The life of Midhat Pasha 20

The life of Midhat Pasha 20

“I am....

 

“MIDHAT.

 

“11 _Zilkade_, 1293, _Hegira_.”

(27_th November_ 1876.)

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER V

 

SECOND GRAND VIZIERATE OF MIDHAT PASHA

 

 

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, 19_th December_ 1876.

 

“MY LORD,—Midhat Pasha has been appointed Grand Vizier in the place

of Mehemet Rushdi Pasha. The importance of this appointment at this

moment is very great. Midhat Pasha is beyond question the most

energetic and liberal of the Turkish statesmen, and a man of action,

although his decisions are sometimes hasty.

 

“He has always advocated the equality of Mussulmans and Christians,

and wishes for a constitutional control over the power of the Grand

Vizier as well as of the Sultan. He is opposed to centralisation,

and in favour of giving the provincial populations much control over

their local affairs.

 

“He has at times spoken strongly to me against the grant of special

institution in the Slav Provinces; but he is a man who listens to

argument, and may, perhaps, be brought to see the necessity of it

under the present circumstances.

 

“He is disliked by the old Mussulman party, but is regarded as the

hope of the Mussulman reformers and of the Christians.

 

“He used formerly always to wish to follow the advice of Her

Majesty’s Government, but I am not aware what his feelings towards

England are at this moment.[13]

 

 

“I have....

 

“HENRY ELLIOT.”

 

 

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.