OH! MY SULTAN, WE APOLOGIZE!
The eyes of the deposed Sultan aimlessly wandered, once again lost in thought. It was as if he had existed in a different time and place. The excruciating years had forced him to his knees, his eyes had deeply receded into their sockets, his beard had turned white and his cheekbones had become pronounced. Even so, he was still awe-inspiring, with big hazel eyes, large high forehead and wide shoulders; his curved nose proved that he was the grandson of the great Fatih Sultan Mehmed Han.
The elderly Sultan kissed the holy Quran three times, pressed it upon his forehead and placed it in the elegant cabinet, which he had built with his own hands. After kneeling down to collect his prayer rug with appropriate respect, he took his amber rosary from his pocket, sat on the edge of the divan and leaned toward the window. It could not be said that this secluded room, located on the backside of Beylerbeyi Palace, had a worthy view. What's more, what could be seen this late at night? He was familiar with the yard, which he had been watching over from his window for five years. The flowers had been neglected and the branches of the maple trees were bare and wet. The stirring shadows carried him to his memories. Yes, after the amazingly active sovereignty years had passed, the life of exile began and seemed to never come to an end. Eight years had passed since he was dethroned. He stayed in Villa Allatini in Salonica for three long years, and was thereafter sent to Beylerbeyi Palace. Now he resided in the humble room in which his goodhearted mother Tir-i Mujgan Sultana had lived and died.
During the 30 years that the administration was under his sole command, he maintained rule over an entire area of nearly 7,300,000 square kilometers of imperial lands. The people had lived in peace, contentment and abundance.
The tired Sultan relived the early days in which he had ascended the throne. Infiltration of the greedy admirers of the West, puppets of the Westerners, to state positions, began in the time of his father, Sultan Abdulmejid Han. In the time of his uncle, Sultan Abdulaziz Han, these upstarts thoroughly took the bit from between their teeth and at last, let the matter reach its apex with the dethroning of the Sultan and his murder by slitting his wrists.
At one point, his body shuddered. O my lofty Allah! What an eccentricity it was? How could it be that those who had been educated by means of opportunities provided by the state, be an instrument to the ones who were trying to destroy the state? When ambition for position, wealth and property came together with ignorance, they could not see the real goal of the enemies.
Spirit of the Age
The Sultan took a deep breath, leaned back and turned his gaze from the window. Each age has its own special conditions and "spirit". Often one is compelled by outside influences. So too, out of necessity of the "spirit" of those days, he had no alternative but to appoint Midhat Pasha as sadrazam[2], a co-conspirator in the assassination of his uncle. He did not desire such a move, but the people's expectations were in this direction. The 93 War[3] was a heart-wrenching disaster. He had staunchly resisted entering the war; clandestine planning of which had been prepared by Midhat Pasha. However, he had not enough power to avoid confrontation. A war had been entered into that could have been prevented, by only leaving one of the kazas[4] of the sanjak of Hersek known as Niksic to Montenegro; due to the ambitions a few ignorant statesmen, 240, 000 square kilometers of motherland soil had been lost, including Romania, Serbia and Montenegro.
The Sultan’s eyes clouded... He had struggled with all his power to protect his nation from war, because the toils of war carry as heavy a price in victory as those struggles that end in defeat. During his 30-year reign, only “The Greek War” had occurred, and that war lasted only 32 days. The Greek army had been utterly destroyed, having been forced back to the gates of Athens and they acceded to peace upon the request of Russia. During his rule he had schools, hospitals, roads and fountains constructed in each province. He had numerous books published about science and literature and conveyed these to even the most remote villages. Though they reached such peace and prosperity for such a length of time, they were unable to achieve the level of development of western countries. But the youth of his nation had now missed this chance. Explain then, how could he avoid from suffering so greatly...
They had not seen what red really was…
The old Sultan stirred uneasily. He rubbed his lethargic knees. The ingrates had grown up, having obtained their education in the very schools that he had opened, and they have the audacity to slander him by saying “enemy of wisdom and knowledge”. “No! No!” he muttered to himself, “I do not fear well educated men!” But he had always been reluctant in front of those ignorant people who suppose themselves to be scholars, and had suffered so much from them. He never held respect for those who bemused themselves with the intention to imitate the appearance, customs, dancing anddrinking alcoholic beverages like foreigners, instead of longing for their schools and laboratories. Could a sultan, who had for so many years struggled so hard to assure that a school was in every single village, have ever been an enemy of knowledge?
As he contemplated the suffering of his country, spasms to his jaw muscles started and his face was darkening. “They thought that I was ‘apprehensive’. No! I was only being “wary”. That’s it. Those who had considered it wise to choose head and local officials that were Christian, just because half of the local population of those towns were non-Muslim, thought that it was a necessity of justice, and were foolish enough not to be able to fathom the reasons for a vast continent like India not being represented in British Parliament. They had wanted to express these harmful opinions in newspapers, and to cause disorder within the country. I was not allowing them do so. In this case, their strategy was to accuse me of being “cruel”. They had become perplexed by the French Revolution, and without even being aware of the reasons for the rebellion and the results of it, had assumed that it would be patriotism to incite their own people to rebellion. They were behaving like the enemies of my country, and they were labeling me as ‘The Red Sultan.’”
Unity and Progress Party
When his index finger touched the lead bead he looked at his rosary. Then he shut his eyes again, his lips stirred. The Unity and Progress Party had once again appeared, and misled the young army officers in Salonica by promising money and position. How he had labored under sorrow when the party members had killed the commanding pasha as he was departing the telegraph office and had abducted the pasha next in command by forcibly removing him to a remote location. Though this was the case, he had without any hesitation declared the constitutionality of a second term of the monarchy, in order to prevent mischief from getting out of control. When the Ottoman Parliament had reconvened, the power of administration had been taken out of his hands after 30-odd years of service. But the fact of the matter was, they were making so many mistakes that, as a consequence, Bulgaria had separated from the Ottomans Empire and Austria-Hungary had annexed Bosnia-Herzegovina. 148,000 square kilometers of land had been lost in one go, culminating at last in the outbreak of the 31 March Event.
If he had wanted, he could have wiped them all out
The Unity and Progress Party had sent the Bulgarian, Serbian, Greek and Albanian looters, who had gathered in Salonica to Istanbul. His commanders had requested permission to disperse that jerrybuilt force called “Action Army”, which could have been accomplished in five to ten minutes by means of the First Army. But he was not only the Padishah he was also the Caliph. He had never shed blood for 30-odd years; he was not about to start shedding blood after this age either. He proclaimed that he would not have Muslims destroyed by Muslims; he had surrendered himself to Allah’s will. Moreover, he had his generals swear not to resist the armed band of irregulars. However, the looters spread terror in Istanbul for 11 days and murdered a great many innocent people.
Talat Bey, who had been promoted to the Ministry of the Interior from the position of telegraph officer, had full control over Parliament as head of the Unity and Progress Party. Though a great many members of Parliament and the Senate had been in hesitation, he had forced them to make the decision to dethrone the Sultan by the use of threats. The Sultan could have endured all this, had the 275 members of Parliament not appointed two non-Muslims, a Jew and an Armenian, to the four-member delegation that was chosen to declare the decision to him.
Blatant stupidity
The elderly Sultan straightened slightly. While he was exhaling, he recited “La hawla...” While he was confined in Villa Allatini, the Empire had fought against the Italians, ultimately surrendering 1,200,000 square kilometers of the province of Tripoli and the sanjak of Benghazi to them. Due to the incompetence of the government, four small Balkan states, Bulgaria, Greece, Serbia and Montenegro had come to an agreement and had started a war against the huge empire. The provinces of Salonica, Monastir, Kosovo, Shkoder, Iannina, Crete, two sanjaks from the province of Edirne and Sesame Island had been lost. Just prior to the surrendering of the city of Salonica they had taken him from Villa Allatini.
While trying to understand what was going on in the cabin of the embassy ship Lorelei, which was sent by the German Emperor, the captain of the ship came to him and said “His Majesty our Emperor pays you his personal regards. The ship is at your service. Where would Your Majesty like to go? It was kind, but where could a member of the Ottoman dynasty have gone except a place where his flag sways?
His last 5 years were passed in Beylerbeyi Palace, with catastrophic news following one after another. The majority of the members of the Unity and Progress Party and even the Sheikhulislam[5] were mason. The country had become a land of death sentences and assassinations. The tyrants had sprung up in every province; safety of life, property and honor was non-existent. The people yearned for the tranquility and prosperity of his time. They yearned for it, but it was too late to do anything about it.
The unrelenting self-accountability
He called himself to account for 76 years of his life and 30 years of his sovereignty, during each day and night that he was imprisoned. His most evident fault -if it is a fault- was having had mercy even on his enemies and his sensitivity within the extent of his passion concerning the avoidance to shed blood.
First he looked at his pocket watch, and then spread his prayer rug. The azan[6], echoing over the skies of the capital Istanbul for 465 years, pierced the silence of the night one more time. The hazel eyes of the tired Sultan oriented from the past towards the future. What is the thing called time? 84 years passed so rapidly; the years of the 2000’s were about to come round…
- Where are you from, my dear son?
- My grandfather had been born in the Babek village of the kaza of Razlog of the sanjak of Serres of the province Salonica, during your time, my Majesty.
- You look as though you are educated?
- My Majesty, I graduated from Bursa Boys’ High School, one of the Sultani High Schools you had had built in all of the province centers, I also attended Istanbul Technical University, which you had opened as Mekteb-i Shahane-i Hendese-i Mulkiye. Do you know that the microscopes, which we had been using, were stamped with your tugra?
- I remember you. You frequently recite Fatiha for my soul.
- How they had saddened you, my Majesty; how much you suffer! Please forgive us!
- We even forgave those who betrayed us, my son. Beware! Do not loose your identity by being deceived by the gleaming words of enemies. Do not be duped.
- I will do as you wish, my Majesty! All right my Majesty! As you order, my Majesty! Do not withhold your blessings from these your ungrateful sons, my Majesty! Would you allow me to kiss your hand, my Majesty?
The young man woke up with a jolt. There was a book about Sultan Abdulhamid Han the Second still clutched in his hand. He had dozed off on the couch and his body had stiffened. He performed an ablution then went out. When he arrived at Cemberlitash[7], it was nearly deserted and quiet; the streets were engulfed by freezing weather.
Though so many years had passed since the death of his Majesty, it was as if he could hear the compassionate breathing of the lofty Sultan. No! It was not as if he could hear the breathing, he was hearing it.
The nightlife of that late hour, taxi drivers, drug addicts and the homeless, passed him by. Many stopped and grimaced at the youngster, who was crying with great sobs in front of the tomb. “Ah, is he crazy,” they said, “Is he mad?”
[1] Written by Ibrahim Pakkan (Pazan) and published in the Feb. 9, 2002 issue of the Turkish newspaper “Turkiye” for the commemoration of the 84th anniversary of death of Sultan Abdulhamid Han the Second. The English translation was reviewed and corrected by Abdullah Ismet.
This article is the English translation of the article appeared on Turkiye daily on February 9th, 2002.