Kitabı oku: «From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn», sayfa 22

CHAPTER XXX.
THE EASTERN QUESTION. – THE EXODUS OF THE TURKS

It is impossible to be in Constantinople without having forced upon us the Eastern Question, which is just now occupying so much of the attention of Europe. A child can ask questions which a philosopher cannot answer, and a traveller can see dangers and difficulties which all the wisdom of statesmen cannot resolve.

Twenty years ago France and England went to war with Russia for the maintenance of Turkey, and they are now beginning to ask, whether in this they did not make a great mistake; whether Turkey was worth saving? If the same circumstances were to arise again, it is doubtful whether they would be so ready to rush into the field. All over Europe there has been a great revulsion of feeling caused by the recent financial breakdown of Turkey. Within a few weeks she has virtually repudiated half the interest on her national debt; that is, she pays one-half, and funds the other half, promising to pay it five years hence. But few believe it will then be paid. This has excited great indignation in France and England and Italy,¹⁰ where millions of Turkish bonds are held, and they ask, have we spent our treasure and shed our blood to bolster up a rotten state, a state that is utterly faithless to its engagements, and thus turns upon its benefactors?

To tell the whole truth, these powers have themselves partly to blame for having led the Turkish government into the easy and slippery ways of borrowing money. Before the Crimean war Turkey had no national debt. Whatever she spent she wrung out of the sweat and blood of her wretched people, and left no burden of hopeless indebtedness to curse its successors.

But the war brought great expenses, and having rich allies, what so natural as to borrow a few of their superfluous millions? Once begun, the operation had to be repeated year after year. Nothing is so seductive as the habit of borrowing money. It is such an easy way to pay one's debts and to gratify one's love of spending; and as long as one's credit lasts, he may indulge his dreams to the very limit of Oriental magnificence. So the Sultan found it. He had but to contract a loan in London or Paris, and he had millions of pounds sterling to build palaces, and to carry out every Imperial desire.

But borrowing money is like taking opium, the dose must be constantly increased, till finally the system gives way, and death ends the scene. Every year the Sultan had to borrow more money to pay the interest on his debts, and to borrow at ever increasing rates; and so at last came, what always comes as the result of a long course of extravagance, a complete collapse of money and credit together.

The indignation felt at this would not have been so great, if the money borrowed had been spent for legitimate objects – to construct public works; to build railroads (which are greatly needed to open communications with the interior of the empire); and to create new branches of industry and new sources of wealth. Turkey is a very rich country in its natural resources, rich in a fertile soil, rich in mines, with an immense line of sea-coast, and great harbors, offering every facility for commerce; and it needs only a very little political economy to turn all these resources to account. If the money borrowed in England and France had been spent in building railroads all over European Turkey, in opening mines, and in promoting agriculture and commerce, the country to-day, instead of being bankrupt, would be rich and independent, and not compelled to ask the help or the compassion of Europe.

But instead of applying his borrowed money to developing the resources of his empire, there has not been a freak of folly that the Sultan did not gratify. He has literally thrown his money into the Bosphorus, spending it chiefly for ships on the water, or palaces on the shore. I have already spoken of his passion for building new palaces. Next to this, his caprice has been the buying of ironclads. A few years since, when Russia, taking advantage of the Franco-German war, which rendered France powerless to resist, nullified the clause in the treaty made after the Crimean war, which forbade her keeping a navy in the Black Sea, and began to show her armed ships again in those waters, the Sultan seems to have taken it into his wise head that she was about to attack Constantinople, and immediately began preparations for defence on land and sea. He bought a million or so of the best rifles that could be found in Europe or America; and cannon enough to furnish the Grand Army of Napoleon; and some fifteen tremendous ships of war, which have cost nearly two millions of dollars apiece. The enormous folly of this expense appears in this, that, in case of war, these ships would be almost useless. The safety of Turkey is not in such defences, but in the fact that it is for the interest of Europe to hold her up awhile longer. If once France and England were to leave her to her fate, all these ships would not save her against Russia coming from the Black Sea – or marching an army overland and attacking Constantinople in the rear. But the Sultan would have these ships, and here they are. They have been lying idle in the Bosphorus all summer, their only use being to fire salutes every Friday when the Sultan goes to mosque. They never go to sea; if they did they would probably not return, for they are very unwieldy, and the Turks are no sailors, and do not know how to manage them; and they would be likely to sink in the first gale. The only voyage they make is twice in the year: once in the spring, when they are taken out of the Golden Horn to be anchored in the Bosphorus, a mile or two distant – about as far as from the Battery to the Navy Yard in Brooklyn – and again in the autumn, when they are taken back again to be laid up for the winter. They have just made their annual voyage back to their winter quarters, and are now lying quietly in the Golden Horn – not doing any harm, nor any good to anybody.

Then not only must the Sultan have a great navy, but a great army. Poor as Turkey is, she has one of the largest armies in Europe. I have found it difficult to obtain exact statistics. A gentleman who has lived long in Constantinople tells me that they claim to be able, in case of war, to put seven hundred thousand men under arms, but this includes the reserves – there are perhaps half that number now in barracks or in camp. A hundred thousand men have been sent to Herzegovina to suppress the insurrection there. So much does it cost to extinguish a rising among a few mountaineers in a distant province, a mere strip of territory lying far off on the borders of the Adriatic. What a fearful drain must the support of all these troops be upon the resources of an exhausted empire!

While thus bleeding at every pore, Turkey takes no course to keep up a supply of fresh life-blood. England spends freely, but, she makes freely also, and so has always an abundant revenue for her vast empire. So might Turkey, if she had but a grain of financial or political wisdom. But her policy is suicidal in the management of all the great industries of the country. For example, the first great interest is agriculture, and this the government, so far from encouraging, seems to set itself to ruin. Of course the people must till the ground to get food to live. Of all the produce of the earth the government takes one-tenth. Even this might be borne, if it would only take it and have done with it, and let the poor peasants gather in the rest. But no; after a farmer has reaped his grain, he cannot store it in his barn until the tax-gatherer has surveyed it and taken out his share. Perhaps the official is busy elsewhere, or he is waiting for a bribe; and so it may lie on the ground for days or weeks, exposed to the rains till the whole crop is spoiled. Such is the beautiful system of political economy practised in administering the internal affairs of this country, which nature has made so rich, and man has made so poor.

So as to the fisheries by which the people on the sea-coast live. All along the Bosphorus we saw them drawing their nets. But we were told that not a single fish could be sold until the whole were taken down to Constantinople, a distance of some miles, and the government had taken its share, and then the rest could be brought back again.

Another great source of wealth to Turkey – or which might prove so – is its mines. The country is very rich in mineral resources. If it were only farmed out to English or Welsh miners, they would bring treasures out of the earth. The hills would be found to be of brass, and the mountains of iron. But the Turkish government does nothing. It keeps a few men at work, just enough to scratch the surface here and there, but leaving the vast wealth that is in the bowels of the earth untouched.

And not only will it do nothing itself, but it will not allow anybody else to do anything. Never did a great government play more completely the part of the dog in the manger. For years English capitalists have been trying to get permission to work certain mines, offering to pay millions of pounds for the concession. If once opportunity were given, and they were sure of protection, that their property would not be confiscated, English wealth would flow into Turkey in a constant stream. But on the contrary the government puts every obstacle in their way. With the bigotry and stupidity of its race, it is intensely jealous of foreigners, even while it exists only by foreign protection – and its policy is, not only not one of progress – it is absolutely one of obstruction. If it would only get out of the way and let foreign enterprise and capital come in, it might reap the benefit. But it opposes everything. Only a few days since a meeting was held here of foreign capitalists, who were ready and anxious to put their money into Turkish mines to an almost unlimited extent, but they all declared that the restrictions were so many, and the requirements so complicated and vexatious, and so evidently intended to prevent anything being done, that it was quite hopeless to attempt it.

But, although this is very bad political economy, yet it is not in itself alone a reason why a nation should be given up as beyond saving, if it were capable of learning wisdom by experience. Merely getting in debt, though it is always a bad business, is not in itself a sign of hopeless decay. Many a young and vigorous state has at the beginning spent all its substance, like the prodigal son, in riotous living, but after "sowing its wild oats," has learned wisdom by experience, and settled down to a course of hard labor, and so come up again. But Turkey is the prodigal son without his repentance. It is continually wasting its substance, and, although it may have now and then fitful spasms of repentance as it feels the pangs of hunger, it gives not one sign of a change of heart, a real internal reform, and a return to a clean, pure, healthy and wholesome life.

Is there any hope of anything better? Not the least. Just now there is some feeling in official circles of the degradation and weakness shown in the late bankruptcy, and there are loud professions that they are going to "reform." But everybody who has lived in Turkey knows what these professions mean. It is a little spasm of virtue, which will soon be forgotten. The Sultan may not indeed throw away money quite so recklessly as before, but only because he cannot get it. He is at the end of his rope. His credit is gone in all the markets of Europe, and nobody will lend him a dollar. Yet he is at this very moment building a mosque that is to cost two millions sterling, and if there were the least let-up in the pressure on him, he would resume the same course of folly and extravagance as ever. No one is so lavish with money as the man who does not pretend to pay his debts. He cannot change his nature. "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?" The Turk, like the Pope, never changes. It is constitutionally impossible for him to reform, or to "go ahead" in anything. His ideas are against it; his very physical habits are against it. A man who is always squatting on his legs, and smoking a long pipe, cannot run very fast; and the only thing for him to do, when the pressure of modern civilization becomes too great for him, is to "bundle up" and get out of the way.

Thus there is in Turkey not a single element of hope; there is no internal force which may be a cause of political regeneration. It is as impossible to infuse life into this moribund state as it would be to raise the dead. I have met a great many Europeans in Constantinople – some of whom have lived here ten, twenty, thirty, or even forty years – and have not found one who did not consider the condition of Turkey absolutely hopeless, and its disappearance from the map of Europe only a question of time.

But if for purely economical reasons Turkey has to be given up as utterly rotten and going to decay, how much darker does the picture appear when we consider the tyranny and corruption, the impossibility of obtaining justice, and the oppression of the Christian populations. A horde of officials is quartered on the country, that eat out the substance of the land, and set no bounds to their rapacity; who plunder the people so that they are reduced to the extreme point of misery. The taxation is so heavy that it drains the very life-blood out of a poor and wretched people – and this is often aggravated by the most wanton oppression and cruelty. Such stories have moved, as they justly may, the indignation of Europe.

Such is the present state of Turkey – universal corruption and oppression, and things going all the time from bad to worse.

And yet this wretched Government rules over the fairest portion of the globe. The Turkish Empire is territorially the finest in the world. Half in Europe and half in Asia, it extends over many degrees of latitude and longitude, including many countries and many climates, "spanning the vast arch from Bagdad to Belgrade."

Can such things continue, and such a power be allowed to hold the fairest portion of the earth's surface, for all time to come?

It seems impossible. The position of Turkey is certainly an anomaly. It is an Asiatic power planted in Europe. It is a Mohammedan power ruling over millions of Christians. It is a government of Turks – that is of Tartars – over men of a better race as well as a purer religion. It is a government of a minority over a majority. The Mohammedans, the ruling caste, are only about one-quarter of the population of European Turkey – some estimates make it much less, but where there is no accurate census, it must be a matter of conjecture. It is a power occupying the finest situation in the world, where two continents touch, and two great seas mingle their waters, yet sitting there on the Bosphorus only to hold the gates of Europe and Asia, and oppose a fixed and immovable barrier to the progress of the nations.

What then shall be done with the Grand Turk? The feeling is becoming universal that he must be driven out of Europe, back into Asia from which he came. This would solve the Eastern Question in part, but only in part, for after he is gone what power is to take his place?

The solution would be comparatively easy, if there were any independent State near at hand to succeed to the vacant sceptre. When a rich man dies, there are always plenty of heirs ready to step in and take possession of the property. The Greeks would willingly transfer their capital from Athena to Constantinople. The Armenians think themselves numerous enough to form a State, but the Greeks and the Armenians hate each other more even than their common oppressor. Russia has not a doubt on the subject, that she is the proper and rightful heir to the throne of the Sultan. The possession of European Turkey would just "round out" her territory, so that her Empire should be bounded only by the seas – the Baltic and the White Sea on the North, and the Black Sea and the Mediterranean on the South. But that is just the solution of the question which all the rest of Europe is determined to prevent. Austria, driven out of Germany, thinks it would be highly proper that she should be indemnified by an addition to her territory on the south; while the Danubian principalities, Moldavia and Wallachia (now united under the title of Roumania) and Servia, which are taking their first lessons in independence, think that they will soon be sufficiently educated in the difficult art of government to take possession of the whole Ottoman Empire. Among so many rival claimants who shall decide? Perhaps if it were put to vote, they would all prefer to remain under the Turk, rather than that the coveted prize should go to a rival.

Herein lies the difficulty of the Eastern Question, which no European statesman is wise enough to resolve. There is still another solution possible: that Turkey should be divided as Poland was, giving a province or two on the Danube to Austria; and another on the Black Sea to Russia; and Syria to Egypt; while the Sultan took up his residence in Asia Minor; and making Constantinople a free city (as Hamburg was), under the protection of all Europe, which should hold the position simply to protect the passage of the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles, and thus keep open the Black Sea to the commerce of the world.

But however these remoter questions may perplex the minds of statesmen, they cannot prevent, nor long delay, the first necessity, viz., that the Turk should retire from Europe. It cannot be permitted in the interests of civilization, that a half-barbarous power should keep forever the finest position in the world, the point of contact between Europe and Asia, only to be a barrier between them – an obstacle to commerce and to civilization. This obstruction must be removed. The Turks themselves may remain, but they will no longer be the governing race, but subject, like other races, to whatever power may succeed; the Sultan may transfer his capital to Brousa, the ancient capital of the Ottoman Empire; but Turkey will thenceforth be wholly an Asiatic, and no longer an European power.

And this will be the end of a dominion that for centuries was the terror of Europe. It is four hundred and twenty years since the Turks crossed the Bosphorus and took Constantinople. Since then they have risen to such power that at one time they threatened to overrun Europe. It is not two hundred years since they laid siege to Vienna. But within two centuries Turkey has greatly declined. The rise of a colossal power in the North has completely overshadowed her, till now she is kept from becoming the easy prey of Russia only by the protection of those Christian powers to which the Turk was once, like Attila, the Scourge of God.

From the moment that the Turks ceased to conquer, they began to decline. They came into Europe as a race of warriors, and have never made any progress except by the sword. And so they have really never taken root as one of the family of civilized nations, but have always lived as in a camp, a vast Asiatic horde, that, while conquering civilized countries, retained the habits and instincts of nomadic tribes, that were only living in tents, and might at any time recross the Bosphorus and return to their native deserts.

That their exodus is approaching, is felt by the more sagacious Turks themselves. The government is taking every precaution against its overthrow. Dreading the least popular movement, it does not dare to trust its Christian populations. It will not permit them to bear arms, lest the weapons might be turned against itself. No one but a Mohammedan is allowed to enter the army. There may be some European officers left from the time of the Crimean war, whose services are too valuable to be spared, but in the ranks not a man is received who is not a "true believer." This conscription weighs very heavily on the Mussulmans, who are but a small minority in European Turkey, and who are thus decimated from year to year. It is a terrible blood-tax which they have to pay as the price of continued dominion. But even this the government is willing to pay rather than that arms should be in the hands of those who, as the subject races, are their traditional enemies, and who, in the event of what might become a religious war, would turn upon them, and seek a bloody revenge for ages of oppression and cruelty.

Seeing these things, many even of the Turks themselves anticipate their speedy departure from the Promised Land which they have so long occupied, and are beginning to set their houses in order for it. Aged Turks in dying often leave this last request, that they may be buried at Scutari, on the other side of the Bosphorus, so that if their people are driven across into Asia, their bodies at least may rest in peace under the cypress groves which darken the Asiatic shore.

With such fears and forebodings on one side, and such hopes and expectations on the other, we leave this Eastern Question just where we found it. Anybody can state it; nobody can resolve it. It is the great political problem in Europe at this hour, which no statesman, however sagacious – not Bismarck, nor Thiers, nor Andrassy, nor Gortchakoff – has yet been able to resolve. But man proposes and God disposes. This is one of those mysteries of the future which Divine intelligence alone can penetrate, and Divine Providence alone can reveal. We must not assume to be over-wise – although there are some signs which we see clearly written on the face of the sky – but "watch and wait," which we do in the full confidence that we shall not have to wait long, but that the curtain will rise on great events in the East before the close of the present century.