A PICTURESQUE incident in the process of “Turkifying”
took place in Macedonia in May and June of 1911. Mehmet V arrived in Saloniki
on May thirty-first of that year on a battle-ship escorted by
the greater part of the Turkish fleet. It had been known for some days that
he was coming, as his advance guard, in the shape of tall
flabby eunuchs, cooks, etc., began to appear and lounge about in front of the
principal hotels. The town was liberally beflagged, and the
different communities made demonstrations in his honor, the Bulgarians showing
especial enthusiasm. He visited Uskub and Monastir and, from the former place,
proceeded to the Plain of Kossovo, where the decisive
battle was fought, which brought the Turks and the Turkish blight into Europe.
There on June 15, 1389, the Sultan Amurath defeated the heroic Lazarus, King of
the Serbians. This Turkish victory, whose evil
consequences have lasted down into our own times, was made possible by
treachery of Christian allies, the real cause of all Turkish triumphs.
Amurath himself was slain, and it was in the plain where
are found his simple monument and a mosque in commemoration of his name, that
Mehmet V, the witless dotard and befuddled puppet of the Young Turk Committee,
called together all the various picturesque tribes of Turkey in Europe for a
grand selamlik, or service of prayer.
Besides civilians, some of whom are said to have walked
for days to be present, there were thousands of troops, and many famous
regiments, carrying ancient battle-torn flags. A huge tent had been erected for
the sultan, and the vast throng seated itself upon the ground. As the priests
recited the service and the thousands of worshippers bent their foreheads to,
the earth and sat up again, the sea of red fezzes rose and fell rhythmically
like a wide field of poppies swayed by the wind.
There have been in the world’s history few more
picturesque and impressive sights than this last selamlik on the ill-omened “Plain of Blackbirds.”
I was presented to Mehmet (or Mohammed V) at
Saloniki, and a more flabby, pitiful, witless countenance it would be difficult
to imagine. The bleary eyes were puffy underneath, the lower lip dropped in
slobbery fashion. His Imperial Majesty was accompanied by several shrewd-faced
prompters, of the Europeanized type, and he never uttered a word without
turning to one of them with a helpless and infantile expression for directions
as to what to say or do. When the interview was finished, Mehmet turned his
back and started to walk away. He had gone but a few steps when one of the
prompters whispered to him, whereupon he faced about ponderously and slowly
twisted his features into a ghastly and mechanical grin. It was as clear as any
pantomime could be made that he had been instructed to smile when taking leave,
and had forgotten a part of his lesson.
Mehmet V had been kept in confinement all his
life, practically, by his brother, the great and cruel Abdul, by whom it was
said that he had been encouraged to absorb daily incredible quantities of raki. He was a kindly harmless soul, who
bad been selected by Enver and the rest because he had become practically an imbecile.
The great selamlik made
a strong appeal to the Turks, deeply stirring their religious feelings, but it
is needless to say that it did not accomplish much “Turkeifying” the Christian
element. And all this time the crafty Abdul, the
fatuous “Sick Man’’ of Europe, one of the greatest diplomats and murderers in
the history of the world, was confined with a small array of wives in the
Villa Allatini at Saloniki.
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