Revival


It has been waiting, nevertheless, ever since--waiting for much more than

a century; and perhaps the end is not even yet. Why, then, have

expectations not only within but without the empire been so greatly at

fault? How came Montesquieu, Burke, and other confident prophets since

their time to be so signally mistaken? There were several co-operating

causes, but one paramount. Constantinople was no longer, as in 1453, a

atter of concern only to itself, its immediate neighbours, and certain

trading republics of Italy. It had become involved with the commercial

interests of a far wider circle, in particular of the great trading

peoples of western Europe, the British, the French, and the Dutch, and

with the political interests of the Germanic and Russian nations. None of

these could be indifferent to a revolution in its fortunes, and least of

all to its passing, not to a power out of Asia, but to a rival power among

themselves. Europe was already in labour with the doctrine of the Balance

of Power. The bantling would not be born at Vienna till early in the

century to come: but even before the end of the eighteenth century it

could be foreseen that its life would be bound up with the maintenance of

Constantinople in independence of any one of the parent powers--that is,

with the prolongation of the Osmanli phase of its imperial fortunes. This

doctrine, consistently acted upon by Europe, has been the sheet anchor of

the Ottoman empire for a century. Even to this day its Moslem dynasty has

never been without one powerful Christian champion or another.



There were, however, some thirty years still to elapse after Selim's

accession before that doctrine was fully born: and had her hands been

free, Russia might well have been in secure possession of the Byzantine

throne long before 1815. For, internally, the Osmanli state went from bad

to worse. The tumultuous insubordination of the Janissaries became an ever

greater scandal. Never in all the long history of their riots was their

record for the years 1807-9 equalled or even approached. Never before,

also, had the provinces been so utterly out of hand. This was the era of

Jezzar the Butcher at Acre, of the rise of Mehemet Ali in Egypt, of Ali

Pasha in Epirus, and of Pasvanoghlu at Vidin. When Mahmud II was thrust on

to the throne in 1809, he certainly began his reign with no more personal

authority and no more imperial prestige or jurisdiction than the last

Greek emperor had enjoyed on his accession in 1448.



The great European war, however, which had been raging intermittently for

nearly twenty years, had saved Mahmud an empire to which he could succeed

in name and try to give substance. Whatever the Osmanlis suffered during

that war, it undoubtedly kept them in Constantinople. Temporary loss of

Egypt and the small damage done by the British attack on Constantinople in

1807 were a small price to pay for the diversion of Russia's main energies

to other than Byzantine fields, and for the assurance, made doubly sure

when the great enemy did again attack, that she would not be allowed to

settle the account alone. Whatever Napoleon may have planned and signed at

Tilsit, the aegis of France was consistently opposed to the enemies of the

Osmanlis down to the close of the Napoleonic age.



Thus it came about that those thirty perilous years passed without the

expected catastrophe. There was still a successor of Osman reigning in

Constantinople when the great Christian powers, met in conclave at Vienna,

half unconsciously guaranteed the continued existence of the Osmanli

Empire simply by leaving it out of account in striking a Balance of Power

in Europe. Its European territory, with the capital within it, was of

quite enough importance to disturb seriously the nice adjustment agreed at

Vienna; and, therefore, while any one's henceforth to take or leave, it

would become always some one's to guard. A few years had yet to pass

before the phrase, the Maintenance of the Integrity of the Ottoman Empire,

would be a watchword of European diplomacy: but, whether formulated thus

or not, that principle became a sure rock of defence for the Osmanli

Empire on the birthday of the doctrine of the Balance of Power.



Secure from destruction by any foes but those of his own household, as

none knew better than he, the reigning Osmanli was scheming to regain the

independence and dignity of his forefathers. Himself a creature of the

Janissaries, Mahmud had plotted the abolition of his creators from the

first year of his reign, but making a too precipitate effort after the

conclusion of peace with Russia, had ignominiously failed and fallen into

worse bondage than ever. Now, better assured of his imperial position and

supported by leading men of all classes among his subjects, he returned

not only to his original enterprise but to schemes for removing other

checks on the power of the sovereign which had come into being in the last

two centuries--notably the feudal independence of the Dere Beys, and the

irresponsibility of provincial governors.



Probably Mahmud II--if he is to be credited with personal initiation of

the reforms always associated with his name--was not conscious of any

purpose more revolutionary than that of becoming master in his own house,

as his ancestors had been. What he ultimately accomplished, however, was

something of much greater and more lasting moment to the Osmanli state. It

was nothing less than the elimination of the most Byzantine features in

its constitution and government. The substitution of national forces for

mercenary praetorians: the substitution of direct imperial government of

the provinces for devolution to seigneurs, tribal chiefs, and

irresponsible officers: the substitution of direct collection for

tax-farming: and the substitution of administration by bureaucrats for

administration by household officers--these, the chief reforms carried

through under Mahmud, were all anti-Byzantine. They did not cause the

Osmanli state to be born anew, but, at least, they went far to purge it of

original sin.



That Mahmud and his advisers could carry through such reforms at all in so

old a body politic is remarkable: that they carried them through amid the

events of his reign is almost miraculous. One affront after another was

put on the Sultan, one blow after another was struck at his empire.

Inspired by echoes of the French Revolution and by Napoleon's recognition

of the rights of nationalities, first the Serbs and then the Greeks seized

moments of Ottoman disorder to rise in revolt against their local lords.

The first, who had risen under Selim III, achieved, under Mahmud,

autonomy, but not independence, nothing remaining to the sultan as before

except the fortress of Belgrade with five other strongholds. The second,

who began with no higher hopes than the Serbs, were encouraged, by the

better acquaintance and keener sympathy of Europe, to fight their way out

to complete freedom. The Morea and central Greece passed out of the

empire, the first provinces so to pass since the Osmanli loss of Hungary.

Yet it was in the middle of that fatal struggle that Mahmud settled for

ever with the Janissaries, and during all its course he was settling one

after another with the Dere Beys!



When he had thus sacrificed the flower of his professional troops and had

hardly had time to replace the local governments of the provinces by

anything much better than general anarchy, he found himself faced by a

Russian assault. His raw levies fought as no other raw levies than the

Turkish can, and, helped by manifestations of jealousy by the other

powers, staved off the capture of Constantinople, which, at one moment,

seemed about to take place at last. But he had to accept humiliating

terms, amounting virtually, to a cession of the Black Sea. Mahmud

recognized that such a price he must pay for crossing the broad stream

between Byzantinism and Nationalism, and kept on his way.



Finally came a blow at the hands of one of his own household and creed.

Mehemet Ali of Egypt, who had faithfully fought his sovereign's battles in

Arabia and the Morea, held his services ill requited and his claim to be

increased beyond other pashas ignored, and proceeded to take what had not

been granted. He went farther than he had intended--more than half-way

across Asia Minor--after the imperial armies had suffered three signal

defeats, before he extorted what he had desired at first: and in the end,

after very brief enjoyment, he had to resign all again to the mandate, not

of his sovereign, but of certain European powers who commanded his seas.

Mahmud, however, who lived neither to see himself saved by the giaur

fleets, nor even to hear of his latest defeat, had gone forward with the

reorganization of the central and provincial administration, undismayed by

Mehemet Ali's contumacy or the insistence of Russia at the gate of the

Bosphorus.



As news arrived from time to time in the west of Mahmud's disasters, it

was customary to prophesy the imminent dissolution of his empire. We,

however, looking backward now, can see that by its losses the Osmanli

state in reality grew stronger. Each of its humiliations pledged some

power or group of powers more deeply to support it: and before Mahmud

died, he had reason to believe that, so long as the European Concert

should ensue the Balance of Power, his dynasty would not be expelled from

Constantinople. His belief has been justified. At every fresh crisis of

Ottoman fortunes, and especially after every fresh Russian attack, foreign

protection has unfailingly been extended to his successors.



It was not, however, only in virtue of the increasing solicitude of the

powers on its behalf that during the nineteenth century the empire was

growing and would grow stronger, but also in virtue of certain assets

within itself. First among these ranked the resources of its Asiatic

territories, which, as the European lands diminished, became more and more

nearly identified with the empire. When, having got rid of the old army,

Mahmud imposed service on all his Moslem subjects, in theory, but in

effect only on the Osmanlis (not the Arabs, Kurds, or other half

assimilated nomads and hillmen), it meant more than a similar measure

would have meant in a Christian empire. For, the life of Islam being war,

military service binds Moslems together and to their chiefs as it binds

men under no other dispensation; therefore Mahmud, so far as he was able

to enforce his decree, created not merely a national army but a nation.

His success was most immediate and complete in Anatolia, the homeland of

the Osmanlis. There, however, it was attained only by the previous

reduction of those feudal families which, for many generations, had

arrogated to themselves the levying and control of local forces. Hence, as

in Constantinople with the Janissaries, so in the provinces with the Dere

Beys, destruction of a drastic order had to precede construction, and more

of Mahmud's reign had to be devoted to the former than remained for the

latter.



He did, however, live to see not only the germ of a nation emerge from

chaos, but also the framework of an organization for governing it well or

ill. The centralized bureaucracy which he succeeded in initiating was, of

course, wretchedly imperfect both in constitution and equipment. But it

promised to promote the end he had in view and no other, inasmuch as,

being the only existent machine of government, it derived any effective

power it had from himself alone. Dependent on Stambul, it served to turn

thither the eyes and prayers of the provincials. The naturally submissive

and peaceful population of Asia Minor quickly accustomed itself to look

beyond the dismantled strongholds of its fallen beys. As for the rest--

contumacious and bellicose beys and sheikhs of Kurdish hills and Syrian

steppes--their hour of surrender was yet to come.



The eventual product of Mahmud's persistency was the 'Turkey' we have seen

in our own time--that Turkey irretrievably Asiatic in spirit under a

semi-European system of administration, which has governed despotically in

the interests of one creed and one class, with slipshod, makeshift

methods, but has always governed, and little by little has extended its

range. Knowing its imperfections and its weakness, we have watched with

amazement its hand feeling forward none the less towards one remote

frontier district after another, painfully but surely getting its grip,

and at last closing on Turcoman chiefs and Kurdish beys, first in the

Anatolian and Cilician hills, then in the mountains of Armenia, finally in

the wildest Alps of the Persian borderland. We have marked its stealthy

movement into the steppes and deserts of Syria, Mesopotamia, and Arabia--

now drawn back, now pushed farther till it has reached and held regions

over which Mahmud could claim nothing but a suzerainty in name. To judge

how far the shrinkage of the Osmanli European empire has been compensated

by expansion of its Asiatic, one has only to compare the political state

of Kurdistan, as it was at the end of the eighteenth century, and as it

has been in our own time.



It is impossible to believe that the Greek Empire, however buttressed and

protected by foreign powers, could ever have reconstituted itself after

falling so low as it fell in the fourteenth century and as the Osmanli

Empire fell in the eighteenth; and it is clear that the latter must still

have possessed latent springs of vitality, deficient in the former. What

can these have been? It is worth while to try to answer this question at

the present juncture, since those springs, if they existed a hundred years

ago, can hardly now be dry.



In the first place it had its predominant creed. This had acted as Islam

acts everywhere, as a very strong social bond, uniting the vast majority

of subjects in all districts except certain parts of the European empire,

in instinctive loyalty to the person of the padishah, whatever might be

felt about his government. Thus had it acted with special efficacy in Asia

Minor, whose inhabitants the Osmanli emperors, unlike the Greek, had

always been at some pains to attach to themselves. The sultan, therefore,

could still count on general support from the population of his empire's

heart, and had at his disposal the resources of a country which no

administration, however improvident or malign, has ever been able to

exhaust.



In the second place the Osmanli 'Turks', however fallen away from the

virtues of their ancestors, had not lost either 'the will to power' or

their capacity for governing under military law. If they had never

succeeded in learning to rule as civilians they had not forgotten how to

rule as soldiers.



In the third place the sultanate of Stambul had retained a vague but

valuable prestige, based partly on past history, partly on its pretension

to religious influence throughout a much larger area than its proper

dominions; and the conservative population of the latter was in great

measure very imperfectly informed of its sovereign's actual position.



In the fourth and last place, among the populations on whose loyalty the

Osmanli sultan could make good his claim, were several strong unexhausted

elements, especially in Anatolia. There are few more vigorous and enduring

peoples than the peasants of the central plateau of Asia Minor, north,

east, and south. With this rock of defence to stand upon, the sultan could

draw also on the strength of other more distant races, less firmly

attached to himself, but not less vigorous, such, for example, as the

Albanians of his European mountains and the Kurds of his Asiatic. However

decadent might be the Turco-Grecian Osmanli (he, unfortunately, had the

lion's share of office), those other elements had suffered no decline in

physical or mental development. Indeed, one cannot be among them now

without feeling that their day is not only not gone, but is still, for the

most part, yet to be.



Such were latent assets of the Osmanli Empire, appreciated imperfectly by

the prophets of its dissolution. Thanks to them, that empire continued not

only to hold together throughout the nineteenth century but, in some

measure, to consolidate itself. Even when the protective fence, set up by

European powers about it, was violated, as by Russia several times--in

1829, in 1854, and in 1877--the nation, which Mahmud had made, always

proved capable of stout enough resistance to delay the enemy till European

diplomacy, however slow of movement, could come to its aid, and ultimately

to dispose the victor to accept terms consistent with its continued

existence. It was an existence, of course, of sufferance, but one which

grew better assured the longer it lasted. By an irony of the Osmanli

position, the worse the empire was administered, the stronger became its

international guarantee. No better example can be cited than the effect of

its financial follies. When national bankruptcy, long contemplated by its

Government, supervened at last, the sultan had nothing more to fear from

Europe. He became, ipso facto, the cherished protege of every power

whose nationals had lent his country money.



Considering the magnitude of the change which Mahmud instituted, the stage

at which he left it, and the character of the society in which it had to

be carried out, it was unfortunate that he should have been followed on

the throne by two well-meaning weaklings, of whom the first was a

voluptuary, the second a fantastic spendthrift of doubtful sanity. Mahmud,

as has been said, being occupied for the greater part of his reign in

destroying the old order, had been able to reconstruct little more than a

framework. His operations had been almost entirely forcible--of a kind

understood by and congenial to the Osmanli character--and partly by

circumstances but more by his natural sympathies, he had been identified

from first to last with military enterprises. Though he was known to

contemplate the eventual supremacy of civil law, and the equality of all

sorts and conditions of his subjects before it, he did nothing to open

this vista to public view. Consequently he encountered little or no

factious opposition. Very few held briefs for either the Janissaries or

the Dere Beys; and fewer regretted them when they were gone. Osmanli

society identified itself with the new army and accepted the consequent

reform of the central or provincial administration. Nothing in these

changes seemed to affect Islam or the privileged position of Moslems in

the empire.



It was quite another matter when Abdul Mejid, in the beginning of his

reign, promulgated an imperial decree--the famous Tanzimat or Hatti Sherif

of Gulkhaneh--which, amid many excellent and popular provisions for the

continued reform of the administration, proclaimed the equality of

Christian and Moslem subjects in service, in reward, and before the law.

The new sultan, essentially a civilian and a man of easy-going

temperament, had been induced to believe that the end of an evolution,

which had only just begun, could be anticipated per saltum, and that he

and all his subjects would live happily together ever after. His

counsellors had been partly politicians, who for various reasons, good and

bad, wished to gain West European sympathy for their country, involved in

potential bondage to Russia since the Treaty of Unkiar Skelessi (1833),

and recently afflicted by Ibrahim Pasha's victory at Nizib; and they

looked to Great Britain to get them out of the Syrian mess. Partly also

Abdul Mejid had been influenced by enthusiasts, who set more store by

ideas or the phrases in which they were expressed, than by the evidence of

facts. There were then, as since, 'young men in a hurry' among the more

Europeanized Osmanlis. The net result of the sultan's precipitancy was to

set against himself and his policy all who wished that such it

consummation of the reform process might never come and all who knew it

would never come, if snatched at thus--that is, both the 'Old Turks' and

the moderate Liberals; and, further, to change for the worse the spirit in

which the new machine of government was being worked and in which fresh

developments of it would be accepted.



To his credit, however, Abdul Mejid went on with administrative reform.

The organization of the army into corps--the foundation of the existing

system--and the imposition of five years' service on all subjects of the

empire (in theory which an Albanian rising caused to be imperfectly

realized in fact), belong to the early part of his reign; as do also, on

the civil side, the institution of responsible councils of state and

formation of ministries, and much provision for secondary education. To

his latest years is to be credited the codification of the civil law. He

had the advantage of some dozen initial years of comparative security from

external foes, after the Syrian question had been settled in his favour by

Great Britain and her allied powers at the cheap price of a guarantee of

hereditary succession to the house of Mehemet Ali. Thanks to the same

support, war with Persia was avoided and war with Russia postponed.



But the provinces, even if quiet (which some of them, e.g. the Lebanon in

the early 'forties', were not), proved far from content. If the form of

Osmanli government had changed greatly, its spirit had changed little, and

defective communications militated against the responsibility of officials

to the centre. Money was scarce, and the paper currency--an ill-omened

device of Mahmud's--was depreciated, distrusted, and regarded as an

imperial betrayal of confidence. Finally, the hostility of Russia,

notoriously unabated, and the encouragement of aspiring rayas credited

to her and other foreign powers made bad blood between creeds and

encouraged opposition to the execution of the pro-Christian Tanzimat. When

Christian turbulence at last brought on, in 1854, the Russian attack which

developed into the Crimean War, and Christian allies, though they

frustrated that attack, made a peace by which the Osmanlis gained nothing,

the latter were in no mood to welcome the repetition of the Tanzimat,

which Abdul Mejid consented to embody in the Treaty of Paris. The reign

closed amid turbulence and humiliations--massacre and bombardment at

Jidda, massacre and Franco-British coercion in Syria--from all of which

the sultan took refuge with women and wine, to meet in 1861 a drunkard's

end.



His successor, Abdul Aziz, had much the same intentions, the same civilian

sympathies, the same policy of Europeanization, and a different, but more

fatal, weakness of character. He was, perhaps, never wholly sane; but his

aberration, at first attested only by an exalted conviction of his divine

character and inability to do wrong, excited little attention until it

began to issue in fantastic expenditure. By an irony of history, he is the

one Osmanli sultan upon the roll of our Order of the Garter, the right to

place a banner in St, George's Chapel having been offered to this

Allah-possessed caliph on the occasion of his visit to the West in 1867.



Despite the good intentions of Abdul Aziz himself--as sincere as can be

credited to a disordered brain---and despite more than one minister of

outstanding ability, reform and almost everything else in the empire went

to the bad in this unhappy reign. The administration settled down to

lifeless routine and lapsed into corruption: the national army was starved:

the depreciation of the currency grew worse as the revenue declined and

the sultan's household and personal extravagance increased. Encouraged by

the inertia of the imperial Government, the Christians of the European

provinces waxed bold. Though Montenegro was severely handled for

contumacy, the Serbs were able to cover their penultimate stage towards

freedom by forcing in 1867 the withdrawal of the last Ottoman garrisons

from their fortresses. Krete stood at bay for three years and all but won

her liberty. Bosnia rose in arms, but divided against herself. Pregnant

with graver trouble than these, Bulgaria showed signs of waking from long

sleep. In 1870 she obtained recognition as a nationality in the Ottoman

Empire, her Church being detached from the control of the Oecumenical

Patriarch of the Greeks and placed under an Exarch. Presently, her

peasantry growing ever more restive, passed from protest to revolt against

the Circassian refugee-colonists with whom the Porte was flooding the

land. The sultan, in an evil hour, for lack of trained troops, let loose

irregulars on the villages, and the Bulgarian atrocities, which they

committed in 1875, sowed a fatal harvest for his successor to reap. His

own time was almost fulfilled. The following spring a dozen high

officials, with the assent of the Sheikh-ul-Islam and the active dissent

of no one, took Abdul Aziz from his throne to a prison, wherein two days

later he perished, probably by his own hand. A puppet reigned three months

as Murad V, and then, at the bidding of the same king-makers whom his

uncle had obeyed, left the throne free for his brother Abdul Hamid, a man

of affairs and ability, who was to be the most conspicuous, or rather, the

most notorious Osmanli sultan since Suleiman.



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