The life of Midhat Pasha 5

The life of Midhat Pasha 5

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:—

 

“Every one knows that when the Empire was first founded, its laws and

precepts, which were of a high standard, were scrupulously obeyed.

Therefore the Empire grew in strength and grandeur, and all its

subjects, without distinction, attained to a high degree of ease and

prosperity. For the last five hundred years a succession of accidents

and divers causes have brought it about that men have ceased to

conform to the sacred code of laws and regulations that flow from

it, and therefore the force and prosperity of former days have been

converted into weakness and poverty—for a nation always loses all

stability when it ceases to observe its laws. These considerations

have been ceaselessly present to our mind, and since the day of

our accession to the throne the thoughts of the common weal, the

amelioration of the condition of the provinces, and the lessening of

the burdens of the people, have been the subjects of our constant

preoccupation. Moreover, if the geographical position of the Empire;

the fertility of its soil; the aptitude and intelligence of its

inhabitants; be considered, they will lead to the conviction that

if a ruler applies himself diligently to discover the efficacious

means to effect necessary reforms, the results that we hope to

attain, with the help of the Almighty, may be achieved in the course

of a few short years. Therefore, full of trust in the help of the

Almighty, and leaning on the intercession of our Prophet, we consider

it right and proper to set about, by the help of new institutions,

procuring for the provinces of our Empire the blessings of a sound

administration.”

 

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:

 

“When the Imperial Cabinet examines the question as to whether the

moment had not arrived to take up arms against the Porte, some doubt

might possibly have existed as to the urgency of such a measure

in the minds of those who had not sufficiently meditated on the

effects of the sanguinary reform (destruction of Janissaries)

that the Ottoman ruler had just executed with such terrible force.

Now, however, the experience that we have just had ought to enlist

the sympathy of all in favour of the course that we have adopted.

The Emperor has put the new Turkish system to the proof, and His

Majesty has discovered in it a commencement of moral and physical

organisation which it never possessed before. If the Sultan has been

enabled to oppose to us a more spirited and regular resistance than

before, whilst scarcely able to put together the elements of his new

plan of reform and amelioration, how much the more formidable should

we have found him if he had had the time to give it more solidity.”[5]

 

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.