B. Granville Baker

The Turkish character—The rise of Turkish power—Earliest days of Turkish history—Conquest of Persia and Egypt—Turkish soldiers of the Caliphate—Samanids’ conquests in India—The rise of the Seljuks—Arslan and his victories—Europe in the eleventh and twelfth centuries—The Crusades—Jenghiz Khan and his people—The first appearance of the Osmanli—Erthogrul—The rule of Othman—Othman and Dundar—The capture of Broussa—Death of Othman—The reign of Orkhan—The army of Ala-ed-din—Orkhan’s capture of NicÆa.

ALTHOUGH I cannot write with approval of Turkish rule and its effect on the European provinces conquered by the now blunted sword of Othman, yet I feel a certain sympathy for the Turk, as individual, in this day of his trial. Sympathy is due to a variety of influences, and I feel that in the present instance my lingering liking for the Turk is based on several grounds. First of all, perhaps, comes the fondness you cannot but feel for a wayward child and its picturesque moods, more especially as I myself was quite the “wandering sheep,” as the hymn says, when young, and am not disinclined towards an excursion off the narrow way even now. Hence a fellow feeling with the nomad Turk, who, though generally placid, is capable of being roused to fury by unseen, unknown influences; in that state, like the wayward child, he is an unmitigated nuisance. In his everyday mood the Turk is gentle and extremely courteous, the courtesy of a strong man, scion of a race of conquerors. This dignified politeness is to be met in certain parts of Spain, where conquering Moors made their impress on native Iberians and valiant Goths. Again, the nomad virtue, hospitality, is strong among the sons of Othman. I have also met fine intellects among the Turks, for instance, in one of the Princes of the Blood, a man of a refined mind, deeply read in Nietzsche, and of no mean skill with the brush. But he was only a painter; his studies from life were excellent, and some have gained admission to the Paris Salon, but creative artist he certainly was not, and the subject pictures evolved out of his inner consciousness treated of matters considered peculiarly French in tone, subconsciously erotic, and generally unhappy in treatment. But then the Turk has little, if any, constructive power, and even the finer intellects among them are apt to waste their treasures on abstract speculations, leading to no practical result; their course may be likened to that of a slender stream of water poured forth on some endless desert waste.

Another bond of sympathy is the history of the Turkish race, which should appeal strongly to every Briton, for in a manner there is much similarity between the rise of Turkish power and that of the British Empire. Wild men from the northern seas, Angles and Saxons, Danes, Vikings, Berserks, seethed into the British Isles, and, mixing with the Romanized native population, rose to greatness through much tribulation. The narrow confines of Britain forced this amalgam to conquests overseas, and thus arose the British Empire. Is there not some analogy between our rule in India and that of the Osmanli in Europe? We, in India, form a separate ruling caste, placed in power by the sword; we do not mix with the many native tribes and nations under the British Raj, many whose duty takes them to India cannot give an accurate account of these various tribes and nations; they know not their languages, their customs are strange to them, and when their work is done they return to enjoy the fruits of their labour with but an imperfect knowledge of the land that gave them what they hold and of the people who lived their mysterious life outside the compound and the courthouse. So it is with the Turk in Europe. His people overflowed from Asia on successive waves of conquest, and made subject many nations with which they have nothing, absolutely nothing, in common, and with whom, unlike the Briton, the Turk does not desire any closer acquaintanceship.

To me, as Briton, the present situation, the happenings of the last few weeks, “give furiously to think.” Here is a powerful Empire, carved out of Europe by the sword, and held by conquerors who despised their alien subjects, and failed to understand their feelings or realize their ambitions, closed their eyes in smug contentment to the portents of the time. Then came the avalanche, and young nations, hitherto disregarded as serious opponents, rose in their strength, tore themselves free, rent province after province from the weak hands of an unprepared overlord, and are now threatening the capital of the Turkish Empire. From the courtyard of the Sublime Porte, where Turkey’s devious policy has been fashioned for so long, from the square in front of the War Office, which suddenly awakened, hurried untrained troops under untrained leaders, without a definite plan, to death by shot and shell, by starvation and disease; you could hear the sound of guns carried on the westerly wind from the lines of Chatalja, the last defences of the capital, where the remnants of the Sultan’s army are standing at bay against the organized forces of young Western nations.

It is a stirring history, full of ups and downs, that of the Turkish people. As we have seen, they emerged from a seething mass of nomadic humanity which infested Central Asia, and threatened those Empires which had settled and acquired civilization, such as China, whence, by the way, come some of the earliest records of the Turks. These nomads had no other use for civilization than to acquire unearned riches; whatever seemed to them undesirable was destroyed, and to this day the Turk has not advanced much further; he frequently changes his abode, and the change is easily effected, as he has few belongings—some rugs, a text or two from the Koran, his cooking utensils. Even in his home he seems to have only dropped in for a week or so, and the curtains instead of doors to separate one apartment from another still further recall his old nomadic habits. So his ancestors roamed about in hordes over the plains of Asia. Where they met with little resistance they abode awhile, moving on when the locality had nothing more to offer, retiring elsewhere when met with determined opposition. As the tribes increased in numbers they went separate ways, some to extinction, others to form ephemeral empires such as that of the Ghaznevids in Eastern Afghanistan, in the latter days of the tenth century.

The influence of the Turks on Western Europe did not make itself felt until after the Crusades, because they had much ado to make and keep their position in Asia Minor. A short time after the Prophet’s death, his general, Khaled, “The Sword of God,” subdued the Persian Army, and gained it for his master, Caliph Abu Bekr, in whose reign Syria was conquered from the Eastern Emperor Heraclius, and Ecbatana and Damascus became Moslem towns like Mecca and Medina. Then followed a noble line of Caliphs, under whose sway Islam extended its frontiers and rolled in threatening waves towards the West. Omar’s general, Amron, added Egypt to the Empire of the Caliphs, who made Damascus their capital. Legend and history tell of those days of the Caliphs, when Arab art, literature, and science flourished under such sovereigns as Haroun-al-Raschid, the contemporary of Charlemagne, Al Mamun, in whose days Western Christianity gave birth to the Order of Benedictines when Gregory IV was Pope in the beginning and middle of the ninth century.

We have seen how the Turks came into contact with the Arabs, and were subdued by them and converted to Islam in the eighth century, and how by degrees they recovered their strength and were able to assist the Caliphate in the troubles that crowded in upon it, how fifty thousand Turkish mercenaries were taken into the service of the Caliph, and occupied much the same position as that held by the PrÆtorian Guard of Rome, the Janissaries of the Ottoman Empire, and the Mamelukes in Egypt. Turkish influence thus increased steadily, and was first marked more definitely by a dynasty called the Samanids, who seem to have considered themselves vassals of the Abbasid Caliphs. In the interests of the Caliphate the roaming Samanids pushed forward into India, conquering Delhi, Multan, and Lahore towards the end of the tenth century. Their victorious course was not checked till they reached the Ganges, and Mahmud, their chief, styled himself Sultan. It appears that he still acknowledged allegiance to the Caliphs, but his successors assumed greater independence as the power of the Caliphate waned. In the meantime another Turkish dynasty rose to notice—the Seljuks, who appeared under their leaders Thogrul and Chakir.

This bearer of a name famous in history and romance, Thogrul, son of Suleiman, accidentally drowned in the Euphrates, was, it seems, wandering about like a true nomad, accompanied by his tribesmen. He was on his way to Iconium, Konia, probably with the idea of interfering in any fight that might be in progress, when he found the troops of Kaim the Caliph flying before the hosts of Masud, the son of Mahmud of Ghazin. Thogrul espoused the losing cause, and his timely assistance turned defeat into victory, for which the Caliph was so grateful that his new ally was rewarded with the Principality of Sultan Oeni, or the Sultan’s Front, and appointed, as it were, Warden of the Marches. This happened towards the middle of the eleventh century, when the Christian world was very busy with religious differences. The Greek Church decided to break with Rome after the Council of Sutri in 1042, and was too much occupied with vexed questions of dogma to pay attention to the rise of a young race of nomads in a former province of the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, these wanderers had given their first proof of prowess, and endorsement followed when the Caliph, with solemn ceremony, handed over the temporal power to Thogrul, at Bagdad, in 1055.

Thogrul did not live long after this honour was conferred upon him, but his son Arslan followed in his footsteps, and served his spiritual master, the Caliph, with all his might. To good purpose, for he fought and subdued the Fammiti Caliphs of Egypt, schismatics who had broken from the only Caliph’s spiritual sway over a century before; he further annexed Georgia and Armenia, and defeated the Emperor of the East, Romanus IV, towards the end of the eleventh century.

The Western world was very young when these things happened; Henry IV, a Frank, ruled over Germany, William of Normandy had not long conquered England, while Malcolm III was King of Scotland; Spain was still divided into small kingdoms and Moorish provinces under the Almoravids, and the Magyars, distant relations of the Turks, were settling down in Hungary under Bela I.

Western Christianity was becoming dimly conscious of a growing power in the East, which Byzantium had felt distinctly since practically all the Asiatic provinces had been lost to the Turk, and so Western chivalry buckled on its armour, stitched a Cross on to its coat, and moved Eastward in swarms, composed of enterprising knights, mostly unacquainted with discipline, and their more or less reluctant followers; the Crusades had begun, and were chiefly directed towards the Holy Land and against the Arabs who had conquered there under the waning Ægis of the Caliphs.

Contemporary accounts, legends, and songs of troubadours tell of the Saracens and their deeds, but little mention is made of the Turks, destined to be Christianity’s most formidable foe, who, under the Seljuks, were growing to great importance, and under Melik Shah, the son of Arslan, ruled from Transoxania to Egypt and eastward as far as Khiva. Melik Shah’s kingdom fell to pieces after his death, and the power of the Turks was obscured for a time, while the former provinces of the Caliphs broke off into separate states.

Crusaders came from the West and added glamour to the pages of history without effecting any lasting results; great names shine out for a moment from the haze, names like Frederick Barbarossa, Saladin, Richard Coeur-de-Lion, but nothing definite need be mentioned about the Turks till the crusading spirit had subsided and the nations of Europe began to settle down into much the same political entities as we find to-day.

Another race of kinsmen to the Turks came like a whirlwind out of Asia, under a famous leader, Jenghiz Khan, or rather a mixture of several Mongol races. Their passage did not affect Asia Minor immediately, for they swept from China over Southern Russia towards Moravia, penetrating as far as the Adriatic; they went as swiftly as they came, but stopped short of their old hunting-grounds, and squatted by the banks of the Volga, where, known as the Golden Horde, they stayed some one and a half centuries. Sections of this horde made inroads into neighbouring countries, and one of these invaded Persia and Syria, massacred the inhabitants of Bagdad, killed the Caliph, the last of the dynasty founded by Abul Abbas in 750 A.D. The Seljuks, who held the temporal power in the Caliphate, were likewise badly defeated, and might have gone under completely had not another force appeared most opportunely, one of those wandering Turkish tribes which had a habit of turning up where fighting was going on. Their leader was another Erthogrul, and he traced his descent back to Suleiman. Legend has been busy where history is silent, and assigns to this Erthogrul the same rÔle, a Deus ex machina, as to the former bearer of that name. Authorities differ on the subject, and I fancy that the whole story is still somewhat obscure. However, Erthogrul had a son Osman, or Othman, from whom are descended the Osmanli of to-day; Othman’s long and prosperous reign laid the foundations of the Turkish Empire. His campaigns were crowned with victory, the territory of neighbouring Turkish states were incorporated in his dominions, and the Empire of the East was forced to contribute to the aggrandizement of his realm.

It appears that Othman did not declare himself independent until after the death of the last Seljuk Sultan; in the meantime, during an interval of peace—from 1291-1298—he devoted his energies to the internal government of his dominions, and became famous for the toleration which he exercised towards his Christian subjects. It will be remembered that Georgia and Armenia, both Christian countries, had been absorbed by the Caliphate, but at least under the first of the House of Othman these Christians were free from persecution.

After several years of peace, during which he consolidated the resources of his country, Othman went to war. In order to give his followers greater zest, and to inflame the fighting spirit of Islam, Othman declared himself the chosen defender of the Faith, and proclaimed that he had a direct mission from heaven. This roused in his warrior subjects a fanaticism as fierce and effective as that which had inspired Mohammed’s fiery followers on their career of conquest. His private life was not without an occasional exhibition of those barbarous instincts which have never left the Turk during all the centuries of his contact with the West and its ideas and methods. Thus one day Othman discovered that his venerable uncle, Dundar, was in agreement with several other officers attempting to dissuade him from an attempt on the Greek fortress of Koepri Hissar. Dundar had been one of those four hundred and forty-four horsemen of legend who rode under the banner of Erthogrul. Othman, annoyed at Dundar’s interference, drew his bow and shot his uncle dead. So murder of a kinsman marked the first days of the Othman dynasty.

The attempt on Koepri Hissar proved successful, and Othman went on from victory to victory. In the beginning of the fourteenth century he fought his way to the Black Sea, leaving Broussa and several other towns to be taken at leisure. But failing health was against him, and he had to leave the conquest of Broussa to Orkhan, his son, who had returned from an expedition against a Mongolian army which the Greek Emperor, unable to stem the tide of Turkish conquest, had bribed to attack the southern frontier of the Ottoman Empire. Othman was dying when the news of the capture of Broussa was brought to him. Bestowing blessings on his son, he said: “My son, I am dying, and I die without regret, because I leave such a good successor as thou. Be just, love goodness, and show mercy. Give the same protection to all thy subjects, and extend the Faith of the Prophet.” Orkhan, it seems, followed his father’s advice and carried out his instructions; subsequent Osmanli have failed to do so, and are now paying the penalty.

A splendid mausoleum built by Orkhan holds the remains of Othman, the founder of the Ottoman dynasty, at Broussa, which became the capital of Turkey until the conquest of Constantinople. The standard and scimitar of Othman are preserved as objects of veneration in the Mosque of Eyub on the Golden Horn. Here each succeeding Sultan is girt with the sword of Othman, the coronation rite, amidst the prayers of his people: “May he be as good as Othman.”

The Mosque of Eyub Here each succeeding Sultan is girded with the sword of Othman, a rite equivalent to a Christian monarch’s coronation.
The Mosque of Eyub
Here each succeeding Sultan is girded with the sword of Othman, a rite equivalent to a Christian monarch’s coronation.

Orkhan succeeded his father and continued the work of conquest, gathering in the outlying fragments of the broken Seljuk Empire. He was ably assisted by his brother, Ala-ed-din, whom he had urged to share his throne. Ala-ed-din declined, asking only the revenues of a single village for his maintenance. Then Orkhan said: “Since, brother, you will not accept the flocks and herds I offer you, be the shepherd of my people—be my Vizier.” So this high office was instituted. Ala-ed-din devoted himself to the internal politics of the nation, and using the military foundation already existent, fostered by a fighting creed, he built up the military organization which acted so well during centuries when fighting was the only business to which the Osmanli had to bend their minds. The Turks who had followed Othman to victory were the same men who had fed their flocks on the banks of the Euphrates. They formed loose squadrons of irregular cavalry, and after the war returned to their peaceful avocations. Ala-eddin, while still holding that the mass of the nation should be the source whence Ottoman troops should be drawn in time of war, saw the need of a standing army which should make war their sole business and profession, so he raised, first of all, a body of infantry called Jaza, or Piade. These were followed by a corps famous in history—the Janissaries. This corps was entirely composed of Christian children taken in battle or in sieges, and compelled to embrace the Moslem faith. A thousand recruits were added yearly to their numbers, and they were called Jeni Iskeri, or new troops, from which name derives the European corruption, Janissaries. These troops were trained in all martial exercises from their earliest youth, and were subject to the strictest discipline. They were not allowed to form any territorial connection with the land that had adopted them, their prospects of advancement depended entirely on their skill in the profession of arms, and the highest posts in that profession only were open to them. Their isolated position, and the complete community of interests which united them, prevented the degeneracy and enervation which so speedily settled upon every Eastern Empire when once the fire of conquest had died down.

Other bodies of the military organization founded by Ala-ed-din were the Spahis (Sipahi, Sepoy), a “corps-d’Élite” of specially chosen horsemen, Silihdars, or vassal cavalry, name revived in Silihdar horse of Mysore, a body of cavalry three squadrons strong, the men of which find their own horses and equipment; those raised by Ala-ed-din were drawn from vassal states, those of the Maharajah of Mysore from among the landed proprietors, farmers, and smaller landowners of his principality.

Then the Oulou Fedji, or paid horsemen, Ghoureha, or foreign horse, Azab’s Light Infantry, and the Akindji, irregular light horse. The Akindji gathered together in irregular companies, acted much as the Hussars of the eighteenth century did when first raised; they foraged for the regular troops, and swarmed round them to cover a retreat or harassed a retiring enemy. They received no pay like the Janissaries, nor lands like the Piade, and were entirely dependent on plunder. This, doubtless, accounted for their unpopularity in countries through which marched the hosts of Othman. Hussars were paid soldiers, but none the less prone to plunder, in those days of the wars between Maria Theresa and Frederick the Great. This tendency was discouraged by the Prussian King, and I remember finding in some of the records an account of three Hussars—one officer and two troopers—being hanged for looting at Frankfurt a. O. Nowadays there are few people more respectable than a Hussar, I know, because I have been one myself, and thus speak from personal experience.

The story of a clever ruse is told of one of Orkhan’s campaigns against the Greeks. Othman had left NicÆa and Nicomedia untaken. Orkhan took the latter town and invested NicÆa. Andronicus, the Greek Emperor, crossed the Hellespont with a hastily raised levy to raise the siege of NicÆa, but Orkhan met and defeated him with a portion of his army. Now the garrison of NicÆa had been advised of the Emperor’s intention, and daily expected his arrival. So Orkhan disguised eight hundred of his men as Greek soldiers, and directed them against the fortress. These pseudo-Greeks, to give the ruse a yet greater semblance of reality, were harassed by mock encounters with Turkish regular horse. The disguised Turks appeared to have routed the enemy and headed for the City gate. The garrison had been watching the proceedings, were thoroughly deceived, and threw open the gate. An assault by the besieging army, assisted by the force that had thus gained ingress, brought the city into Orkhan’s possession.

By 1336 all north-western Asia Minor was included in the Ottoman Empire, and Orkhan devoted the next twenty years of peace to the work of perfecting his military organization and consolidating the resources of his newly acquired territories, supported by his brother, Ala-ed-din. So the power that was to crush the life out of the failing Empire of the East stood armed and waiting for a favourable moment on the eastern shore of the Bosphorus. Turkish rule was predominant over all Asia Minor, and a young nation, strong and armed, watched for the moment to interfere with an old, effete Empire.

Beyond the lines of Chatalja, some fifty miles from this City, the capital of Turkey, young nations, Bulgars and Serbs, are waiting, watching, intent on hurling the Turk from Europe, as the Turk drove forth the Greeks in their day.