II THE TURKISH GOVERNMENT

The Sultan of Turkey is a good deal like President Cleveland, in that he tries to look after the details of his government himself. President Cleveland used to sit up all night sometimes examining the recommendations of postoffice candidates because he felt a personal responsibility in the selection of good men, which he could not delegate to the officials of the postoffice department. He used to read all the evidence and other documents connected with pardon cases, because he could not trust the judgment of the attorney-general and the officials in the department of justice. He frequently sent for the papers relating to Indian contracts, public lands and other matters of business which no President before him ever investigated personally, but he knew more about what was going on, and had more influence with his own administration, as President Lincoln used to say, than any other man. The Sultan of Turkey has a similar disposition, but a different motive. He trusts nobody, although everybody succeeds finally in deceiving him. He endeavors to do everything himself and to attend to all the details, but never goes anywhere and is compelled to depend upon his ministers and other subordinates to see that his orders are carried out. Therefore most of his labor is wasted and the people suffer the consequences.

For example, recently a bridge over a river in Asia Minor was carried away by a flood and the people came down to Constantinople with a petition for a new one, because all such things are within the Sultan’s personal jurisdiction and can only be done by his orders. He read the petition and heard the committee, and, casting his eyes over the map they had submitted, suggested that the new bridge be built at another place. It was somewhat distant from the old one and in a situation more liable to danger from floods. At the same time it was very inconvenient for the public; but nobody dare tell the Sultan so, or even question the accuracy of his judgment. So a new bridge was erected at the new location and a few weeks later it was carried away like the first. The people came back to the Sultan. He refused to receive them and sent word that he had given them a new bridge and that they ought to be thankful and ask no more of him. Since then the population of that district has been compelled to cross the river in small boats because the government will not build another bridge for them and will not allow them to build one for themselves. That is about the way the government of Turkey is managed; a fair sample of maladministration that applies to every department.

Up the Golden Horn is a navy yard, with a fine marble building for the headquarters of the admiralty, a school for the education of officers, barracks for the accommodation of sailors, a hospital for the sick, and a long line of sheds and shops for the construction and repair of ships, and an enormous amount of money is expended annually for the maintenance of ships which are supposed to be in commission, but cannot be used because their engines, boilers and other machinery are useless. Some of them have no smoke-stacks. They lie at anchor where the Sultan can see them through a glass from a certain point in the park that surrounds his palace, and he supposes them to be in full commission and ready for active service. He gives the minister of marine every year money to pay for coal that is never bought, for provisions and other supplies for crews that do not exist, and for repairs that are never made. The shops are idle and empty, although he believes them to be filled with busy workmen. According to the official register, the Turkish navy consists of eighteen cruisers of from 2,000 to 8,000 tons, twelve coast-defense ships, six gunboats and twenty-six torpedo boats, but all are useless except a few small torpedo and gunboats stationed at different ports along the coast. The annual allotment of money for the supplies of the navy is about $3,200,000, but, according to the popular impression, a very small part of it is ever applied to the purpose for which it is intended. The navy yard on the Golden Horn is the most extraordinary marine morgue in existence. Long rows of vessels of the most antiquated pattern lie side by side, stripped of their machinery and equipments and fit only to be knocked to pieces for junk. Students of marine architecture will find there types of vessels that have not been used for a century, and the Sultan still appropriates money to maintain them. But even the most modern vessels, built during the late war with Greece, have been stripped of everything portable by officers and sailors whose wages have not been paid. The Sultan does not know anything about it. He depends upon his minister of marine, who gives him such information as he thinks advisable, and is supposed to rob him right and left.

Hassan Pasha has the reputation of being the richest and the most corrupt official in the Turkish government. He is supposed to be worth $4,000,000 or $5,000,000, all of which he has acquired while in the service of the government. He has great influence with the Sultan. The latter considers him one of his most loyal and efficient officers and trusts him implicitly. It is said that Hassan would like to resign and enjoy his money in London or Paris, but dare not do so. The moment he suggested any such idea the Sultan’s suspicions would be excited, and it would be dangerous for Hassan to retire, because his successor would discover what has been going on in the navy department, and Hassan’s head and his money would both be in danger. Many other pashas are very rich, but they send their money out of the country as a precaution, for they never know when they may forfeit their sovereign’s favor, and that usually means the confiscation of their estates and perhaps decapitation or imprisonment for life. When a prominent man disappears in Turkey no questions are asked. It is impolitic to be inquisitive.

Said Pasha, the grand vizier, is believed to be an honest man. He is one of the few prominent officials of the government who has not amassed a fortune while in office. For his honesty and other reasons he has many bitter and revengeful enemies. Six years ago, when he was grand vizier, he endeavored to punish certain influential pashas for robbing the government. They engaged in a conspiracy against him and got the ear of the Sultan, who believed their statements, and sent the Kapu-aghasi, chief of the white eunuchs and first officer of the imperial bedchamber—the Sultan’s most confidential man—to summon Said Pasha to his presence. The Kapu-aghasi is always an unwelcome messenger, because the Sultan trusts him when he will trust nobody else. When he carries a message it has unusual significance.

Said Pasha understood the situation, and, instead of going to the palace, sought an asylum at the British embassy, where Lord Dufferin, then ambassador, gave him protection. Nobody knew what had become of the grand vizier until after seven days, when he sent a carefully prepared report of his proceedings and the motives for the conspiracy against him to the Sultan by the hand of the British ambassador. The latter explained to the Sultan his opinion of the case, and vouched for Said Pasha as an honest, truthful and loyal man. The Sultan was not convinced, but agreed to accept Said Pasha’s resignation without further proceedings, and gave a formal assurance that if his former prime minister left the embassy and returned to his own home he would not be injured. Lord Dufferin notified the Sultan that the British government would hold him responsible for any injury that Said Pasha might suffer, and that in case of his death not even a plea of sickness would be accepted. From that hour Said Pasha was the safest man in Turkey. The Sultan sent his own physician and two of his most trusted aides-de-camp to live in his house to protect him, and, adopting Lord Dufferin’s suggestion, made an investigation of the charges against him. Nobody knows how he got at the facts, but he executed some of his new favorites, sent others into exile and finally restored Said Pasha to power and gave him his confidence as fully as he ever gives it to any one.

It is said that Shanghai, China, is the dirtiest city in the world, that Peking is ten times as dirty as Shanghai, and that Canton is ten times as dirty as Peking: but Constantinople is as dirty as all the rest of them put together, and the pavements are simply horrible. Yet the Sultan, who has never ridden about his capital, is laboring under the delusion that it is well paved and sweet and clean. Several years ago he took a notion to go by carriage instead of by boat to Seraglio Point upon his annual pilgrimage to worship before the holy mantle of the Prophet Mohammed, and the officers of the municipal government covered the pavement of the streets through which he was to pass with fine sand two or three inches deep. This not only concealed the filth, but made a smooth and comfortable track for his carriage. The Sultan was delighted, and gave instructions to fix all the streets in Constantinople in the same manner, allotting a large sum of money to pay the expenses. The officials took the money and put it in their pockets, and nothing was done to the streets. The Sultan honestly believes that Constantinople is one of the best-kept cities in Europe, and often boasts of that fact to foreign visitors. As he dare not go through the streets to see for himself, and is surrounded by men whose interests and safety require them to maintain the deception, he will probably never discover how he has been deceived. The two great bridges across the Golden Horn, which connect Stamboul, the Turkish town, with Galata, the foreign settlement, produce not less than $2,000 a day in tolls. Every foot passenger is charged a penny, about the same fee as that collected by the ferry companies of New York, and carriages pay ten cents. But of the receipts not more than $100 a day goes into the public treasury. The rest is stolen by people who have charge of the collections. Everybody gets his “squeeze,” from the general manager down to the Turks with white aprons who stand at the entrances and take the money. Curious people have taken the trouble to stand at the approaches to the bridge and count the number of passengers within a certain time as a basis for an estimate of the revenues, and assert that $2,000 a day is a low calculation. It is also asserted that not more than ten per cent of the customs collections goes into the treasury. The balance is stolen by the officials, who receive no salaries and are expected to take care of themselves. Sometimes they get their money out of the importers and exporters by blackmail, because each collector of customs is required to turn a certain amount into the treasury every month, but some of them simply take a proportion of the ordinary receipts and are satisfied with that.

Several propositions have been made to the Sultan to farm out the collection of duties to a bank, which is willing to guarantee him a stated sum in cash annually and take its chances of collecting an equal amount or a good deal more upon the present tariff rates, but the Sultan dare not make such an arrangement because the customs service takes care of so many poor relations and hangers on of his favorites. If he should put this patronage out of his hands they would have to be supported in some other manner. Therefore he declines to have his revenues honestly collected.

Some people think that the Sultan was not responsible for the Armenian massacre in 1896. Others are confident that he ordered it, just as Charles of France ordered the massacre of St. Bartholomew. They believe that he was induced to do so by the representations of the Sheik-ul-Islam and his ministers that the Armenians were on the point of revolution, and there was circumstantial evidence to sustain their claims. There had been repeated massacres by the Kurds and other Turkish barbarians in Armenia, and thousands of Christians there lost their lives and property. When a committee of Armenian citizens went to the Sublime Porte to present a petition demanding the protection guaranteed their countrymen by the Treaty of Berlin in 1878, they were prevented from entering, and attempted to fight their way in, which caused a riot and gave their enemies an argument to secure official sanction for their persecution. But what is known as the “Ottoman Bank Affair” was really the immediate cause of the massacre. It is practically the only bank in Constantinople, and is managed by an Englishman. One morning in 1896, while business was going on as usual, a party of forty or fifty armed men entered the building and closed the doors. The manager, Mr. Vincent, succeeded in escaping. The bank was promptly surrounded by troops, which made it impossible for the bandits to get away with any booty or with their lives, but they threatened to blow up the vaults and to set fire to the building unless they were granted immunity. Mr. Vincent had sufficient influence with the authorities to secure such terms, and during the night after the raid the bandits were taken from the bank to the nearest dock, placed on board Mr. Vincent’s private yacht and carried to Marseilles, where they were put ashore and disappeared. They claimed to be Armenians, but were all strangers. Some people think it was a “fake” raid arranged by the Turkish police to arouse public prejudice against the Armenians. Others think that a foolhardy group of Armenian revolutionists attempted to secure funds to carry on a revolution. But whatever the intent or expectation, on the following day the Sultan was persuaded that unless the Armenian community was effectually terrorized it would overthrow his government. He gave the word, the Mohammedan priests and softas (theological students) led the mobs, and the Turkish fanatics continued to kill Christians until they were exhausted.

There is a multitude of priests, divided into classes and ranks. The lowest is the muezzin, who is a sort of sacristan or sexton at the mosque. He calls the faithful to prayer, but takes no part in the devotional exercises. Softas are theological students—young preachers who make up a fanatical and turbulent class and are the cause of most of the disturbances in Constantinople, as the students of universities often are in other European countries. Next to them in rank are the cadis, who exercise a temporal as well as spiritual jurisdiction, acting as notaries, justices of the peace, judges of the courts and look after the financial affairs of the different parishes and religious orders. There are several religious brotherhoods and orders like the dervishes. The moulahs or regular priests, who conduct the services at the mosques, may be compared with the ordinary clergy in our country. One grade above the moulah is the khodja, or professor of theology, who is found daily at the mosques with a copy of the Koran and other orthodox authorities before him, expounding the faith of the Mohammedans to groups of students and others who gather around him, sitting cross-legged upon the floor.

You can find these groups in every mosque at all hours of the day, and they remind you of the story of Jesus teaching in the temple. The theologians receive fees from their pupils. Another class of khodja expound the Koran to ordinary people very much in the manner of our Sunday-school classes. After the regular prayers are over in the mosques they take convenient places, and those who desire to learn from them squat around in semicircles within the sound of their voices. The lesson or lecture lasts about half an hour. Many of the pupils are business men who are interested to hear and know. Others are poor devotees who scarcely understand the language of the teacher, but listen attentively to everything he says. There is no regularity about the lectures and no stated fees are charged. Those who attend can pay whatever they like. Some of the ablest theologians attract large classes and make a good living. Their incomes are much better than the salaries paid to the ordinary moulahs, or parish priests. Superior to them are the mufti, or bishops, and the Sheik-ul-Islam, or patriarch, the spiritual head of the Mohammedan Church, who often is known as the Great Mufti.

Nearly all of the Moslems in Constantinople are employed either by the church or the state, or are ordinary common working men. They are ignorant and fanatical, dangerous when excited by the priests or the softas, who make the mischief, and are as devout as any people in the world. It is the universal testimony that Mussulmans are more loyal to their religion and more faithful to its teachings than the members of any other church. The pashas and the higher officials of the government wear the European dress with the red fez. The poorer Turks retain the native dress.

A GHAZI—A MOHAMMEDAN FANATIC

While there are doubtless many good traits about the Mohammedans, and, as an old lady said about Christianity, their religion would be a good thing if it were lived up to, it is difficult to reconcile the facts. For example, the Koran and the teachings of the prophet enjoin personal cleanliness as necessary to salvation. The Moslems always bathe before they pray. They would not dare enter the house of prayer with unclean hands or feet or faces. Hence when the muezzin’s call is heard from a minaret five times a day, faithful Moslems go first to the fountains that are found outside of every mosque and bathe themselves. There are innumerable bath-houses also in which genuine Turkish baths and massage are given. At the same time their houses are positively filthy; too filthy, as a rule, for human beings to occupy; and the streets of Constantinople and every other Turkish town are indescribable in their nastiness. The clothing they wear is as dirty as their bodies are clean, and their food is often unfit for sanitary reasons. A true believer will not cut down a tree without planting another in its place. Hence the Turkish forests are in splendid condition. The kindness of the Mohammedan to animals is proverbial. He will not kill a rat and will share his crust with a dog; he will not beat a horse, and, as you have often read, among the Bedouins man and horse always share the same tent. But it is no offense to kill a Christian. Human life is nowhere else held at so low a value.

The Koran forbids the followers of the prophet to charge interest upon loans of money, hence Mohammedans cannot engage in the banking business, and you often hear that true believers never swindle each other; that no Mohammedan ever lies, except where the interests of Christians are involved; that he will tell the truth to his own people.

It is evident that the Turks consider it no crime to cheat a Christian or to tell him a falsehood, and it is a beautiful delusion that Mohammedans never deceive or swindle one another. I have tried to reconcile this generally accepted fable with the notorious robbery of the government. Almost every official of the Ottoman Empire is a Mohammedan. Very few Christians are employed in any capacity, and in no other land on earth is official corruption, bribery and embezzlement so general and common. It is not only known, but tolerated. Few officials receive salaries, and they are expected to make a living by robbing their government and by blackmailing people who have business with it. While there is nothing in precise terms in the Koran to prohibit malfeasance in office, one would suppose that the general laws of morality and honesty, if not patriotism, would be recognized and applied. When I asked an intelligent and liberal Mohammedan to explain this phenomenon he did so without the slightest hesitation. He declared in the first place that the government knew that its officials were robbing the revenues and expected them to do so. Therefore, it was no crime against the laws and no violation of the teachings of the prophet. In the second place, he said, there were bad men among the followers of the prophet as well as among the followers of Christ, and that, “while no man who obeyed the teachings of the Koran and the injunctions of Mohammed would cheat or steal, many sometimes did so under great temptation.”

We are also told that Mohammedans are strict prohibitionists; that they drink no wine or liquor of any kind, and this is more generally true than any of the other statements to which I have referred.

There are plenty of saloons in Constantinople, but they are all found in the foreign quarter. In Stamboul, which is almost exclusively Mohammedan, there are none, and the natives dissipate at coffee-houses, which are as numerous in the Mohammedan districts as saloons in Chicago. The highest joy that a Turk can realize is to sit outside a café, sip a cup of coffee, smoke a nargileh—one of those long-stemmed water pipes—and contemplate the infinite. At least, I suppose that is what the solemn-looking old chaps who sit around on the sidewalk are contemplating. Their faces wear an expression of unutterable wisdom, solemnity and benevolence that cannot be surpassed, and their composure is perfect. A Turk is always composed at a coffee-house, and you would think that his soul was submerged in benevolence. But when he comes to action he is an entirely different sort of a person.

As a rule Turks of the upper classes are very good-looking. Their features are fine, their heads are intellectual and their expressions are amiable. In addition to the coffee-houses water fountains for the benefit of the poor are found on almost every block. When a rich man wants to erect a monument by which he may be remembered, he builds a fountain in a public place and leaves money for its maintenance. When Kaiser William of Germany was in Constantinople a few years ago he ordered the erection of a fountain, which is beautiful in design and of expensive construction. It must have cost him a very large sum of money, and was an appropriate, useful and noble gift. Thousands of men make a business of peddling water, lemonade and sherbet through the streets of the Turkish part of the city, and another praiseworthy custom among benevolent men is to leave legacies to pay for the free distribution of drinking water among the working people. You see many such peddlers on the docks, in the factories and at other places where laborers are employed. They go about with pigskins full of fresh water upon their backs and a dozen cups hanging from hooks in their belts. Anybody can stop them on the street and ask for a drink, which they always furnish with great courtesy, as they are required to do by their employers. If you give them a tip they will accept it, but it is not necessary and it is not expected. The Turks are a very temperate people.

A Turkish gentleman declared that the young men of Constantinople were being led into dissipation because they thought it was “progress”; that fast foreigners had introduced bad habits into the country, including whisky and brandy drinking, and many young Turks had followed their example. The saloons and beer gardens, he said, were intended for, and were generally patronized by, the foreign population—the French, Germans, Italians, Austrians, Hungarians and others—and several liquor stores had been established to supply them.

“Many young Moslems have become intemperate,” he exclaimed, “and it can only be attributed to the bad example of Christians.” The pashas and other public men think it is necessary to serve wine at their houses because it is served to them when they visit the homes of foreigners, and thus the habit is being introduced. The Sultan drinks nothing but water and coffee, although at formal dinners he offers wine to his guests.

“I met a friend the other day,” continued my informant, “who offered me a glass of wine. I declined, saying that my religion forbade the use of wine. ‘So does mine,’ replied the pasha, ‘but God is merciful and I shall be forgiven.’”

One great trouble in Turkey is the disloyalty of the upper classes. The lower classes are fanatical in their devotion to the Sultan and the Mohammedan Church. But it is the office and not the man they adore. They care very little who occupies the throne and will give their lives cheerfully to support and defend him. The Turkish soldiers are great fighters, if well led, and are absolutely destitute of fear because they are taught from infancy that he who dies in defense of the church or the Sultan goes straight to paradise, which is sufficient incentive for them. At the same time the words “loyalty” and “patriotism” do not appear in the Turkish language, and those emotions are almost entirely unknown to the pashas and other persons of high rank who are always striving to excel each other and secure the favor of the sovereign, and the power, influence and wealth that attend it. The foundation of all the trouble is the absolute authority intrusted to the Sultan, who is able to appoint to the highest offices and elevate to the highest rank the most unworthy and incompetent favorite at his court. The Sultan can make and unmake pashas at pleasure, and this precarious tenure of rank and dignity induces them to be so corrupt, so treacherous and envious. Another great source of weakness is the entire absence of anything like justice. If a man is accused before the Sultan by one of his spies or by any informer, high or low, he has no trial and often there is no investigation. In very rare cases the accused has an opportunity to make a personal defense; but in the Sultan’s eyes every man is guilty until he is proved innocent, and the opportunity to submit the proof seldom comes.

A Constantinople photographer to whom I applied for portraits of the Sultan and other public men explained that he was not able to furnish them because the Moslem religion forbade its adherents to make the likeness of anything in the heaven above or in the earth beneath, and that the injunction was strictly observed by old-fashioned and conservative Mohammedans. Being the head of the church, the Sultan thinks he ought to observe it as an example to others. Nevertheless the portraits of his sons have been painted, and you can buy their photographs wherever such things are sold about town. And there are oil portraits of previous Sultans in all the public buildings. On the table in the audience chamber at the Seraglio, is a large quarto volume containing a collection of the portraits of thirty-seven Sultans of the Osman dynasty. In the treasury are a lot of miniatures and several busts in bronze and marble. Statues of several Turkish heroes, including Sultans, have been erected, and hence we must find some other reason why Abdul Hamid will not be photographed. Perhaps it is merely an idiosyncrasy, for he has many.

At the same time public men in Turkey do not have their portraits painted, nor do they have their photographs taken as frequently as those of Christian countries, and it is difficult to buy their pictures. Certain photographs of public buildings, the interiors of mosques, and women in the Turkish costume, are sold only to foreigners. No photographer would dare sell the picture of a woman to a Moslem, because her husband or father would take it as a mortal insult, although he would have no objection to its sale to foreigners, particularly those who take it out of the country. He would consider that a compliment. These notions are relaxing generally throughout the country, like many other of the Moslem habits and customs.

When I was at Constantinople the city was filled with pilgrims on their way to Mecca. They came from all parts of the Ottoman Empire and from the Mohammedan settlements in Russia. One party of 4,000 arrived from Central Asia via Odessa upon special steamers, which carried them to Jiddah on the Red Sea, the nearest port to Mecca. Hundreds of Persians, Kurds, Mongols, men from Turkestan, Afghanistan, Bokhara, Cashmere and other far-off countries had ridden thousands of miles over the desert on this religious mission, and had come to Constantinople for the purpose of paying homage to the Sultan, who is the head of their church. The bazaars and mosques and the streets and public places were crowded with them.

Very few were able to see the Sultan. Their only opportunity was on Friday, when he rides through his park from the palace to the mosque to say his prayers. They knelt when he passed, and afterward kissed the ground over which his carriage had driven. Many of them were men of wealth and property, but did not look it. They were dressed in the fantastic costumes of their races and added to the variety of apparel for which Constantinople is noted.

Every Moslem who can afford to do so makes a pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in his life, for that not only insures the salvation of his soul but advances him in social and religious rank also, and he then becomes a Hadji, a title for which we have no equivalent. It gives him a higher place in the mosque and secures for him certain privileges and advantages which people who have not been to Mecca do not enjoy. Hence it is the ambition of every Mussulman to make the pilgrimage, and millions go every year. The pilgrimages are regulated much better now than formerly. Sanitary rules are enforced, which tend to prevent the plagues that have invariably followed the annual hegira. Formerly thousands upon thousands died from fatigue, starvation and disease, and contagion was carried to different parts of the world by returning caravans. But this no longer occurs. The pilgrimages are so regulated that nowadays they can be accomplished without much danger or fatigue and at comparatively small expense.

The most conspicuous man among the pilgrims was Hadji Sheik Islam, the head of the church in Persia, who was accompanied by his son and three other prominent Persian ecclesiastics. Upon their arrival they were met with great ceremony by the Persian ambassador and the Sheik-ul-Islam of Constantinople. They were guests at the Persian embassy, and enjoyed the hospitality of the Sultan, who decorated them with badges and other honors and conferred upon them his blessing as the head of the church. Their dress is quite picturesque. They wear long tunics, or gowns, of white silk with plaited bosoms and flowing sleeves, and the finest of cashmere shawls as sashes around their waists. Over their gowns were large brown camel’s-hair robes and upon their heads enormous white turbans. The Sheik’s party were men of noble appearance and dignified demeanor and received the homage of the people as if they were accustomed to it.

When a Turkish steamer, carrying 1,400 pilgrims, was about to start for Mecca the Sultan sent orders that no passenger should be charged more than $8 fare, and that those who could not afford to pay should be carried free. When the officers of the steamship company remonstrated he blandly told them to send the bill for the difference to him—an act of generosity which amused everybody who has a sense of humor, for the Sultan of Turkey was never known to pay for anything. The steamship company dared not defy his orders, but after reflection was ingenious enough to partially recoup itself. When the steamer got as far as Beirut, it dropped anchor, and the officers informed the managers of the pilgrimage that they could not go any farther because they had run out of coal, and they could not buy coal because they had no money, the small amount paid by the pilgrims for fare having already been exhausted. The pilgrims appealed by telegraph to the Sultan, who ordered the governor of Beirut to furnish them coal, and he was compelled to levy blackmail upon his constituents to reimburse himself.

The Moslem day is reckoned from sunset to sunset, and is divided into two divisions of twelve hours each. Sunset is always twelve o’clock, and as the length of the day varies throughout the year, Turkish watches have to be altered at least every five days by the official clock, which is set in the tower of a mosque in Stamboul.

The crescent, which is the symbol of the Turkish Empire, was adopted by the Sultan Osman, the founder of the present Ottoman Empire, in 1299. It is said that in the year 340 B.C., when Constantinople was besieged by Philip of Macedon, and was only saved by the timely arrival of reënforcements which Demosthenes sent to its assistance, a bright light in the form of a crescent was seen in the sky and was regarded by the inhabitants as a sign that rescue was approaching. Hence, like the star in the east that was seen by the wise men, it was accepted as a divine revelation, and since then the crescent has been a sacred emblem to the Turks.