The Life of Midhat Pasha

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.

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CHAPTER I
EARLY HISTORY OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE
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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

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MIDHAT PASHA

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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 Cantimer1 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 reorganisation 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:—

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:

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 more and more questionable.

With respect to France, from the first meeting of the plenipotentiaries at Paris, in May 1856, it became evident that a change had come over the spirit of the Court of the Tuileries. The representatives of France no longer showed themselves as irreconcilable to the views of Russia as was the case when Mr Drouyn de Lluys penned his famous despatches two years before, and in the discussions that took place at the Congress, and still more in the various Commissions appointed to settle the details of the articles of peace, the envoys of France were found to be constantly ranged on the side of Russia, whereas the views and contentions of England and Turkey were invariably supported by the representatives of Austria.

This new orientation of French politics, which continued to the time of the Polish insurrection in 1862, was further emphasised by the exceptional pomp and circumstances attending the French mission to St Petersburg, on the occasion of the coronation of the new Czar. The matrimonial and political rapprochement, too, between the House of Savoy and the Napoleons, culminating in the war of 1859, was a further cause of estrangement between France and Austria.

In compensation, however, for the gradual parting of the ways of French and English diplomacy in the East, the Cabinet of Vienna seemed to have reverted frankly to what may be called the normal policy of Austria with reference to Turkey, and the policy of Metternich and Castlereagh was for a time steadily and consistently followed by Buol and Palmerston. This state of things continued until the double election of Prince Couza in the Danubian principalities caused a rift in the alliance.

To Austria everything connected with the free navigation of the Danube and the political status of the provinces bordering on that great artery is, and must ever be, State interests of the first magnitude.

To England, apart from their indirect bearing on the integrity and independence of Turkey, these questions were only matters of sentimental interest founded on academic sympathy with the general principle of nationalities. This sentiment, however, called into activity by the events unrolling themselves in Italy, was particularly strong in England at the time when the question of the principalities presented itself as a practical problem to the statesmen of Europe, and found in the Prime Minister of the day, Mr Gladstone, one of its keenest and most enthusiastic partisans. England completely severed her policy on this occasion from that of Austria. Whether such conduct, with reference to a branch of a much larger problem, was quite consistent with an Eastern policy considered as a whole, and whether such a deviation from the obligation of loyalty to an indispensable ally was or was not responsible for much of what subsequently occurred, is perhaps too delicate a question to be discussed here. Certain, however, is it that the desertion of Austria on this occasion by the ally she counted on in Eastern matters to maintain intact the provisions of the Treaty of Paris, and the instability of English foreign policy that it revealed, made a profound impression on the minds of the Austrian Emperor and his counsellors, and justified in their view the revolution that subsequently took place in the Eastern policy of Austria. Placed as the Middle Empire is—between jealous rivals and powerful neighbours, and with enormous and vital interests to safeguard—it is obliged to lean on one system of alliance or another, and what has been called “la politique du Cascole” is, as it were, a necessity of her position, and even a condition of her existence. When the events connected with the Herzegovinian insurrection come to be narrated in these pages, the part taken in them by Austria, and the rôle played by her statesmen throughout the long negotiations preceding the Russo‐Turkish War and during its continuance, until the final act of the comedy enacted at Berlin, will have to be clearly set forth in detail, for it was Austria that played the chief part in all of them, and that finally secured the chief part in the spoil.

This chapter, which only seeks to point out the particular circumstances that determined a change of policy on Eastern matters on the part of this empire, must be considered rather as an apology for, than an indictment of Austria with respect to Turkey. Moreover, it is the author’s aim throughout this work to narrate and explain events according to the lights vouchsafed to him, rather than to accuse any nation of bad faith or unjustifiable aggression with respect to his country. A nation worthy to exist at all must exist by its own strength and vigour, and not by the sufferance of its neighbours; and indeed the only indictment which will be proclaimed in this book will be against the descendants of the Othmans, Orkhans, Solimans, Bayazids and Mahmouds who have turned their backs on the traditions of their faith, and have allowed the muscles of the nation to be relaxed, and its heritage to become the prey of the spoiler.

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Midhat was born at Constantinople in 1822. His father, Hadji Ali Effendi, was a native of Rustchuk, and gave his son the usual education provided by the local schools, until he was of an age to follow him in his different displacements, first to Widdin and Lofdja, and afterwards to Constantinople in 1836. A few years after this he obtained a position in the Secretariat of the Grand Vizier’s office, whence he was promoted to superior employment in the provinces. He remained two years at Damascus, and then, after a short interval spent in Constantinople, he proceeded, in 1844, to Konia, as secretary to Sami Bekir Pasha’s Council. In 1849 he was nominated to the Presidency of the Medjlissi‐Vala (Grand Council of State) and promoted to the rank of Sanie, which is the first rank in the Ottoman hierarchy, and in 1851 to that of Mutemaiz, with the functions of First Secretary to the Grand Council.

Soon after this, difficulties in the provinces of Damascus and Aleppo, connected with the Custom House, and with the conduct of the Commander‐in‐Chief of the Army of Arabia, Kibrissli Mehemet Pasha, necessitated the despatch of a public functionary with full power to inquire into the irregularities, civil and military, which were notorious in those provinces. Midhat was chosen for this important and confidential mission. In the space of six months he settled the question of the Customs in favour of the Government, by which the sum in dispute, £T150,000, was restored to the Ottoman Treasury, and a further surplus of £70,000 was secured. He further fixed the responsibility for the insurrection of the Druses on the Commander‐in‐Chief, Kibrissli Mehemet Pasha, and recommended his recall.

The courage and capacity of which Midhat gave proof in this mission attracted to him the attention of the Grand Vizier of the day, the famous Reshid Pasha, who appointed him to a confidential post in the Superior Council of the State, which he occupied during the successive Grand Vizierates of Reshid, Aali, and Great Rifat Pashas. This may be considered the initiation of Midhat into political, as distinguished from administrative, life. It was in this post that he assisted, in 1852, at the historical interview between Rifat Pasha, Turkish Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Prince Mentchikoff, the special envoy of the Emperor Nicholas, in the negotiations that preceded the Crimean War.

In 1854, Kibrissli Mehemet Pasha, who in consequence of Midhat’s report had been dismissed from the command of the Syrian Army Corps, became Grand Vizier. He now charged Midhat with the difficult and delicate mission of pacifying the disturbed provinces of Adrianople and the Balkans, and clearing them of the brigandage that infested them. The organising genius of Midhat proved equal to the task. He suppressed brigandage with a strong hand, and by restoring tranquillity in this district he deprived the neighbouring States of all pretexts for chronic complaints. To prevent the return of trouble he further elaborated a whole plan of re‐organisation, which he submitted to the approval of the Government at Constantinople, where Reshid Pasha had again become Grand Vizier. The draft of this plan arrived at the very time that Reshid and Aali Pashas were engaged in drawing up regulations for the government of the Eyalets (provinces), with a view to their decentralisation. Midhat’s plan was accepted, and it was decided that he should be nominated to the governorship of the important province of the Danube (Bulgaria), when suddenly another change of Ministry at Constantinople delayed the execution of the whole plan of reform. In the meantime an appalling earthquake at Broussa had caused terrible damage in that important city and much misery among its inhabitants. Midhat was now despatched thither with a mission to succour sufferers and to help to restore confidence among the terrified inhabitants.

On his return from Broussa he was despatched as special commissioner to inspect the provinces of Widdin and Silistria, which were in open rebellion against the central authorities. Here Midhat, as he had previously done in Syria, made a detailed report, pointing out the faulty administration of the provinces, and fearlessly inculpating the two Valis (governors).

This discharge of a public duty was met by the usual manœuvres of inculpated Pashas. Their friends at the Palace bestirred themselves in their favour, and induced the Sultan to reject the proposals of Midhat, and to send a well‐known Ulema at Constantinople, Haireddin Effendi, to the two vilayets in question, to make a further report in verification or contradiction of that of Midhat. To the confusion and disappointment of the friends of the incriminated Valis, Haireddin Effendi made a report in every way confirming the views and recommendations, and emphasizing the accusations of Midhat.

At this time (1858) Reshid Pasha died, and Aali Pasha, his successor, obtained six months’ leave of absence for Midhat, to be spent in travelling in Europe, with a view to the study of certain points of European administration with which he desired to make himself acquainted. Paris, London, Vienna, and Brussels were successively visited in this short period of time, and much valuable information obtained, both as to the spirit and working of European governments.

Midhat had by this time already acquired a certain reputation as a successful provincial governor and whenever trouble in the empire declared itself, his name recurred as a fit and proper person to be despatched as special envoy or governor to pacify the province in question. Kibrissli Mehemet Pasha had now again become Grand Vizier, and as trouble of a serious kind had for some time been brewing in the vilayet of Nish (Servia), where, in spite of the presence of an imposing force of regular and irregular troops, insecurity of life and property was rampant, and an alarming emigration of the inhabitants was taking place, he nominated Midhat to the Governorship of this important province (1861).

Midhat resolved to make an attempt to pacify the province without the use of armed force, and to gain the confidence of the Bulgarians by the redress of their just grievances. His first step was to invite the notabilities of the different districts to conferences, to state their complaints, and attentively examine with him the remedies that should be applied. These grievances practically resolved themselves into two: (1) the entire absence of roads and other means of intercommunication, which made it impossible for the inhabitants—exclusively cultivators of the soil—to find markets for their produce; (2) the rampant brigandage that everywhere existed, rendering life and property insecure. These two causes, it was, that induced the emigration into Servia, which was assuming large proportions, where the Bulgarians found among their fellow‐Slavs both greater security and more favourable conditions of labour.

Midhat readily acknowledged the justice and reasonableness of these complaints, and proceeded to strike a bargain with the notables. They were to undertake to use their influence to pacify the country and discourage emigration for two years, and Midhat engaged within this time to carry out the reforms and improvements that were mutually agreed upon between them. Midhat strictly carried out the terms of this agreement. He ordered the troops back to their barracks, commenced the great high road between Nish and Sofia with the byroads connected with it, and by means of military patrols sent out in every direction, brigandage very soon entirely disappeared from the country. Roads were now being laid out in every direction, and bridges constructed over the Morava and other rivers, so as to meet the requirements of an agricultural population, and facilitate the outlet for their produce. An elaborate system of block‐houses all along the Servian frontier put an end to the incursions of armed bands of Servians, which had long fostered and sustained disturbance in the province, and many Bulgarian families who had emigrated into Servia now began to return to their former habitations. Concurrently with these material ameliorations, Midhat occupied himself with the solution of other economical and moral problems that concerned the well‐being of the community. The relations between proprietors and tenants of the soil had long been in an unsatisfactory condition. Midhat convoked representatives of both these classes to a conference, and with much pains, and after long discussions, he succeeded in finding a means of reconciliation between their opposing pretensions, to the satisfaction of both parties.

At Prisrend, in that part of the provinces inhabited by the Arnauts, he was confronted with problems of a peculiar nature. Here a vendetta (similar to the Corsican vendetta) existed among the unruly mountaineers of Albanian descent. Midhat, faithful to his system of working hand in hand with the inhabitants themselves, convoked an assembly of notables of the district, and with their co‐operation, and by their own initiative, instituted a permanent commission to settle money compositions for bloodshed, and by this means he succeeded in suppressing a vendetta that had existed for centuries among this brave but unruly people. He further induced them to give up the practice of carrying arms, and, for the first time in the history of the provinces, to submit to Imperial conscription; he further organised a gendarmerie, secured the peaceful collection of taxes, and put an end to all religious persecution; schools, too, were established, and hospitals for members of all religious denominations without distinction. Thus the vilayets of Nish and Prisrend gradually recovered the full enjoyment of tranquillity and peace, and Christians and Mussulmans alike began to enjoy the prospect of returning prosperity.

In the provinces of Widdin and Silistria the problem of pacification was complicated by a factor which rendered the solution far more difficult. Here the continued and systematic interference of Russia by means of her consuls and agents, supported by the Russian ambassador at Constantinople, working hand in hand with the agents of the Slav Committees, who were overrunning the country and preaching the gospel of rebellion, created quite a new set of problems to be dealt with. It was no longer local grievances to be redressed, but a political propagandism to be faced.

Aali and Fuad Pashas, the successors of Reshid Pasha, appreciating the administrative and reforming talents of Midhat, summoned him in 1864 to Constantinople, to consider with them a general organic law for the government of the provinces of the empire (loi des vilayets), and it was there resolved that the vilayets of Silistria, Widdin, and Nish should be combined into a single government under the name of the “Vilayet of the Danube,” and entrusted to Midhat. The Imperial sanction to this appointment and to the organic reforms proposed was obtained (in 1865) in spite of the opposition of the reactionary party in Constantinople, headed by the Sheik‐ul‐Islam of the day, Saadeddine Effendi, strenuously backed by Sourrouri Effendi Naib, an avowed enemy of the new Vali, whom we shall meet with later on figuring, as a reward for his zeal, and in acknowledgment of his impartiality, as the President of the tribunal that tried and condemned Midhat. But the influence of Fuad Pasha was sufficient to overcome all such opposition, and Midhat forthwith entered upon his new and important functions.

It will be sufficient to give a summary account of the radical reforms introduced by the new Vali in the government of this important province.

The whole vilayet was divided into seven distinct sandjaks (districts), the sandjak into cazas (cantons), and the cazas into nahies (communes), and in each of these centres councils were created for the levying of taxes and local administration of the district.

Forced labour (corvée) was abolished; bridges to the number of 1400 were constructed; and 3000 kilometres (circ. 2000 miles) of roads constructed; brigandage was effectually stamped out and a local gendarmerie raised, and agricultural banks, with a view of relieving the small farmer from the exactions of the usurer, established. The capital for these purposes was procured by an ingenious system, founded on the cultivation of the public and waste lands, by which not only was relief given to distressed and needy agriculturists, but a local fund was created for important local improvements. Agriculture, the staple industry of the inhabitants, soon began to flourish in consequence of these wise and energetic measures, and with agriculture the affiliated industries and commerce of the country. The navigation of the Danube, the great artery of the province, next engaged the attention of the Pasha, and soon two, and then four, vessels, flying the Ottoman flag for the first time, made their appearance on this river. A postal service was likewise started, and through the initiative of the governor a manufactory of carriages established at Rustchuk, which at the end of the very first year paid a dividend of 10 per cent. Charitable institutions too were not neglected, and orphan asylums for Christian and Mahomedan children alike were constructed at Rustchuk and Sofia, and the pupils initiated in trades and industries.

The key of all these reforms, and the cardinal principle of this administration, was to work hand in hand with the local authorities. By their aid the valuation of all property held in the respective districts was carried out equitably and fairly, and taxes founded on this assessment were levied without complaint; and although the salaries of responsible officials, such as the police and judges, were considerably increased, and many vexatious taxes abolished, the new revenue of the province showed a considerable and increasing surplus.

The prosperity of this large province under its new administrator could not fail to attract the attention of the authorities at Constantinople, and Midhat now received the congratulations both of the Sultan and of the Sublime Porte. An Imperial Irade, moreover, enjoined all the governors of the other provinces of the empire to apply in their respective vilayets the same reforms that Midhat had introduced in that of the Danube, a detailed plan and description of which had been forwarded to Constantinople by Rifat Effendi, the secretary of the vilayet (subsequently Grand Vizier).

So far everything seemed to go well, and a new era of prosperity seemed about to dawn for the provinces of the empire generally. It is worth while for those who really desire to obtain an inside view of the working of Turkish absolutism, and to discern the secret springs that move the Government of Turkey, and make themselves acquainted with the hidden causes that have time after time wrecked the hopes of Turkish reformers, to follow attentively what we are now about to relate, on the authority, be it noted, of one in a position, if any one was, to know the truth and put his fingers on the plague‐spot.

Midhat felt that his work would not be complete, nor would the return of material prosperity suffice to attach his province permanently to the Government of the Sultan, unless he applied himself as well to the moral side of the problem and succeeded in counteracting the manœuvres of the enemies of the empire to sow disaffection in the minds of the youth of the province. One of the most effective devices contrived by them with this view was the plan, pursued for many years, of sending large numbers of Bulgarian youths to carry on their studies at the Russian universities of Odessa, Kharkoff, and Kieff, and these, on their return, became the chiefs of the staffs of the active propagandists of Panslavic ideas among the youths of Bulgaria. These missionaries of disaffection constituted one of the most serious dangers to Ottoman sovereignty, and one of the most difficult problems to deal with. Midhat determined to grapple with it, and with this view he determined to establish in the principal centres of the province schools and universities where the Bulgarian youths, Christians and Mussulmans alike, should enjoy all the advantages of a first‐class modern education without having to seek it abroad. The incidental advantage of a fusion of Christian and Mussulman elements in the country, under the inspiring influence of a common education, at an age when friendships are most easily formed and generous sentiments evoked, did not escape the sagacity of Midhat. The whole project was explained by him in a detailed report to the Sublime Porte, the expenses being provided half by the surplus revenues of the province, and the rest by voluntary subscriptions.

When this project was made known at Constantinople, the person who most readily seized the full import of it was General Ignatieff, the Russian ambassador. It went directly counter to all the most cherished plans and projects of the Panslavic party, of which he was the moving spirit. There was nothing that he did not do to wreck the plan and upset the Pasha. Unfortunately the nature of an absolute government and the character of an Eastern autocrat afforded him ample means of action. The interference of a foreign ambassador in the internal economy of a province of the empire had nothing in it which appeared abnormal or impertinent; such interference was consecrated by long usage and had become chronic and accepted. Ignatieff began by representing to the sovereign that the spirit of the reforms effected by Midhat in his vilayet, especially the institution of local councils (which was of the very essence of the reforms introduced), were in direct opposition to the spirit of absolutism, and that the result would infallibly be that little by little the province itself would become detached from the body of the empire, and would claim its entire independence, as had already happened in the case of Egypt. It is not certain, however, that the ambassador would have gained his point, even with a sovereign so tenacious of his prerogatives as was Abdul Aziz, had not an unfortunate error of typography, eagerly seized on and exploited by Ignatieff, played into the hands of the ambassador. In a passage of the official journal of the province, the term “deputies” was inadvertently applied to the members of the chief council of the vilayet. This apparently trivial circumstance, the slip of a typographist, was sufficient to turn the scale in the Sultan’s mind and to wreck the project. Abdul Aziz refused his consent to the proposal, on the obviously insincere pretext of the expense connected with it. Thus this crowning act of Midhat’s work, the reform which above all others was calculated to attach the Bulgarians to the central government and to destroy a nest of disaffectation in the province, was defeated by a foreign ambassador playing on the ignorant susceptibilities and autocratic instincts of the sovereign of the country. If this were a single and exceptional example of the working of autocracy, it might be passed over in comparative silence, however regrettable it was in this particular instance; but the whole modern history of Turkey shows that such intervention was nothing less than a system of statecraft whereby autocracy was cunningly worked for the ruin of the country in as certain and deadly a way as was the Liberum Veto of the Polish constitution. The spontaneous caprices and whims of an autocrat are the least part of the baneful effects of autocracy; it is in the shadows that flit behind the throne, stronger than the throne itself, working systematically on the ignorance and fears of the autocrat, with settled purpose and in pursuit of settled plans, that lies, in the East at any rate, the real curse of absolutism.

Simultaneously with this diplomatic action at Constantinople, order was given to the Panslavic Committees established at Bucharest and Kichenew to prepare for action in the field. Midhat’s agents had kept him informed of the revival of agitation entertained by the agents of these committees among the Bulgarian peasants, and he lost no time in transmitting this information to the Porte.

On the 2nd May, 1867, Midhat received the following telegram from Sistovo:—“Last night numerous armed bands crossed the frontier close to Sistovo, and were immediately joined by other bands who were waiting for them on this side of the frontier, and early this morning they commenced operations by the horrible mutilation of five Mussulman children, aged from eight to twelve, who were tending sheep on the plains.”

The object and purpose of these barbarities was obvious: it was to excite reprisals on the part of the Mussulman population, which would afford a pretext to the enemies of the empire to fill Europe with an outcry against Turkish barbarity and fanaticism. The same policy, heralded by the same acts, ruthlessly pursued later on, did produce the desired effect, and Bulgarian atrocities became a proverb and byword in the world; but on this occasion the energy of Midhat, and the patience and forbearance of the Mussulman population, defeated the purpose of the conspirators. Midhat, immediately on receiving the above telegram, embarked two companies of regulars on board a steamer and despatched them to Sistovo, whither he accompanied them himself. He found the whole population, Christian and Mussulman, in a state of the greatest excitement, and his first care was to calm the effervescence and to inspire confidence in the energy and resolution of the authorities.

The plan of the insurgents was to push on as rapidly as they could to the Balkans, increasing their forces as they went along by the native levies which had been organised by the committees for this purpose, until they reached the monastery of Kapanbova, where a large dépôt of arms had been collected, and which was intended to be the headquarters of the insurrection.

The presence of four battalions of regulars at Capriova prevented the execution of this plan, and after suffering several defeats in the field, the bands dispersed in various directions, closely pursued by the troops and the local levies that had joined them. Midhat now instituted a special tribunal, composed of six Mussulmans and six Christian judges, to try the rebel prisoners, and the evidence given by the prisoners themselves, clearly demonstrated that the invading bands had been equipped and sent out by the Slav Committees of Bucharest and Kichenew, and were acting in unison with corresponding committees established throughout the province. By the unanimous vote of this tribunal, sentences of death were passed on the leaders, and penal servitude and minor punishment, according to their status and degree of culpability, on all the rebels taken in arms. By these energetic means the insurrection was effectually stamped out and tranquillity restored to the province.

An outcry, however, was quickly raised in the European Press against the “methods of barbarism” adopted to repress the insurrection, and the Pasha was accused of ultra severity against Christian insurgents and reprehensible leniency towards Mussulman offenders.

So far from this latter accusation having any real foundation, the very composition of the special tribunal appointed to deal with these troubles was a guarantee of its impartiality. Moreover, the following fact will afford an example of the impunity enjoyed by the Mahomedan criminals. In the course of these troubles two dead bodies of Christians were found in a field near Biscara; a judicial investigation was immediately ordered on the spot, and the result was that the evidence pointed to a sergeant of gendarmerie, a Mussulman of the name of Mehemet Tchavouch, as having committed the murder. Pressed by questions Mehemet made a full confession, and he was thereupon condemned to death and forthwith executed.

Midhat now turned his attention to the best means of anticipating and guarding against similar raids and insurrections in the future. He knew well that the central revolutionary committees at Bucharest and Kichenew would not disarm, but would simply watch for a more favourable opportunity to put their plans into execution. To garrison the whole frontier with regular troops would expose the province to large expenditure, and the troops, when called upon to act, to calumny and misrepresentation. He accordingly conceived the plan of organising a local militia of 40,000 men, recruited from all classes of the population, Christian and Mussulman alike, to whom the defence of their own localities should be entrusted, and they were to be indemnified if called upon to act beyond the boundaries of their district. By this means a cheap and effective force was provided against all contingencies, and at the same time the confidence reposed in the loyalty of the population generally received a conspicuous demonstration. The defence of the line of the Danube was secured in a similar manner. A succession of guard‐houses was established throughout the length of the river, and their defence confided to a river‐guard recruited equally from the Christian and Mussulman riverine population.

So ingenious was the plan of organisation, that the term of service for each guardsman did not exceed one month in ten years. The arms and equipments were provided by voluntary subscription raised from all the inhabitants of the province.

During all this time the greater the energy shown by Midhat in the organisation, development and defence of this frontier province of the empire, the greater became the determination of the Slav Committees to undo and defeat his work.

After the late exploits of these committees in Bulgaria, Midhat had organised a system of surveillance at the headquarters of these committees, and information having reached him that emissaries had been despatched from Galatz to Belgrade in order to organise a new raid into Bulgaria, he ordered these emissaries to be closely watched and followed in all their movements. On their embarkation at Rustchuk, on board the Austrian vessel Germania, he sent photographs of them to the Austrian Consul, with a request that the Ottoman authorities should be allowed to examine the passports of the passengers. Accompanied by an Austrian Consular Agent the Turkish authorities accordingly proceeded on board, where they were immediately received by shots from revolvers on the part of the two suspected agents, who had barricaded themselves in the saloon of the vessel, and had determined to resist arrest. After an indescribable scene of confusion among the panic‐stricken passengers aboard, the Turkish gendarmerie, acting with the consent of the Consul, succeeded in effecting the capture of the agents, who were both mortally wounded in the encounter.

The capture of these revolutionary agents made a great noise in Europe. General Ignatieff at Constantinople, seized on the circumstance as a pretext to demand the recall of Midhat, accompanying the Servian Agent to the Palace in the audience accorded to the latter, whose complaints were founded on the fact that one of the captured agents was a Servian. Midhat’s influence, however, was still in the ascendant, and these intrigues remained for a time without effect.

Other means failing, a desperate and criminal attempt was now made to get rid of this too energetic Pasha. Two attempts to assassinate him followed in quick succession, the first at Rustchuk, where the overseer of the training school fired a shot, fortunately without effect, on the Pasha as he was walking in the school enclosure; and the other by a Servian, who attempted to enter his service with the view to assassinating him, and who made a full confession seriously compromising two important personages in Servia. He was sent to Constantinople, tried, and condemned to penal servitude for life, in spite of the strenuous efforts of General Ignatieff in his favour.

Not very long after these stirring events (1868) Midhat was summoned to Constantinople, where he was placed at the head of the Council of State, and he was succeeded in the governorship of the province, for which he had done so much, by Sabri Pasha, the deputy‐governor of Nish.

As President of the Council, Midhat marked his short tenure of that office by the institution of a school of Arts and Sciences at Sultan Ahmed, in Stamboul, and by the establishment of a bank for loans, with the special purpose of relieving small employers from the tyranny of usurers. This bank (Emniet Sandighie) still exists. It soon, however, became obvious to Midhat that his system of usefulness in his new ministerial position was strictly limited; his authority in matters pertaining to his own office was constantly overruled on important matters, especially those concerning finance, by the Grand Vizier, acting on the authority of the Sultan, and this incompatibility of views culminated on the question of Turkish railways, whereupon Midhat insisted on resigning. Just at this time Nakieddine Pasha was dismissed from the governorship of the province of Bagdad, and Midhat was appointed Vali of Bagdad (1869).

Hardly had the new Vali reached his post, when he found himself confronted with some difficult problems of quite a different order from those he had dealt with on the Danube, but of a not less serious description. The question of recruiting was the most urgent, and called for immediate solution. The Arab tribes, turbulent and independent by nature, had always shown themselves refractory to enlistment, and were now in open revolt against its enforcement. One of the difficulties of the situation consisted in the fact that the military authority in the province was separated from the civil, and was in the hands of the commander of the 6th Army Corps, Samih Pasha, whereas the situation required all authority, military as well as civil, to be concentrated in the hands of a single strong central authority. Midhat did not hesitate at such a crisis to assume the full responsibility of this concentration, and took immediate military steps to suppress the insurrection by force. He ordered the city of Bagdad to be surrounded by cavalry, and sent infantry and artillery to protect the foreign Mission Houses and the non‐Mussulman quarters from the fanaticism of the Arabs. He at the same time ordered the bridge over the Tigris to be cut, so as to prevent intercommunication among the rebels; and when these energetic measures had fairly intimidated the Arabs, he offered them a general amnesty on condition of immediate surrender. These conditions were now accepted, and the insurrection suddenly collapsed, and no further resistance was offered to the recruiting. The promptitude with which this dangerous rebellion was suppressed was appreciated by the Porte, and a telegram was received from Constantinople approving the measures he had taken, and placing officially the supreme command of the 6th Army Corps in his hands.

The next serious difficulty was connected with the levying of taxes. This had always been a difficult operation among the nomad tribes, of which the population in a great measure consisted, and was the cause of continual disputes and insurrections. Matters had, however, now reached a crisis, for a colonel at the head of a battalion of regulars sent to Divanie and Dogara to collect the tithes was surrounded by tribesmen to the number of ten thousand men, and himself killed and his troops killed or dispersed. The new Vali seized at once the seriousness of the situation, for the encouragement which this success afforded the tribesmen threatened to give rise to a general insurrection of all the surrounding nomads.

It was necessary to avenge the defeat at once and to make a signal example of the tribesmen concerned. Midhat accordingly ordered a large force, consisting of seven battalions of infantry, four thousand cavalry, with a complement of artillery, to proceed directly to Dogara, under the command of Samih Pasha, whilst with three thousand chosen troops he hastened himself to the disaffected district. A pitched battle now took place between the Arabs and the troops, which resulted in the complete defeat of the former and the capture of their chief. A not unusual incident accompanied the close of the battle. A Shiite Sheik, Abdul Kerim, was marching at the head of a considerable force of tribesmen from the Shiite districts of Urfa and Aleppo to join the rebels, when he received the news of their defeat. Pretending that he was on the road to offer his services to the Government, he joined his forces to those of the Vali, and accompanied the victorious troops on their entry into Bagdad. A military tribunal was at once instituted to try the rebels; the rebel chiefs were condemned and executed, but the tribesmen, on the promise of future good behaviour, were released.

Midhat Pasha clearly discerned that if an end was to be put to these chronic troubles, and these nomad tribes were to be reduced to anything like permanent order, it was not sufficient to defeat them in battle, and that a radical change had to be brought about in their general status, and especially the conditions of land tenure in the country. The Arab cultivator, for the most part, held his lands from the State on the condition of giving three‐fourths of the produce to the State, retaining one‐fourth for himself. Such a system naturally discouraged agriculture and rendered all improvements in cultivation impossible. The consequence was that, for the most part, the Arab shunned the soil, preferring predatory to industrial modes of gaining his living. Midhat determined to attach him to the soil by giving him rights of proprietorship, and divided large tracts of land into plots, which were offered for sale on easy and advantageous terms, special provision being made against accumulation of plots into single hands. The success of this policy was remarkable, and whereas the revenues of the State increased, the turbulence of the tribesmen, and the risings which had become chronic, greatly diminished.

The agricultural prosperity that resulted from these measures stimulated other branches of industry and rendered it necessary to provide outlets for the newly created surplus of the country. The first step in this direction was to render navigable the Tigris and Euphrates, the great arteries of the country, and to improve or create the means of communication between their two banks, and between the different towns situated along their course. The only service of the kind that existed consisted of the boats of an English company plying between Bagdad and Bussora. Midhat determined to start a service of Turkish boats to supply adequately the needs now felt, in the same way that he had formerly done on the Danube when he was Governor of Bulgaria. He ordered the existing vessels to be repaired, new vessels of a larger tonnage to be constructed, and coal dépôts to be formed at Mascat, Aden, Bender and Bushire; and now, for the first time in history, steamers under the Ottoman flag were to be seen periodically in the Suez Canal, on their way to Constantinople. The Babel, one of these vessels, which had originally cost £T88,000 for construction, was bought for the sum of £T33,000 from a bankrupt company, and on its very first voyage between Constantinople and Bussora, which coincided with the time of the pilgrimages, it cleared £T35,000—more than sufficient to cover its purchase price. A net surplus of £T1000 a month resulted from this improved river navigation, and Midhat now determined on extensive dredging works, with a view to extending the navigation northwards and adapting it to vessels of a larger tonnage. Chakir Bey (afterwards Marshal and Ambassador to St Petersburg, and one of Midhat’s faithful partisans) was despatched north with a company of engineers, and reported favourably on the enterprise. Thereupon dredging and other engineering works were immediately ordered to be undertaken.

The periodical overflow of the waters of the Euphrates had converted large tracts of country into marshes, and marsh fevers in consequence becoming endemic, rendered them uninhabitable. Drainage works on a large scale, with a view of reclaiming these lands and of curing the insalubrity, were also undertaken. Irrigation works were likewise started, and much attention was devoted to this subject by the Pasha, with a view to gradually restoring the system introduced by the first Arab conquerors, which had converted this country into the Garden of the East, and rendered the Caliphate of Bagdad proverbial for its wealth and prosperity. A tramway, too, between Bagdad and Kiazimie was constructed, and its entire length, 7 miles, completed within a year. A textile manufactory, too, was started, and an engine of 70‐h.p. ordered in France, the despatch of which was only delayed by the breaking out of the Franco‐German War (1870).

Whilst energetically pursuing these material improvements, Midhat Pasha was far from neglecting the moral side of the problem of Reform. Schools were opened in every district; hospitals, refuges for old age, and loan banks everywhere arose, and a printing‐press established where the newspaper Zora was published, and municipal institutions for lighting and watering and other local purposes were instituted in all the principal centres. A petroleum spring discovered in the vilayet was immediately utilised for public purposes. It was not too much to hope that a decade of such enlightened government would have repaired the neglect of centuries and restored their ancient prosperity to the rich valleys of the Tigris and Euphrates.

In 1870 the Shah of Persia, accompanied by a numerous suite, came to visit the holy places of Nejef and Kerbela, and although the province had to support the whole expense of this costly visit, amounting to over £T30,000, Midhat Pasha determined to give the royal visitor a reception worthy of his exalted rank, and to profit by the occasion by settling some vexed questions long pending between the two neighbouring Mahomedan countries. The circulation of depreciated Persian money in the province had long disturbed the value of exchanges and created confusion in commercial transactions. The exchange value of this currency, and the amount of it to be issued in the future, were now agreed upon. The incursions and depredations of nomad Kurds, the Hamavends, Sendjabi, etc., shifting their camping‐ground from Persian to Turkish territory, and vice versa, so as to evade taxation and elude the authorities of either nation, whilst plundering indiscriminately the peaceful inhabitants of both, had long been a scandal, creating a state of affairs on the frontier difficult to cope with. A better understanding and a combined policy of surveillance between the Persian and Turkish authorities on the frontier were now established, and block‐houses on the model of those successfully introduced on the Servian frontier were constructed, to the infinite relief of the agricultural population of both nations, situated on the entire length of this extensive line. Midhat Pasha failed, however, to obtain the sanction of the Persian authorities to a scheme which he had long cherished, and which he trusted to this occasion to be able to put into execution.

At Nejef, one of the sacred places to which periodical pilgrimages were made, there were rich treasures, the proceeds of the offerings of Indian and Persian devotees of the Shiite sect during centuries past, which, on the invasion of the Wahabites, had been hidden in a cave. Midhat Pasha had ordered the cave to be opened and an official inventory to be made of the treasures that it contained. This inventory revealed treasures of diamonds, rubies, pearls, and other precious stones, to the value of no less than £T300,000, and Midhat proposed a public sale of the treasure and the appropriation of its proceeds to works of public utility, such as a railway between Persia and Bagdad, or, if such an appropriation of a sacred treasure appeared too secular, at least to the creation of such much‐needed institutions as hospitals and refuges and caravanserai for the pilgrims on the route of their pilgrimages to the holy places. Even this reasonable proposal, however, was vetoed by the Persian Ulemas, and the whole scheme falling through, Midhat ordered the treasure to be carefully deposited again in the cave from which it had been taken, and its entrance secured with the official seals of the Turkish and Persian authorities.

Certain events now took place having a bearing beyond the boundaries of the province and of a quasi‐international character. The town of Bussora, important on account of its geographical position as the terminus station of the Euphrates on the Persian Gulf, suffered from the inconvenience of an extremely unhealthy climate, resulting from the stagnant waters of the Achar, a branch of the river Shat‐el‐Arab, on which it was built. Midhat determined to remove the site of the township on to the main river, and with that view built a Governor’s house and Government buildings on the new site as a nucleus for a new city. Outside this enclosure, the township of Nassrieh was laid out on plans furnished by the Pasha, to become the capital of the sandjak of Muntefik, and to replace the old town of Suk esh‐sheyuh which was falling into ruins, and was deficient in all the necessaries of civilisation.

Sixty miles from Bussora, and on the coast of Nedjed, is situated the little town of Koweit of six thousand houses, the inhabitants of which are all Mussulmans. Midhat Pasha’s predecessor, Namik Pasha, had endeavoured to bring this population within the influence of his jurisdiction, but they successfully resisted all attempts at imposing taxation upon them, and had maintained their quasi‐independence under their own chiefs, the descendants of one Sabah who had come with this tribe of “Moutayer” from Nedjed five hundred years before, and had maintained ever since with practical independence a republican form of government, choosing by election their own judges (cadis) and the professors of their religious schools (medresses). Owing to the restricted extent of their territory, the inhabitants, like those of Venice, took chiefly to maritime pursuits, and upwards of two hundred small vessels of various tonnage traversed in every direction the Indian Ocean, as far as the coasts of Zanzibar, and practically monopolised the pearl fisheries of the Persian Gulf. Although they had adopted a special flag of their own, they occasionally hoisted a Dutch or English flag, to secure certain privileges accorded to these flags by the capitulations. It seemed highly desirable to Midhat Pasha to put an end to this equivocal status of the inhabitants of Koweit, and to regularise their position. He accordingly entered into negotiations with them, and offered the full enjoyment of their autonomy and privileges under the government of their own Sheik Sabah, provided they recognised themselves as forming part and parcel of the Ottoman empire, and adopted the Ottoman flag as their national ensign. These conditions were accepted by the people of Koweit, and their territory became a sandjak of the vilayet of Bagdad. A formal treaty to that effect was drawn up and signed and confirmed by berats (writs of investiture) from Constantinople, and new schools and mosques arose in Koweit.

After the settlement of Koweit, Midhat’s attention was turned to the conquest of the Nedjed, the most important event that marked his governorship of Bagdad.

The Nedjed is the geographical denomination of an extent of country including about a quarter of the Arabian peninsula. Soliman, the conqueror, after defeating the Portuguese squadron in the Persian Gulf, had annexed it to his empire, and had despatched a special governor from Constantinople to administer the province of Hassa. A century after this, the inhabitants rose in revolt and formed themselves into a separate State, which included the island of Bahrein in its limits. On the first breaking out of these troubles, the Egyptian troops sent out to repress the revolt had been successful, and had defeated the rebels at Riad and Derayeh, forcing the Wahabites to recognise the authority of the Sultan, but the Ottoman Government, whose attention was now turned elsewhere, neglected to follow up this success, and the Nedjed gradually regained its independence under the dynasty of Wahab.

In the time of Midhat Pasha, the reigning Sheik, Abdul Fazil, whilst in the enjoyment of quasi‐independence himself, had never dreamt of encroaching on the neighbouring territories under the authority of the Sultan, nor of exciting revolt among their inhabitants by preaching among them the particular tenets of Wahabism; but his brother Saood, under the instigation of certain counsellors, with a view to supplanting him in the government of the country, declared war on him, and succeeded in dethroning him.

Abdul Fazil now had recourse to the intervention of Midhat Pasha, whom he warned of the probable consequences that would follow the victory of his brother with respect to the propagandism of Wahabite ideas among the surrounding tribes. Midhat determined to act, but before entering on a campaign that might prove an arduous undertaking, he took measures to ascertain the exact forces that Saood had at his disposal, as well as the topography of the country where military operations would have to be carried out. With this view, spies and agents disguised as merchants were sent in various directions, and soundings were taken of different parts of the coast. A full report as to the situation of the Nedjed in all these respects was in due course furnished to Midhat, who in the meantime had requested and obtained the necessary authorisation from the Grand Vizier, Aali Pasha, for the projected campaign.

Midhat was aware that certain delicate international questions might arise in the course of the expedition. The policy of England, as represented by its Indian Government, had always been to favour rather than to discourage the desire of independence on the part of the Arab chiefs in this part of the world. A serious and systematic attempt, therefore, to suppress their independence and to attach these distant members permanently to the body of the Ottoman Empire might seem to run counter to the policy of the Indian Government on the shores of the neighbouring Persian Gulf. Midhat had always been a stout and consistent supporter of the English Alliance, but he was by no means inclined for that reason to sacrifice to that alliance the essential interest of the Ottoman Empire; and while resolved to proceed with tact and due considerateness for the interests and susceptibilities of a friendly Power, he did not hesitate, in spite of a certain amount of sympathy manifested by England towards Saood, to proceed with the expedition he had resolved upon.

The most populous province of Nedjed was Hassa, with its port Elkatif. Thirty‐two hours distant from this port are situated the townships of Elhofuf and Elmuberez, surrounded by fortified walls. Six hours distant from Elkatif is the port of Ras Tannurah, offering favourable conditions for a disembarkation of troops. Securing his communications between Bussora and Elkatif, a distance of 360 miles by sea, by means of the proffered co‐operation of Abdullah Elsabah, Sheik of Koweit, who put his flotilla at the disposal of the Pasha for that purpose, Midhat embarked five battalions of regular troops with a complement of artillery under the command of Nafiz Pasha, General of division, for the port of Ras Tannurah, whence they immediately marched to Elkatif, which after a faint resistance capitulated to the Ottoman troops. The surrender of Elmuberez and other strategical points in the Wahabs’ country followed in quick succession, and in a very short space of time the partisans of Saood were dispersed and the whole country brought under Imperial rule.

Midhat was now about to start himself for the Nedjed, with a view to organise the country as a province of the Ottoman Empire, when his attention was called by the Governor of Diarbekir, Kurd Ismail Pasha, to the suspicious movements in the neighbourhood of Urfa of Sheik Abdul Kerim, of the tribe of Chamar, the same, it will be remembered, who, on the occasion of the revolt of the Dogara tribesmen, arriving too late to assist the defeated rebels, turned round and offered his services to the victorious Pasha.

Thinking the present occasion more favourable for carrying out his cherished policy, he was marching straight on Bagdad, killing and pillaging on his route. Warned by Kurd Ismail, Midhat took immediate steps to crush him. Abdul Kerim had divided his forces into three parts, the first advancing on Zor, the second on Mosul, and the third, under his own command, marching on Bagdad. On this information reaching him, Midhat ordered two battalions of regulars to reinforce Kurd Ismail, whilst General Echeref Pasha was directed to fortify Zor and other strategical points on the Tigris and Euphrates. These troops coming into collision with the first division of Abdul Kerim’s army in the neighbourhood of Zor, easily dispersed them, whilst Kurd Ismail himself, attacking the second division of the rebels in the neighbourhood of Mosul, completely routed it. On learning of the successive defeats of the two wings of this invading army, Abdul Kerim quickly abandoned all idea of advancing, and took measures to secure his own safety. His retreat by the desert being cut off by the droughts prevailing at this season, he made for his own native country, the Chamar, but Midhat threatening Sheik Ibn Reshid, chief of the tribe Djebel, if he ventured to offer refuge to the rebel, diverted Abdul Kerim’s retreat to the direction of Muntefik by Hilah and Kerbela, where he fell in with Nassir Pasha, and in the fight that ensued was wounded and taken prisoner. After a regular trial for armed rebellion and treachery, he was condemned to death, and the sentence being approved of by the authorities at Constantinople, he was in due course hanged at Mosul. His brother, Ferhan Pasha, now received the chieftainship of the tribe Chamar, with an increase of territory and a regular monthly subsidy, whilst the turbulent tribesmen acknowledged the authority of the Imperial Government and consented to pay the taxes. This settlement was followed by a resumption of agricultural pursuits on the part of the inhabitants, and the general pacification of the country.

But troubles in these parts did not end with the conquest of the Nedjed and the defeat of Abdul Kerim. Abdullah Fazil—who had by means of Ottoman arms been restored to the government of Elkatif, with the Turkish title of Mutessarif, in the new vilayet of Nedjed—once freed from all apprehension respecting the ambition of his brother Saood, began to manifest restlessness under Turkish regular administration. Discontent, too, with Turkish fiscal arrangements was felt by the tribesmen, and affairs began again to assume a threatening aspect. Midhat determined to inquire into the causes of this discontent, and finding that exemption from all taxation, save that sanctioned by the Mussulman law, viz. the tithe, had been consecrated by secular usage among them, and that the neighbouring tribes who had come under English protection, Oman, Mascat, etc., fully enjoyed the privilege of this exemption, determined to satisfy the population of Elkatif in this respect, and forthwith consented to limit their liability to taxation to the regular payment of the tithe.

There remained the island of Bahrein, the conquest of which, on account of the importance of its position on the Persian Gulf, Midhat now determined to effect. In order to superintend operations himself, and in case of any international friction demanding his presence, Midhat started for the Nedjed. Abdullah Fazil hearing of this, and fearing that his own equivocal conduct was the cause of the journey, fled from Elkatif to Riad, and in spite of the Pasha’s assurances, refused to return. His dismissal from the Government was thereupon pronounced, and the district converted into the sandjak of Hassa, and together with the command of the troops, was entrusted to Nafiz Pasha. A friendly interchange of views now took place between Midhat Pasha and the Government of India, the result of which was that the island of Bahrein was officially annexed to the Mutessarifat of Hassa. Two Turkish corvettes, the Libnan and the Iskenderoun, under the command of Arif Bey, sailed for the island, followed by two English gunboats under Commander Pelly, and the Turkish and English vessels exchanged salutes and other friendly courtesies in the port. When the Turkish sailors disembarked on the island they were received with the most indescribable enthusiasm by the islanders, who had not seen the Turkish ensign flying on a man‐of‐war for two centuries past. The Sheik of the island offered an appropriate piece of land to be used as a dépôt for coals for Turkish vessels, and offered to place the resources of the island at the disposition of the Turkish authorities if necessity should arise. On weighing anchor from Bahrein the two corvettes were joined by the vessel that had Midhat Pasha on board, and the little flotilla sailed together to Koweit. Here the same scenes were enacted that had distinguished the visit to Bahrein, and nothing occurred to mar the cordiality that existed between the Ottoman and British forces that met in these Eastern ports. The convention which had been previously agreed upon between Midhat and the British authorities prevented any friction between them.

The re‐establishment of Imperial authority in these regions justified, and indeed necessitated, a considerable increase in the Turkish flotilla in these waters. Before the opening of the Suez Canal, Turkey only possessed the two corvettes the Boursa, and the Ismir, neither of which was in a sea‐going condition. Midhat sent the Boursa to Bombay to undergo repairs, and added the Libnan, Iskenderoun, Deniz, Babel, Ninova, Nedjed, and Assour, besides ten vessels of light draught for river police, and to reinforce the Bagdad squadron. The port of Bussora, no longer adequate to the naval requirements of the province, was enlarged and improved, and works for an inner harbour capable of anchoring vessels of 10‐feet draught were commenced at Kut‐el‐Frenghi on the river Shat‐el‐arab.

All these various improvements and reforms, and the general advance in the political and administrative status of this important province, were highly appreciated by the Government of the Porte, which was now under the enlightened guidance of Aali Pasha, who addressed the following letter to Midhat Pasha:—

By the same courtier the Sultan Abdul Aziz sent Midhat Pasha a sword of honour set with diamonds, with the inscription “Nedjed” engraved on it. This was the closing scene of Midhat’s governorship of Bagdad, and with it closed the first half of his career, viz., as Provincial Governor. Circumstances were occurring at Constantinople destined to bring him on the scene there, to play his part in the important political events about to occur in the metropolis.

But a change of a portentous nature had taken place at Constantinople. Fuad Pasha and Aali Pasha, whose prestige and popularity had gained an ascendancy over the Sultan, and had, since his accession, practically monopolised power, and who had strenuously supported Midhat in all his reforming measures both on the Danube and the Euphrates, died within a few months of each other. The disappearance of these two able and powerful Ministers synchronized with the return of Abdul Aziz from a tour in Europe, when symptoms of an ominous character began to reveal themselves in the sovereign. He showed himself impatient of contradiction or advice of any kind, expressing openly his relief at being freed from the incubus of his former Grand Viziers; he completely changed the etiquette of the Court, imposing on the occasion of audiences an antiquated ceremonial, accompanied by unwonted prostrations to be observed on entering the Imperial presence, and he directed that henceforth he should be addressed in inflated language, strange even to the forms of Oriental adulation. But what was more serious than these triflings of Imperial vanity, was the fact that he now launched out, careless of the resources of the budget, on the most lavish expenditure of every kind both of a public and private nature. Fleets of costly ironclads were ordered and equipped without regard to their cost; marble palaces rose, as by enchantment, on the banks of the Bosphorus, and every whim and caprice on his own part or that of the Palace had to be gratified without stint or delay. He found in Mahmoud Nedim a compliant Grand Vizier, who, in return for the retention of power, undertook to find the ways and means for the gratification of all his master’s wishes.

The reflex action of this state of things at headquarters was felt in the most distant provinces. When the exactions of the Palace had expropriated the balance of the sums destined to the various services of the State, recourse was had to the provinces to make good the deficiencies by extraordinary “benevolences” and remittances. Works of public utility or necessity were accordingly suspended, and the funds necessary for their completion diverted to the metropolis. Incompetent favourites arrived from Constantinople with orders to the Vali to provide them with lucrative posts, and by these means the whole fabric of the new administration, painfully and patiently built up, was dislocated and deranged. Midhat, recognising the impossibility of governing in such conditions, resigned his Governorship and set out for Constantinople.

On his arrival in Constantinople, Midhat found that an order had been issued for his banishment from the capital, under cloak of nominating him to the government of Adrianople. Insisting, however, on the exercise of his right of audience with the sovereign before setting out for his new post, he made such strong representations to the Sultan with respect to the general situation of the empire, that Abdul Aziz thereupon abruptly dismissed Mahmoud Nedim, and appointed Midhat Grand Vizier in his place (1873).

As soon as he had filled the principal offices of State with the best material he could find—Chirvani Rushdi Pasha, Djémil Pasha, and Sadik Pasha—the first and most pressing necessity that confronted him was to endeavour to put the Finances in order. This was no easy task. The public accounts presented were entirely fictitious. His first discovery was to the effect that whereas the budget showed a surplus of half a million (£T), there was in point of fact a deficit of three millions. The actual appropriation of the sums debited in the accounts presented another difficulty. A sum of £T100,000 disbursed by the Treasury was not accounted for at all. Midhat insisted on a full inquiry, and, discovering that this sum had been appropriated by the late Grand Vizier, directed an investigation into the matter before the members of the Council of State, who ordered its immediate restitution by Mahmoud Nedim, and recommended his banishment. He, however, alleging in private that this sum in question although nominally attributed to him was really allotted to the Palace, found in the Valide Sultan and her entourage most powerful allies in his duel with Midhat. Banished by the insistence of the Grand Vizier, first to Adrianople and then to Trebizond, he soon obtained permission to return to Constantinople.

Two distinct parties began now to stand out in clear relief. On the one side was Midhat, warmly supported by public opinion in the capital and in the provinces, and by all that was most enlightened among the Softas and Ulemas, headed by Chakir Effendi, and on the other side the whole army of corruption, headed by Mahmoud Nedim and protected by the Valide Sultan and the Palace Camarilla. Another powerful ally of the late Grand Vizier was General Ignatieff, who by the most ingenious and persistent methods—condescending even to the resources of the stage—worked on the mind of the Sultan in order to restore Mahmoud Nedim to power.

An incident soon occurred which brought matters to a crisis. The Khedive of Egypt, desirous of changing the order of succession in his family and of obtaining various privileges and prerogatives from his suzerain, was in the habit of making periodical visits to Constantinople, carrying away with him each time, by judicious payments, some shred of the sovereign rights of the Porte. These visits became a regular source of income and emolument to the Palace and all its myrmidons. Arriving at Constantinople on the occasion of one of these visits he found Midhat Pasha installed as Grand Vizier, and to his surprise and disappointment, and to the discomfiture of the Palace clique, he was obliged this time to return to Alexandria with his presents, re infectâ.

It soon became apparent that one of two things must happen: the Sultan would either have to change the whole régime and scale of expenditure of the Palace, or change his Grand Vizier; and as he never really contemplated the former course, he adopted the latter. The determining cause was Midhat’s action with reference to certain scandals—incidents connected with Baron Hirsch’s railway schemes.

It is only in a despotic country, where State contracts are signed in the dark, and cahiers de charge are examined by carefully chosen experts and passed by complaisant accountants, that such a scandal as the Hirsch railways is possible or conceivable. If the cynicism of the whole transaction had not become notorious, and thus excited as much laughter as its nefariousness caused indignation, it would be worth while to set out in detail all the circumstances of this stupendous business.

To obtain a contract giving unlimited control over the richest forests in the world, on the pretext of cutting sleepers, is in itself a pretty smart stroke of business. To stipulate for payment of railways according to the mileage executed, irrespective of topographical considerations or local requirements, is a triumph of contracting skill; but to claim payment for work done in the plains only, on the basis of an average calculated for working through plains and mountain‐chains alike, is the very glory of financial genius. The secret, too, of the art was as simple as the result was lucrative. Backsheesh in adequate amounts, distributed at appropriate moments in the right quarters, was the alpha and omega of the business.

Midhat, in his determination to strike at the root of the whole system of corruption, irrespective of persons or of consequences, having discovered that the highest person in the land was himself a recipient of the largesses of the Austrian baron, insisted on the restitution of the sums received. The Sultan listened to the advice tendered, returned the money, and dismissed his Grand Vizier.

---

After an honourable exile as Governor of Salonica, Midhat obtained leave to return to Constantinople, and after a brief tenure of the office of Minister of Justice and of the Presidency of the Council of State, he handed in his resignation in the following terms, and retired to his Konak in the neighbourhood of the capital and awaited developments:

To Midhat Pasha, President of the Council of State.

Reply.

In the meantime things went from bad to worse in the affairs of the State. Grand Viziers one after the other were appointed and dismissed. Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, Essad Pasha, Chervani Rushdi Pasha, held office for a few months only, and with the best of intentions were utterly unable to grapple with the situation, and the “villain of the piece,” Mahmoud Nedim, was at last recalled to office. The finances of the country were fast getting beyond all remedy. Although it was only twenty years since the fatal secret of a national debt had been learnt in Turkey, bankruptcy was already staring the country in the face. So palpable was this to the best friends of Turkey, that Mr Yorke in the British Parliament, in the interests of a long‐standing ally of Great Britain, and of the alliance itself, called attention to the state of Turkish finances, and summoned the British Government to intervene through its ambassador at Constantinople to endeavour to ward off impending catastrophes. Three months after this warning the Turkish Treasury suspended payment on half the amount of the coupons of the public debt.

The outcry caused by this measure throughout Europe, not only in strictly commercial and financial circles, but in every class of the community, was indescribable. Tempted by the high rate of interest, and confiding in the assurances of financiers interested in floating successive loans that “Turkey always has paid and therefore always would pay” the coupons of its debts, the petite bourgeoisie and the small investor had largely placed their savings in Turkish bonds, and the “tightness” and misery caused by the suspension was undoubtedly very great (1875). Meetings of indignant bond‐holders were held in every capital and large city in Europe, and the Turkish Government and the Turkish nation, the Pasha and the people, were confounded in a common anathema. The ground was admirably prepared for an explosion of political passion directed against Turkey. The occasion for this was not long in presenting itself.

During the second Vizierate of Essad Pasha, certain movements of a suspicious nature took place on the Montenegrin frontier which would have arrested the attention of a more vigilant Government. A party of sixty Slav peasants from the village of Nevesinje in the Commune of Mostar, on some trivial quarrel with the local authorities, emigrated in a body across the frontier into Montenegro. In a short time, through the good offices of the Russian Ambassador, they obtained leave to return to their homes; but very soon, in concert with their Montenegrin friends, they organised a razzia on the lands of the neighbouring Mussulmans. Instead of nipping this incipient rebellion in the bud and enquiring into its cause, the local authorities temporised with its leaders and awaited instructions from Constantinople as to how they were to proceed. Encouraged by this impunity, and with the assurance of external support, the insurgent bands rapidly increased in numbers, and when at last the Government determined to act, it found itself in presence of a serious rebellion. Essad Pasha, well‐intentioned but weak, and preoccupied with the serious outlook of affairs generally, accepted the insidious offer of the Russian and Austrian Ambassadors to intervene between the leaders of the bands and the Supreme Government. No policy could have been more fatal. It afforded the greatest possible encouragement to the rebels, who considered the step an acknowledgment by the Government of its own inability to deal with the movement; it practically conceded belligerent rights to the rebels, and it encouraged the habit and consecrated the principle of interference by foreign governments in the internal affairs of the empire.

The hollowness of the offer was apparent the moment the terms of surrender came to be discussed, and the net result of this diplomatic comedy was, as was no doubt intended, that what was at first an insignificant rising of a handful of peasants was raised to the dignity of a recognised rebellion that could negotiate on equal terms with the Imperial Government through the medium of foreign consuls and ambassadors.

Mahmoud Nedim had now succeeded Essad Pasha as Grand Vizier (1875), and as no effective measures were taken to suppress the rising, it went on spreading from village to village and district to district till the contagion was caught in Bulgaria. There, in the beginning of 1874, a commencement of unrest showed itself in the districts of Drenova, Kazanlik, and Zagra; but the local authorities (warned by what had taken place in the Herzegovina through the neglect of initial precautions) had all the leaders of the movement arrested. Thereupon General Ignatieff made such energetic representations to the Porte, that orders arrived not only for the release of the imprisoned malcontents, but for the dismissal of all the functionaries concerned in their arrest.6

The effect of this novel and original mode of dealing with an insurrection was soon apparent in the effervescence and excitement it caused among the Mussulman population throughout the province. They saw rebel bands, the leaders of which were patronised and supported by foreign consuls and diplomatists, being organised without disguise and approaching their own hearths, whereas all defensive measures on the part of their own natural leaders were discountenanced and punished. They thereupon resolved to take the matter into their own hands, and formed vigilance committees and organised local bands under the command of retired zaptiés throughout the province.

In such psychological conditions an explosion of popular passions was certain sooner or later to take place. The occasion for this was furnished by an incident that occurred at Salonica on the 5th May 1875. This incident was, with the Bulgarian insurrection and the Berlin Note, one of the external difficulties that confronted the Government, and placed it in a very critical position. A young Bulgarian girl had come by rail to Salonica from a neighbouring village on the evening of the 5th May, accompanied by a hoadja, with a view to making a declaration of conversion to Mahomedanism before the Grand Council of Salonica—a formality required by the law, as a preliminary to her being married to a young Mahomedan of her village. On her arrival at the station she was met by a mob of Greeks and Bulgarians who pulled off her yashmak and feradje (mantle and veil), and forcing her into a carriage, in spite of the efforts of four zaptiés who came up in the middle of the disturbance, drove her at a gallop to the American Consulate, where the brother of the Vice‐Consul (a Bulgarian), who had arranged the abduction, concealed her during the night. The next day he had her removed to the house of a friend, so that all trace of the girl should be lost. But early next morning a Mussulman mob, comprising (as in such occurrences is certain to be the case) the worst and most violent sections of the population, had assembled at the Konak and loudly demanded the restoration of the girl and her appearance before the Grand Council. As their demands were not complied with, they retired to the Saatli Mosque, adjacent to the Governor’s Konak, where they reiterated their demands for the restoration of the girl. Unfortunately, by some fatality which was never satisfactorily explained, the German and French Consuls found their way into the mosque in the very midst of excited Mussulmans. Whether they went there of their own accord to remonstrate and argue with the people, or approaching the scene of the demonstration were hustled into the mosque, was never cleared up. But once they appeared there, the frenzy of the mob burst all bounds, and the most violent amongst them, pursuing the Consuls into one of the apartments of the Muderris (Academy) in connection with the mosque, fell on them with iron bars hastily snatched from the windows of the mosque, and murdered them on the spot. The English Consul, Mr Blunt, accompanied by his cavass, seems to have been the only one who kept his head on this occasion and acted with presence of mind and sagacity; for, at the risk of his own life, he forced his way to the Konak, and when he found that the Governor could not effect the restoration of the girl, which was the only way to calm the mob and rescue the Consuls, he sent to the American Vice‐Consulate to apprize Mr Lazaro, who was the cause of the whole disturbance, of the perilous situation of his colleagues, the French and German Consuls, and to implore him to restore the girl. Unfortunately, Mr Lazaro at first procrastinated and pretended that he did not know where the girl was, and so precious time was lost; and when subsequently, on a further appeal from Mr Consul Blunt, he delivered up the girl, it was too late, for the crime against the foreign Consuls who had intervened had been accomplished.

Although the Ottoman Government took immediate steps to punish the authors of this crime—the six principal leaders of which were immediately executed, and the remainder punished with severe terms of penal servitude—the effect of the outrage on the public opinion of Europe, in the existing state of feeling in regard to Turkey, can easily be conceived. It excited indignation everywhere; but the anti‐Turkish Press, now pretty numerous, seized on it with avidity and pointed to it as irrefragable evidence of the incorrigible fanaticism of the whole Mussulman population of the empire, and called for various coercive measures, amounting in some cases to a combined crusade, to protect the Christians in the country, now threatened with wholesale massacre.7

It was in vain that Europeans who had lived all their lives in the country, and were acquainted from personal experience with the feelings and opinions of the inhabitants, protested against these exaggerations and deprecated their vain terrors. Colonel James Baker, an English resident for twenty years in the neighbourhood of Salonica, where he had been farming on a large scale, and whose occupation had brought him in contact with all sorts and conditions of men, Christian and Mahomedan alike, wrote a book ridiculing these apprehensions, and communicating his experiences of the harmony and good fellowship existing among the adherents of both religions, with whom he had for twenty years been brought into contact.

But the experience of people living on the spot could not stem the torrent of hostile prejudice fortified by such dramatic examples as the murder of the Consuls at Salonica. General Ignatieff, whose plans were being admirably served by events, was not slow in lending the weight of his authority to the propagation of these imaginary terrors. He embodied 300 Montenegrin workmen at Constantinople to serve as a body‐guard of his Embassy, to the amusement of his more sensible colleagues, who were quite aware of the baselessness of the fears that were the pretext of these ostentatious precautions. But the mise en scène contrived by the ingenious ambassador was not the less effective, and these picturesque mountaineers as they lounged about the streets of Pera, in their handsome national costume, bristling with multifarious arms in their embroidered sashes, were striking advertisements of the terrible dangers that threatened all Christians in the fanatical land of the Osmanli.

Servia, too, was preparing to enter the lists. Although without the shred of a grievance against the suzerain Power, nor indeed alleging any, Prince Milan, moved by the sole ambition to convert his principality into a kingdom, had easily allowed himself to be drawn into the conspiracy of a concerted attack on the Ottoman Empire. All the reserves of his army were called out and armed with newly imported rifles; and trains full of Russian officers of all grades and ranks, from Generals of divisions to corporals and sergeants, arrived daily at the capital to organise this militia into a fighting machine, and to drill the raw peasants into soldiers. The whole country, in fact, from Belgrade to Alexinatz, was an armed camp.

Everything portended important developments for the ensuing spring (1875). Early in the year, information reached the Porte that a serious outbreak would take place in Bulgaria in the month of April, and that the districts of Philippopolis, Eski‐Zagra, and Tirnova would be the scene of the explosion. The information which was very detailed and supported by evidence as to its accuracy, was accompanied by an earnest request by the authorities of the threatened districts that a body of regular troops should be despatched to the spot to inspire confidence in the inhabitants and to protect the lives and property of peaceful citizens. General Ignatieff again interfered, and in the capacity of amicus curiæ, insisted that the presence of regular troops would only inflame the passions of the population and precipitate a crisis. Mahmoud Nedim allowed himself to be persuaded by the Russian Ambassador, and persisted in turning a deaf ear to the reiterated requests of the local authorities for the despatch of a regular force.

Three weeks before the appointed day (16th April 1875) the anticipated rising took place. It was accompanied by exactly the same incidents that had characterised every previous rising that obeyed a mot d’ordre from outside. The armed bands fell on the first Mussulmans they met with, and massacred them all, regardless of age or sex, with the obvious aim of provoking reprisals that should play into the hands of the enemies of Turkey.8 These reprisals did, in fact, take place, and were, no doubt, of a sanguinary and wholesale character. It is not intended here to defend or condemn the atrocities that took place on this occasion; but human nature being what it is, and the provocation endured by the Mussulman population being taken into account, and due allowance being made for the contagion of passion and panic, it is no great wonder if scenes were enacted in Bulgaria that have marked revolution and jacqueries in all ages in every part of the world; and perhaps still less if a confessedly and bitterly hostile Press in Europe denounced “methods of barbarism” with little sifting of evidence and with much dramatic exaggeration. Party spirit has occasionally not scrupled to apply exactly the same terms without much reason to the methods of warfare of its own regular troops. One fact was clearly and conclusively established by the various commissions subsequently sent to prosecute enquiries on the spot, viz., that not a single instance occurred of an unarmed Christian being injured, or of a Christian village being destroyed whose inhabitants had not actually risen in armed rebellion. Fanaticism, in the strict acceptation of the term, is not so discriminating.

Matters had now come to such a pass that a general cataclysm was to be apprehended. Bulgaria, Montenegro and Herzegovina in flames, Servia arming to the teeth under the supervision of competent foreign officers, Roumania preparing to move in the same direction, a bankrupt treasury at home, a Grand Vizier whose sole resource seemed to be in the promises and counsels of a perfidious ambassador, the arch‐enemy of his country, and a sovereign wholly unconscious, or careless, of the condition of the empire, provided his own extravagant caprices were gratified—such was the aspect of affairs in Turkey in the spring of 1876. But that was not all.

Under the spur of public opinion, and moved by secret springs in the same direction, European diplomacy was meddling with the matter. Rulers of State and masters of many legions were holding meetings to discuss the situation in the East, and “Notes” and “Memorandums” were flying about the Chancellories of Europe. The diplomatic outlook was quite as menacing as the situation at home was critical.

It was in such a condition of affairs that counsel was being taken in Midhat’s Konak, among a few patriots who did not yet despair of their country, as to the best mode of saving the empire. But before the events that led up to the deposition of the Sultan Abdul Aziz are detailed, it will be useful to cast a glance at what was passing in the diplomatic world in Europe.

The first and most important event in this respect, inasmuch as it was the key of all that subsequently occurred, was the meeting of the Czar and the Emperor of Austria at Reichstadt, 8th July 1876.9

The outcome of that interview, with respect to Turkey, is no secret to‐day, but twenty‐five years ago it was certainly ignored in London, otherwise the negotiations that took place between the English and Austrian Governments relative to the contingency of an armed intervention in the Turko‐Russian War—carried on through the Austrian Embassy in London in the significant absence of the Ambassador, which went so far as to discuss the terms of a guaranteed war loan—would certainly not have occurred. The acumen of the English Government on this occasion would seem to have been somewhat at fault, and the information that came to it from Vienna strangely unreliable; for it acted, throughout negotiations extending over two years, in undisturbed reliance on the bonâ fides of the Austrian Chancellor’s assurances, and apparently in a secure trust in the force of his Magyar prejudices with respect to Russia. The fact is patent to‐day—and was well known at Berlin, and was not ignored in Paris—that Austria was, if not the actual instigator of the Herzegovinian rising—which is by no means certain—the Power that was determined to profit by it, and that her whole policy and diplomatic action with respect to the events that were taking place in the South‐East of Europe was governed by this determination.

The turning‐point of Austrian policy with respect to Turkey has already been indicated: the abandonment by England of Austria’s interests on the Danube left her free, or even compelled her to have regard to what she considered her own exclusive interests; and the meeting of the two Emperors, at the breaking out of the Herzegovinian disturbances, was the confirmation of this change of policy.

Two assurances seem to have been given by the Czar at this now historic interview. First, that whatever might be the outcome of events in Turkey, he would not seek for Russia any territorial aggrandisement in Europe; and secondly, with regard to Bosnia and Herzegovina, that in the contingency of the continuance of disturbances there he would not oppose the occupation of those provinces by Austria if sanctioned by the rest of Europe.

If this agreement had not been a secret one, and the terms of it had been known or suspected in London, does any one imagine that events would have followed the course they did, or that the “Notes” and “Memorandums” coming from Vienna and Berlin would have been taken seriously by the English Cabinet? The pact between the two Emperors, sealed at Reichstadt, was quite as much at the expense of England in Asia as of Turkey in Europe. It was a practical corollary of Prince Bismarck’s avowed Eastern policy.

There is only an academical interest now in pointing out the rôle that the personality of Count Andrassy and his reputed Magyar sentiments played in all these transactions, and it is not necessary to interrupt the course of this narrative by dwelling on them.

After the Andrassy Memorandum had prepared the Cabinets of Europe for some sort of diplomatic interference in the affairs of Turkey, and familiarised them with the idea, the natural course of events in the Turkish Empire did the rest. The ball set going at Vienna was taken up at Berlin. The comparatively colourless diplomatic Memorandum concocted in the first‐named capital was followed by a far more coercive Note emanating from the latter. The former contained recommendations, the latter added external sanctions to them. The policy intended to be pursued with reference to Turkey was contained in germ in this remarkable “Note,” and the diplomatic strategy to be employed was herein clearly revealed. The “Conference,” which was to impose the conditions and insist on the sanction, was already on the tapis, and formed the subject of an interchange of views between the various European governments; and it was, as it were, under the shadow of this menace to the integrity and independence of the country that the friends of Midhat now hastened their deliberations.

As early as the winter of 1875, Midhat, with a view of profiting by the lights, and seeking the advice of the eminent diplomatist who represented the Court of St James at Constantinople, paid a visit to Sir Henry Elliot, the purpose of which can best be described in the words of the Ambassador himself.10

The first of the many incidents that soon after this conversation began to follow each other closely, took place on the 10th May 1876, when an assemblage of several thousand Softas stopped Prince Izzeddine, the Sultan’s eldest son, on his way to the Seraskierat (Ministry of War), desiring him to return to the Palace, and to inform the Sultan that they demanded the dismissal of Mahmoud Nedim, the Grand Vizier and of Hassan Fehmi Effendi, the Sheik‐ul‐Islam. The Sultan did not venture to reject the demand. Mahmoud and Hassan Fehmi were dismissed, the latter being replaced by Hassan Hairullah Effendi, who enjoyed a high and exceptional reputation for learning and enlightenment. Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, an old man universally respected, was named Grand Vizier; and as he insisted on Midhat joining his Cabinet (although holding no specific office), it was believed that he would be the guiding spirit, and general satisfaction was felt. Sir Henry Elliot proceeds to say:

The two moving spirits in the deposition of Sultan Abdul Aziz were undoubtedly Midhat Pasha and Hussein Avni Pasha, the Minister of War (seraskier). The latter, a thorough soldier and a sterling patriot, distinguished for the great energy and decision of his character as well as the impetuosity of his temper, had occupied the highest military posts in the country, and had been repeatedly exiled from Constantinople by the Sultan. He was particularly feared and disliked by Mahmoud Nedim, who had procured his banishment each time that he had been made Grand Vizier. Although not sharing all Midhat’s constitutional views and professing more confidence in the efficacy of the sword than in the saving grace of popular institutions, he had lent a willing and energetic support to his colleague’s views as to the indisputable necessity of deposing the Sultan as a preliminary to any attempted amelioration in the condition of the State.

As soon as the final resolution of Ministers was arrived at, and before any commencement of execution could be given to it, it was indispensable to obtain a Fetva (authoritative decree) of the Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Hassan Hairullah, the highest authority and mouthpiece of the Sacred Law, in order to give legal validity to the act of deposition. Accordingly the following Fetva was issued for the deposition:—

Armed with this Fetva, Ministers decided on the immediate execution of their plans, the details of which, it was agreed, should be left to the Grand Vizier, to Midhat, and to the Minister of War.

There was a slight divergence of views between Midhat and the Seraskier with reference to the form of procedure which should accompany the deposition. Hussein Avni inclined to a simple military pronunciamento, whereas Midhat wished to give the consecration of popular sanction to the act. For this purpose he proposed that the Softas and the population of Stamboul should be convoked en masse to the Noure‐Osmanieh Mosque, where they should set forth the griefs of the nation and demand a change of régime; and that on this demand being refused or ignored, they should proceed at once to the execution of the decree of deposition. The majority of Ministers inclined to this latter method of proceeding; but a circumstance occurred which necessitated a change of plans and determined the abandonment of the proposal for a popular demonstration.

The 31st May was chosen for the execution of the plan agreed upon. On the eve of that day information reached Midhat from a woman of the Palace that the Sultan had had wind of the affair, and that the whole plot was about to be discovered. This was corroborated by the fact that twice that same day Hussein Avni had been peremptorily summoned to the Palace, although on the first summons he had pleaded illness as a reason for disregarding it.

It was decided thereupon by the Ministers to anticipate the hour fixed upon, and to proceed at once with the execution of their design.

At midnight accordingly, of the 30th of May, Mehemet Rushdi and Midhat, accompanied each by a single attendant carrying a lamp, proceeded to Sirkedji to embark on a caïque11 for Pachalimani on the Bosphorus, the residence of Hussein Avni. It was a pitch‐dark night with rain falling in torrents, and it was with some difficulty that they reached the place of rendezvous. Here they found Hussein Avni anxiously waiting for them, and after a hurried interview in which the final dispositions were made, they separated to their respective posts. Hussein Avni started for the palace of Dolma‐Bagtche, whilst Rushdi and Midhat proceeded to the Seraskierat.

It had been decided that the Ministers and high civil and military dignitaries should assemble at the War Office and await the arrival of Prince Murad, whom Hussein Avni had undertaken to conduct there in person; and that as soon as he should arrive, the proclamation and investiture of the Prince as the new Sultan should take place. It was further arranged that immediately on the arrival of the Prince a bonfire should be lit on the tower of the Seraskierat, as a signal to the fleet of what was taking place, and thereupon a Royal salute should be fired by Kaisserli Ahmed’s ironclads, to announce to the whole city the commencement of a new reign.

Hussein Avni, proceeding in the direction of the Palace, was, according to preconcerted arrangement, met by Suleiman Pasha, to whom the delicate task of executing the measures necessary to be taken at the Palace had been entrusted.

Suleiman Pasha, marshal in the army and director‐in‐chief of the school of military cadets at Pancaldi, the trusted lieutenant and right‐hand man of Hussein Avni, himself a strong partisan of Midhat Pasha and the young hope of the Reform Party, was the very man to carry out an operation requiring careful preparation and unflinching resolution for its successful execution.

The troops in the barracks of Tash‐Kishla and Kumuch‐Suyou had already received their orders from Redif Pasha, the commander of the corps d’armée of Constantinople, and had been so posted as to blockade all approaches by land. The fleet of ironclads under the personal command of Kaiseli Ahmed, the captain Pasha, had taken the same precautions by sea, so that nothing remained but to disarm the sentinels and corps de garde along the immediate approaches to the Palace. Suleiman, taking with him a selected body of military students from Pancaldi, under the command of Ahmed Bey (colonel) and Bedry and Rifat Beys (captains), after successfully performing, without disturbance but not without some opposition, the delicate operation of disarmament, hastened to the apartments of Prince Murad. Although the Prince had been made aware of the intentions of the Ministers, and had acquiesced in their general arrangements, it had been found impossible to acquaint him with the change of date resolved upon. He, therefore, fearing some surprise or treachery, hesitated for some time before he could be induced to comply with Suleiman’s urgent request that he should immediately join Hussein Avni, who was waiting for him in a carriage at the gates of the Palace to drive him to the Seraskierat, where his proclamation and investiture as the new sovereign were to take place. At one moment it looked as if the solemn drama about to be enacted would have to be played out with the part of the “Prince of Denmark” omitted.

Having surmounted this unexpected difficulty and despatched Murad on his way to the Seraskierat, Suleiman proceeded to discharge the second and more distasteful part of the mandate confided to him. Making his way to the Imperial apartments, and overcoming the hesitation of the attendants by presenting an order signed by all the Ministers, he peremptorily demanded to be immediately led into the presence of the Sultan. The demand being at last complied with, he proceeded to communicate to Abdul Aziz the justification of his intrusion, and read to him the fetva of the deposition. Whilst the Sultan and Suleiman were engaged in parleying, the big guns of Ahmed’s ironclads were heard booming in the distance. Abdul Aziz at once took in the import of the firing, and from that moment yielded to the inevitable. He prepared to comply with the order communicated to him to quit the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche for that of Top‐Kapou, which had been assigned as a residence for him.

The new Sultan confirmed all his Ministers in their posts, addressing the following letter to the Porte:—

To my Grand Vizier and very patriotic Mehemet Rushdi Pasha—

Besides the retention of their portfolios by all the Ministers, Kemal Bey (the best known and most distinguished poet and litterateur of Turkey) and Zia Bey (equally celebrated as a poet and patriot) were appointed as his private secretaries, and Sadullah Bey (well known for his liberal sympathies and opinions) made chief of the Sultan’s secretariat—important guarantees for the smooth working of the machinery of State, and security against the revival of the old pernicious intrigues of the Palace against the Ministers of the Porte. Murad had, moreover, undertaken to promulgate the Constitution prepared by Midhat and his colleagues at the earliest date compatible with the despatch of urgent public business.

So far everything seemed to favour the Reformers. A revolution of the most fundamental character, involving the destruction of autocratic power in Turkey, and carrying the promise of a Constitution which would lay the foundations at any rate of stable government in the country, effected not only without bloodshed or disturbance of any kind, but with the assent and approval of all classes and creeds in the land, and with a new sovereign on the throne known sincerely to share the views of his Ministers and the aspirations of his people, all this seemed to ensure the prospect of healing the wounds of the much afflicted land of the Osmanli, and of opening up a new era of progress and prosperity in the East.

But suddenly a cloud, not bigger than a man’s hand, lowered over the destinies of the country, and from this time the stars in their courses fought against Turkey, and violently set back the date of the promised era of prosperity.

On the eventful night of the 30th‐31st May, during the drive with Murad to the Seraskierat, Hussein Avni had perceived that the Prince was suffering from violent nervous excitement, and these symptoms were still further accentuated in the return journey to the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche after the ceremony of investiture was over—so much so that Midhat Pasha, who accompanied him, thought it prudent to remain in the Palace, without quitting it, for three days. The physicians called in consultation did not at first take a grave view of the case, and sanguine hopes were entertained that, in a short time, by pursuing the regimen of repose and hygiene recommended by these authorities, Sultan Murad would rapidly recover his health and be able to discharge the duties incumbent on him. Dr Lamsdorf of Vienna, the celebrated specialist, made a very favourable diagnosis of the case. A happy issue of this most unfortunate and inopportune malady was now generally hoped for and expected, when two startling events occurred in rapid succession, each seriously aggravating and affecting the Sultan Murad’s nervous condition of health, and together fatally compromising the hope of rapid recovery.

The first of these tragedies referred to was enacted in the Palace of Tcheragan, five days after the dethronement of the late Sultan. Abdul Aziz, whose imperious temper could ill brook the change of destiny that had overtaken him, had already made one or two unsuccessful attempts, which were with difficulty thwarted, to throw himself out of the windows of the Palace. On the morning of the 5th June, he asked for a pair of scissors with which to trim his beard. On the attendants demurring to comply with this request, the Valide Sultan ordered the scissors to be given to her son. Shortly after this, the ladies of her suite, looking out of a window of a corridor that commanded a view on the room occupied by the late Sultan, saw him sitting quietly in an armchair with his back turned to the window; but shortly afterwards, perceiving that his head had dropped on his lap, they ran to the door and tried to open it. Finding it locked, and fearing a catastrophe, they ran screaming to the Valide Sultan and informed her of what they suspected. Orders being given to break into the room, they found Abdul Aziz sitting in the posture already described, and in a pool of blood flowing from two wounds in his arms, evidently caused by the scissors, which had fallen beside him on the floor. The physicians, who were hastily summoned, could only confirm the apprehension that life was extinct, and the Ministers, immediately apprised of the fact of the tragedy, ordered an immediate examination of the body to be made by all the available medical men in Constantinople, hastily summoned to draw up an official report on the subject. Seventeen medical men of all nationalities, comprising all the most distinguished in the city and in the Embassies of the great Powers, signed a unanimous report to the effect that death was undoubtedly due to suicide, and handed the following certificate:—

The body was transferred to Top‐Kapou and buried in the mausoleum of Sultan Mahmoud.

Ten days after the tragedy at the Palace of Tcheragan the news of which had deeply affected Sultan Murad, another quickly followed, in some respects of a still more startling character, and calculated to prostrate still further a mind already unhinged.

A Circassian captain, formerly aide‐de‐camp of the Sultan Abdul Aziz, one Hassan by name, on whom certain suspicion of violent intentions rested, had been ordered to Bagdad, and on his showing signs of recalcitrancy, he was imprisoned for insubordination by orders of Hussein Avni, the Minister of War. Feigning submission, he was released after two days’ detention. On the 15th June, during a Cabinet Council which was being held at the house of Midhat Pasha, and at which all the Ministers were present, Tcherkess Hassan, armed with no less than six revolvers, forcing the consigne without much difficulty, managed to penetrate into the room where the Council was sitting, and advancing straight up to Hussein Avni, discharged a barrel of a revolver at him, and turning sharply on Reshid Pasha, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, shot him dead on the spot. The Minister of Marine, Kaisserli Ahmed, threw himself on the assassin and tried to disarm him, but he was immediately stabbed with a poniard that Hassan carried in his left hand. Hussein Avni, although severely wounded, managed to make his way to the staircase, but Hassan, following him, struck at him furiously in the neck with his dagger and despatched him. Returning to the Council room he discharged his revolvers promiscuously all around him, smashing the chandelier suspended in the middle of the room, and consequently plunging the room into darkness. It was this that probably saved the lives of the remaining Ministers, for Kaisserli Ahmed, though wounded, and Mehemet Rushdi, and Halid succeeded in escaping into an adjoining boudoir, where they barricaded the door against their furious assailant, who, having despatched the War Minister, seemed chiefly bent on wreaking vengeance on the Minister of Marine. Midhat escaped by a miracle, and by slipping off his coat, the sleeve of which he left in the hand of Hassan who had seized it in the darkness. One of Midhat’s servants, Ahmed Aga, on hearing the firing, had rushed into the room and tried to seize the assassin from behind, but Hassan turned sharply on him and shot him dead. The same fate attended Chukri Bey, the aide‐de‐camp of the Minister of Marine, who also rushed in to the rescue. At last a guard of gendarmerie appeared on the scene, and a regular fusillade ensued between the Circassian at bay and the gendarmes reinforced by a picket of soldiers; it was only then, after a regular pitched battle, that this determined criminal was at length overpowered and seized.

He was very soon afterwards tried, and hanged in due course, stoutly denying to the last that he had any accomplices.

The effect of these compound tragedies on the mind of the Sultan Murad was disastrous. His recovery, sanguine hopes of which had been held out by Dr Lamsdorf, the famous specialist summoned from Vienna to give his opinion on the state of the Sultan’s health, seemed destined to be indefinitely postponed. Two parties, holding distinct views on the situation and the manner it should be dealt with, now showed themselves among the Ministers and the high Court officials. Mehemet Rushdi especially, the old experienced vizier and the majority of Ministers well aware of the favourable disposition of Sultan Murad towards the cause of reform, and very averse to taking a plunge in the dark, leant to the opinion that patience should be exercised and reasonable time given for the recovery of the Sultan’s health.

But another and very active party had in the meantime been formed, of which Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin Pasha (the Sultan’s brother‐in‐law) was the moving spirit, and which included, together with some high Palace officials, one or two of the influential marshals, such as Redif Pasha, the commander of the Constantinople corps d’armée and under the influence of Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin. This party—as far as it could be said to have been based on any particular political opinions, and not on the simple ground of ambition and the desire to exercise a preponderating influence in the future régime—consisted of the men who had acquiesced, and even participated, in the dethronement of the late Sultan, but did not share, and some of them were even bitterly opposed to, the constitutional views advocated by Midhat and the reforming party. Borne along by the current of events which they would have been impotent to resist, they would have constituted a helpless minority in the State without power or influence, if they had had to do with a reforming Sultan on the throne, a palace where men like Zia Bey, and Kemal Bey were the guiding spirits, and the party of reform in strong possession of the Porte. The prospect, however, of being able to change the occupant of the throne and place their own candidate upon it afforded them the precious opportunity of upsetting the whole edifice of reform, of themselves seizing the chief power of the State, and turning the revolution that had been accomplished to their own exclusive advantage. It was less a victory of reaction than a triumph of ambition.

Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin was a very ignorant and uncultivated man, and though careless and without a conviction in respect to political opinions, he enjoyed the reputation of being neither careless nor indifferent with respect to matters of personal or pecuniary concern to himself. On the other hand, he was endowed with great, almost brutal, determination of character, and was utterly reckless as to the means of carrying out his ends. His position of Damad (brother‐in‐law to the Sultan) gave him great influence in the Palace, and at the same time secured him weight in the Councils of the State. He was the very soul of the anti‐reform conspiracy.

Having described Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin, the character of his lieutenant, Redif Pasha, can be described in a sentence: he was Damad Mahmoud in petto. Whatever qualities distinguished the master were conspicuous in the lieutenant, and only in a less degree, inasmuch as he was physically of a somewhat less robust nature. He had, like Mahmoud, lent himself with all the weight of his military position to the dethronement of Abdul Aziz, but he viewed with an evil eye the advance of reform, and still more the triumph of the reformers.

These two men practically constituted the central power of the conspiracy, for those who co‐operated with them were scarcely admitted into the inner councils or secret plans of the Duumvirate, although themselves the willing participators in the conspiracy.

Among them was Djevdet Pasha, Minister of Justice, who, during all the stirring events of the Vizierate of Mehemet Rushdi, had been lying low in the Cabinet waiting for the opportune moment to show his colours and take part in the overthrow of the ministry.

Whilst enumerating the instruments of Mahmoud’s ambition, it would be impossible to omit the names of two other men who, although they had not yet emerged into the notoriety which they were soon to enjoy, were indispensable tools of Mahmoud’s ambition, and powerfully contributed to the success of his plans. These were the two Saïds. The one was brother‐in‐law of Mahmoud, and destined for the important post of first aide‐de‐camp to the Sultan Abdul Hamid. He was generally known as “Ingless Saïd Pasha,” for his having been educated at Woolwich, and though entirely wanting in initiative or political convictions, was naturally of a frank and loyal disposition, not deficient in energy, and an invaluable coadjutor in carrying out the views of his brother‐in‐law. With Redif Pasha he formed the third member of the Triumvirate, which Mahmoud intended should, during the succeeding reign, govern the country. The other Saïd, of whom a great deal more will have to be said hereafter, was known, on account of his small stature, as “Saïd Kutchouk” (small), and when he reaches the dignity of Pasha, it will be necessary to distinguish him from the other Saïd by this appellation. He was supposed to be the âme damnée of Mahmoud, especially by Mahmoud himself, who destined him for the important confidential post of First Secretary to the Sultan.

Without any doubt, Damad’s plans were well conceived, and his net was well spread. The post of Vice‐Sultan he reserved for himself.

Behind these were marshalled the whole phalanx of Reaction, and the Konak of Mahmoud become the Cave of Adullam of all the malcontents.

The means of action were not wanting to the conspirators in this respect; indeed, the material to their hand was only too abundant. A sovereign of unsound mind is not recognised by the Ottoman Constitution. The girding of the Padishah with the sword of Osman, as an essential part of the ceremony of investiture, was to the Ottoman sovereigns what the sacred oil of Rheims was to the kings of France, and this ceremony had not taken place.

No Sultan, moreover, had ever before absented himself from attendance at the mosque on Friday, and the Selamlik that follows. The public anxiety and excitement on the subject were genuine and universal. Public affairs, too, were suffering: the Constitution was, in a double sense, suspended; the new Constitution could not be promulgated, and the old Constitution, such as it was, could not be worked; the mainspring of the machinery of State was deranged. Foreign diplomacy, too, was beginning to take an active part in the matter. The ambassadors and envoys from foreign States were asking to whom, and when, they could present their credentials. The Russian Embassy—that seemed to have better information relative to Prince Hamid’s character than Ministers themselves—was particularly persistent and active in this respect. It was evident that the crisis could not be indefinitely prolonged.

In these circumstances, it was resolved by Ministers that Midhat should go to Muslou‐Oglou, where Prince Hamid, heir presumptive to the throne, resided, in order to ascertain by a personal interview with him whether Ministers could rely on his co‐operation to carry out the important reforms that they had in hand, should it become absolutely necessary to remove Murad from the throne, and in that event, to agree to certain clear and definite stipulations with the Prince as conditions of their support.

These stipulations were the following:—

1. To promulgate without delay the new Constitution.

2. To act in matters of State only with the advice of his responsible advisers.

3. To appoint Zia Bey and Kemal Bey his private secretaries, and to make Sadullah Bey the head of the Palace Secretariat.

The importance attached by Midhat and Rushdi to this last condition was very great. It afforded a guarantee against those intrigues of the Palace which had ship‐wrecked so many schemes of reform, and prevented, so far as was possible, a renewal of that mute opposition between the Palace and the Porte which had existed for centuries, and had paralysed the efforts of so many Ministers.

At this historical interview at Muslou‐Oglou Prince Hamid evidently “played a deep game” with Midhat Pasha. He promised all and more than all that was asked of him. He pretended to opinions more advanced than the most advanced of his Ministers, and in favour of even a more democratic Constitution than the one elaborated. The other condition he accepted without demur.

On receiving these clear and emphatic declarations, Midhat returned to Stamboul and reported the result of his interview to the assembled Ministers, who thereupon resolved to take the decisive step and put Prince Hamid on the throne in the place of his brother Murad.

As on the occasion of the dethronement of the Sultan Abdul Aziz, it was necessary to obtain a Fetva from the Sheik‐ul‐Islam to the effect that the contemplated step was in accordance with the Sacred Law. Mehemet Rushdi thereupon demanded an official report from six principal physicians in Constantinople—of whom four belonged to the Embassies of the Great Powers—who, after examination of Murad, handed to him the following certificates:—

Thereupon Mehemet Rushdi made a speech to the people gathered together to hear the report of these physicians at the Palace of Top‐Kapou.

The assembled crowd expressed its sense of the justice of these words, and the Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Hassan Hairullah, gave the following Fetva:—

---

The act of dethronement of Sultan Murad V. was now accomplished. On Thursday, 1st September 1876, Prince Hamid, surrounded by all the great Civil and Military dignitaries of the State, descended the Grand Rue of Pera on horseback, on his way to Top‐Kapou at Stamboul. The people thronged in large crowds to see the procession, but dazed by the series of dramatic events that were so rapidly succeeding one another, they viewed the spectacle with silence and without enthusiasm. There seemed a feeling of anxiety in the air as of the prescience of future evils.

From Stamboul the Prince passed in a State caïque to the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche. Monday, the 15th of the month Chaban, was fixed for the reception of the Biat (first ceremony of the investiture), and on that day a deputation of notabilities of Finance, accompanied by the chiefs of the five non‐Mussulman communities, headed by Jean Lorando, presented the Sultan elect with an address of congratulation in the name of the city of Galata, and to this the Sultan made the following reply:—

To his Ministers he made a short speech, counselling union and agreement among themselves as the condition and symbol of union among all the subjects of the empire, and “counselled and ordered” them to prove their union by their acts.

The following Thursday, 18th of the month Chaban, was fixed for the great ceremony of investiture. On the morning of that day Abdul Hamid embarked in a caïque for Eyoub, the suburb on the Golden Horn, where the sword of Osman and the other sacred relics are kept, and on his passage thither he was saluted by the guns of the fleet anchored there, and the shout of the sailors manning the yards, “Padishahim tchok Yasha!”

After the important ceremony here was over, and the investiture of the new Padishah was thus completed, he proceeded, according to usage, to the mausoleum of Selim I., the founder of the Ottoman Caliphate, and thence to the mausoleum of Abdul Medjid, his father and the father of Murad, and lastly to the Palace of Top‐Kapou, where the mantle of the Prophet and the sacred Banner are deposited; and at night, the ceremony of this important day being over, he returned to the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche, where the ceremony of the investiture was completed.

Girt with the sword of Osman, Hamid II. reigned over Turkey, and the dark gloom of the Hamidian epoch was now about to settle over the land of the Osmanli.

On leaving the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche that night old Mehemet Rushdi, turning to his colleagues, said to them: “We have been in a great hurry to get rid of Murad. May we never have cause to repent what we have done.”

With these quasi‐prophetic words on his lips, feeling no doubt that a new era of struggles was about to open for which younger men were required, the veteran Grand Vizier, who had piloted the country through one coup d’état, and had very unwillingly assisted at a second dethronement, in consideration of his great age and feeble state of health, requested to be relieved of the duties of Grand Vizier. His request was granted, but three months after, Midhat, universally designated for the post, was nominated as his successor. These three months were passed under the Grand Vizierate of Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, but it was Midhat who was leader of the Cabinet, and Mehemet Rushdi was only the mouthpiece of Midhat, until the latter finally replaced him on the 16th December 1876.

The first audience accorded by the new sovereign to foreign envoys was to Count Zichy, the Austro‐Hungarian Ambassador, accompanied by the Secretary of his Embassy. Safvet Pasha, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, was present. The audience lasted one hour, and turned exclusively on the affairs of Herzegovina, the ambassador laying stress on the gravity of the events passing there, the anxiety and expenses that disturbances on its borders caused the Dual Empire, and exhortations to the new sovereign to listen to the advice of the friendly Powers. All this was, as we have seen, in the strictest conformity with the rôle that Austria had been playing for two years. Having set light to the gunpowder in her neighbour’s house, she quoted to that neighbour the familiar proverb, “Proximus ardet Ucalegon,” and warned him of the consequences.

The next audience was granted to the Russian Ambassador, General Ignatieff, recently returned from St Petersburg with the last instructions from his Court. The tone that the ambassador and envoys of Russia, the Strogonoffs, and Mentchikoffs, and Ignatieffs, had rendered familiar to the Porte on its communications on critical occasions, was not absent on this occasion:

To this speech the Sultan made answer in a few appropriate words:

Hardly had Abdul Hamid mounted the throne than the conflict between the two parties already described, commenced. The first act of the new reign was to appoint the personnel of the Imperial Household. Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin Pasha was named Grand Marshal of the Palace, and Saïd (Ingless) Pasha, first aide‐de‐camp to the Sultan. To these no objections had been raised or conditions imposed. Their duties had reference to what might be considered the more strictly household functions of the Palace, and their appointment lay within the exclusive domain of the sovereign’s personal choice. But it was very different with the office of First Secretary to the Sultan (or his successor) inasmuch as this important functionary has always been the right hand and mouthpiece of the sovereign, and the person by whom and through whom all communications pass between Ministers and the Sultan; and through the confidential character of his office, and his ready and continual access to the person of the sovereign, has always enjoyed a position of exceptional importance, hardly second to that of the Grand Vizier himself. It was for this reason that Midhat, attaching such importance to the worthy occupancy of this post, had not only laid stress on the necessity of its being filled by a functionary in harmony with the views of Ministers, but had actually laid down as one of the three conditions to which Prince Hamid was required to subscribe at the interview at Muslou‐Oglou, that Sadullah Bey, Zia Bey and Kemal Bey should be chosen as occupants of the post of Secretary respectively. In spite of his formal acceptance of this condition, the Sultan informed Midhat Pasha on his very first visit to the Palace, that he had appointed Saïd Bey (Mahmoud’s man) as his First Secretary. Astounded at this breach of faith, and aware of its significance—although perhaps not recognizing the full import of it—Midhat strongly remonstrated with the Sultan and urged a reconsideration of the appointment; but in spite of the remonstrances and prayers of his Ministers, the Sultan remained unmoved, and Midhat eventually acquiesced.

It is easy enough to be wise after the event and to see that Midhat ought to have put his foot down on this question and accepted the decisive battle thus offered him by the Sultan; that it ought to have been clear to him that this was only the first contest in a campaign that would decide the fate of Turkey during the whole of the coming reign, and that the first blow would probably decide the issue in the campaign. But our perspective of things is of course better than was Midhat’s. By the light of all the subsequent events that have unrolled themselves before our eyes, we now know the character of all the actors in the drama which was commencing, especially of the principal actor, and of this very First Secretary, who was the appropriate subject of the first contention. We can now appreciate the character of Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin, the backbone and arm of the reaction; of some of the Ministers who had been feigning for months past to support Midhat’s views and were only waiting the moment to betray him; and can recognise the existence of a matured and carefully laid plot to upset reform by crushing the reformers—all these things are palpable and clear to us in the broad daylight of subsequent events; but they were scarcely surmised or imagined at the time we are now dealing with. The important citadel of the Palace was delivered, with all its defences, into the hands of the conspirators, and the Palace as a whole was organised for the express purposes of the reformers. This strong position being once firmly secured, the new Sultan could afford to show his hand with little disguise. He could not yet afford to treat with Midhat; it would have been clumsy to do so at once, for Midhat in opposition would have been a force with which he would have had to reckon, and, moreover, he and the Constitution were both necessary as a means of combating the conference that was assembling; but short of a rupture with his Grand Vizier, which was to be studiously avoided, he could afford to emphasize more and more his opposition to the policy of Midhat, so that when the moment arrived he could strike a decisive blow with effect, and with less fear of the consequences.

Subjects of contention between them were not far to seek. The speech from the throne, written by Midhat, which was a pronunciamento of the policy of a new reign inaugurated under such exceptional circumstances, and looked for with great eagerness, was revised by the Sultan beyond recognition; the essential sentences were omitted, others of quite incomprehensive character substituted in their place. The keynote of the original was “a new Regime, the Constitution, and Reform”; this was changed, and meaningless colourless phrases took its place.

In order to give the reader an exact idea of the art displayed in this transformation, the speech actually delivered on this occasion is here appended, and the omitted sentences of the original, placed in parentheses:

“On ascending the Throne.

The points of contention between the Palace, or the Sultan (which now become synonymous expressions), and Midhat were all contained in germ in the foregoing variations in the first speech from the throne.

(1) In the very first sentence of the Hatti Humayun of inauguration the Sultan had cut out a passage which would have introduced a change to which Midhat attached some importance—“my Grand Vizier with the title of Prime Minister.” Midhat desired to abolish the title of Grand Vizier and to substitute for it that of Prime Minister, a change which would have entailed as a consequence the collective, instead of the individual, responsibility of Ministers. What the first Minister would lose in dignity and personal influence would be acquired by the Ministry collectively, and would thus consolidate the component parts of the Constitution. Midhat was well aware that this post of Prime Minister would require strengthening and developing for some time in Turkey, in view of the power and influence which the Throne derived from the very nature of the traditions and sentiments of the Ottomans, and the position of Islam in the world.

The purport and tendency of the proposal did not escape the new sovereign, and, faithful to his own views and interests, he simply cancelled the sentence and rejected the proposal.

(2) Midhat had placed in the mouth of the Sultan the following phrase: “As the Constitutional system is one of the principal causes of the progress of nations, we hereby declare this system of government to be adopted by Us, whilst holding, etc.”—instead of which, after some colourless commonplace sentences about the non‐observance of laws and regulations and pursuing the noble object of assuring the happiness of our subjects, he speaks of the necessity of convoking “a general Assembly compatible with the habits and customs and capacity of our population” (which might mean anything or nothing according to the estimate of their capacity), and he orders his Ministers carefully and minutely to study this question (which they had done for a year past), and submit the report to his sanction.

(3) In connection with the same important subject Midhat had proposed, for the purpose of elaborating the Constitutional laws, the convention of a Grand Council composed of the Ministers of State, the Doctors of the Law, and all those whose knowledge and experience entitled them to a voice in the country, to express their opinion on the subject, and that on their report being revised by the Council of Ministers it should be submitted to the approbation of the Sultan.

This proposal evidently meant business, and would not only have fixed a limit of time for the inauguration of the new Constitution, but would have given it the imprimatur of all that was enlightened and worthy of respect and attention in the empire. The Sultan rejected the sentence in toto.

(4) Midhat, who was deeply concerned by the actual condition of Turkish Finances, and thoroughly convinced that the first step in setting this right must be the exercise of rigid economy in all branches of the administration, and who, moreover, had experience of all that had taken place in the reign of Abdul Aziz, did not hesitate to propound to Abdul Hamid what his predecessor Murad had unhesitatingly accepted, viz., that the expenses of the household and of the Imperial Palace should be diminished and reduced to what was strictly necessary, and the Civil list of the princes of the Imperial family should be in like manner reduced, and their amount paid directly by the Minister of Finance, and he left it to the sovereign to make over a sum that he should fix himself for the monthly expenses of the Palace.

The Sultan omitted the whole paragraph.

(5) Midhat attached the greatest importance to the question of mixed schools in the provinces where Christians and Mussulmans lived together. The reader will recollect (p. 40) that when Governor of the provinces of the Danube he desired to establish this system in Bulgaria, and it was this very proposal which excited the anxiety and stirred the energies of the vigilant Ignatieff to defeat the proposal and obtain the dismissal of the Vali.

The Governor of Bulgaria—who now became for the second time the Grand Vizier of the empire—desired to make this cherished scheme general in all the provinces of the empire, and in the inaugural speech he had placed in the Sultan’s mouth words that signified the adoption of this measure and its inauguration in the empire, “in order that the progress of the country may produce the happiness of all its subjects alike; and in order to inculcate these ideas, We decree the foundation of these schools, in which instruction and education shall be common to all.”

Instead of this categorical declaration the Sultan substituted the colourless proposal: “We desire that all Our subjects, without distinction of classes, shall be able to profit by the benefits of knowledge, each according to his personal capacity,” which will bear the exact sense that anybody may choose to attribute to it.

We shall very shortly see what practical sense the Sultan himself attributed to it.

(6) Midhat desired to abolish the slave trade, which he considered a scandal and a disgrace to the empire, and incompatible with its pretensions to a high place in the ranks of civilised nations. He proposed, therefore, in this inaugural speech to proclaim its abolition, and that the Sultan should inaugurate the change by enfranchising all the slaves in the Palace. The Sultan cut out the whole paragraph.

With such a radical difference in the whole point of view from which the Palace clique and the new Grand Vizier regarded the situation, it was clear that occasions for serious conflict would not be wanting, nor would be long in manifesting themselves. They arose indeed at once, and it will be seen that each subject of contention was implicitly contained in the divergence of views manifested with reference to the speech from the throne that has just been analysed.

The question of the Constitution naturally occupied the foreground in these disputes. The Sultan, as has been seen, refused to submit its provisions to a Grand Council to be summoned ad hoc, lest it should receive, as it undoubtedly would have received, this important sanction. He preferred that Ministers should be its sole sponsors, which would leave him free to deny subsequently that its details had been stamped with the seal of national approval. From the very first days of his accession he had shown the greatest anxiety on this subject of the Constitution, and no wonder: it was what the Magna Charta was to John of England—the curb and limit of arbitrary power and exaction.

Knowing that Midhat was its chief champion, it was with him that he entered into negotiations on the subject, even before the actual resignation of Mehemet Rushdi Pasha. The following significant letter signed with his own name (instead of through the usual vehicle of the First Secretary’s signature) was the warning shot fired across the enemy’s bows:—

Letter addressed by the Sultan to Midhat Pasha on the eve of his Grand Vizierate.12

“To my illustrious Vizier, Midhat Pasha.

Reply.

To the First Secretary of His Majesty.12

The inner meaning of the words “safeguarding the Sovereign rights” contained the pith and kernel of the conspirators’ views and intentions. It had direct reference to a clause which the Sultan desired to have inserted in the text of the Constitution, or rather (and the difference is very material) to a rider which he desired to be added to a clause (the 113th), referring to the declaration of a state of siege in disturbed districts. The purport and intention of the clause would naturally govern its different branches. It could not possibly be supposed to apply to Ministers themselves, inasmuch as the Constitution specially and elaborately provided for their trial and punishment in clauses 31, 32, and 34 of the text. In spite, however, of the provisions and safeguards which were to hedge and limit the exercise of this prerogative, Midhat had long combated the insertion of this rider to the 113th article. Anxious above all things, however, to get the Constitution promulgated not later than the first sitting of the Conference, and not as yet fully grasping the character of the man he was dealing with, he listened to the explanations and glosses offered with reference to this rider, and finally, though reluctantly, consented to its insertion in the text of the Constitution.

It is easy to see now that this was the second error of tactics committed by Midhat. “Put not your trust in princes” is an especially wise injunction when you do not know the character of the princes you are dealing with. If Midhat had forced the Sultan Hamid—as he might have done, if he had been less trustful and more strenuous—to observe strictly the terms of the treaty of Muslou‐Oglou that Prince Hamid had agreed to as a condition of his mounting on the throne at all, Midhat would never have been banished, and the Constitution would never have been strangled. Good men are rarely as determined and strenuous as bad men. It is a pity, for half the political ills of the world come from this weakness on their part.

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On 19th December 1876, three months after the accession of Abdul Hamid to the throne, Midhat was appointed Grand Vizier. His nomination to this post was again welcomed with great rejoicing in Turkey, and gave Europe generally hopes of the accomplishment of some reforms. Sir Henry Elliot addressed the following despatch to Lord Derby:—

“Sir H. Elliot to the Earl of Derby.

“Constantinople, 19th December 1876.

Midhat pointed out to the Sultan, in a letter addressed to Saïd, the danger of the delay and procrastination that would be caused by too prolonged discussion on the text of the Constitution; further, that the text which had been submitted to the Sultan was such as had been decided upon by the Commission appointed by His Majesty himself, and that that text, after having been submitted to His Majesty as it came from the hands of the Commission, was now, together with His Majesty’s observations on it, being considered by the Ministers as a final stage, requiring at most three or four days’ deliberation, and that any longer delay before its actual promulgation would assuredly raise in the minds of the friendly Powers a doubt as to the sincerity of the Turkish Government in the work of the reform; and he insisted, finally, that, in order to convince them of this sincerity, it was essentially desirable that the promulgation of the Constitution should take place before the date fixed for the assembly of the Conference.

At the very first Ministerial Council under Midhat’s presidency as Grand Vizier, held at the house of Mahmoud Damad—a significant circumstance in itself—the conspirators showed their hand. When the subject of the Constitution and its promulgation came under discussion, Djevdet Pasha, Minister for Justice, and Mahmoud’s man, who had hitherto been “lying low” awaiting developments, suddenly sprang upon his colleagues the proposal that the whole question of the Constitution should be indefinitely adjourned, on the pretext that with the change that had taken place in the occupancy of the throne it was no longer necessary. The indignation and wrath of Midhat can easily be imagined at the audacity and perversity of this audacious proposition; he apostrophised his colleague in no sparing terms, and pointed out to him that the sole ground and justification of the solemn act of deposition to which they had lent their countenance was the necessity of having the Constitution promulgated; and he made Djevdet and Mahmoud, and any other weak‐kneed colleague who might be inclined to support their views, very clearly understand that he would throw up his office and retire into private life if the slightest hesitation was shown on their part with respect to this essential matter. By this uncompromising firmness he dispelled any illusion that might have been harboured that a frontal attack on the Constitution, with Midhat at the helm, could be of any avail, and the opposition feigned acquiescence in the Grand Vizier’s views. The incident, however, was not the less significant, and ought to have warned Midhat of what was secretly preparing in the councils of the conspirators.

It has been said, among other equally groundless and disingenuous criticisms, that “Midhat’s Constitution,” as it has been called, was a simple device to defeat the Conference that was about to assemble. One single fact, vouched for on an authority that will not be disputed, absolutely disposes of this calumny. Sir Henry Elliot, referring to these very matters, distinctly says that Midhat Pasha and his friends had informed him that they were working for the promulgation of a Constitution, and explained their views fully to him, twelve months before there was any question of a conference at all: “This was more than a year before its promulgation, when it was declared to have been invented to defeat the Conference then sitting at Constantinople!”14

That Midhat and his friends used the fact of the promulgation as a weapon to oppose the decisions of the Conference is likely enough; but this was perfectly fair dealing, and a legitimate weapon to make use of. Another proposition which is not true, and is proved to have been false, is that the Constitution was invented for the purpose of defeating the Conference. It is abundantly evident that if there had been no Conference at all, the Constitution would none the less have been elaborated and its promulgation insisted on.

Another disingenuous and captious criticism passed on the Constitution by its enemies is the implication contained in the expression “Midhat’s Constitution,” as if it was a “one‐man’s” Constitution, and not the work of what may be called the national mind—that is, the majority of the best minds in it. That Midhat had a great deal to say in its elaboration, and still more in its promulgation, in spite of the unconcealed opposition of the Sultan, and the Palace, and the whole phalanx of reaction behind them, there can of course be no doubt whatever, and to his eternal honour be it said; but that it was a “one‐man’s” work, in the sense that it was not the expression of the wants and wishes of the nation, is disproved by all the circumstances connected with it. Chakir Effendi, one of its warmest partisans, was one of the most learned, distinguished and highly esteemed Ulema at Constantinople; it was he who headed a deputation of Ulemas and doctors of the law, to congratulate Midhat immediately after the ceremony of promulgation was over. The most enthusiastic champions of both Midhat and the Constitution were the Softas, or body of students, numbering several thousands, of all the medresses (schools and universities) in Constantinople, the future generation of the educated mind of the nation. The provinces, without exception, were in favour of it. The important city of Adrianople sent a congratulatory address to Midhat, which the Sultan would not allow to be published in the papers. The instinct of the masses looked upon it as the one resource in the dire straits of the nation. The very fact that, with an opposing Sultan clinging to his “sovereign rights,” and a bitterly hostile and determined Palace clique, and in spite of all the means at the disposal of Turkey’s nearest and most powerful neighbour unscrupulously put into action, the Constitution ever saw the daylight, and actually lived for a twelvemonth in such an environment, is the very strongest evidence that can possibly be adduced of its inherent vitality, and an undeniable proof that it was something more than a “one‐man’s” Constitution.

The Constitution, although the principal, was not the only subject of contention between the new Sultan and his Vizier. There were questions of persons, questions of money, questions of education that divided them irreconcilably. The Sultan, who had no doubt fixed on Edhem Pasha as the pliable instrument that he would need after the Conference was over, and when the work of getting rid of Midhat had to be gone through, desired to elevate one who, in his opinion, “was not quite the person for a very high position,” to a post whence subsequent promotion to the very highest position would seem a little less incongruous. He accordingly selected Edhem Pasha for the post of President of the Council of State, the important office concerned with the elaboration of the laws of the country. Midhat’s candidate was Sadik Pasha, whose competency was beyond dispute. Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin wished to have Djevdet Pasha, his faithful henchman—whom we have already seen at work—nominated to this post, but even the Sultan thought his knowledge and intellectual capacity altogether too circumscribed. The accompanying letter shows the strong insistence of the Sultan on his own intention. He had the great advantage over Midhat which conspirators always have, viz., of having his plan of campaign with a distinct aim already settled, and knowing therefore beforehand the strong position which it was necessary to occupy on the field of battle.

Midhat, ignorant of the game that was being played, sacrificed point after point in it, considering their importance with reference to public affairs secondary to that of having the Constitution promulgated as soon as possible.

The following letter makes these points clear:—

To Midhat Pasha, Grand Vizier.

Another and still more serious difference of opinion, relative to persons, arose concerning Zia Bey. This person, one of the most distinguished litterateurs and poets Turkey possessed, who had been appointed private Secretary of the Sultan Murad, and whose nomination to the same post by the present Sultan had been made an article of the treaty between Midhat and Prince Hamid at Muslou‐Oglou, was suspected of inspiring certain articles in the Turkish paper Istikbal which threw doubts on the Sultan’s sincerity with reference to the Constitution. These articles gave great offence at the Palace, and were considered of dangerous tendency. The Sultan determined not only to proceed against the paper, but also to remove Zia Bey, at any price, from the capital.

The accompanying letter will show the feelings of the Sultan on the subject:

To Midhat Pasha.

In the meantime the population of Constantinople, who have been represented by interested critics as indifferent about the Constitution and reform, hearing of the proposed exile of this champion of the Constitution and reform, determined to prevent his departure from the capital by electing him as one of their representatives in the new Parliament. Consternation is not too strong a term to describe the feelings that this proposal excited in the Palace. Zia Bey had an influence among the people of the capital. What if his presence among them in the Parliament should checkmate all the plans of a carefully hatched conspiracy? The following letter clearly reveals this consternation:—

To Midhat Pasha, Grand Vizier.

As the concluding passage of this letter shows, the Sultan, whilst banishing Zia Bey, determined, pour encourager les autres, to proceed with all possible vigour against the Press. There was to be no faltering in so grave a matter. For this purpose the Istikbal was to be suspended, and a Draconian law against the Press prepared “within three or four days,” although by Article 12 of the Constitution this matter ought to have been left to be dealt with by the Parliament.

The following letters speak for themselves:—

To Midhat Pasha, Grand Vizier.

To Midhat Pasha, Grand Vizier.

Two other subjects of grave difference were the cause of a good deal of fencing between Midhat and the Palace. The one was the position of Galib Pasha, Minister of Finance, whom Midhat was determined to remove from the post of Minister of Finance; the other had reference to mixed education in the State schools, a subject on which Midhat had always held very strong views. But as the foreign envoys in the capital were now demanding the convocation of the official meeting of the Conference, it was determined to postpone the final resolution on these subjects till after the Conference was over.

The preliminary difficulties being at last overcome, or at least their discussion postponed till after the Conference was over, the date for the proclamation of the Constitution, with the Sultan’s famous rider inserted in the text, like the fatal gift of the evil fairy in the fable, was finally determined on.

On the morning of the 23rd December, 1876, in the big open space in front of the Sublime Porte, facing the apartments reserved for the Sultan, a large platform was erected, profusely decorated with Turkish flags. Hither all the notabilities and Ulemas and Ministers were convoked to hear the promulgation of the new Constitution which, in the view of its promoters and supporters, was to inaugurate a new era for the sorely tried empire of the Osmanli. It might indeed have been a day marked in red, the greatest date in Turkish history. As it was, it was only the first act of a stupendous comedy.

The notabilities were now assembled, and in spite of a downpour of rain, an immense crowd of people came to witness and applaud the ceremony. The troops lined the road between Sirkedji and the Sublime Porte, and along it, at mid‐day. Saïd Pasha, the first Secretary to the Sultan, in full uniform, preceded by a military band, arrived at the Sublime Porte, bearing the Sultan’s letter (Hatti Humayun) of promulgation, addressed to the Grand Vizier Midhat Pasha, and the text of the Constitution. The letter ran as follows:—

Rescript (Hatti Humayun) of the Sultan promulgating the Ottoman Constitution.

The reading of the Hatti Humayun concluded, the First Secretary ceremoniously handed the Grand Vizier the text of the Constitution, after reverently raising it to his lips. The Grand Vizier received it with the like ceremony, and then handed it to the Grand Referendary,16 Mahmoud Bey, who read it to the assembled people, while thousands of fly‐leaves bearing the text of the Constitution were distributed in all directions.

After the text was read, Midhat made a speech, expressing gratitude to the Sultan for the graciousness of this act in promulgating the Constitution, the immense importance of which he proceeded to point out to the people. When he had concluded, the Mufti of Adrianople offered up a prayer, and all the people cried “Amen,” and a salute of 101 guns from the Seraskierate announced to the whole city that “the Constitution” was proclaimed.

The Ulemas with the Sheik‐ul‐Islam (Hairullah Effendi) at their head; the Christian clergy with their patriarchs; the Ministers; the learned and distinguished Chakir Effendi, followed by the Softas and students; the representatives of all the corporations, and the populace of the capital, with flags bearing the inscription “Liberty,” came to congratulate Midhat, at his own residence, on the new era of liberty. In the evening the mosques were illuminated, and the people, carrying torches, paraded the streets, crying, “Long live the Sultan and Midhat Pasha!” Telegrams of congratulation were received from all the provinces of the Empire, expressing the joy felt at this great event. In short, the whole populace was in a state of rejoicing; the Palace of Bechiktashe was the only place not illuminated. The Sultan was indisposed.

Although it was contrary to custom for a Grand Vizier to pay an official visit to the religious communities, Midhat Pasha went the following day to the Greek and Armenian Patriarchs and to the Jewish Chief Rabbi, to thank them for their expressions of rejoicing at the new Constitution. He was received with enthusiasm by the patriarchs, and the Christian populace threw flowers in his way. The Grand Vizier made speeches in which he declared that he recognised no distinctions between Mussulmans and Christians, as they were all children of the same country, urging that all should work together as brothers to promote the progress of their country, under one flag, and by the aid of the new liberty pronounced by His Majesty the Sultan.

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The day fixed for the first plenary meeting of the Conference of Constantinople was the same as that chosen for the promulgation of the Constitution. That there was a purpose in the simultaneous occurrence of the two events admits of no doubt; but to conclude from that fact, as has been disingenuously argued, that the Constitution was a mere device to defeat the ends of the Conference, is, of course, absurd, and has been conclusively disproved.

On the 23rd December (1876), accordingly, the envoys and plenipotentiaries of the Great Powers met in the handsome building of the Admiralty on the Golden Horn, in the large hall that had been prepared for their reception, to discuss with the Turkish envoys the condition of the Christian provinces of the empire. There were present, Count Zichy and Baron Calice representing Austro‐Hungary; Count Chaudordy and Count Bourgoing representing France; Baron Werther representing Germany; Lord Salisbury and Sir Henry Elliot representing Great Britain; General Ignatieff representing Russia, and Edhem Pasha and Safvet Pasha representing the Empire that was to be placed on the dissecting table.

Scarcely had the preliminary formalities been concluded, when from across the Bosphorus, at the Seraskierate, was heard the booming of the first gun that announced the proclamation of the new Constitution. Thereupon a somewhat dramatic scene—that, no doubt, had been arranged beforehand—was enacted. Safvet Pasha arose in his place, and, addressing the assembled plenipotentiaries, said: “Gentlemen, the cannon that you hear across the Bosphorus notifies the commencement of the promulgation by His Majesty the Sultan of a Constitution guaranteeing equal rights and constitutional liberties to all the subjects of the Empire alike; and in the presence of this great event, I think our labours become superfluous.”

This little speech of the Turkish Envoy was received by the assembly in chilling silence. The somewhat theatrical coup had evidently missed its effect. After a few moments’ dead silence, General Ignatieff moved that the Conference should proceed with the business of the day. The proceedings themselves were not lengthy. The envoys of the Great Powers had been a whole month in Constantinople holding unofficial meetings among themselves, from which the Turkish delegates were studiously excluded; and the programme to be followed and the policy to be enforced had all been arranged before the official meeting took place. The object of this somewhat unusual proceeding was clear. Turkey was to be given to understand that it had to do with a veritable Concert of Europe, which, however much it might minimise the demands made by one of the Powers interested, would insist unanimously on substantial concessions from the Porte, and that the latter must in consequence dismiss any hope or expectation of dissensions or jealousies breaking out between the Powers.

The achievement of this unanimity was intended as the master‐stroke of Lord Salisbury’s policy. He did not imagine then, though he probably has realised it since, that the rôle he was playing at Constantinople had been carefully prepared for him at Vienna, and that the success of his efforts was simply the triumph of Count Andrassy’s policy. What remained for the Conference to do was, not to discuss measures, but to formulate decisions. There was, at any rate, this advantage in such a summary method: the agony would not be prolonged. The business of the Conference began, like a Dutch auction, with a maximum opening bid on the part of the Russian envoy. He proposed the autonomy of the province of Bulgaria, the appointment of a Christian Vali, the formation of a national militia, and the confinement of Turkish troops within the limits of certain fixed fortresses. The Turkish envoys having declared these proposals entirely inadmissible and beyond the sphere of discussion, the proposal was modified to what General Ignatieff designated “un minimum extrême et irreductible,” viz., that Bulgaria should be endowed with a special privileged government, and with an international commission to watch the administration, and that the appointment of its Governor should be submitted to the approval of the Great Powers. To this proposal, again, the Turkish envoys demurred, pointing out that the examples of Servia and Roumania, to which special privileged governments had been conceded with the other special arrangements now proposed for Bulgaria, were not encouraging precedents for a repetition of a similar experiment in Bulgaria: that the Mahomedan population in the above‐named States had not been treated with the equality and liberality promised and stipulated for, but had found themselves under the necessity of emigrating en masse from those countries, and that even the extreme concessions made to these States, removing all shadow of pretext for complaint, had not deterred them from joining the enemies of the Empire, or intriguing against it whenever the opportunity occurred.

Eventually, after a heated and rather academical passage of arms between Edhem Pasha and Count Chaudordy, a further modification was made in the proposals, but not without a protest from General Ignatieff, who said: “You are plucking all my feathers out of me,” to which Count Chaudordy replied, with pregnant truth, “You will always have plenty left, General.” The finally irreducible minimum proposed was to the effect that a Consular Commission should be appointed to aid the local authorities, and that the Valis of the three provinces, Bulgaria, Herzegovina and Bosnia, should be appointed subject to the assent of the Great Powers, during the first five years.

The Turkish envoys, however, could not agree to this proposal either. They pointed out that the appointment of the Consular Commission was an infringement of the sovereign rights of the nation, which it was beyond their competence to acquiesce in, and that over and above this difficulty the proposal was open to the practical objection that an exceptional situation created for those provinces would cause discontent in all the other provinces of the empire, and lead to unrest, and probably disturbance, in some of them; and they again pointed out that the moment seemed singularly ill‐chosen for insisting on special privileges for a portion of the Empire, when the Sultan had just promulgated a charter containing the largest possible measure of liberty and equal rights to all his subjects without distinction throughout every portion of the Empire.

This declaration of non possumus on the part of the Turkish delegates was followed by a most violent speech from General Ignatieff, immediately after which the assembly broke up without even listening to the protest that the Ottoman delegates were prepared to make to the speech of the Russian envoy.

The last modified proposal was embodied in an Ultimatum delivered to the Porte by the envoys collectively, to which an answer was required within a week. At the expiration of that time, if the answer was not satisfactory, they declared their intention of quitting Constantinople.

On the news of what had occurred becoming known, the conduct of the Turkish delegates was generally approved of throughout the Empire. Christians and Mahomedans vied with each other in sending patriotic addresses to the capital, and a battalion of Christian volunteers was raised, at their own expense, and marched to the Servian frontier, where they distinguished themselves greatly, let it be said in passing, by their courage and devotion.

Midhat, in the meantime, by the Sultan’s order, had convened a Grand Council of 237 persons, composed of all nationalities and notabilities, to whom the final propositions of the Conference were submitted.

Midhat made a speech to the notabilities, in which he pointed out the consequences of the rejection of the terms in question, and told them clearly that unless they were prepared to face this ultima ratio, they had no alternative but to accept the terms of the Conference. After listening attentively to this speech, the Grand Council, by a practically unanimous vote, amidst very considerable enthusiasm decided on the rejection of the Ultimatum. The foreign envoys accordingly left the capital on 20th January (1877). So ended the Conference of Constantinople.

It is necessary here to recall the fact that Midhat during the Conference sent the patriot Odian Effendi to London to communicate to Lord Derby the occurrence which had recently taken place in his country, and to add that as the Powers had not insisted on the carrying out of the proposals formulated by Russia, which were found to be impracticable in the present condition of Turkey, it was hoped that the Powers would take the new Constitution under their protection, and see to its execution in practice. The following despatch from Lord Derby to Lord Salisbury and Sir H. Elliot shows the result of this step:—

The Earl of Derby to the Marquis of Salisbury and Sir H. Elliot.

Hardly had the foreign envoys departed from the capital, and the doors of the great hall at the Admiralty been shut behind them, when the Palace proposed to put the match to the mine that had been carefully laid for the reformers.

Within a fortnight of the departure of the Plenipotentiaries, matters were brought to a climax. Two subjects of contention between Midhat and the Sultan had been reserved for further discussion when the Conference should be over: the position of Galib Pasha and the question of mixed schools. Either would serve for a casus belli.

Midhat had resolved on the dismissal of the complaisant Minister of Finance, who had, proprio motu, doubled the amount appropriated to the Civil list by the simple device of paying it in gold; there were other counts, too, against the Minister which necessitated this measure. One was the specific charge of irregularities in the accounts of the Treasury, which, although Midhat did not attribute them to malversation on his part, were nevertheless, in his opinion, proofs of great negligence in the supervision of the business of his office. The other was a general charge of incapacity as Minister of Finance, especially revealed in his tactless method of issuing Treasury bonds, thereby causing an excessive and alarming depreciation in the paper of the State. The Sultan had agreed to the dismissal of Galib, but he desired to have him forthwith appointed Senator, whereas Midhat insisted on a preliminary examination of the accounts of his office. It will be perceived at once that there was a great deal more in this dispute than met the eye, and that it accounted for the bitterness of the feelings entertained against Midhat at the Palace. The following letter, if read between the lines, will throw some light on the questions at issue:—

To the First Secretary of His Majesty Saïd Pasha.

The other question held in reserve was that of the mixed schools, a measure to which, as we have seen on several occasions, Midhat attached the greatest importance, as a means of welding together the different elements of the nation. He desired to make a beginning by applying it to the military academies of the Empire. The eve, possibly, of a great war, in which the nation might require the service of all her sons, seemed to him the most opportune moment conceivable for the application of this most important reform. He accordingly pressed it on the Sultan. He was met by the ordinary Fabian tactics of the Palace—procrastination, promises, delay. The Sultan demurred, temporised, first gave and then withdrew his consent, and a long discussion ensued between them on the subject. The dispute culminated in the following Memorandum, addressed by Midhat in the name of the Ministry, to the Sultan, through the usual channel:—

To the First Secretary of His Majesty Saïd Pasha.18

Worn out by these tactics, Midhat determined to bring the matter to an issue, and make it what would be called a Cabinet question, and addressed to the Sultan the following letter:—

For three days he abstained from going to the Palace.

The Sultan, who was now prepared for extremities, sent Safvet Pasha to him to inform him that all he demanded would be granted and to request him to come to the Palace. Safvet Pasha, Minister for Foreign Affairs, and one of the Turkish delegates at the Conference, was not what would be called a strong Minister. He was prone to conciliation and compromise rather than energetic measures and resolutions; but he was essentially an honest man: duplicity and treachery were absolutely foreign to his nature. If on this occasion he was intended as an instrument of duplicity, it was practised at his own expense, and he was merely an unconscious tool. Midhat, however, demurred to the invitation, and required the necessary Irades to be issued on the matters pending with the Palace, before he resumed his functions as Grand Vizier. Thereupon the Sultan sent his first aide‐de‐camp, Saïd (Ingless) Pasha, to him, to assure him that the Irades were ready, if he would, on the Sultan’s order, accompany him to the Palace. Midhat went. He perceived on his way an unwonted display of troops in the district of Tavshan Tashi, where his Konak was situated, but he was not aware then, on the night of the 4th‐5th February, that the Imperial Yacht Izzeddine was moored close to the marble steps leading up to the terrace of the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche. If he had perceived it and guessed its purpose, it was too late to retreat, or to escape the snare laid for him. On his arrival at the Palace he was shown into a small ante‐chamber and told to await the Sultan’s orders.

The first aide‐de‐camp soon returned with the Sultan’s order to deliver up his seal of office, and to accompany him.

He then conducted him on board the Izzeddine, which, with steam already up, immediately weighed anchor and steamed off in the direction of the Sea of Marmora with Midhat on board. The Captain of the Izzeddine had sealed orders, which he was only to open in the Sea of Marmora. These orders were, that he should wait for twenty‐four hours in the Bay of Tchekmedje, and if he received no telegram within that space of time, he was to conduct Midhat to any European port on the Mediterranean that the ex‐Grand Vizier might select. No despatch arriving, he proceeded on his course to Brindisi, where he landed Midhat.

That the forcible banishment of the Grand Vizier was a violation of the letter as well as the spirit of the Constitution promulgated and sworn to by the Sultan, has never been seriously denied. The “reason of State” urged would obviously cover any act of arbitrary power whatever. It was for the express purpose of putting an end to such an arbitrary régime that the Constitution was framed and insisted on. The flimsy pretext put forward, that it was in accordance with the 113th Article of the Constitution, will not bear the most superficial examination. The power therein conceded to the Sultan was in a rider to a clause declaring a state of siege when the safety of the State required it, and the purport and limits of the clause must necessarily govern the subsidiary provisions of the clause itself. Not only could a rider of this description not bear the interpretation sought to be placed upon it, but other substantial clauses of the Constitution directly forbade the exercise of any such arbitrary power, and provided for the elementary right that no man should be punished except after due trial. But further: clauses 31, 32, and 34 contained special and minute provisions for the arrest and trial of Ministers guilty of treason or malversation, so that both positively and negatively, in its substantial provisions and in its omissions, the banishment of Midhat, with its attendant circumstances, was as clear a violation of the Constitution as the coup d’état of the 2nd December 1852 in France.

But political morality and good faith and patriotism apart, it must be allowed that the tactics pursued by the Palace were, qua tactics, very cleverly devised. If the Sultan had struck at the Constitution as well as the champion of it; at reform at the same time as the reformer, he would undoubtedly have raised a storm in the country which would have immediately endangered his throne; but by striking down the father and pillar of the Reformers he practically killed reform, and put the Constitution at his mercy as certainly as if he had suppressed it then and there; and whilst pretending himself to champion both reform and the Constitution, he managed to play the rôle of Wat Tyler successfully, and to take the sting out of the blow, and conceal the full meaning of the act that he had just committed. There was a party in Constantinople, to which personal ambition was not a stranger, who imagined that Midhat was not essential to the cause of the Constitution, and that Abdul Hamid II. was sincere in his protestations of reforming ardour. Some were of good faith, and some were simply moved by ambition. Both very soon discovered their mistake, and in various distant provinces found leisure to reflect and repent of their confiding innocence.

The Palace, although they had hazarded this great coup, did not feel at all secure as to the effect it might produce on the population of Constantinople, in spite of all the measures of precaution that had been taken; and the order given to the captain of the Izzeddine to remain twenty‐four hours at anchor in the bay of Tchekmedje, was with a view, in case of a serious rising in the capital, of recalling Midhat and persuading him to resume his functions—until a more convenient opportunity arose. The Palace was playing for safety.

Stunned by the suddenness of the blow, entirely unprepared for any concerted action, and distracted by reports industriously spread, the people did not rise, and the Palace breathed freely. It had gained a complete victory.

* * * * *

Between the breaking up of the Conference and the breaking out of the war, the sequence of diplomatic action can be very briefly narrated. On the 19th January 1877 Prince Gortchakoff issued a Circular to the Powers, which can be summed up in the question, “What are you going to do about it?” One particular phrase, however, in this document must be noted. He says that the agreement in the Berlin Memorandum not being unanimous, and the crisis being aggravated, among other causes, by the revolution in Constantinople, the Cabinets recommenced negotiations, and, on the initiative of England, agreed upon a basis and guarantees to be discussed at a Conference at Constantinople. There is very little doubt that this revolution in Constantinople—which had the avowed object of checking absolutism and giving the Turkish people guarantees for good government—was in the eyes of Russia an aggravation of the crisis, and justified, and even necessitated, in her opinion, hostile action against Turkey. That Russia, who had undertaken the championship of liberty and progress among the inhabitants of a neighbouring empire, should be confronted by the establishment of institutions far more liberal and advanced than anything her own people were allowed to dream of; and that there should be sitting at Constantinople a Parliament, the very name of which was a terror and nightmare at St Petersburg, was without question an intolerable grievance.

À propos of this, the famous despatch of Count Pozzo di Borgo, of November 1828, to M. de Nesselrode, may be read with profit:

The whole policy of Russia towards Turkey is contained in the above despatch. The Cabinets of the Powers did not immediately answer Prince Gortchakoff’s Circular of the 19th January. General Ignatieff took a circular journey round Europe and felt the pulses of its Governments. On the 13th March, Count Schouvaloff handed to Lord Derby the draft Protocol which it was proposed to submit to the signature of the Great Powers, so as “to terminate the incident.” In this interview, the Russian Ambassador urged in favour of this course the unfortunate result that would ensue if shades of difference of opinion were to manifest themselves in the replies of the various Cabinets to the Russian Circular, which might be a determining cause to induce Russia to seek for a solution either by means of a direct understanding with the Porte, or by force of arms.

Lord Derby does not seem to have requested the Russian Ambassador to explain the above oracular utterance. There was more in it than he perhaps imagined. Another remarkable expression fell from Count Schouvaloff at this interview, and one which shows that he did not give himself the trouble, in his interview with the English Minister, to maintain even the appearance of consistency. “As a period of some months would not be sufficient to accomplish these reforms, it would be preferable,” etc. But this was Mr Disraeli’s and Lord Derby’s contention, though not sustained, for postponing diplomatic action, and the Turkish Ministers were never tired of urging it as a good and valid reason for deferring the Conference altogether.

The Protocol that was signed at London on the 31st March 1877 was certainly, as compared with the Protocol of the Conference, a very colourless document. After recapitulating certain recent diplomatic acts and taking cognisance of certain others, in view of certain indications, “the Powers propose to watch carefully by means of their Representatives at Constantinople, and their local agents, the manner in which the promises of the Ottoman Government are carried into effect.” It concluded by saying: “If their hopes should once more be disappointed, and if the conditions of the Christian subjects of the Sultan should not be improved in a manner to prevent the return of the complications which periodically disturb the peace of the East, they think it right to declare that such a state of things would be incompatible with their interests and those of Europe in general. In such case, they reserve to themselves the right to consider, in common, the means which they may deem best fitted to secure the well‐being of the Christian population and the interests of the general peace.”

This Protocol was accompanied by two remarkable declarations, annexed to the Minutes of the Meeting at the Foreign Office at which the Protocol was signed—the one on the part of the Russian Ambassador, the other on that of the English Minister.

The latter was to the effect that, in the event of the object for which the Protocol had been signed, viz., reciprocal disarmament and peace, not being attained, the Protocol in question should be regarded as null and void.

The declaration by the Russian Ambassador was in the following terms:—

The Porte thought fit, perhaps unnecessarily, inasmuch as its adhesion to the Protocol was not required, to make on the 9th April 1877 a most elaborate and spirited answer to the position taken up by the signatories of that document.

It pointed out that the efforts of the Powers were exclusively directed to what they considered the well‐being of one portion only of the Sultan’s subjects, whereas the reforms which the new Constitution aimed at introducing did not bear a special or exclusive character in regard to province, race, creed or language. That the small account which the Powers seemed to have taken both of the great principles of equality and justice which the Turkish Government sought to introduce into the internal administration, and of its rights of independence and sovereignty, was deeply to be regretted. That Turkey as an independent State could not submit “to be placed under any surveillance, whether collective or not.” That the Treaty of Paris explicitly declared the principle of non‐intervention. That Treaty which binds the other high contracting parties as well as Turkey, cannot be abolished by a Protocol in which Turkey has taken no part. And as for the last clause, the Government of the Sultan saw in it “a proceeding of intimidation calculated to deprive their action of all merit of spontaneity, and a source of grave complication for the present as well as for the future.”

With reference to the declaration of the Russian Ambassador annexed to the Protocol, the Porte very pointedly remarked that “as regards the disorders which might break out in Turkey and arrest the demobilization of the Russian army, the Sultan’s Government, while resenting the offensive terms in which this idea has been expressed, believes that Europe is convinced that the disorders which have disturbed the tranquillity of the provinces were due to external agitation; that the Imperial Government cannot be held responsible for them, and that consequently the Russian Government will not be justified in making the demobilization of its armies depend on such contingencies.”

This last paragraph pointed out a serious practical difficulty that confronted the Ottoman Government with reference to the proposal for demobilization. Russia was supposed to be able to mobilise her armies in eight days: at any rate, it was a question of days with her. Turkey, on account of her geographical position, and the nature of her organisation, required several months to effect this object. If, therefore, after making the greatest sacrifices in order to collect her forces, she were now to dismiss them to their distant homes, and Russia were allowed, on a pretext indicated by herself, to remobilise her own army, Turkey would be caught at the greatest possible disadvantage, and would then be completely at the mercy of her unscrupulous opponent. And nothing would be easier than for Russia, employing the means at which she had shown herself an adept, to excite troubles which would give her the very justification which she sought for a systematic attack on the now defenceless Ottoman Empire. The Porte had had experience of this very same line of action and of argument in respect to Servia. On the 2nd November 1876, Sir H. Elliot writes to Lord Derby that “General Ignatieff told me this morning that he has been directed by his Government to inform the Porte that they would consider any excesses committed by the Turkish troops as a violation of the armistice; and one of the secretaries of the Russian Embassy was desired this afternoon to tell me, further, that the General had orders at once to leave Constantinople upon any violation of it occurring,” and he adds, “a ready pretext for a rupture appears thus to be prepared.”19

On the 19th April 1877, Prince Gortchakoff issued another Circular announcing a declaration of war against the Ottoman Empire, and concluding with the following most remarkable sentence: “In assuming this task, our august Master fulfils a duty imposed upon him by the interests of Russia, whose peaceful development is hindered by the permanent disturbances of the East.”

Commentary would spoil this choice bit. The lamb was troubling the stream.

On the 1st May, Lord Derby made a most caustic and merciless reply to the Russian Circular.

After pointing out that the Porte had never wavered “in affirming its intention of carrying out the reforms already promised,” which was the avowed object of the Powers, and that by patience and moderation on both sides these objects might still have been attained, and that it was the presence of large Russian forces on the frontiers of Turkey, “menacing its safety, rendering disarmament impossible, and exciting a feeling of apprehension and fanaticism among the Mussulman population,” that constituted a material obstacle to internal pacification and reform. It went on to say, that the course on which the Russian Government had entered involved graver and more serious considerations. It was in contravention of the stipulation of the Treaty of Paris of 30th March, 1856, by which Russia and the other signatory Powers engaged, each on its own part, to respect the independence and the territorial integrity of the Ottoman Empire, and further, that they had, as late as 1871, signed a declaration at the Conference of London, affirming it to be “an essential principle of the law of nations that no Power can liberate itself from the engagements of a Treaty, nor modify the stipulations thereof, unless with the consent of the Contracting Parties by means of an amicable arrangement.” It concluded by saying, in reference to the pretension that Russia was acting in the interest of Great Britain and of the other Powers, that it felt bound to state in a manner equally formal and public that the decision of the Russian Government was not one that could have their concurrence or approval.

Nothing could be more logical or reasonable, but it was not logic or reason that could keep the Russian armies on their side of the Pruth.

---

The exile of Midhat Pasha to Europe, after his sensational downfall from power on 5th February 1877, caused very much excitement in Europe. The Emperor of Austria is reported to have exclaimed, “Good Heavens! these Turks are incorrigible!”; while M. Thiers said, “Turkey’s most inveterate enemy could hardly have devised such a diabolical piece of advice to give to the Sultan.” The Cabinets lost all hope of seeing reforms introduced into Turkey. The English, as well as the greater part of the European Press, showed their sympathy towards the ex‐Grand Vizier and their discontent with the Sultan. Amongst the Russian newspapers the Golos of St Petersburg, 9th February 1877, whilst clearly showing the interest that Russia had in the disgrace of Midhat Pasha, yet expressed its opinions in the following manner:—

The exile of Midhat, and the consequent change in the Ministry, also caused the very greatest commotion throughout the greater part of the Turkish population.21 But the Sultan had taken every precaution against the possibility of any insurrection on the part of the people in favour of the exiled Grand Vizier, and he hastened to assemble Parliament, in order that he might gain the credit of being considered even more liberal than his Grand Vizier; and to show that the downfall of Midhat by no means involved the abolition of the recently promulgated Constitution, he opened Parliament.

The opening of the new Parliament had been fixed for the 1st March, but owing to the fact that many of the deputies from the more distant provinces had not arrived in the capital, the ceremony was adjourned till the 4th March. On that day Parliament was opened with great ceremony by the Sultan in the Palace of Dolma‐Bagtche.

On the right of the throne stood the Ministers and high functionaries, the Chiefs of the Christian communities, and members of the Council of State; on the left, the Ulema, and Cadi, and Heads of the High Courts of Justice, with the Generals of Division; behind these the pages of the Court. Behind the throne were the Foreign Representatives, and interspersed between the groups on the right and left of the throne were the Senators and Representatives in the Parliament. The Sultan entered, dressed in black, and stood by the throne with his hand on his sword, whilst his First Secretary read the following Opening Speech:—

The Sultan’s Speech.

Thus, against his will, the Sultan had been obliged to keep his word and to open the Chamber of Deputies, but he now left no means untried in order to deprive the people of the privilege which he had just granted them. It so happened that events occurred which furnished him with certain opportunities, of which he took advantage with the greatest astuteness, and which were very much to the detriment of the nation.

The refusal of the Porte and of the Grand Council to accept the propositions formulated at the Conference had placed Turkey in an exceedingly critical position, although the whole civilised world, with the exception of Russia and the Sultan Abdul Hamid, were convinced that this refusal was of no great importance, since the solemnly proclaimed Constitution had assured the Empire that the necessary reforms should be made, and that the maladministration should be brought to an end. Nevertheless, the fall of Midhat, of the very man to whom the empire owed this Constitution, gave rise to doubt as to the execution of the promised reforms. On 19th April, Prince Gortchakoff sent out his Circular to the Powers, and on the 24th of April hostilities were begun by Russia.

Public opinion in Turkey was thus entirely engrossed by the danger with which the empire was threatened from outside, and was no longer able to concentrate itself on the changes that were taking place in the internal government. All minds were excited at the near approach of Russia, and were unable to occupy themselves in the maintenance of those rights which had been conferred by the new charter. The Sultan was thus able to attain his object, and finding no longer any obstacle to his will, he closed the Parliament and exiled the few deputies who dared to raise their voice in protest.

The war declared by Russia was the necessary result of the policy which Abdul Hamid had proposed to follow. Having exiled Midhat Pasha, and closed Parliament without having executed a single reform, he was equally obliged to crush every liberal tendency in order that he might monopolise the supreme power, and spared no effort to rid himself of every force that was capable of thwarting his designs. He now began to get secret information as to the opinions of all the principal Ministers and Generals, and took care at once to deprive of all power those whom he feared might be dangerous to him. The contradictory instructions that he gave to the Generals, the absurd military orders that he issued from his Palace of Yildiz, were transmitted after reports which attributed revolutionary designs to certain of his Generals—designs which they were far from cherishing—had reached him.

It was in consequence of these suspicions on the part of the Sultan that the Commander‐in‐Chief Abdul Kerim and the Marshal Suleiman Pasha were brought before a Council of War and condemned, not on account of faults committed, but simply because one of these two chief officers had participated in the deposition of the Sultan Abdul Aziz, and the other was known to have liberal opinions.

The Sultan’s efforts were crowned by the Treaty of San Stefano. The Circular of Prince Gortchakoff, which had appeared in the Official Journal of St Petersburg on the 9th April 1877, showed that what Russia had wished to obtain from Turkey by the Conference of Constantinople, differed but very little from the conditions which she imposed on the Porte in the Treaty of San Stefano, a fact to which Lord Salisbury rendered due justice in his despatch of 1st April.

Although the Cabinet of Great Britain had firmly stated its intentions of not entering into the quarrel, the general interests of Europe and the special interests of England were so deeply involved in the dispute, that it was impossible for that Power not to be obliged sooner or later to take some share in the proceedings. The intervention of England, although unhappily it came rather late in the day, led to the Congress of Berlin, which blotted out the Treaty of San Stefano.

As Midhat Pasha, however, played no part in the Russo‐Turkish War, nor in the events that followed, we will pass over them, and relate the vicissitudes of his journey in Europe, including the interviews which he had with the heads of States and celebrated politicians.

Midhat arrived at Brindisi, 11th February, 1877, and after a few days’ rest left for Naples, where he had at first wished to live, withdrawn from the world and its capitals. The following statement, which we reprint from the Neue Freie Presse of Vienna, was made by him on the future of the Constitution:—

Events in the East having now begun to assume a more and more threatening aspect, Midhat felt he could not possibly remain in inactivity at Naples, in the face of all the troubles that assailed his country. He went to Paris, and thence he crossed to London. He was the subject of the warmest welcome in each of the two capitals. Although an exile, he worked his hardest to find some favourable issue, and to deliver his country from the risk she ran in the Russian War. His friendly relations with Lord Beaconsfield and with the other English statesmen did not fail to produce some good effects in helping to save his country from an unjust war. When he had seen that the English Government were disposed to offer their good office for the promotion of an honourable peace, he left London for Vienna, where he was granted an audience by the Emperor Francis Joseph. On receiving news of the resistance offered by the Turkish army to the Russians, he addressed the following telegram to the Sultan Abdul Hamid:—

To H.M. First Secretary, Saïd Pasha.

The Sultan informed him in reply that he would never accept peace, and he would refuse to listen to any pourparlers on this subject, and that he did not hesitate to declare that any man who should contemplate such a step was far from being a true patriot.

Midhat Pasha, seeing that peace was impossible, returned to London, where he never wearied of striving by every means in his power to be of assistance to his country. The Sultan, on his side, was doing his best to vilify Midhat’s name in his own capital, and it is this that elicited the following letter from him to the Grand Master of Ceremonies, Kiamil Bey.

To Kiamil Bey, Grand Master of Ceremonies.

The Sultan, beginning to fear lest his former Grand Vizier’s sojourn in Europe should prove a danger to him, decided to recall him. We publish the following correspondence which passed between the Grand Master of Ceremonies and Midhat Pasha on this subject, and which resulted in the return of the latter to Turkey and his tragic death. Midhat committed a great error in accepting the reversal of his exile, an error which has cost the Party of Reform at the very least twenty years of progress.

Letter from Kiamil Bey, Grand Master of Ceremonies, to Midhat Pasha, in exile.

Letter from Midhat Pasha in reply to Kiamil Bey, Grand Master of Ceremonies.

Letter from Kiamil Bey, in reply to Midhat Pasha.

---

After having received the most sympathetic welcome in Europe, and above all, in London, during a period of seventeen months, Midhat Pasha yielded to the Sultan Abdul Hamid’s invitation and returned to Turkey, thereby disregarding the wise advice given him by his friends both at home and abroad, but declaring that he would sooner die in his own country than in a foreign land. He refused to accept any office, and only desired to be allowed to live quietly with his family, far from all politics and public affairs. He fixed upon Crete as his place of residence. During his exile in Europe he had seen the Sultan Abdul Hamid enter into the paths of despotism—giving power to those men who had done nothing in the past, and banishing from the capital all those who were his partisans and who had striven to establish a rule of justice and of progress. He had seen his country menaced by every danger, and had observed the manœuvres of those ambitious statesmen who only sought for their own personal interests in the Sultan’s despotism and in their country’s decadence. He had seen the destruction of all he had worked for, had seen the Constitution he had done so much to establish deprived of every authority, and become only a name in the official records.

The position that Midhat occupied after his return to Turkey, may be considered as an exile imposed upon him by the Sultan. Abdul Hamid was anxious to keep him in Turkey, but at the same time did not dare to keep him there in inactivity, fearing lest the leader of the Liberal Party should once more begin to occupy himself in obtaining the necessary measures for opening the Chamber of Deputies. He was well aware that Midhat, as the Governor of a province, would devote himself entirely to its re‐organisation, and would therefore have no time in which to concern himself with central administration. Thus, in accepting the Governor‐Generalship of Syria and of Smyrna, it will be seen that Midhat played no political rôle. Forced as he had been to accept these posts, he occupied himself completely in their administration and in the good management of their current affairs, thoroughly realising his position as an exile.

Before returning to Turkey, Midhat Pasha went to the Island of Crete, as his future residence. The Sultan granted his request, and sent a cruiser of the Turkish Fleet to Syria, which landed him at Candia on 11th September 1878; the Imperial yacht Fuad was also commanded to transport his family to the island.

The Cretan population, Mussulmans and Christians alike, gave him the warmest and most cordial of welcomes; the foreign fleets which were in the bay fired salutes when he disembarked.

This enthusiastic reception, this spontaneous manifestation on the part of the foreign fleets, made the very worst of impressions on Abdul Hamid, whose fears were, moreover, increased by the continual intrigues of Midhat’s enemies. At one time there was some question at Constantinople of nominating Midhat Pasha as Governor‐General of the Island of Crete. One of his friends (an English subject, whose name we may not divulge) sent him the following letter, written at the invitation of the British Ambassador, Sir Henry Layard:—

No event worthy of record took place during the short time that Midhat passed in the island of Crete. As he had wished, he lived peacefully in the midst of his family, not occupying himself directly with the affairs of State.

At the end of a month, Midhat Pasha received a telegram from the Palace, which nominated him Governor‐General of the vilayet of Syria. He was compelled to accept this new post, and embarked with his family on board the Imperial yacht Fevayid for Beyrout.

---

The arrival of Midhat Pasha in Syria was greeted by the population with as much enthusiasm and sympathy as in Crete. Compelled to accept this new position, Midhat, without losing hope of obtaining better results, and without taking into consideration that this post of Governor‐Generalship was a distinct loss of position after the high posts which he had occupied, began at once to study the general situation of the country, and the improvement which it would be possible to introduce there, as he had already done in the other vilayets. He introduced the most urgent reforms in the administration, which he discovered to be in a state of complete anarchy. He founded a School of Arts and Crafts, and an Orphanage, he increased the public safety, constructed high‐roads, which diminished the long distances that separated the capital of the vilayet from the outlying districts, and contributed to the construction of a line of tramways which connected the town of Tripoli, in Syria, to the port of Mina.

However, the population of Syria, composed as it is of people of diverse races and religions, who are always at enmity with each other, had preserved their ancient manners and customs. The overwhelmingly difficult task of creating a complete union between all these jarring elements, and of strengthening the Ottoman Supremacy in the country—where the minds of the populace were excited by foreign influences—consisted at first in the re‐organisation of the administration, in Judicial and Financial Reforms, and, finally, in insisting upon the absolute integrity of the officials.

Meanwhile, the Sultan Abdul Hamid allowed his original bitterness against Midhat Pasha to increase, and although addressing the most flattering words to him, he refused to sanction every single scheme of reform brought forward by him. The more the people showed their very great sympathy towards the Governor‐General, so much the more furious was the Sultan at his growing popularity. In order to prevent Midhat from gaining the friendship of the people by introducing the required improvements, Abdul Hamid took care to appoint as officials in Syria those men who would be capable of opposing his projects on every side. Such was the hostile conduct of the Marshal Ahmed Eyoub Pasha, who was in command of the Fifth Army Corps, and also of General Djémil Pasha.

The absence of harmony which existed between the officials of the province, and the Sultan’s delay in sanctioning his schemes, finally obliged Midhat to tender his resignation in the following telegrams, to which the Sultan replied in the most hypocritical language.

To Ali Fuad Bey, H.M. First Secretary.

To the Grand Vizier, Saïd Pasha.22

Reply from H.M. First Secretary.

Reply.

To Ali Fuad Bey, H.M. First Secretary.

Telegram in reply, from H.M. First Secretary.

Thus it is seen that Abdul Hamid refused to accept the resignation of Midhat Pasha, but Midhat gave him the choice between his resignation and the desired reforms, and sent the Grand Vizier long schemes for the general re‐organisation of the province.

To the Grand Vizier, Saïd Pasha.

Abdul Hamid, however, although he promised Midhat to apply these measures of amelioration, which he considered indispensable, refrained from giving his sanction to them, and the troubles which broke out, in the middle of all this, between the Druses and the Arabs of Hauran, obliged Midhat to keep his office in order to prevent the conflict from taking a turn which might have led to foreign intervention. The causes of these troubles and the attitude of the Palace and of the Government are shown in the following correspondence with Midhat Pasha.

Telegram sent to the Grand Vizier, by Midhat Pasha.

Cipher Telegram from the Grand Vizier to Midhat Pasha.

Reply from Midhat Pasha to the Telegram from the Grand Vizier.

Telegram from the Grand Vizier to Midhat Pasha.

Reply to the Grand Vizier from Midhat Pasha.

The Grand Vizier to Midhat Pasha.

Reply from Midhat Pasha to the Telegram from the Grand Vizier.

From Midhat Pasha to H.M. First Secretary.

Midhat Pasha, who had withdrawn his resignation, with the express purpose of not leaving the province in a state of turmoil, and in order to bring the Druse Question to a suitable and lawful termination, succeeded thus in re‐establishing peace, in a manner that was honourable to the Government, in spite of the unjustifiable conduct of the Sublime Porte and of the Palace. But Midhat, perceiving the impossibility of working satisfactorily with the Government, once more sent in his resignation, in the following telegrams:—

Telegram sent to the First Secretary, enclosing the Resignation of Midhat Pasha.

H.M. First Secretary to Midhat Pasha.

Telegram from Midhat Pasha in reply to H.M. First Secretary, Ali Fuad Bey.

To Midhat Pasha, from the First Secretary, Ali Fuad Bey.

[Confidential.]

Midhat Pasha to Ali Fuad Bey.

Quite apart from all this question, the Sultan Abdul Hamid was far from being satisfied with Midhat Pasha’s sojourn in Syria. The Syrians, realising the good that he had done to the country, were loud in their expressions of gratitude, which gave offence to the Sultan. The cries of “Long live Midhat Pasha!” in the streets, and the interviews of the British Ambassador, Sir Henry Layard, with the Governor‐General during his travels in Syria, all augmented the fears of the Palace. Midhat’s enemies then put into circulation the rumour that Syria would soon become an autonomous principality, and that Midhat Pasha would receive the title of Khedive.

Abdul Hamid then informed Midhat that he declined to accept his resignation, that he wished to see him continue his services to the State, and that he appointed him Governor‐General of the vilayet of Smyrna. The Syrians addressed a petition to the Palace, begging that Midhat might remain at Damascus, but the Sultan paid absolutely no attention to this act on the part of the Syrian population, and Midhat found himself compelled to start off for his new post on board the Imperial yacht Izzeddine, which had been sent for that purpose.

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The vilayet and town of Smyrna were then, like other provinces of the Empire, in a state of lamentable disorder. It is quite certain that the Sultan, who had refused to apply the necessary reforms in Syria, had never sent Midhat to Smyrna with the intention of putting a stop to the administrative anarchy existing in that part of his dominions. Midhat, although well aware that the aim of all these machinations was only to paralyse his activity, could not forget the duties and responsibilities which the Governor‐Generalship placed on his shoulders.

There were a quantity of liberated convicts of every foreign nationality in Smyrna, who daily committed all manner of theft and crime; the sense of terror in the province was so great that no one dared venture abroad in the streets after night‐fall. Midhat Pasha formed a corps of police, in imitation of the European police, a force which at that time did not exist in Turkey apart from the gendarmerie. He showed the same activity here as in the other vilayets, and succeeded, after several arrests, in establishing public security. He widened the streets of the city, and founded a School of Arts and Crafts, as well as an orphanage, which still exists under the name of “Islahané.”

On the other hand, the Sultan never renounced his aim of ridding himself of Midhat, and four or five months after his arrival in Smyrna, Abdul Hamid decided to strike a mortal blow at him, in once more raising the question of the sudden death of his uncle, the ex‐Sultan Abdul Aziz, whose suicide in the Palace we have already related (see p. 89). This suicide had not only been verified by eye‐witnesses, but also by the report of all the doctors of the foreign embassies at Constantinople, and above all by the statement of Dr Dickson, doctor at the British Embassy, a fact which has been confirmed by Sir Henry Elliot, who was the then English Ambassador, and who wrote an account of the deposition and suicide of Abdul Aziz, which appeared in the February number of the Nineteenth Century in 1888. Now, after a lapse of four years, the Sultan asserted that his uncle had not committed suicide, but that he had been assassinated, and that the murder had been perpetrated by Hussein Avni Pasha, the Minister for War (who was himself murdered in Midhat’s house, in 1876, by Cherkess Hassan), and by his two brothers‐in‐law, Mahmoud Djelaleddin and Nouri Pashas, and that other personages of high rank (an allusion to Midhat, Mehemet Rushdi Pashas, and to the Sheik‐ul‐Islam—Haïroullah Effendi) were implicated in the affair. In fact the two brothers‐in‐law, Mahmoud Djelaleddin and Nouri Pashas, were arrested in Constantinople, and the news of a fresh trial of the assassins of Abdul Aziz was noised abroad by the European Press.24

The Turkish Press, inspired from the Palace, addressed praises to the Sultan, and some newspapers—amongst others the Terdjumani Hakikat—actually went so far as to advise Abdul Hamid to arrest every one who had played any part in the affair of Abdul Aziz.

By this time the Sublime Porte had lost all authority, and the enemies of the Constitutional Party had increased very considerably. Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, the former Grand Vizier, and colleague of Midhat, had been condemned to pass his remaining years on his estates near Manissa; the Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Hairoullah Effendi, a follower of Midhat, had been exiled to Mecca. The few Liberals who remained in the capital had all been sent away into the provinces, either as officials or as exiles. Only the partisans of Abdul Hamid and those who had changed their opinions and who now ranged themselves on the side of despotism—such as Ahmed Midhat Effendi—were to be found in Constantinople. Ahmed Midhat Effendi, who had been one of Midhat Pasha’s most ardent followers, now heaped all the lowest slanders upon him, through the pages of the Terdjumani Hakikat, asserting that Abdul Aziz had been murdered, and that the culprits must be arrested.

Midhat Pasha was in receipt of the most alarming news from his friends at Constantinople, and also from abroad; he was told that his life was in great danger. His only reply was: “I have no reason to be alarmed nor to fly from Turkey. I have laboured for the good of my country, and I have nothing with which to reproach myself; if others see reason to blame me, I am always ready to reply before a tribunal.” He took no further steps than to write a letter to the Grand Vizier, protesting against the baseness of Ahmed Midhat Effendi, Editor of the Terdjumani Hakikat. The letter is as follows:—

From Midhat Pasha to the Grand Vizier.

However, the Sultan, who wished to put an end to Midhat, decided finally to arrest both him and Mehemet Rushdi Pasha, who was then at Manissa. The arrival in Smyrna of the aides‐de‐camp, General Hilmi Pasha and Colonel Riza Bey (at present Minister of War), with their suites, gave the first warning to the Governor‐General, who ordered his men to watch the acts and movements of these aides‐de‐camp, and very soon reached the conviction that these emissaries had come with an order to arrest him.

Among the men who had been charged by Midhat to get the aides‐de‐camp to talk about the manner in which the arrest was to be made, was a police agent, an extremely intelligent man, who, disguised as a rich merchant, was lodging in the same hotel as Hilmi Pasha, chief of the mission. Hilmi Pasha, at the end of a good dinner, had allowed to the pretended merchant that he had come to Smyrna by the Imperial command, and that his object was to arrest the Governor‐General, but that he was waiting for further instructions before carrying out his instructions. Midhat, in order to be prepared for any occurrence, had ordered a secret door to be made, and one of the steamers of the Compagnie Joly was retained in the harbour, ready to carry him off abroad. One evening the above‐mentioned agent came and warned him that Hilmi Pasha had been called to the Telegraph Office, and that, after a long conversation with the Palace, he had re‐entered the hotel, had put on his uniform, and gone straight to the barracks. It was asserted that among the orders he had received, he had been instructed to kill Midhat and to massacre his family. Indeed, one of Midhat’s servants, named Nezir, had been bribed, and it was arranged that before the Governor’s house was occupied, he should fire off a revolver on the troops, and thus give the signal for the massacre. In support of this theory, it is interesting to note that after Midhat Pasha’s exile the said Nezir entered into the service of the Yildiz Kiosk, and received a considerable salary. Besides this, one of the chamberlains of the Sultan Abdul Hamid, Bessim Bey, who died some time ago in disgrace, whilst still in the service of the Palace, assured a member of Midhat’s family that Hilmi Pasha was not only entrusted with the arrest of Midhat, but that the Sultan had given him a positive order to have him killed in the tumult which was to be adroitly brought about, and to massacre his whole family, men, women and children. It was on this account that General Hilmi had bribed Nezir, so that the public might believe that Midhat had refused to obey, and that he had fired upon the soldiers.

On the receipt of this news from his agent, Midhat Pasha, without losing his sang‐froid, sought out his family and acquainted them with the position of affairs. He advised them to be resigned, and informed them of his intention of quitting Turkish soil from the moment that his life had been threatened. As midnight struck, three cannon‐shots rang out from the barracks (in Turkey this is the method employed for giving the alarm of fire), but Midhat understood only too well that it was done with the express purpose of distracting the attention of the mob. At the same moment he left his house by the secret door, accompanied by his secretary, and stole down to the quay; but perceiving that the quays were blocked by sentinels, he hailed a carriage, and recollecting that the English Consul, Mr Dennis, was not in the town, he told them to drive to the French Consulate, and there begged for protection. Meanwhile, the soldiers, who had forced their way at the point of their bayonets up to the doors of the first floor, now demanded to speak with Midhat Pasha, and were informed that he had just left. This reply being absolutely unexpected, they were convinced that he was hiding in one of the rooms. Hilmi Pasha gave orders that the house should be searched, and that all the servants should be thrown into prison. The troops entered, breaking down the doors, and recommending the ladies not to move, they made an exhaustive search, even tearing up the flooring. At this moment, by way of fulfilling his cowardly promise and giving reason for a massacre, Nezir, hiding himself behind a mattress, tried to fire off his revolver, but one of the servants, realising the peril, tore the weapon from his hand.

After a minute search that lasted for several hours, and during which no trace of either Midhat nor yet of his papers had been discovered, Madame Midhat, seeing that the officers and soldiers had no intention of withdrawing, sent for General Hilmi and informed him that in the case of the troops remaining in the house, she would open the windows and call in the help of the people. This terrified the General, for he had received orders not to give rise to a revolution, and he dismissed the soldiers, only remaining himself with one or two officers. A few hours later the police informed General Hilmi that Midhat was at the French Consulate, and he thereupon went thither, and had it surrounded on every side. The French Consul‐General, Monsieur Pélissier, had sent a telegram to the French Ambassador at Constantinople, informing him of all that had taken place. On seeking refuge at the French Consulate, Midhat had invited the consuls of all the Great Powers to attend; had acquainted them with the danger from which he had escaped, and had begged them to insist on a guarantee that he should be judged by a High Court. Meanwhile, he received a telegram from Constantinople begging him to surrender, and assuring him that no injustice should be done him, but that if he refused to do so, then he would be considered guilty.

There are two versions given of this memorable occurrence of the spring of 1881; and these two versions are so much the more important, because they affect the truth of the fact whether the Government of the French Republic delivered up Midhat Pasha, who had sought refuge in the French Consulate, to the Sultan, or whether he surrendered of his own accord on receiving the telegram from Constantinople. The fact that he had caused a secret door to be constructed in a hidden corner of his house, and that a steamer had been kept in readiness in the harbour, all proves that Midhat had intended flight. Not having succeeded in his design of reaching the sea, he had sought refuge at the French Consulate, and he had implored the assistance that France might easily have rendered him. It is to be presumed that the ambassador, after having asked for instructions from Paris, and having explained to the Government the Sultan’s insistence, may have informed Midhat that he could not effectually protect him. Not having any definite proof on this subject, it is impossible for us to certify anything. The opinions of the European Press were very divergent. We reprint the telegrams sent by the correspondent of the Times from Constantinople, dated 19th May and 21st May, 1881, which give the fullest details.25

Midhat Pasha had been perfectly well aware of what would happen. He knew the plots that had been formed against him, and when his friends had invited him to leave Turkey, by the boat which had been got ready to take him aboard, he replied, “I shall never give way before the insinuations of the Sultan. I shall never allow the world to say that I fled because I was guilty and that I feared the Sultan. I shall resist until the last moment, and if I then see that my life is in danger, I may perhaps have recourse to the means you offer.” It was this same state of mind which led him to think of embarking, when the soldiers, under the command of General Hilmi Pasha, surrounded his house, and by their attitude showed plainly the danger in which both he and his family were placed. On realising the impossibility of carrying out this plan, he had taken refuge at the French Consulate, and had asked the Consuls of all the Powers that their respective Governments should demand a public trial, and had declared “that he gave himself up to judgment, trusting to the good faith of the telegram which he had received from Constantinople.”

For the honour of France, we are inclined to believe that Midhat surrendered to the Ottoman authorities of his own accord. It is scarcely credible that France would have delivered Midhat Pasha to the Sultan, the more so because Gambetta, who was then in power, had been a great friend of his.

The Sultan had been anxious to have Midhat arrested when he was still Governor‐General of Syria, but so great was his popularity in that Province, that Abdul Hamid was reluctantly obliged to relinquish his design, for fear of provoking a revolution.

The day following the arrest found the town of Smyrna still strictly guarded by the troops, and no one was permitted to go about the streets for fear of any demonstration. The terrified inhabitants closed their shops, and all business was suspended for twenty‐four hours. Midhat was retained as a prisoner in the barracks, until the arrival of the Imperial yacht, which brought over the new Governor‐General, the high judicial dignitaries, and also the Minister Djevdet Pasha. He embarked quietly in the midst of the general emotion, and duly arrived at Constantinople. Whilst waiting for the assembling of the High Court, the little pavilion in the “Yildiz Park” called “Malta Kiosk,” was assigned to him as his place of residence by the Sultan.

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As we have already stated, Midhat Pasha arrived at Constantinople in one of the Imperial yachts, accompanied by the Minister and the high judicial dignitaries. He was kept in the pavilion of the “Malta Kiosk,” which is situated within the park of Yildiz. In accordance with his desire that he might be given a public trial, and that the conditions on which he had surrendered to the Ottoman authorities from the French Consulate should be observed, a High Court was formed by the Sultan Abdul Hamid. But the tickets of admission to the meetings were issued in such a manner that the Turks who wished to be present at the trial had to renounce their intention, for fear of attracting the ill‐will of the Sultan, or else, those who were followers of Midhat, had to pose as his adversaries in order to be able to hear and understand the manner in which he was to be condemned. The Diplomatic Corps was present, but many foreigners found difficulty in obtaining admittance. Only a few correspondents of the foreign newspapers were admitted, and amongst the representatives of the Turkish Press only those who were faithful adherents of the Sultan.

We possess no special information on the subject of the trial, and that which we have been able to collect from those persons who were present at the debates gives us no further details than those which the Times correspondent (present at the Trial) sent to his newspaper. We publish, therefore, by permission of the proprietors of the Times the most interesting portions of their reports, together with some extracts from the debates in the Houses of Parliament on this subject, in order to give the reader some idea of this most memorable mock trial.

The result of the humanitarian intervention on the part of the English Government was that the death sentence on Midhat Pasha was changed to one of imprisonment for life.

The Sultan Abdul Hamid knew far better than any one else that Midhat was innocent, and that Abdul Aziz had committed suicide, as was fully proved by the Medical report; if Abdul Hamid had had genuine proof on which to accuse Midhat before the eyes of Europe and the law, nothing could have prevented the death penalty from being executed, since he had sworn to put an end to Midhat Pasha. Although the Sultan was thus foiled in his attempt to put away Midhat by form of law, he did not relinquish his intention, but sought other clandestine means to attain it. How this was accomplished, will be proved by documents in the following pages.

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The Sultan, yielding to the humane intervention of England and Europe, named the town of Taïf, in Arabia, as the place of exile for Midhat Pasha. Taïf is a town situated to the south of Mecca, and is renowned for its verdure and for its surrounding fortress. Midhat Pasha, Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin and Nouri Pashas, with the other prisoners, were taken by a special steamer and landed at Djeddah, and reached Taïf by way of Mecca. The Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Haïroullah Effendi, who had been on a pilgrimage to Mecca when he was accused of being an accomplice in the alleged murder of Abdul Aziz, had been imprisoned at Taïf, where Midhat found him on his arrival.

After the banishment of Midhat, his family were detained in exile in Smyrna, and his son and daughter sought refuge from any possible contingency at the British Consulate, where they remained for three months, returning to their mother when the storm of these events had passed. Two years after his exile, Midhat sent his family the most alarming information in his letters, of which we give a translation. These letters were carried to Smyrna by men who were the devoted friends of the family, and who made the journey for that express purpose.

Translation of an Autograph Letter from Midhat Pasha (from the Prison of Taïf) to his Family.

Another Autograph Letter from Midhat Pasha.

Madame Midhat had these facts brought to the knowledge of Lord Dufferin, at Constantinople. At the same time the Duke of Sutherland, who was going to Constantinople, passed through Smyrna and went to see Midhat’s family, assuring them that he would do all in his power to persuade the Sultan to give Midhat Pasha his liberty. Lord Dufferin made representations to the Ottoman Government, and charged the Dragoman belonging to the British Consulate at Djeddah to procure news of Midhat’s health from the Grand Shereef of Mecca. The Grand Shereef, Abdul Mutalib Pasha, assured the Dragoman that Midhat was perfectly well.28 But the Sultan, terrified at the relations between the Grand Shereef Abdul Mutalib and the English Dragoman, accused the former of holding secret relations with England, with a view to saving Midhat and combining with him against his person; he therefore disgraced him, throwing him into the fortress of Taïf. It was on this account that Midhat, without knowing the real reason, wrote the following letter to his family on the arrest of the Grand Shereef:—

Another Letter from Midhat Pasha to his Family.

Whilst the Sultan was assuring England of his good intentions, he was at the same time maturing his tyrannical plan of execution. Damad Nouri Pasha had already died—mad; but it was extremely difficult to put a Sheik‐ul‐Islam to death on a false accusation, and above all before the “Softa” (Theological Students and Ulemas, of whom he is the Supreme Head); for this reason, Haïroullah Effendi was placed on one side. The Vali of Hedjaz—Marshal Osman Nouri Pasha—received an order by special envoys to see to the execution of the murder. On the 26th of April, 1883, they entered Midhat’s room during the night, and by means of a cord they strangled him in his bed without the least resistance. Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin Pasha attempted to defend himself, but was overcome by brute force. An eye‐witness of the crime, Haïroullah Effendi, sent a letter of condolence to the family of Midhat Pasha, of which we publish a translation.

To the Honourable Family of Midhat Pasha.

Wishing to render a last service to his country, the Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Haïroullah Effendi, also sent to the Reform Party a record of the details of this assassination, which is contained in the following chapter.

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DETAILS OF THE ASSASSINATION OF MIDHAT PASHA, ACCORDING TO INFORMATION DERIVED FROM HAÏROULLAH EFFENDI.

In the course of the third year of his exile at Taïf, Midhat Pasha had a large tumour on his right shoulder. The doctor, who was permitted to attend him, was a certain Nashid Effendi, who delayed a fortnight before diagnosing it as anthrax, and who, being ignorant of all modern surgical knowledge, did not even perform the necessary operation, alleging the age of the Pasha as a cause for this omission.

This infamous and unworthy conduct on the part of the doctor was, at first, explained in two ways: as he had only just left the School of Medicine, perhaps he had not sufficient experience, or perhaps he was acting under superior orders of those who were desirous of the death of the invalid. But what is certain is that Damad Mahmoud Pasha, companion in exile of Midhat, having no confidence either in the capacity or honesty of Nashid, and fearing lest he had some criminal design, sent a telegram to the Governor‐General of Hedjaz, residing at Mecca—Osman Nouri Pasha, who is now Marshal and Aide‐de‐camp to Abdul Hamid—in which he implored him to send another doctor, accusing Nashid of incapacity. But Osman Nouri had not even the politeness to reply to him. However, fortunately the anthrax burst of itself, and it was always this same Nashid, accompanied by an officer, Captain Ibrahim Aga, who dressed the wound. The state of health of the invalid, which grew worse from day to day, was caused probably by the treatment to which he was submitted. It must be said that it is almost by a miracle that the wound healed eventually, thanks to a different but altogether rudimentary treatment, which was tried.

The doctor made a report to the Governor‐General after each visit, and that official never failed to transmit it regularly by telegraph to Yildiz Kiosk.

One day Nashid, after dressing the wound with Ibrahim, suddenly asked Midhat Pasha, to the general consternation, if it were really true that in Europe criminals were now only executed by means of chloroform. This question, simple enough in itself, gave more than one person cause for reflection.

Major Bekir29 of the Third Battalion, 10th Regiment, who was specially charged with the surveillance of the prisoners, had gone away some days previously to Mecca and Medina. It was with very great surprise, therefore, that we saw him enter Midhat Pasha’s room with the doctor and Ibrahim. When asked the reason of his sudden return, Bekir replied simply, with extraordinary cunning, that it was only to arrange certain affairs of the garrison, in the first place, and secondly, to collect the taxes in the villages situated on the side of Tarié. He added that he was getting ready for this journey on the receipt of a special order from the Muchir (Marshal).

This was a bare‐faced lie, and we shall see further on what was in reality the mission with which he was charged.

The sixth day after the arrival of Major Bekir was a Friday, and, as usual, the servants belonging to the prisoners, accompanied by a guard, went to the mosque in the town for the Friday prayer. Arif Aga, servant to Midhat Pasha, remained by his suffering master.

On their return, Major Bekir stopped them all before the caracol or guard‐room, and not seeing Arif Aga amongst them, had him at once sent for.

Arif refused to obey this order, alleging that he could not leave his invalid alone. When the Pashas perceived that Bekir insisted, they told the orderly to fetch him, in order that they might learn the reason of this inexplicable affair. Bekir, on receiving this communication, jumped up, and going to Midhat Pasha’s room in the kalé (fortress), declared in a haughty, insulting manner that the servants would be dismissed from their service, that in future they would have to be contented to eat from caravanas, and that they would no longer be allowed to purchase eggs, cheese, nor olives, only tobacco; and last of all, that they would now be forbidden to present any further requests to the Sultan.

Such was the arrogant language employed by Bekir. Later on, changing his tone, he added with less impertinence that he was charged with a special mission, and that he had received an order to send Haïroullah Effendi’s wife (who was living in the town with her baby) first of all to Mecca, and thence to Constantinople. This was most alarming news to many, for it all pointed to secret plots. However, there was no other course open than to await the end with resignation.

Damad Mahmoud Pasha, who was of a very hot‐blooded disposition, and who easily got angry, lost patience, and replied to the explanations of Bekir by demanding that at least the dismissed attendants might be allowed to return to them in order to settle their accounts. Bekir, now become almost amiable, replied that this would be contrary to the orders he had received, but in order to do them a service, he would take the responsibility upon himself and allow the servants to come, accompanied by a guard.

The servants, after their accounts had been settled, were lodged in a room near the principal door of the barracks. The cooking utensils, pens, paper, and ink‐stands, which until then had been placed at the disposition of the Pashas, were now taken from them. Bekir, in order to make the preparations for his travels, spent the night at the barracks.

Midhat Pasha had more than once filled the office of Grand Vizier, and had rendered eminent services to his country. The manner in which they treated him shocked me, for even under these circumstances, taking into consideration his age and the weak state of his health, they might have shown him some consideration.

A hospital attendant, a soldier, who was completely ignorant of the habits of the Pasha, was now appointed as his servant. Nevertheless, Midhat Pasha, we must allow, whilst we render homage to his energy, submitted to all these humiliations with the greatest calm, and even with indifference.

On the 8th of April, a Sunday, Bekir visited Midhat, undoubtedly with the intention, after some conversation, of taking the latest news to the Pasha at Hedjaz, for that same day he was going to leave for Mecca, taking with him the wife of Haïroullah, his child, the servants, and the cooks.

“Are you going now?” asked Midhat Pasha of Bekir.

“Yes, in a few hours,” he replied; “if you have any communications to make me, will you kindly do so now?”

“Very well! Listen to me attentively. His Majesty, Abdul Hamid, has recently raised the Vali to the rank of Marshal, and I congratulate the latter with all my heart. You know, however, all the services that I have rendered my country; no one can deny them. You are not ignorant of the distinguished posts I have successively occupied. Now, you see how I am treated; I see nothing before me except the most gloomy prospect, and it is through you that they will get rid of me. You will be the instruments, and each of you, most probably, will be promoted; the officer will become colonel, the colonel will be gazetted as a general, and so on; but remember that you may die after Abdul Hamid. If you die before, your titles will be inscribed on your tombs; but if the contrary occurs, then I am convinced it will be quite otherwise. Pause now, examine your conscience, calculate your own moral and material interests, and without looking so far ahead, whilst His Majesty is still alive, just think for a moment what has become of the Chief President of that arbitrary tribunal which condemned me in so cowardly a manner, without any tangible proof. It is quite true that Sourouri Effendi was appointed Cadi Asker; but was he not exiled soon afterwards, under the title of Governor of Manissa. As to Djevdet Pasha, the second President, he is, as everyone knows, deprived of his functions, and is now at home—a disgraced man. Think of these events, and you will form a correct idea of the situation. I see that some crime is overhanging me. Remember the verse of the Koran which says: ‘Whosoever kills shall be punished with hell and eternal tortures.’... We are all deserving of chastisement at the hands of Divine Justice. And now that you know my opinion, will you communicate it faithfully to the Vali?”

Bekir grew pale, but plucking up courage, replied: “I have been present at several battles; but, apart from war, I have never even cut off the head of a fowl.” The conversation coming to an end, Bekir went out of the prisoner’s room, and at once started on his journey to Mecca, accompanied by the individuals we have already mentioned.

On the seventh day after his departure—a Friday evening—we saw him return to Taïf. To the general surprise he reinstated the servants in the Pashas’ service. After a few days Haïroullah’s wife also returned from Djeddah with her baby and the cook. Haïroullah ordered his servant Ibrahim to look after his household in the town, and contented himself with the services of a common soldier.

The day after his return Bekir once more made his appearance in the Pashas’ quarters, saying that a new Irade had just been telegraphed ordering a diminution of the prisoner’s rations and the dismissal of the cooks. He also presented the greetings from the Vali, who would, nevertheless, allow them to purchase from the bazaar all that they needed.

Why this toleration? What did it mean, coming after the diminution of the rations and the dismissal of the cooks? Bekir replied to this maliciously, stating that such a duty was most unpleasing to him, but that as a soldier he was compelled to obey his superiors, although he regretted to be unable to act otherwise.

At this time, Midhat Pasha was fortunately almost entirely cured of his illness, but they still continued to telegraph daily the state of his health to the Governor‐General.

One day Midhat Pasha sent his attendant to the town to buy some milk from a milkman named Echreff. Immediately on learning this, one of the officers, told off to guard the prisoners, a certain Nouri, wished to accompany the soldier to the milkman’s house. On arriving at their destination, they asked for the milk. Echreff declared that he had only three kilos of milk, which had been ordered by the General, but that he would give them one ock at once if it were for the Pasha. Nouri accepted this offer, and ordered the soldier to take it to Daïra. This most unexpected and unusual amiability on the part of Nouri was noticed, and gave rise to suspicions.

During the Pasha’s illness, it was Saïd Bey, another prisoner, who watched over the food prepared by Midhat’s servant, Arif Aga. Saïd Bey at once took care to examine the can that contained this milk, and noticed to his surprise that the colour of it was unnatural. He tasted a small spoonful and found that the milk had a bitter flavour that hurt his throat. Saïd mentioned this fact to several people who were present, and especially to the lieutenant, Mehemet Aga, and they all tasted it—some of them even had to keep to their beds for several days afterwards, having been so imprudent as to take a sufficient quantity to upset their system.

When this was related to Midhat Pasha, he at once sent for Mehemet Aga, and with much self‐restraint spoke to him as follows: “I sent to‐day for some of the same milk as that ordered by the Binbashi (Major). It has been found to contain verdigris; this has been proved by all those who drank it; I believe that you also tasted it.”

Mehemet acknowledged that the milk had been very much adulterated. Midhat, still preserving his sang‐froid, continued: “Since this is the case, why do you not go to the Binbashi (Major) and warn him to be careful not to drink it.”

The officer went away hurriedly, and soon after returned, saying: “That the Binbashi was going to send for the milkman, that he intended to investigate the matter, and that if it were deserved, a severe punishment would be inflicted. That he meant to get to the bottom of the whole business.”

But we learned later on that before Mehemet went to inform the Binbashi, this latter was in the garden of the military hospital, surrounded by his confidants, whom he asked from time to time if all had gone off well! If the milk had been drunk, and if it had proved efficacious.

At the same time we were told that several soldiers who had drunk the Binbashi’s milk had become ill. This, undoubtedly, was nothing but a rumour which had been purposely spread, and has never received confirmation from any trustworthy source.

A sample of this milk was sent to the Binbashi to be analysed by the doctors. The only reply he made was: “That they had not got the necessary apparatus for analysis!” This is absolutely incredible.

In order to save appearances, Bekir sent for Echreff, the milkman, and remonstrated with him. But Echreff, on his side, protested most vehemently. Besides which all his cans were in good condition. He insisted that the milk must have been contaminated by some medicament after it had left his dairy.

Thus the incident was closed, for the Binbashi did not follow up the affair, which he wished to be forgotten.

Another time a strange fact was again noticed. It was when Arif, Midhat’s servant, was still in his service. He always passed his nights in the Pasha’s room, having first of all locked up his own, in which he frequently kept the food he had prepared for the following day.

Arif perceived one morning that the lids of his saucepans had been disturbed, and that their contents presented an unusual appearance. He immediately told Midhat of his extraordinary discovery, and the Pasha sent at once for Damad Mahmoud and the other prisoners, begging them to examine the saucepans. After a summary examination they ascertained that some foreign matter had been introduced. The perpetrator of this odious attempt remained as much unknown as he who had put the verdigris in the milk. The contents of all the saucepans were given to the dogs and cats, but as these animals were none the worse, we thought that this foreign matter could not have been a poison. However, after the assassination of Midhat Pasha we learned that the sub‐lieutenants Mehemet and Nouri, getting in one night by the window, had managed to poison all those dishes of which Midhat Pasha would have partaken the following day. These two gentlemen made a complete confession of this crime some time afterwards.

During this time there was an honest soldier, Mehemet Yosgad, whose duty it was to prepare the coffee. We now know that it was suggested to him more than once that he should give poison to the prisoners, mixing it with their coffee. However, as this honourable man firmly refused to commit this crime, others had to be found who would undertake it.

Mahmoud Pasha, who was very fond of coffee, began to give up drinking it, and no longer smoked his narghilé, but in order to show his confidence in honest Mehemet, he never refused coffee that had been prepared by him.

Another time it was noticed that the water which was kept in a baradé had a most offensive smell. The jar was broken, and very great precautions were taken thenceforth.

Major Bekir was a thoroughly bad man, and extremely cunning. He took as many precautions about the crime he was about to commit as he did about his accomplices. So far all attempts at poisoning had failed; other means must be employed!

On the 9th of Redjeb, 1301 (23rd April 1883, O.S.), a Sunday, a detachment of cavalry, with two guns, arrived at Taïf, under the command of a Circassian colonel belonging to the 53rd regiment of the 7th Army Corps. Mehemet Lutfi at once chose out about forty of the strongest soldiers and increased the prisoners’ guard.

Before the arrival of Mehemet Lutfi, Bekir had several times called Hadji Chukri Aga, Mahmoud Pasha’s servant, into his own private room very late at night, when every one was asleep, and kept him there in trivial conversation; but he had never dared to confide the secret to him, nor to ask his help, for Chukri was not the kind of man to become his accomplice, or to commit a crime against his benefactor.

As has been stated above, the colonel reorganised the prisoners’ guards after his own manner. The same day he sent for Arif Aga in order that he might have the incident of the milk explained to him, but in reality he proposed to Arif that he should poison his master.

“The poison is ready,” he said, “and if you succeed in making Midhat drink it, you will receive very great rewards from His Majesty the Sultan. Another man has been commissioned to kill Damad Mahmoud, but if you are willing to undertake that as well, your recompense shall be doubled. If ever you divulge the secret you will be killed.”

The promised reward amounted to £T1000 for the death of Midhat, and £T600 for that of Mahmoud.

Arif was a devoted and faithful servant, besides being a good Mussulman. He not only refused the rewards, but, disregarding all intimidations, protested strongly against the cowardly and unworthy schemes that they had formed against his master. He hastened also to relate to Midhat and to Mahmoud Pasha all that had been said to him.

These two Pashas, deeply moved by this communication, held a long consultation together, but to no purpose. What could they do? For a long time now they had foreseen very clearly that their end was approaching, if not by one way, then by another.

The colonel, who had not thought fit to pay them a visit, appeared very much preoccupied.

On the second night after his arrival he had the prisoners’ quarters surrounded by numerous soldiers, and gave special orders to those who formed the inside guard. On Tuesday evening, he wished to end the whole affair, but circumstances obliged him to put off the execution until the following night. Ibrahim Aga, the captain, and three lieutenants sent for Arif Aga, and told him plainly that owing to a command received from the Palace of Yildiz Kiosk, they were obliged to put an end to Midhat, and that as Arif had refused to poison him, they hoped that at least he would have a little good sense and open the door of the Pasha’s room about midnight; and that if he refused this little service they would know what steps to take.

Poor Arif Aga, maddened by hearing of the odious crime which was about to be committed against his beloved master, sprang up in rage and cried frantically to these wretches: “Oh no! I will never do what you suggest—I will never open the door! I will not be your accomplice! I am afraid of my conscience and of Allah!”

They were beginning to ill‐treat him, but at that moment the prisoners happened to be going to their separate rooms. Midhat, who was on his way to his bedroom, was descending the stairs when he heard the voice of his faithful servant crying out over and over again: “Master, do not go down; return to your friends at once, and spend the night with them. These cowards are meaning to assassinate you!”

Midhat Pasha went up the stairs again, re‐assembled the prisoners, and informed them of this sinister occurrence. Just then one of the officers went to tell the colonel what had happened. He ordered that Arif should be arrested and the prisoners all separated. The faithful servant was dragged off to the barracks, where he was imprisoned, whilst an officer, Memiche, was sent by the colonel to separate the prisoners and to try and calm their fears.

“The colonel,” said Memiche, “presents his compliments to you all, and begs that you will withdraw to your separate bedrooms, as the law requires.” To this command Midhat and Mahmoud replied that they would only be separated by force. They sent for Ibrahim, who arrived somewhat troubled by the turn of affairs. They also requested to speak with Bekir, in order to obtain some explanation of this matter. The major arrived, and entering the room, said—“That good‐for‐nothing Arif doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It looks as if he were doing all this in order to get sent away, unless he is quite out of his mind.” The Pashas could not succeed in hiding their anxiety, for everything foreboded the approaching crime.

“At the present moment,” continued Bekir, “no such order exists. But we are soldiers, and therefore owe unquestioning obedience to our superiors. Be quite at ease! Do you think that anyone would be afraid of you whilst you are in our safe keeping?”

He then began to swear by all that he held most sacred in the world that there was no cause for them to fear. Meanwhile Arif Aga was being tortured for having divulged the secret.

Midhat passed the whole of that night with Ali Bey, another prisoner.

Colonel Mehemet Lutfi and Major Bekir remained in the room overlooking the principal entrance to the barracks, whence they directed the operations. The soldiers were given the same orders as on the preceding night, and cartridges were distributed amongst them.

A captain and three lieutenants were placed in the prisoners’ quarters to superintend operations, and two soldiers, bare‐footed for the occasion, and with bayonets fixed, were stationed at the door of each prisoner’s room.

About six o’clock,30 Hadji Chukri Aga, Mahmoud’s servant was awakened and transferred to the barracks, where he was imprisoned.

Colonel Mehemet Lutfi remained in the barracks, whilst Major Bekir directed the assassination from the officers’ room.31

We have stated above that Ali Bey was sharing Midhat’s room. At about half‐past six (1.30 A.M.) the door was forced open, and Ali Bey was dragged from the room. Then they strangled this old man, who was incapable of offering any resistance.

On bursting in the door of Mahmoud’s room, they threw round his neck a soaped cord, which had been specially prepared, for they were aware that he possessed very considerable muscular strength. Mahmoud made a most desperate resistance, giving vent to piercing cries. They tried every means to hasten his death, with such ferocity that even the animals in the neighbourhood trembled at the sound of his heartrending cries for help. But soon the screams of anguish died away.

A few moments after, two corpses, wrapped in sheets, were transported to a room in the hospital. The perpetrators waited until the day broke before digging their graves in the cemetery, set apart for soldiers, which lies outside the fortifications. There these two martyrs repose in their eternal sleep.

Even the religious ceremonies were not carried out with regard to the funeral—doubtless, in order that the secret might be better preserved. They knew not that Time is the Revealer of all things!

* * * * *

Midhat Pasha had recovered completely from his indisposition. One evening, a little while before his assassination, after a lengthy meditation, he had said to his friends: “I am thinking of death. The pain thereof only endures for five minutes. But I do not know what kind of death may be the least painful. Perhaps poison, or a bullet, or death at the end of some illness. My body, sixty year old, is worn out. Why live beyond this age if it be only to suffer! I should have been happy if my illness had carried me off. But what can I do? The hour has not struck yet. Several innocent people are prisoners here on my account, being obliged to mount guard over me; I should have liked to give them back their liberty.”

Finishing these reflections, he once more returned to his sad and harrowing meditations.

* * * * *

Immediately after the horrible execution, that same night, the doors and locks were all repaired, and two days later the belongings of the Pashas were taken into a room in the barracks. During two consecutive days several subordinates kept going in and out of this room, removing small objects.

Terror had reigned in the hearts of all the prisoners during the assassination. The following day the sentinels were removed, and when the prisoners went to make their morning prayer they embraced and took a last farewell of each other, bursting into tears and awaiting their turn with resignation. The reign of terror still continued, and every word and gesture gave rise to suspicion.

* * * * *

Thus ends the faithful translation of the document sent by Halroullah Effendi, ex‐Sheik‐ul‐Islam. We have preserved all its originality.

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APPENDICES

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