Insults to Christianity by Sultan

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documents and by Turkish authorities, from pashas and judges to the ruffianly police. I have myself seen a Musulman judge in a Musulman court of so-called justice taking evidence against an accused Christian, and following the evidence with a running commentary of hard blows with his clenched fist on the face of the accused, who was then sentenced, without being allowed to say a word in self-defence. The attempt to do so was treated as a fresh offence, and punished accordingly. The following extract from the document, already quoted at some length, casts a lurid light on the 'humane' and 'tolerant' temper of the cruel and unscrupulous despot whose mild manners and humanitarian 'blarney' have so often imposed upon simpleminded British tourists.

In 1886 a book called the Mudafaa,' and in 1892 another called 'Resalei Hamidiê,' were published at Constantinople. Both of these books were full of the most scurrilous attacks on Christianity and of the most contemptuous epithets applied to those who profess that religion. The authors of those works were decorated by H.I.M. the Sultan, and many efforts were made to give the books the widest possible circulation. Since that time, especially in 1892 and 1893, the Turkish newspapers of the capital have contained article after article which have thrown opprobrium upon the Christian religion. These articles have been published with the approval of a censorship that by law must decide beforehand whether an article may be published. But at the same time Christians have been rigorously prohibited from making in Turkish

264

Crescentade by the Sultan

any answer to statements maliciously false concerning Christianity, by which these works have sought to excite the contempt and hatred of the Mohammedan populace towards their Christian neighbours.

Let the reader carefully note the last sentence in this Paper, prepared at the request of Sir Philip Currie, British Ambassador to the Sublime Porte,' for the information of Lord Kimberley, in the spring of 1894. It exhibits the Sultan at the head of a crescentade against Christianity, fomenting and disseminating 'most scurrilous attacks on Christianity' and Christians, and decorating the authors of those attacks, which have for their object to excite the contempt and hatred of the Mohammedan populace towards their Christian neighbours.' It was part of the Sultan's careful preparations for the massacres which followed, and which are by no means ended if the Powers do not stop him.

I hope I have now made it clear that all danger of wholesale massacres of Christians in Turkey has its source and home in Yildiz Kiosk. So that the only effectual way to stop them is to deal sternly with the irresponsible tyrant who issues his sanguinary orders from that secure retreat; while the surest way to encourage the murderer in his bloody work is to assure him that the Powers will not permit any action that may imperil his throne. They have given him that assurance, and he feels safe while it lasts. What cares he for their squeamish objection to

Sultan's Triumph over the Concert

265

his carnival of horrors, so long as they proclaim in the face of Heaven that, do what he will, they will in their own interest save his empire from disruption? He feels no gratitude for their forbearance. Why should he, since he knows that it does not come from love of him, but from their sordid belief that the continued existence of the most incurably inhuman system of government that has ever existed is necessary to their · own private ends? Secure in this belief, he has ceased to fear the Concert of Europe, and has learnt, as he well may, to despise it. How he must have laughed in his sleeve at Lord Rosebery's ingenuous trust in ' diplomatic action, strenuous, self-denying,' followed by the comforting assurance that, 'if that fails, nothing will succeed.' He has put diplomatic action to a crucial test before the eyes of the Ambassadors, and has proved its impotence by a deed of dreadful note,' which has gone unpunished. What has he to fear? Certainly not Lord Salisbury's Providence, for he believes, being a sincere Musulman, that Providence is on his side in his policy of exterminating Infidels whom he is pressed to place, in violation of his creed, on a footing of equality with True Believers.' Till the Powers recognise that fact, and its necessary corollary in the shape of coercion, they had better cease talking about reforms and diplomatic action, however strenuous' and 'self-denying'; for their futile policy serves only to irritate the

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Selfishness of the Concert

Sultan and aggravate the lot of his Christian subjects. Let them do nothing at all, or let them agree on an effectual remedy, and demand its acceptance within a fixed time on pain of deposition. Anything between the two is purely mischievous.

I cannot agree with Lord Salisbury in acquitting the Concert of Europe of selfishness. The selfishness of the Powers during the last two years is only equalled by their folly. Any day within that period such an ultimatum as I have suggested would have secured, without the movement of a ship or regiment, the cringing submission of the puppet who enjoys his power of mischief solely through their sufferance. In one sense they are more guilty than he. For it is possible to credit him with belief in a God who approves of the extermination of the Armenians. But it is not possible to credit the Great Powers of Christendom with belief in a God who approves of their virtual complicity in the Sultan's fell design. That-as I have already shown-is the programme laid down for the Concert of Europe by Austria nearly a year ago. Admitting that it was a 'heartrending prospect,' the Austrian Government faced the situation with tranquil stoicism, and declared that no action must be taken by any of the Powers 'to put a stop to the extermination of the miserable Armenians.' I doubt whether the history of Christendom furnishes any parallel to so ghastly

Austria and Duke of Wellington

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an exhibition of unmixed selfishness on the part of any Government calling itself Christian. How is it that a people so brave, and chivalrous, and attractive in private life should, as a Government, represent precisely the opposite of Aristotle's splendid description of the character of the high-souled man' (ueyaλóvuxos)? I am reminded thereby of a passage in the 'Life of the Prince Consort' on the funeral of the Duke of Wellington:

Every first-class State in Europe, except one, sent its representative to the funeral. That one was not France. On the contrary, its ruler, who might perhaps have been expected to hang back from joining in the last honour to the great World-Victor's victor,' was among the first to announce his intention to send a representative.

Who was the absent representative? The Queen supplies the answer in a touching letter to the King of the Belgians, descriptive of the

Scene:

There is but one feeling of indignation and surprise at the conduct of Austria in taking this opportunity to slight England in return for what happened to Haynau because of his own character.

If ever a man deserved to be called μεγαλόψυχος it was the Great Duke, and it was perhaps fitting that the State which has in its foreign policy always exhibite dthe opposite character should be the one which sought to avenge on the dead body of its deliverer the rough handling by