THE STORY OF SULTAN MURAD V.

Otago Witness, Issue 2646, 30 November 1904, Page 77

THE STORY OF SULTAN MURAD V.

Twenty-eight years in captivity! A dreary fate for any man, and fitter to belong to the Middle Ages ralhc-r than to present day Europe. But this is what fc'ultan Murad V, who died on August 30, has had to endure. Murad — or,° as his name is more properly written, Amurath— was raised to the Throne by the Palace con spiracy of .1876, which cost Sultan Abdul Aziz not only his Thi-oue, but his Jife. Years of misrule hod then culminated in a state of things difficult for a Western mind co conceive. Micbat PuSha, a vigorous and an unscrupulous statesman, was the moving spirit in the conspiracy which succeeded in. removing the tyrant, "Abdul Aziz, and elevating his nephew, Murad, to supreme power. It was summer time, and the city of Constantinople seemed hfished as if under a tpell. Martial law had been pioclaimed ; the streets were swept every now and again by squadrons of cavalry; the mosques were thronged with bawilde'rod worshippers, who could scarcely comprehend hew the sun was still iv the sky, since their Sovereign Lord and Master, the representative of the Most Holy Prophet of God, was a prisoner. The waves of the Bosphorus chafed against the -wide marble step's of the Dolma fta-ghtche Palace, flowing swiftly southward, as that current doe.?, eternally. A flood of roses covered the trellis "in the gardens, and cool-scented airs stirred the hangings in. the Imperial apartments. The ladies of the harem herded together like startled bheep. What was about to happen? Would this man, Midhat, with his *alk of reform, and of liberty, be able to keep the country from being overwhelmed in blood and anarchy? The Sultan was alone in his private cabinet. Guards stood at his dcor, and! guards kept the gates, and the very terraces and loggias. The Princesses Feride and Adile, the nearest relatives of Abdul Aziz, were making a. pretence of needlework as they safe in a room adjoining the Sultan's study. Suddenly the door opened, and the dark haggard faes of the deposed Sovereign appeared. "I need scissors to trim my beard," he said, taking the dainty jewelled toy from the worktable. He went back to his room, and all was silent again. The next day it was reported that bis Majesty Abdul Aziz hed cued suddenly, and that his nephew, Murad Khan, was Sultan in his room. Midhat Pasha soon found £hat his new master was moie intolerable than the old. Murad was not only overbearing, but seaned possessed by the very spirit of evil. He was insane, so they all agreed, and the

council which dominated the palace ard hotel the reins openly asserted the fact. ' it Murad v» ould not do their will, he must gc ;so much Wds plain. They hud learned how to manage matter*, by this time. Then; should be no nioru mistakes ; no more driving oi the Suixau to suicide — with scissor.*, or any other weapon. Su Muiud was told that he should ha-'e everything he could desire — except his liberty and his Throne. His favourite wife, a Belgian lady of extraordinary beauty, and his mother, to whom he was devoted, were allowed to live with him 111 that s<:me splendid palace of the Dolma Baghtclie. But after a while it was found to be too exposed a position for the safe custody 01 the ex-Sultan. vThe mnrble strirs were too wide ; the swift current of the Bosphorus too easily crossed. So the Imperial prisoner was removed to one of the palaces in the Yi'diz Kiosk, where rescuers could not come. His brother, the present Sultan, Abdul Humid, dwells also in the Yildiz Kiosk, for the place is in reality a large park — the size of the Villa Borghese in Home, or our own district of Hampstead Heath. It is surrourded by fortifications, and within its area are a score of different palaces, fivm one to ihe other of which th. j Sultan is continually drifting, so that should a midnight as~assin penetrate the place litcould not possibly tell in which building his Majestj- had elected to sleep. There ars pilaces for the Ministers, too, md exquisitciy-ar pointed re-sicleuces lor tho ladies of tba Caurt. There aie gardens, . gorgeous as onij* Eastern gardens can be ; •«nA Jovc-ly views across the Straits over to the vice-clad lulls of A^ki. The Yilrlii; Kiosk is ciuwardly a fairyland of delight. But withm its pale there has b>?en, for years and years, this poor prisoner, w ho had onc3 been more than a King. Abdul H 'mid, once securely seafed on his brother's Tin one. soon swept aside Midhat Pfsha and all the rest of the strong men who had lifted him- to power; and for six-and-nventy years he has reign, d, bearing the weight of that terrible crown, seeing a ppisiblo tiaitor in evevjor.e who approaches him, fearing possible poison in every crumb of bread, in cverv cup of wins. Perhaps that prisoner in the remote corner of the Yildiz grounds was roallv less unhappy than is the man who supplanted him ; and Murad, resting at last in his grave, is more to be envied than is the wearer of the Sword of Osman, his Imperial Majesty the Sultan Abdul Hamid.