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policy so effectively and so thoroughly as Germany, and nowhere so successfully as in Turkey. All the most important German Banks had their branches at Constantinople; and immediately after the Emperor's journey to Palestine the Deutsche-Palestina Bank was established with branches at Jerusalem, Jaffa and Haifa. Then came the Deutsche Orient Bank, a far more important institution, with its headquarters at Constantinople and branches in all the chief cities of the Ottoman Empire, as well as in Egypt and in Persia. Nor was Germany content to push her own Banks. Directly or indirectly, her influence permeated even the older cosmopolitan institutions, such as the Imperial Ottoman Bank, which had been hitherto controlled by British or French financiers.
*Peaceful penetration' was pushed in every direction. The German flag was shown, not only in the Mediterranean but in the Black Sea, by German shipping companies enjoying heavy subsidies from the State. The Deutsche Levante Line was specially created for the purpose, while the Nord-Deutscher Lloyd and the HamburgAmerika Line were encouraged to graft services to the Mediterranean on to their great Trans-Atlantic services. In 1906 the Hamburg-Amerika even extended its operations to the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf. A German Cable Company was formed to bring Germany into independent telegraphic communication with Turkey, and obtained in 1898 a concession for the laying of a cable between the Rumanian port of Costanza and Constantinople, with a view to future extension into Asia Minor and Mesopotamia. When wireless telegraphy began to take practical form, the Germans were the first in the field with concessions for wireless lines between Constantinople and Syria, and between the Turkish islands in the Mediterranean and the main land. German schools, German scientific expeditions, German missions contributed at the same time to the diffusion of German culture, while German control of the Turkish military administration was so tightened up, after its value had been proved in the campaign against Greece, that William II was already learning to rely upon the Turkish army as a subordinate wing of the German army in the event of a great European conflict.
Abdul Hamid, on the other hand, could survey with legitimate pride the growth of the Pan-Islamic idea, to which his pact with Germany had left him free to devote his untiring energies. Beyond the frontiers of his Empire a new spirit was unquestionably stirring the Mahomedan world. He had taught the Faithful in fardistant lands, and not least in India, to turn their eyes towards Turkey as the one great Power that still kept the flag of Islam flying. His name figured in their prayers as the Vicegerent of the Prophet; and they yielded to him as Khalif a measure of spiritual allegiance which, though not incompatible with the loyalty they owed to their own temporal rulers, tended to unsettle it. The Fakir's prophecy was in process of fulfilment. For a very long time past no Ottoman Sultan had bulked so large in the imagination of the Mahomedan East as a true Prince of the Faithful.'
Admirably, however, as in many directions the pact between William II and Abdul Hamid worked for both of them during nearly two decades, the impunity which it assured to the baser methods of Hamidianism brought it ultimately to ruin. When Abdul Hamid began to extend to European Turkey the ruthless methods which he had successfully employed in Asiatic Turkey, the Macedonian populations, more fortunate than the Armenians, possessed, in the small Balkan States, neighbours and kinsmen to whom they could confidently appeal. A Macedonian rising in 1903 threatened to bring on Bulgarian intervention; and, in view of complications fraught with such serious danger to the peace of Europe, the Great Powers could no longer remain absolutely quiescent. Great Britain was, as usual, foremost in recommending strong concerted action; and though Austria, under the restraining influence of Berlin, and Russia, on the eve of a conflict with Japan in the Far East, combined to take the wind out of Lord Lansdowne's sails, even the Mürzsteg Agreement imposed some restraint upon Turkey. A few years later, when Great Britain and Russia were drawing together, Sir Edward Grey was able to substitute for Austro-Russian control in Macedonia a far more effective scheme of international control, which, though repugnant to Austria as well as to Germany, Abdul Hamid was fain to accept. It was a
bitter pill for him; and the taste was not removed when at the end of 1907 Austria, having altogether parted company with Russia, demanded, with the support of Germany, from Turkey a concession for the construction of the Novi-Bazar Railway, which, according to Count von Aehrenthal, was to constitute a new and important route from Central Europe to Egypt and India,' and in the mean time bring Austria down to Salonica.
Did Abdul Hamid begin to realise that William II's friendship was, after all, rather costly and disappointing? Germany had so far as possible held aloof from the Macedonian reforms, but she had failed to avert them, just as she had failed in 1906 to avert the stern measures by which Great Britain had compelled the Sultan to withdraw his troops from Egyptian territory, and to renounce a demonstration against the British position in Egypt, which Germany herself had at first encouraged and perhaps even instigated. The methods of Hamidianism were, moreover, gradually arousing all Turkey widespread discontent, which was by no means confined to the subject races. The despotism of Yeldiz Kiosk brooked no opposition; and there was scarcely an important town in the distant provinces of the Empire in which batches of deportees, suspected of conspiring against Hamidianism or even merely of entertaining Liberal opinions, formed in their turn centres of disaffection. While in other parts of the Mahomedan world Abdul Hamid still posed as the champion of Islam, there were plenty of Mahomedans in Turkey itself who, in conversation with European friends, would frankly express their regret that the concert of Europe did not take account of the sufferings of the Mahomedan as well as of the Christian populations of the Empire.
Abdul Hamid himself was growing old; and during the last two or three years of his reign a painful internal complaint enfeebled his will-power and compelled him to leave a much freer hand to the unscrupulous agents whom he had used for his own purposes and who now used him for theirs. The army, gradually estranged by arbitrary favouritism, resented the establishment of international control in Macedonia as the precursor of the further dismemberment of the Empire. It was in Macedonia that the malcontents first raised the standard
of open revolt; and the revolt soon grew into a revolution, none the less formidable because it was peaceful. As a first step Abdul Hamid was compelled to restore the Turkish Constitution. From that moment (June 1908), though he was not actually deposed till the following year, he ceased in fact to reign; and his power passed into the hands of the revolutionary Committee of Union and Progress.
German influence had been so closely bound up with Hamidianism that it seemed at first as if the downfall of Abdul Hamid must involve that of German ascendancy. During the brief 'Constitutional' honeymoon when Mahomedans and Christians fraternised throughout the Empire, and equal rights and equal liberties were promised to all races and creeds, the name of the German Emperor was almost as much execrated as that of Abdul Hamid himself; nor was the feeling against him lessened when his Austrian ally made the Turkish revolution an excuse for abruptly proceeding to the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, while Bulgaria, whom the Germanic Powers were playing off against Serbia, repudiated at the same moment the nominal sovereignty which had until then vested in the Sultan. Germany remained so far as possible in the background until the Dual Monarchy agreed to a settlement more or less acceptable to Turkey. In Baron von Marschall she had had for a long time past in Constantinople an Ambassador of rare ability and experience, who knew that he could afford to wait. For Germany's material hold upon Turkey was far too strong to be shaken by a mere shallow wave of sentimental liberalism. Nor did he have to wait long. The first Constitutional Cabinet, under the veteran statesman Kiamil Pasha, and the first Turkish Parliament openly distrusted Germany and leant towards the Western Powers. But the latter merely opposed paper protests to Austria's high-handed action; and Germany's 'shining armour,' which in 1909 compelled Russia to abandon the cause of her Serbian protégés, dazzled the eyes of the military element which, with the men of Salonica, had from the beginning supplied the real driving force in the Committee of Union and Progress. With the fall of Kiamil, who had been made to bear the chief odium of the humiliation which Austria had inflicted upon Turkey, the Committee became, and henceforth remained, the real if occult Government of Turkey; and Germany pulled as many strings in the Committee as she had formerly pulled at Yeldiz.
The military party, consisting largely of officers educated in and devoted to Germany, dominated the Committee in conjunction with the men from Salonica, the real birth-place of the revolution-men who for the most part belonged to the peculiar community of Deunmehs or crypto-Jews, which had had its headquarters for centuries in that city. Mahomedans in name, they still preserved the traditions if not the rites of their Jewish ancestry, and like almost all Jews in Turkey were quite indifferent to forms of misgovernment which had always afforded them congenial opportunities of dubious profit. They had no sympathy with the subject races, who, in so far as they were Christian, stood in their eyes for the creed which had driven their forebears to take refuge under the more tolerant rule of the Ottoman Sultans. Their influence in the Committee was constantly exerted against the policy of reforms which had been promised in Macedonia, as in other parts of the Empire, in the first blush of the revolution. They posed as good Ottomans'; and, under their inspiration, the military party set its face more and more against any concessions involving a recognition of the principle of nationalities within the Empire. Young Turkey and Pan-Islamism were, it is true, almost a contradiction in terms, Abdul Hamid had restored the temporal power of the Sultanate before attempting to revive the spiritual authority of the Khalifate. The revolution had reduced both to their former impotence. The Committee, comprising many freethinkers and Jacobins, who professed almost publicly the same contempt for the Mahomedan as for every other form of religion, could not therefore openly revert to Abdul Hamid's policy of Mahomedan ascendancy, but it pursued the same purpose by restoring in practice the ascendancy of the ruling Turk. The promises of equal rights and liberties were not withdrawn, but to claim their fulfilment the subject races were to become good
Ottomans,' and therefore to surrender, if not their creed, at least their language, their traditions and their national aspirations. To this end the worst methods of the old