which, while
ameliorating their condition without distinction of religion or race,
records his generous intentions towards the Christian population of
his Empire, and wishing to give a further proof of his sentiments in
that direction, has resolved to communicate to the contracting Powers
the said firman emanating spontaneously from his sovereign will. The
contracting Powers recognize the high value of this communication.
It is clearly understood that it cannot give to the said Powers
the right to interfere either collectively or individually in the
relations of H.M. the Sultan with his subjects or in the internal
administration of his Empire.
The latter part of the clause, it will be seen, completely nullified
and destroyed the effect of the earlier part of it, and practically
gave full licence to the Sultan to continue his misgovernment of his
Empire and to refuse the just demands of his Christian subjects—a very
lame and impotent conclusion to the war.
In explanation of this clause, it should be stated that Lord Stratford,
shortly before the meeting of the Congress, had succeeded, after long
efforts, in extracting from the Porte another charter of reform in
favour of its Christian subjects, known as the Hatti-Humayun. This was
referred to in the treaty, not as an act binding on the Porte, but
merely as an indication of the Sultan’s good intentions, and with the
express condition that neither the Great Powers signatories to the
treaty nor any one of them were to be entitled to call him to account
in the event of his pious intentions not being carried into effect.
Lord Stratford, when he heard at Constantinople of the intentions of
the Congress, but before a final conclusion was arrived at, wrote to
Lord Clarendon the following strong protest:—
There are many able and experienced men in this country who view with
alarm the supposed intention of the Conference at Paris to record
the Sultan’s late Firman of Privileges (the Hatti-Humayun) in the
treaty of peace, and at the same time to declare that the Powers
of Europe disclaim all right of interference between the Sultan
and his subjects. They argue thus: The Imperial firman places the
Christians and the Mussulmans on an equal footing as to civil rights.
It is believed that the Porte will never of its own accord carry the
provisions of the firman seriously into effect. The treaty, in its
supposed form, would therefore confirm the right and extinguish the
hope of the Christians. Despair on their side and fear on that of the
Turks would, in that case, engender the bitterest animosity between
them, and not improbably bring on a deadly struggle before long.[36]
This protest, which doubtless represented Lord Stratford’s own
convictions, was of no avail. Lord Clarendon was powerless at the
Congress. He met with no support from the French representatives. They
cared nothing for reforms in Turkey. The Russians, in view of the
origin of the war and the refusal of the other Powers to recognize
their claim to intervention on behalf of the Christians in Turkey, were
naturally indisposed to concede it to others, either individually or
collectively. The nullifying provision was inserted in the treaty. It
abrogated whatever effect the recognition of the firman might have had.
The Hatti-Humayun became, _ipso facto_, a dead letter. Lord Stratford
was bitterly disappointed. “He felt very keenly,” says his biographer,
“the pusillanimity of his own Government, who had made him a victim
to their deference to France.” In a letter to his brother after the
conclusion of the treaty, Lord Stratford wrote: “To be the victim of so
much trickery and dupery and charlatanism is no small trial. But I have
faith in principles as working out their own justification, and fix my
thoughts steadily on that coming day when the peace of Paris will be
felt and its miserable consequences.”
Lord Clarendon, in a letter to the ambassador, thus described his own
views of the treaty:—
I think as you do about the terms of peace, but I am not the least
sorry that peace is made, because, notwithstanding our means of
carrying on the war, I believe we should have run risks by so doing
for which no possible success would have compensated. We should have
been alone.... If you could have seen all that was passing when I
got to Paris—the bitterness of feeling against us, the kindly (I
might almost say the enthusiastic) feeling towards Russia, and the
determination, if necessary, to throw over the Vienna conditions in
order to prevent the resumption of hostilities (money matters and
Bourse speculations being the main cause), you would have felt as
I did, that our position was not agreeable, and that Brunnow was
justified in saying that they did not come to make or negotiate
peace, but to accept the peace which was to be crammed down their
throats.... Unluckily, too, just as negotiations began the French
army fell ill, and the Emperor himself admitted to me that, with
twenty-two thousand men in hospital and likely to be more, peace
had almost become a military as well as a financial and political
necessity for him.[37]
Lord Stratford’s words on hearing that the treaty was signed were, “I
would rather have cut off my right hand than have signed that treaty.”
The writer paid a second visit to Constantinople in 1857. He rode there
from Belgrade, passing through Bulgaria on the way, and was witness
of the miserable condition to which this province had been reduced by
Ottoman rule. He spent a few weeks at Therapia, where the Ambassador
was residing, and was favoured by many conversations with him. Lord
Stratford was always most kind and communicative to young men. He
made no secret of his bitter disappointment. The treaty of Paris, he
alleged, was a death-blow to the cause of reform in Turkey. If the
Christian population were not protected from misgovernment, the Empire
was doomed. He was under no illusion as to the misgovernment of the
country. He knew that if left to themselves the Turks would do nothing,
and that all the reforms promised by the Hatti-Humayun which he had
obtained with so much labour and difficulty before the conclusion of
the Crimean War would remain unexecuted and would be a dead letter.
He considered that England had been betrayed at the Congress of
Paris, that the clause in the treaty which embodied the Hatti-Humayun
was nullified by the provision that its recognition did not entitle
the Great Powers either collectively or separately to interfere in
the internal affairs of Turkey. He held that this was fatal to the
enforcement of the new reforms. He maintained that the only way to
induce the Turks to act in accordance with them was through threats
and fear, and that some external Power should bring such pressure to
bear on them. This might be done by England alone, or by England in
alliance with France, or by the Great Powers collectively. He preferred
the first of these; he had little hope of the last; but the treaty had
extinguished all methods equally.[38] It was the last year of the Great
Elchi’s reign at Constantinople. He retired from his post and from the
public service in the following year at the age of seventy-one.
He was succeeded by Sir Henry Bulwer, later Lord Dalling, an ambassador
of a very different type. Though an able diplomat, he cared nothing
for reform in Turkey. He allowed himself to be placed under personal
obligation to the Sultan, which destroyed his influence. He made no
effort to induce, still less to compel, the Porte to give effect to the
Hatti-Humayun which his predecessor had obtained with so much labour.
The cause of reform in Turkey [says Mr. Lane Poole], for which
Lord Stratford had striven for so many years, began its downward
course when the Turks understood the altered character of the
British Embassy under Sir Henry Bulwer. Lord Stratford’s farewell
to Constantinople was the occasion for a stately ceremony, in which
the Sultan and all his ministers and the whole population joined in
paying a last tribute to the departing Elchi.... He knew, however,
that he was assisting in the obsequies of his hopes. His long
struggle for reform of the Ottoman Empire was at an end, and in the
character of his successor he could trace the antithesis of all he
had striven for, the abandonment of all he had won.[39]
Lord Stratford lived on in retirement to the age of ninety-three, long
enough to see the verification of all his fears as to the effect of the
unfortunate clause in the treaty of Paris in nullifying the promises
of reforms in Turkey and of all his predictions as to the result of
this in the revolt in 1874 of the Christian populations of Bosnia,
Herzegovina, and Bulgaria under the stress of appalling misgovernment
and tyranny, and in their final liberation from Turkish rule by the
armies of Russia. On this occasion the revolt of these subjects of the
Porte had his full sympathy, and he admitted that Russia was fully
justified in its intervention.[40]
Mr. Gladstone in 1876 dedicated to Lord Stratford his pamphlet on
Bulgarian atrocities, which had such a powerful effect in preventing
England from taking up arms again in support of Turkey.[41]
Looking back at the Crimean War, it is now possible for us to perceive
and admit that its main, if not its only, result was to postpone for a
few years the break up of the Turkish Empire in Europe. It negatived
for a time the claim of Russia to an exclusive protectorate over the
Christian populations of the Balkans which would secure to them the
benefit of good government. Lord Stratford’s hopes of a reformed
Turkish Empire, more or less under the ægis of England, were frustrated
by the treaty of Paris. As a result, no reforms were effected in
Turkey. Its downward course was retarded, but not averted. When, in
1876, the accumulated grievances of the Christian population compelled
an outbreak, it will be seen that the intervention of Russia on their
behalf was practically admitted by England and the other Great Powers.
Abdul Mehzid died in 1861. He had not realized even the small promise
of his youth. He had many instincts that were sound and good. He was
the most humane of the long list of Sultans. He fully recognized the
urgent necessity for reforms in his State, in order to bring it into
line with other civilized States in Europe. But he had not the energy
or the will to carry them into effect, and the programme of reform
conceded to Lord Stratford remained a dead letter. He was prematurely
aged by debauchery. He was the first Sultan to fall into the hands of
moneylenders of Western Europe. Great sums were borrowed ostensibly
for the war with Russia. But the larger part of them was expended by
Abdul Mehzid in wild extravagance, in gratifying the caprices of the
multitude of women in his harem, in building palaces, and in satisfying
the demands of corrupt ministers. On the occasion of the marriage of
one of his daughters with the son of a Grand Vizier he spent forty
millions of francs on her trousseau and in fêtes. Meanwhile the
services of the State were neglected, nothing was done to relieve Kars,
and corruption spread in all directions.
Abdul Aziz, who succeeded his brother and reigned for fifteen years,
was physically one of the finest of his race. He was majestic in
appearance. His mien was gracious. He was every inch a Sultan. But
this was about all that could be said for him. His mind was vacuous.
His education had been neglected. He had spent many years in forced
seclusion, but had secretly intrigued with the more fanatical party
in the State against his brother, and had raised hopes that on coming
to the throne he would reverse the measures of reform, such as they
were, which his two predecessors had initiated. But he belied these
expectations for a time. On his accession he issued a proclamation
announcing his intention to follow his two predecessors in the path
of reform. He promised to economize the resources of the State and
to reduce the vast expenditure of the palace. He pensioned off the
multitudes of concubines of his brother, and gave out that he meant to
content himself with the most modest harem. But these proved to be no
more than good intentions, which only paved the way to very opposite
measures. Before long his own retinue of women was increased to nine
hundred, and the number of eunuchs in his palace to three thousand.
His extravagance soon emulated that of his brother. His reign was one
of external peace, which afforded full opportunity for giving effect
to the reforms promised by his brother and registered by the treaty of
Paris. Nothing was ever done. The firman proved to be a dead letter.
His ministers cared no more than himself for reforms. Successive
British Ambassadors made no serious efforts in this direction. Indeed,
they were precluded by the treaty of Paris from any exclusive pressure
on the Porte, without the support of all the other Powers.
The reign was chiefly conspicuous for the enormous borrowings of money
in London and Paris by the Porte, following on the bad example set by
Abdul Mehzid. The debt was rapidly increased by Abdul Aziz till it
reached a total of nearly two hundred millions sterling. It does not
appear that the accruing interest on this great debt was ever paid out
of the revenues of the Empire. Fresh loans were continually raised, out
of which the accumulated interest on previous loans was provided. Huge
commissions to financiers who brought out the loans, and bribes to
pashas for consenting to their issue, accounted for another large part
of the borrowed money. What remained was mainly devoted by the Sultan
to new palaces and to extravagances of his harem. This merry game went
on as long as credulous people in Western Europe could be induced to
continue lending. But the credit of the Turkish Empire was exhausted in
1874. A repudiation of half of the interest was then announced, and in
the following year the remaining half was repudiated. This did much to
weaken the interest of Western Europe in the Turkish cause. Eventually
a composition was arrived at with the creditors of the State. An
International Commission was appointed, in whom certain revenues of the
State were vested, out of which the interest of a greatly reduced total
of the original debt was to be paid. The principle of foreign control
over the finance of the Empire was thus introduced.
The Russian Government during this reign, by its skilful diplomacy,
backed by threats of force, recovered much of its old influence at
the Porte, and its ambassador, General Ignatief, began to dominate
its councils and to nominate its Grand Viziers. Three events during
the period showed the gradual downward course of the Empire. In 1867
the two Danubian principalities succeeded in accomplishing their
long-desired object of uniting together in a single State, thenceforth
known as Roumania; and in 1868 Prince Charles of Hohenzollern was
elected, and was invested by the Sultan as the hereditary ruler of
this new State. The union of the two provinces into a single State
practically secured independence to it, while the connection of its
ruler with the reigning family of Prussia marked the advent of that
Power into the political system of the Christian States founded on
the débris of the Turkish Empire in Europe, and was the first of many
important alliances of which we now see the intent and result. Serbia
also made an important advance to independence. In 1867 the Turkish
garrison in Belgrade, the occupation of which had been confirmed by the
treaty of Paris, was withdrawn by the Porte. These two events were the
result of pressure of the ambassadors of the Great Powers, who were
anxious to minimize the causes of friction to the Porte, which did not
add to its real strength.
Another important event was the repudiation by Russia on October 31,
1870, during the Franco-German War, of the clause in the treaty of
Paris of 1856 which interdicted the Black Sea to Russian and Turkish
vessels of war, and forbade to both Powers the creation or maintenance
of naval arsenals on the coasts of that sea. We now know that Prince
Bismarck, on behalf of Prussia, secured the neutrality of Russia in
the war with France, in 1870, by promising to support this repudiation
by the Czar of his treaty obligation. Complaint has not unfrequently
been made of the refusal or neglect of the British Government, of which
Mr. Gladstone was then the head, to insist on the maintenance of this
treaty by Russia, even at the risk of war. But the Porte, in whose
interest the provision had been framed by the Congress of Paris, and
which was primarily concerned in its maintenance, showed no desire or
intention to make its breach by Russia a _casus belli_, and it would
have been sheer madness for England, either with or without Turkey,
to have taken up the challenge of the Czar. A humiliating restriction
such as this on the sovereign rights of a great country was obviously
of a temporary character, and could not, in the nature of things, be
a permanent arrangement. It had served its purpose by giving to the
Porte a respite of fourteen years from naval attack by Russia. Lord
Palmerston, who was Prime Minister in England when the treaty was made,
had himself put on record the opinion that the enforced neutrality of
the Black Sea might be expected to last for fifteen years. It is to be
noted that some years would necessarily elapse after the repudiation of
the treaty before a Russian fleet could be created in the Black Sea and
before Sebastopol could be restored as a naval base. In point of fact,
in the war, which was soon to break out between Russia and Turkey, in
1877, the latter Power had virtual command of the Black Sea, and the
Russian army which crossed the Balkans and advanced to the vicinity of
Constantinople did so without the support of a naval force in the Black
Sea, as had been the case in 1829.
Another event also occurred in 1870, the significance of which was not
fully appreciated at the time. Previous to that year the Christian
Slav populations of the Balkans, such as the Bulgarians, Bosnians, and
others, were under the spiritual jurisdiction of the Greek Ecumenical
Patriarch and were regarded as Greeks. The ancient history of Bulgaria
and its claims to a distinct nationality appear to have been forgotten
or ignored by politicians interested in the Eastern question. On
March 10, 1870, Abdul Aziz, under pressure from Russia, backed by its
able ambassador, General Ignatief, issued a firman recognizing the
separate existence of Bulgaria, and creating for it a national Church
independent of the Greek Church, though differing in no important
respect in point of doctrine or ritual. This laid the foundation for
a new nationality in the Balkans. Bulgaria, long forgotten, emerged
from obscurity and came to the front as a competitor of the Greeks.
The importance of this will be appreciated later, when we come to the
rivalry of these races for the débris of the Ottoman Empire in Europe.
In 1876 a bloodless revolution took place in Constantinople. A new
ministry was forced upon Abdul Aziz, of which Midhat Pasha—one of
the few genuine and convinced reformers among the leading Turks—was
a member. They decided to depose the Sultan. They obtained a _fetva_
from the Mufti justifying this on the ground of his incapacity and
extravagance. No single hand was raised in his favour. After a vain
protest, he submitted to his fate, and was removed from his palace to
another building destined to be his prison. Four days later he was
found dead there, and nineteen physicians of the city, including men of
all nationalities, testified that Abdul Aziz died by his own hand.
XXI
ABDUL HAMID II
1876-1909
ON the deposition of Abdul Aziz, his nephew, the eldest son of Abdul
Mehzid, much against his will, was proclaimed as Sultan, under the
title of Murad V. His feeble mind, reduced to a nullity by long
seclusion in the Cage, and by the habit of intemperance, was completely
unhinged by this unexpected elevation, and after a few weeks—on August
31, 1876—it became necessary for the committee of ministers who had
set him on the throne to depose him in favour of the next heir. His
brother, Abdul Hamid II, held the Sultanate for thirty-three years, and
is still alive, in the custody of another brother, the present Sultan,
after being deposed, in his turn, in 1909.
Abdul Hamid proved to be the most mean, cunning, untrustworthy, and
cruel intriguer of the long dynasty of Othman. His mother was an
Armenian. He was destitute of physical courage. He lived in constant
fear of plots and assassination, and in suspicion of every one about
him. He trusted no one, least of all his ministers. He allowed no
consultations between them. If he heard that two of them had met in
private, his suspicions were aroused and they were called to account.
He employed a huge army of spies, who reported to him directly and
daily as to the doings of his ministers, of the ambassadors, and of
any one else of importance. They fed him with reports, often false,
on which he founded his actions. Plots were invented in order to
induce him to consent to measures which otherwise he would not have
sanctioned. He claimed and exercised the right of secret assassination
of his foes or suspected foes. No natives of Turkey were safe. They
might disappear at any moment, as so many thousands had done by the
order of the Sultan, through some secret agent, either to death or
exile. This was not so much from pure wickedness of heart as from fear
of being assassinated himself, and the belief that his safety lay in
exterminating his enemies before they had the chance of maturing their
plans against himself. The ambassadors of foreign Powers had little
influence with him, except so far as they were able to threaten the
use of armed force, when, sooner than risk war, he gave way. He showed
great cunning in playing off one ambassador against another, and was an
adept in all the meanest intrigues of diplomacy.
Abdul Hamid’s life was one of incessant labour. He devoted himself most
assiduously to the work of his great office. Whatever his demerits,
he was absolute master of his ministers and of his State. There never
was a more centralized and meticulous despotism. As he trusted no one,
he was overwhelmed by most trivial details and graver questions were
neglected. He could not, indeed, administer the vast affairs of his
Empire without information or advice from others, but no one knew from
day to day who was the person on whose advice the Sultan overruled
his ostensible ministers, whether a favourite lady of his harem, or a
eunuch, or some fanatical dervish, or an astrologer, or a spy. There
was constant confusion in the State, arising from antagonism between
the officials of the Porte and the minions of the palace.
Outwardly, Abdul Hamid had the manners of a gentleman, but inwardly he
was as mean a villain as could be found in the purlieus of his capital.
He was avaricious to an extreme, and though his expenditure was most
lavish and his charities wide, he amassed immense wealth, which he
invested secretly through German bankers against the rainy day which he
expected. When it came and he was deposed, amid universal execration
and loathing, his life was spared in the hope mainly of extracting
from him these secret investments. He was not above receiving bribes
himself, on a great scale, from financiers in search of concessions.
He did nothing to check the chief evil of Turkish rule—the sale of
offices and the necessity for officials to recoup themselves for their
outlay by local exactions. Though he was not without some instincts for
good government, and was free from any fanaticism, his system was such
that everything went to the bad in his reign, and that many years of
peace, after the treaty of Berlin, were attended by no improvement in
the condition of his people, but the reverse. The result of his policy
was that his Empire suffered a greater dismemberment than had been the
bad fortune of any of his predecessors, and as he monopolized power, he
must be held mainly responsible for its evil results.