THE REAL SULTAN.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1247, 23 January 1896, Page 13

THE REAL SULTAN.

One would like to know what is the real truth about that much-slanged potentate, the Sultan of Turkey. Is he the lazy, cruel, incompetent sensualist painted by the friends of Armenia, or a victim to circumstances, fighting to the best of his ability against a hopelessly corrupt system, the legacy of, his predecessors. Certainly if Mr Richard Davey’s portraits of the Commander of the Faithful, are accurate, there would be little to find fault with in Abdul Hamed’s private life. He limns him, you remember, as a hard-working, elderly gentleman of simple tastes, to whom indolence and luxury are alike unknown, in whose existence no pageant, no banquet, no parade find a part, and who devotes very little attention indeed to his

harem. r .. ; This view of the Caleph’s character is now confirmed by “ One of his Admirers ” in the Westminster Gazette, who describes as follows a day in Abdul Hamed’s life : At dawn his Majesty rises from a pile of rugs and cushions thrown on to a mattress on the floor, where he spends the night. In ancient days an astronomer would watch the stars in order to discover the auspicious moment for the Sultan to leave his couch. The first hour of his day—and this hour is a long one —Abdul Hamed devotes to ablutions prescribed by the Koran and to prayer. Then follows a light meal of black coffee, biscuits, and a handful of dates, partaken in solitude. Rarely, if ever, does anyone see the Sultan in the act of eating; over those State banquets to which he often invites the foreign ambassadors or distinguished visitors from the West, he merely presides, watching carefully to see that the wants of his guests are fulfilled, but partaking of nothing himself. Then follow several hours of uninterrupted and assiduous labour. The Sultan signs no document until he has mastered its contents, and this alone to many would be the occupation of half a day, but his Majesty is a quick and experienced worker, and he runs through his despatches as rapidly as we should peruse a morning paper, while the comments he makes on them to his Ministers, prove that the survey was no mere form. Translated extracts from foreign papers are next laid before him, and these his Majesty studies with deep interest. Much of the early-morning work is performed entirely alone, though secretaries await their orders in the adjoining room, being summoned into the presence by a clapping of the Imperial hands. At noon the papers are set aside for an hour, during which the Sultan drives through his park, or is rowed on the lake within its walls. He seldom moves about on foot, preferring to spend his moments of iecreation in that absolute quiet which he calls his Kief. He is usually accompanied by his Chamberlain, but a word is rarely exchanged between the two; the dreamy, half-closed eyes of the monarch are fixed languidly on the scene around , him, while the eternal cigarette between his thin and well-cut lips affords him all the entertainment he requires. The Sultan is the ipost persistent worshipper of the Weed in Europe : unless when at his orisons, he never ceases to Smoke, and he often interrupts his dinner by lighting a cigarette between the courses.

The hour over, a magic change takes place in the Imperial countenance, Oriental apathy fades, and the truly Western energy which lies beneath it comes to the fore. Solitude is done with for the time, and intercourse with the outer world is to be resumed. The first to obtain audience are the Ministers of State, who are come to report progress on various matters; then follow those who have petitions to prefer. "No one ever comes near me unless be wants me to do something for him," remarked his Majesty, somewhat pathetically, on one occasion.

Various religious functionaries next present themselves —muftis, imams, and so on. Perhaps the Scheikh-ul-Islam himself may ask admittance. After that his Majesty tackles the representatives of the Foreign Powers —'a mysterious race of men, to understand whom is the great endeavour of his life. He must sometimes wish sincerely that the custom by which his predecessors imprisoned refractory Ambassadors in/the Seven Towers had not fallen

into abeyance. Next creep in, one by one, \ those who for courtesy’s sake we will call ; the Agents of the Secret Police. This one reports that he discovered some official • paying a call in his private capacity to an I attache of the Russian Embassy. That | one states that an Armenian has been J stabbed by one of his own compatriots, i and that it is proposed to lay the crime at the door of a son of Osman. A third wliispers that a well-known young bey spends most of his leisure hours at the ] reunions of a certain fascinating hostess of the Jewish pei'suasion, and so on; for nothing must be hidden from this Imperial Know-All. When the door closes behind the last visitor, the Sultan passes into the garden by the small private door, of which he alone makes use, and once again enjoys an hour in the open. At the dinners which he gives from time to time European ladies ai-e often present, and he treats them with a chivalrous courtesy, on which they never fail to comment favourably on their departure.

Sometimes his kindliness takes a more substantial form, and he bestows on his fair guests clusters of diamonds for the hair, or bracelets which he asks permission to himself clasp on the slender wrist.

On the evenings when the Sultan does not receive, he retires at eight o’clock into the harem. Here he will spend hours in playing with his children, to whom he is devoted. His elder daughters sing and dance for him, and he will hold long intimate conversations with his fostermother, to whom he is devoted, and on whom the distinguished title of Valideh Sultan has been bestowed. I have said that the Sultan is often on terms of apparent intimacy with Europeans. However pleasant and friendly this intercommunication may be, the representatives of the two races nevertheless remain poles apart, as the following anecdote will show. The Grand Duchess of , to whom he had complained that his health was not good, said to him : “ Why, Sire, do you not take more exercise ? Why not drive through your beautiful forest of Belgrade, or go in your kaik to the Marmora or the Black Seaf”

“ Why should this woman desire my death ?” the Sultan is reported to have said sombrely, when repeating this conversation later on ; “ What harm have I done her that she should advise me to run into such dangers ?”