The carpet which, to all appearances, is worthless, but which, if anyone sits thereon, will transport him instantaneously to the place he wishes to go, is one of the stock properties of Eastern wonder-tales and romance. It is sometimes termed Prince Housain's carpet, because of the popularity of the Story of Prince Ahmed in The Arabian nights, where it supplies one of the principal incidents, but the chief magic carpet is that of King Solomon, which, according to the Muslim belief related in the Koran, was of green silk.
His throne was placed on it when he traveled, and it was large enough for all his forces to stand upon, the men and women on his right hand, and the spirits on his left. When all were arranged in order, Solomon told the wind where he wished to go, and the carpet, with all its contents, rose in the air and alighted at the place indicated. In order to screen the party from the sun, the birds of the air with outspread wings formed a canopy over the whole party.
Great Mother
Great Mother
Nature goddess of ancient Anatolia. Her names and appellations include Cybele, Earth Mother, Mountain Mother, Idaean Mother, etc. In Greek mythology, the goddess Demeter is called the Great Mother.
Nature goddess of ancient Anatolia. Her names and appellations include Cybele, Earth Mother, Mountain Mother, Idaean Mother, etc. In Greek mythology, the goddess Demeter is called the Great Mother.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves
One of the best-known stories in the Arabian Nights. The forty thieves lived in a vast cave, the door of which opened and shut at the words, "Open, Sesame!" "Shut, Sesame!" One day, Ali Baba, a woodmonger, accidentally discovers the secret, and makes himself rich by carrying off gold from the stolen hoards.
The captain tries several schemes to discover the thief, but is always outwitted by Morgiana, the wood-cutter's female slave, who, with boiling oil, poured into the jars where they have hidden themselves, kills the whole band, and at length stabs the captain himself with his own dagger.
The captain tries several schemes to discover the thief, but is always outwitted by Morgiana, the wood-cutter's female slave, who, with boiling oil, poured into the jars where they have hidden themselves, kills the whole band, and at length stabs the captain himself with his own dagger.
The Rise of the Ottoman Empire
The Sultan Mehmet II (1432 - 1480) Art Print
Gentile Bellini
18 in. x 24 in.
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The rise of the Ottoman Empire in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries is one of the major events of history, the significance of which is yet not fully appreciated by those who supply the school histories for western European or American readers. The period which seems to the average student to be fully given up to Renaissance, Reformation and religious wars was also the period of the advent of an empire which was perhaps the greatest the world has seen since Roman, or at least since Saracen, days. Just when Martin Luther was launching his revolt Selim I (1512 - 1526) extended his empire by conquest over the Persians and the whole of Kurdistan, Syria and Egypt. Master of the sacred cities of Islam, he forced the last of the Abbasid caliphs to surrender to him and his successors the title of caliph and the outer symbols of that sacred office, the holy standard, the mantle of the Prophet, and--not least--his sword. His son, Suleiman, or "Solomon the Magnificent," with the heritage of Asia at his command, sent his hosts into the Danube Valley.
In 1521 he captured Belgrade and in 1526, at the Battle of Mohács, defeated the Hungarian King Louis II, who perished with the flower of his chivalry. A creature of the Sultan was enthroned at Budapest, whose rocky escarpment by the Danube still bears the marks and memories of the Turk. Vienna was next besieged, but without success (1529), and Suleiman's advance to world-empire was stayed. Even as it was, he reached and ravaged Styria and Carniola, almost at the gate of central Europe. At the same time his corsair admiral, Khair-ed-din--known to the Christians as Barbarossa--established his power in Northern Africa and spread terror in the Mediterranean.
By a strange turn in events the best friend of Suleiman in Europe was the one who, by age-long traditional policy, should have led in the coalition against him. Francis I, however, beaten to his knees by Charles V, was in no mood for a joint crusade upon his rival's other enemy. Much had changed since the days of St. Louis. But even yet the historian must be cynical who is not shocked to find that it was emissaries of the King of France who were sent to stir up Suleiman to march upon the Hungarians on the fatal field of Mohács. 1 Francis chose, however, to follow this policy through; and finally, in 1536, the Caliph and the "Most Christian King" made a treaty which laid a basis for French supremacy in the Levant.
The exact substance of this treaty and its bearing upon the question of the Straits is discussed in the following section. But before turning to it we should recall the economic as well as the political importance of this new policy to France, that of friendly rapprochement with the Turks. The consolidation of the Asiatic Empire of Selim and the conquest of Egypt had at last brought the entire Oriental and East Indian trade into the monopolistic hands of Turkey. The conquest of Constantinople in 1453, while it must have injured this trade with the west, did not do so effectively, for the other ports were still open, especially Alexandria.
The greatest splendor of Venice, indeed, is in the half-century following the taking of Constantinople. It was able to tap the other routes, and generally remained on sufficiently fair terms to bargain with the Turks. It was this advantage which France now prepared to share. But another event had already robbed the Levant of its unique commercial value for Europe. For in 1499, Vasco da Gama had found the sea-route to India and the flow of trade was diverted from Cairo to Lisbon, sufficiently, at least, to ruin Venice. Thus, while Spain and Portugal and later Holland and England turned to the rich profits of sea-borne trade, France reaped no such harvest from the agreement with the Turk as would have fallen to her had the world remained mediaeval and limited to Mediterranean channels for its outlet to the east.
It would carry us too far afield to follow these suggestions further, however, and we must return to the narrower problem of the effects of this new turn in events upon the trade of the Straits and the Black Sea.
The conquest of the Straits by the Ottoman Turks
The conquest of the Straits by the Ottoman Turks was a gradual one, extending over a century. Their predecessors in Asia Minor, the Seljuk Turks, whose rise in the eleventh century was one of the chief causes of the Crusades, had suffered both from civil war and from the Mongol invasion so that the Greeks in Byzantium were able to maintain even their feeble hold on the Asiatic shore. But in the closing years of the thirteenth century the chieftain of a new band of war refugees from central Asia, Osman I --whence the name Osmanli or Ottoman--carved out for himself a new sultanate, the foundations of which were laid by defeating the Greeks of Byzantium, so that he could reach to the Sea of Marmara. His son Orkhan, after the conquest of practically the entire southern coast of the sea and straits, profiting from Greek dissension and treachery, sent an expedition across into Europe about 1350, under his son, Suleiman. Finding the country open to him, Suleiman finally crossed the Dardanelles and seized and fortified Gallipoli in 1356. From that time, with but slight intervals, the Ottoman Turks have held the fortifications on both sides of the Dardanelles, which at this point are only about a mile in width. Meanwhile they proceeded with the conquest of the hinterland, overrunning Thrace and establishing their capital in Adrianople in 1367.
For almost a century after the Turks had taken the ports on the Dardanelles, Constantinople still held its own against the apparently inevitable fate. The explanation of this anomaly is not to be found in any heroic mood or religious fervor of crusade upon the part of the Greeks, but rather in the general international situation which the passage of the Dardanelles by the Turks had brought about. For the Italian traders were now genuinely concerned with Turkish policy, as they had formerly been--and still continued to be--with Byzantine. So Genoa by diplomacy ( 1387), and Venice by war ( 1416), won from the Turks the concession of a free Dardanelles. It was a precarious freedom, but so long as sea-power remained to the Genoese and Venetian fleets, the possession of the land fortifications was not enough to secure the control of the passage. That had to await the invention of heavy artillery.
It was not at the Dardanelles but at the Bosphorus that the Turks finally established their control of the Straits. It should be recalled that the closure of the former presents an entirely different problem from the closure of the latter. The Dardanelles could be opened to Christian shipping, by special grants to European states, in order to reach Constantinople. But the Bosphorus holds the key to the Black Sea. Turkish control of it was a first step in the taking of Constantinople. The year before the capture of that city the Turks built a fort of great strength on the European side of the Bosphorus, opposite the one which had long stood on the Asiatic side just at the narrowest point-about a mile wide--where the current is strong and navigation most difficult. And in this tower of Roumili Hissar, whose picturesque and massive ruins still guard the Straits, Mahomet II planted heavy cannon, at last made available through the services of a Hungarian founder, and forbade any vessel to pass without express permission. Constantinople, cut off from the east and practically shut off from the west, soon yielded to the assaults of a sultan who was also an engineer. The control of the Bosphorus by the cannon of Roumili Hissar became permanent.
The Genoese at Galata were at first granted privileges by the Turks similar to those they had enjoyed under the Greeks, and for a while they were allowed to pass the Turkish Bosphorus forts upon payment of a toll, but ships attempting to pass without halting were fired upon and sunk if they refused to stop. The Black Sea trade was thus brought to the verge of ruin. So long, however, as the Turks did not control the shores of the Black Sea as well as the Straits, they did not exclude all Christian shipping from the Straits. That control was not established until 1475, when, having already overrun the southern, western and eastern shores, the Turks took Azof and Crimea, reducing the Tartars to accepting their rule and ending the career of the old Genoese colony at Caffa. This made the Black Sea a Turkish lake, and, for the next three centuries, until the arrival of Russia in 1774, it was the settled policy of the Ottoman Empire to exclude all foreign ships from the "virgin waters" of the Euxine through the closure of the Bosphorus.
For almost a century after the Turks had taken the ports on the Dardanelles, Constantinople still held its own against the apparently inevitable fate. The explanation of this anomaly is not to be found in any heroic mood or religious fervor of crusade upon the part of the Greeks, but rather in the general international situation which the passage of the Dardanelles by the Turks had brought about. For the Italian traders were now genuinely concerned with Turkish policy, as they had formerly been--and still continued to be--with Byzantine. So Genoa by diplomacy ( 1387), and Venice by war ( 1416), won from the Turks the concession of a free Dardanelles. It was a precarious freedom, but so long as sea-power remained to the Genoese and Venetian fleets, the possession of the land fortifications was not enough to secure the control of the passage. That had to await the invention of heavy artillery.
It was not at the Dardanelles but at the Bosphorus that the Turks finally established their control of the Straits. It should be recalled that the closure of the former presents an entirely different problem from the closure of the latter. The Dardanelles could be opened to Christian shipping, by special grants to European states, in order to reach Constantinople. But the Bosphorus holds the key to the Black Sea. Turkish control of it was a first step in the taking of Constantinople. The year before the capture of that city the Turks built a fort of great strength on the European side of the Bosphorus, opposite the one which had long stood on the Asiatic side just at the narrowest point-about a mile wide--where the current is strong and navigation most difficult. And in this tower of Roumili Hissar, whose picturesque and massive ruins still guard the Straits, Mahomet II planted heavy cannon, at last made available through the services of a Hungarian founder, and forbade any vessel to pass without express permission. Constantinople, cut off from the east and practically shut off from the west, soon yielded to the assaults of a sultan who was also an engineer. The control of the Bosphorus by the cannon of Roumili Hissar became permanent.
The Genoese at Galata were at first granted privileges by the Turks similar to those they had enjoyed under the Greeks, and for a while they were allowed to pass the Turkish Bosphorus forts upon payment of a toll, but ships attempting to pass without halting were fired upon and sunk if they refused to stop. The Black Sea trade was thus brought to the verge of ruin. So long, however, as the Turks did not control the shores of the Black Sea as well as the Straits, they did not exclude all Christian shipping from the Straits. That control was not established until 1475, when, having already overrun the southern, western and eastern shores, the Turks took Azof and Crimea, reducing the Tartars to accepting their rule and ending the career of the old Genoese colony at Caffa. This made the Black Sea a Turkish lake, and, for the next three centuries, until the arrival of Russia in 1774, it was the settled policy of the Ottoman Empire to exclude all foreign ships from the "virgin waters" of the Euxine through the closure of the Bosphorus.
Byzantine: the Mixture of Greek, Roman and Oriental Culture
Christ, from the Deesis in the North Gallery, Byzantine Mosaic, 12th Century
18 in. x 24 in.
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The rise of Mohammedanism in the seventh century, cutting off western Asia from Europe, did not destroy the advantages which its unique position gave to Constantinople. On the contrary, it tended rather to accentuate those advantages. For while the fleet and its engineers were able to foil the Saracens in 673-677 and again in 718, the fall of its rivals, Antioch and Alexandria, gave the Black Sea route once more something of the significance which it had held for the Greeks of the Aegean. The city itself developed that mixture of Greek, Roman and Oriental culture known as Byzantine, and, even under degenerate rule, was able to draw sufficient vitality from its commerce to rival the splendor of the lords of Asia. Its strategic position was such that it did not fall to the Turk until long after he had swept beyond it and held Europe to the Danube.
It was not the Moslem, however, but the trading cities of Italy who forced upon Byzantium the "Question of the Straits" in its mediaeval form. In the eleventh century these cities, especially Pisa, Genoa and Venice, won their way across the Mediterranean by defeating the Mohammedan corsairs, and began their career of commerce. Reaching Constantinople, they sought for their merchants' privileges, as foreigners, of marketing and of free passage beyond to the ports of the Black Sea. But each city sought them solely for itself. There was no idea of an "open door" in mediaeval commercial theory. And commercial exclusiveness in foreign markets was reflected in political history at home; in constant war and mutual destruction.
The chief rivals at Constantinople, the Pisans, Genoese and Venetians, were constantly at war. The great stroke of Venice was to turn the fourth crusade against the Greek Empire itself, and hold the city from 1204 to 1261, from which time it assumed an overlordship of the Black Sea, forcing both Pisa and Genoa to accept its terms. But the Genoese had their revenge when they helped the Greeks to recover their capital, and received as reward, in addition to the confirmation of their commercial privileges, an exclusive control of the Black Sea trade. All enemies of Genoa--meaning mainly Venice--were to be denied the ports or markets of the Empire. As a result, Genoa pushed its trade on the Euxine and its colonies--of which Caffa, emporium of slaves (Slavs) and Oriental produce, was the most important--and formed a sort of colonial dominion on the northern and eastern shores.
The details of the Byzantine period lie outside the scope of this history, but it is interesting to note that through it all the conflicts which these policies of commercial exclusiveness engendered spread back to Europe and led to long disorders. The development of Italy, and, with it, of Europe as a whole, was retarded for centuries by the struggle of the jealous states of the Mediterranean to seize, each for itself, the monopoly of markets and the control of seas which, had they been open, would have brought prosperity to all.
The question of the Straits was obviously a European question from the beginning of European states.
Roman Period, Nicomedia, Izmit, founding of Constantinople
The control of the Straits was clearly a vital matter for the sea-going Greeks, centered in the Aegean. The interest of Rome in Mediterranean trade lay rather in the south and east, in Egypt and Syria. It collected its toll on the Black Sea trade at Abydos on the Dardanelles; but it was also in control of other more important routes to the Orient. The fundamental point, however, was that, by the time it had reached the Euxine, it had no rivals to exclude. After seagoing Carthage had been destroyed and Pompey had swept the eastern Mediterranean of those free-booting traders whom the Romans viewed as pirates, the maritime as well as the land empire of Rome was universal. For many reasons, too, the gate to the Oriental trade lay through Egypt and Syria rather than by the Black Sea; while the grain of Africa and other more readily accessible parts of the Empire reduced proportionately the importance of that element so vital to Athens. It is therefore evident that there could be no "Question of the Straits" under the Roman Empire.
A new era began, however, with the division of the Empire at the close of the third century A.D. The capital which Diocletian chose for the eastern world was Nicomedia, now Izmit, on the south-eastern gulf of the Sea of Marmara. Already the center of gravity was shifting to the Straits when Constantine the Great in 330 chose the site of old Byzantium for his new capital. The reasons for the founding of Constantinople were primarily political and strategic rather than commercial, since it lay like a fortress at the ferry on the land route between Asia and Europe. In Constantine's day it was these land routes, and not the sea-ways, which held the Roman world together. The naval engineers had no such triumphs to record as those who built the Roman roads. But in the succeeding years, when the barbarians broke through the outlying defenses on the frontiers and cut the line of march from east to west, it was the maritime strategic value of the city that held so well the key to the eastern seas, which kept the name of Rome a symbol of empire in the East until 1453. For Constantinople, planted as a fortress and a political capital, became a port and a commercial city--the only great port which kept alive the traditions of antique culture during the dark ages. This role it owed in part to the strength of its walls, which time and again defied the invader, but also to its fleet, which was able to control the Straits much more successfully than its armies the surrounding provinces.
A new era began, however, with the division of the Empire at the close of the third century A.D. The capital which Diocletian chose for the eastern world was Nicomedia, now Izmit, on the south-eastern gulf of the Sea of Marmara. Already the center of gravity was shifting to the Straits when Constantine the Great in 330 chose the site of old Byzantium for his new capital. The reasons for the founding of Constantinople were primarily political and strategic rather than commercial, since it lay like a fortress at the ferry on the land route between Asia and Europe. In Constantine's day it was these land routes, and not the sea-ways, which held the Roman world together. The naval engineers had no such triumphs to record as those who built the Roman roads. But in the succeeding years, when the barbarians broke through the outlying defenses on the frontiers and cut the line of march from east to west, it was the maritime strategic value of the city that held so well the key to the eastern seas, which kept the name of Rome a symbol of empire in the East until 1453. For Constantinople, planted as a fortress and a political capital, became a port and a commercial city--the only great port which kept alive the traditions of antique culture during the dark ages. This role it owed in part to the strength of its walls, which time and again defied the invader, but also to its fleet, which was able to control the Straits much more successfully than its armies the surrounding provinces.
History: Greek Period, Trojan War
The "Question of the Straits" is one of the oldest and most persistent problems in European history. It dates from the dimmest antiquity of Greece: the myths of Jason and the Golden Fleece--which were not all myths. From the very first it showed its twofold aspect, commercial and strategic.
The political issue of the Trojan War, in the thirteenth century B.C., was the control of the Dardanelles. The frail craft from the Mediterranean, working their way slowly against persistent northeast winds and the strong current of the Hellespont (Dardanelles), were easy victims for those who held the stronghold on the southern shore into which they were apt to be forced to turn for supplies. The power of Troy was erected on this strategic-economic fact. Forcing the Greek sailors to halt there, it brought down to its own bazaars the raw materials and produce of the rich Black Sea trade. The remains of many cities before Troy, on the same hill commanding the mouth of the Dardanelles, show that beyond the dawn of history the control of the Straits enabled those pre-Trojan and Trojan predecessors of the Turks to reap rich harvest of market tolls and dues in about the same way the Turks have profited in modern times.
Agamemnon, leader of the Greek entente, finally cleared the waters for Aegean ships to reach the source of supplies instead of stopping at the Trojan entrepoôt.
This was a larger fact in the development of ancient Greece than the historians appreciated, for history in the antique world paid little attention to economics. But in the period of Greek expansion, when colonies were planted throughout the Mediterranean, an important part of the movement was toward the Black Sea. Of these settlements less is known than of those of the west, on which early Roman civilization was so largely based; but they were a more intimate part of the Greek economy, for apart from the products of the farms of Thrace they tapped the Oriental trade routes in their harbors along the dangerous southern coast of the Black Sea, and they brought grain and gold from the posts along the northern shore.
Yet, as Thucydides reminds us, the commerce of the Greeks did not amount to much before the ascendancy of Athens. Their ships were small and frail, merely enlarged row-boats, mostly unprovided with upper decks, and carrying their cargo in the open. Until the battle of Salamis, Greek sea-power was insignificant. The Persian army of Darius could cross the Straits and ravage European territory with impunity; and Xerxes could throw his bridge of boats across the Hellespont from Abydos, almost at the very spot where the British garrison in 1922 stood waiting the onset of the Turk from Asia. After Salamis, sea-power asserted itself.
The ships of Athens grew in size to be the Majestics and the Normandies of that date, and the mistress of the Aegean made it a cardinal point in her policy to hold the Black Sea route both by her fleet and by colonies and dependencies along the Hellespont. At the narrows of the strait she had two colonies, facing each other, Sestos on the Gallipoli peninsula and Abydos at Nagara Point on the Asiatic side. Thus she controlled the trade of the Euxine, which flowed uninterruptedly to Athens until the Athenian empire was destroyed by Sparta in the Peloponnesian War. The story of that long struggle is the subject of the greatest work of antique history; but few readers of Thucydides are led to realize that the crowning blow which ended Athenian supremacy was that final sea-fight on the Hellespont itself, when the Spartan fleet won the day at Aegospotami. When the grain trade was cut off, there was nothing left for Athens but surrender.
The political issue of the Trojan War, in the thirteenth century B.C., was the control of the Dardanelles. The frail craft from the Mediterranean, working their way slowly against persistent northeast winds and the strong current of the Hellespont (Dardanelles), were easy victims for those who held the stronghold on the southern shore into which they were apt to be forced to turn for supplies. The power of Troy was erected on this strategic-economic fact. Forcing the Greek sailors to halt there, it brought down to its own bazaars the raw materials and produce of the rich Black Sea trade. The remains of many cities before Troy, on the same hill commanding the mouth of the Dardanelles, show that beyond the dawn of history the control of the Straits enabled those pre-Trojan and Trojan predecessors of the Turks to reap rich harvest of market tolls and dues in about the same way the Turks have profited in modern times.
Agamemnon, leader of the Greek entente, finally cleared the waters for Aegean ships to reach the source of supplies instead of stopping at the Trojan entrepoôt.
This was a larger fact in the development of ancient Greece than the historians appreciated, for history in the antique world paid little attention to economics. But in the period of Greek expansion, when colonies were planted throughout the Mediterranean, an important part of the movement was toward the Black Sea. Of these settlements less is known than of those of the west, on which early Roman civilization was so largely based; but they were a more intimate part of the Greek economy, for apart from the products of the farms of Thrace they tapped the Oriental trade routes in their harbors along the dangerous southern coast of the Black Sea, and they brought grain and gold from the posts along the northern shore.
Yet, as Thucydides reminds us, the commerce of the Greeks did not amount to much before the ascendancy of Athens. Their ships were small and frail, merely enlarged row-boats, mostly unprovided with upper decks, and carrying their cargo in the open. Until the battle of Salamis, Greek sea-power was insignificant. The Persian army of Darius could cross the Straits and ravage European territory with impunity; and Xerxes could throw his bridge of boats across the Hellespont from Abydos, almost at the very spot where the British garrison in 1922 stood waiting the onset of the Turk from Asia. After Salamis, sea-power asserted itself.
The ships of Athens grew in size to be the Majestics and the Normandies of that date, and the mistress of the Aegean made it a cardinal point in her policy to hold the Black Sea route both by her fleet and by colonies and dependencies along the Hellespont. At the narrows of the strait she had two colonies, facing each other, Sestos on the Gallipoli peninsula and Abydos at Nagara Point on the Asiatic side. Thus she controlled the trade of the Euxine, which flowed uninterruptedly to Athens until the Athenian empire was destroyed by Sparta in the Peloponnesian War. The story of that long struggle is the subject of the greatest work of antique history; but few readers of Thucydides are led to realize that the crowning blow which ended Athenian supremacy was that final sea-fight on the Hellespont itself, when the Spartan fleet won the day at Aegospotami. When the grain trade was cut off, there was nothing left for Athens but surrender.
Turks: Historical Introduction
Seven hundred years ago there appeared in Anatolia a small tribe of warrior nomads from the little-known fastnesses of Central Asia. Led by the dashing hero, Ertoghrul, the little band set out, as had their relatives the Magyars, to win themselves land of their own. Not many years after their arrival these newcomers from Turkestan became converted to the faith of Islam, and from their leader of the time, whose name, Osman, was the same as that of Mohammed's companion, the third caliph, the tribe became known as Ottomans. Into the disrupted society of the time, suffering as it was from the decadence and corruption of Byzantine rule and frequent strife with the Seljuks, the entrance of the Ottoman Turks, flushed with successful conquest and inspired with religious enthusiasm by their recent conversion, proved a unifying, if somewhat fearsome, force.
In 1453, after two centuries of warfare and assimilation of the motley and diversified peoples who dwelt in the Balkan Peninsula and Western Asia Minor, the Ottomans captured Constantinople and became undisputed masters of the regions which had once been the nucleus of the proud Eastern Roman Empire. Conquest followed on conquest in brilliant succession until the climax was reached in the sixteenth century, when Selim's crushing campaigns and Suleiman's genius in palace and on battlefield exalted the Turkish Empire to a position of unparalleled magnificence, making Constantinople the fear of Christendom and the hope of Islam.
Despite the splendid organization set up by Suleiman for the organization and administration of his vast Empire, the seventeenth century found the Turkish conquerors softening under the insidious influence of Byzantium's luxurious vices, and for nearly two hundred years, with hardly a flicker of the old-time dashing brilliance to relieve the sordid gloom of a decaying dynasty, the light of the Empire waned to a point where genuine alarm was felt. The vitality which had been the heritage of the Turks from their wild nomadic life was gone. Creativity had been crushed by the weight of Islamic formalism, whose deadening hand had left religion a matter of ritual and precedent, had left law with its sanctions so deeply grounded in the past that progress was well-nigh impossible, and had made literature something Arabicized, foreign to the Turkish spirit, and limited to an exclusive, highly educated circle.
Things had reached such a pass by the latter part of the eighteenth century that even a well-intentioned sultan like Selim III, who saw that radical reforms must be instituted if Turkey's prestige was to be saved from further humiliation at the hands of her newly Westernized foes, the Russians, was unable to realize his wishes. Control of the Empire was wholly in the hands of fanatical religious leaders and the famous band of fierce and uncontrollable warriors known as the Janissaries (Yeni Cheri). These professional troops, originally recruited in large part from children of the Christian subject populations, had become so powerful as to control even the commercial life of the capital and so reactionary as to balk at any attempt to lessen their influence or modernize their methods of fighting.
It took the accession of a bold and strong-handed reformer like Mahmud II to the throne to achieve the formation of a modernized regular army which should be able to destroy the Janissaries and clear the way for the introduction of progressive innovations. After some years of failure, Mahmud, who came to the throne in 1808, succeeded in 1826 in utterly destroying the power of the Janissaries, his new regular army massacring hundreds of them through the use of modern artillery. Mahmud, who is often called the ghiaour sultan because of his tendency to adopt the customs and habits of the Western ghiaours, and his successor, Abdul-Medjid, who followed him in 1839, brought about numerous social and administrative reforms, including adoption of the fez as the national headdress to replace the turban, which symbolized conservatism, and a proclamation of new rights and equal treatment for the subject Christian populations. The Christian rights were proclaimed twice, once in 1839 and again in 1856, and were in large part attributable to the influence of Britain's great ambassador, Stratford Canning. The difficulty with the new reforms, however, lay in the fact that they were too much imposed from above and met with little co-operation from the people of Turkey. The reactionary demonstrations which greeted each attempt at Westernization at this early period showed how far the country was from being ready to throw off its oriental ways. Nevertheless the Western sympathies of the ruling house and the aristocracy of the period immediately following the 1856 proclamation, a time known as the "Tanzimat period," opened the way for a new interest in European, particularly French, literature and history, and sowed the seeds of liberal ideas which eventually produced the Young Turk movement and such reformers as Midhat Pasha of 1876, and the constitutional movement of 1908.
Reaction seemed to be again in the saddle in the reign of Abdul-Aziz. Nevertheless a group of progressive Young Turks were able to remove him and in 1876 to bring to the throne Abdul-Hamid II with promises of a constitutional rule and a new liberal régime. Despite the hopes of Midhat Pasha, who was grand vizier, Abdul-Hamid proved to be just the opposite kind of ruler from what the progressive leaders had expected and hoped for. Before many months he had suspended the Constitution and sent the Young Turk leaders into exile. Midhat was eventually done to death in his place of exile at Taif, near Mecca.
The explanation of Abdul-Hamid's behavior seems to lie in his fear of the growing influence and rapacity of the European Powers who were at that time engaged in a deadly rivalry of imperialist expansion, in which possession of Constantinople loomed as one of the greatest prizes for Russia, Britain, or whoever else was fortunate enough to fall heir to it when the long-desired demise of the Turkish Empire should take place. Abdul-Hamid, apparently motivated by fear of these Western gluttons, who were watching and seizing every opportunity to increase their influence in Turkey and be ready to bite off delectable portions, and by disgust for everything which had any connection with the hated infidels, adopted a new and desperate policy. Instead of seeking to strengthen his Empire by the adoption of new efficient methods, he turned his back definitely on the West and sought to build bulwarks against his European foes by facing toward the Orient and calling on the Moslems of the world to unite in fighting off every approach of the hated infidel. Importation of Western literature and novelties was prohibited, and a pan-Islamic movement was commenced with emphasis being placed on Abdul-Hamid's position as caliph of Islam--a position which was asserted to give him spiritual authority over all Moslems in the world. He also proved himself adroit in playing European rivalries off against each other and thus preventing any one nation from attaining too much influence in Turkish affairs.
With such a reversion to old practices, and with all liberally inclined Turks either in exile or closely watched by palace spies, the era of progress in Turkey seemed definitely to have come to an end. But there was an Achilles' heel in the form of Turkey's young army officers. Abdul-Hamid had not been so fanatical as to restore medieval methods in his army; on the contrary, he had had his military leaders trained in Western methods and had sometimes sent them to Europe for instruction in order that he might be able to fight his adversaries with their own weapons. But these young officers who had had a glimpse of the progress and ways of the West were determined that their own country should no longer remain so far behind. Secret committees were formed, of which the one at Salonika was the most important and effective, and contact was made with the exiles in Paris and elsewhere, who furnished intellectual and moral support. In 1908 the Constitutional Revolution forced Abdul-Hamid to restore the Constitution he had set aside in 1876 and to declare a new era of liberality. An attempted reactionary counter-revolution a few months later, led by fanatical Moslems and suspected to be sponsored by Abdul-Hamid's money, was promptly subdued by the army of the Young Turks and resulted only in proving the strength and popularity of the reform and in bringing about the deposition of Abdul-Hamid in favor of Mohammed V, who was a mere puppet in the hands of the new leaders.
Division of counsels among the new leaders and consequent disputes brought constitutional rule to a virtual conclusion once again in the years immediately following 1909, and power became concentrated in the hands of three strong men--Enver, Talaat, and Djemal Pashas. Seizure of outlying Turkish possessions in North Africa and Eastern Europe by enemy Powers, and the revolt and attacks of the Balkan Christian states seeking to throw off Turkish rule, caused the government to undertake a policy of Ottomanization, or Turkification, of the Empire in an effort to solidify it and prevent further defections. The chief consequence of this policy was further to embitter the remaining subject peoples whose national individualities had begun to develop, thereby bringing about further restiveness, which the World War succeeded in precipitating into successful revolutions and attainment of independence, particularly by the Arab states. Although the men in control of Turkey's destinies at this time were sympathetic toward modernization, they found their hands too full with international matters and the task of maintaining their own hold on the controls of government to achieve anything notable in the social and internal reformation of the country. Though they were not sympathetic at heart to the Moslem religion, they were not above using it where it might serve their own ends, as in the case of the proclamation of Djihad, or Holy War, against the Allied Powers in 1915. No strong measures were taken to curb the influence of superstitious and unenlightened religion over the people, though secular schools were opened here and there, and a legal code was drawn up which modified the extent of Koranic influence over the Turkish society. The close of the Young Turk or Unionist régime with Turkey's collapse after the World War found Turkey physically shattered, but socially little changed from the days of unquestioned religious supremacy under Abdul-Hamid.
After this brief historical summary which may serve as a background, we must proceed to our study of the movements and forces which in the last seventeen years have achieved infinitely more in the transformation of Turkey from a medieval, superstition-ridden country to a twentiethcentury, westward-looking nation than the efforts of wellmeaning reformers of the past hundred years.
In 1453, after two centuries of warfare and assimilation of the motley and diversified peoples who dwelt in the Balkan Peninsula and Western Asia Minor, the Ottomans captured Constantinople and became undisputed masters of the regions which had once been the nucleus of the proud Eastern Roman Empire. Conquest followed on conquest in brilliant succession until the climax was reached in the sixteenth century, when Selim's crushing campaigns and Suleiman's genius in palace and on battlefield exalted the Turkish Empire to a position of unparalleled magnificence, making Constantinople the fear of Christendom and the hope of Islam.
Despite the splendid organization set up by Suleiman for the organization and administration of his vast Empire, the seventeenth century found the Turkish conquerors softening under the insidious influence of Byzantium's luxurious vices, and for nearly two hundred years, with hardly a flicker of the old-time dashing brilliance to relieve the sordid gloom of a decaying dynasty, the light of the Empire waned to a point where genuine alarm was felt. The vitality which had been the heritage of the Turks from their wild nomadic life was gone. Creativity had been crushed by the weight of Islamic formalism, whose deadening hand had left religion a matter of ritual and precedent, had left law with its sanctions so deeply grounded in the past that progress was well-nigh impossible, and had made literature something Arabicized, foreign to the Turkish spirit, and limited to an exclusive, highly educated circle.
Things had reached such a pass by the latter part of the eighteenth century that even a well-intentioned sultan like Selim III, who saw that radical reforms must be instituted if Turkey's prestige was to be saved from further humiliation at the hands of her newly Westernized foes, the Russians, was unable to realize his wishes. Control of the Empire was wholly in the hands of fanatical religious leaders and the famous band of fierce and uncontrollable warriors known as the Janissaries (Yeni Cheri). These professional troops, originally recruited in large part from children of the Christian subject populations, had become so powerful as to control even the commercial life of the capital and so reactionary as to balk at any attempt to lessen their influence or modernize their methods of fighting.
It took the accession of a bold and strong-handed reformer like Mahmud II to the throne to achieve the formation of a modernized regular army which should be able to destroy the Janissaries and clear the way for the introduction of progressive innovations. After some years of failure, Mahmud, who came to the throne in 1808, succeeded in 1826 in utterly destroying the power of the Janissaries, his new regular army massacring hundreds of them through the use of modern artillery. Mahmud, who is often called the ghiaour sultan because of his tendency to adopt the customs and habits of the Western ghiaours, and his successor, Abdul-Medjid, who followed him in 1839, brought about numerous social and administrative reforms, including adoption of the fez as the national headdress to replace the turban, which symbolized conservatism, and a proclamation of new rights and equal treatment for the subject Christian populations. The Christian rights were proclaimed twice, once in 1839 and again in 1856, and were in large part attributable to the influence of Britain's great ambassador, Stratford Canning. The difficulty with the new reforms, however, lay in the fact that they were too much imposed from above and met with little co-operation from the people of Turkey. The reactionary demonstrations which greeted each attempt at Westernization at this early period showed how far the country was from being ready to throw off its oriental ways. Nevertheless the Western sympathies of the ruling house and the aristocracy of the period immediately following the 1856 proclamation, a time known as the "Tanzimat period," opened the way for a new interest in European, particularly French, literature and history, and sowed the seeds of liberal ideas which eventually produced the Young Turk movement and such reformers as Midhat Pasha of 1876, and the constitutional movement of 1908.
Reaction seemed to be again in the saddle in the reign of Abdul-Aziz. Nevertheless a group of progressive Young Turks were able to remove him and in 1876 to bring to the throne Abdul-Hamid II with promises of a constitutional rule and a new liberal régime. Despite the hopes of Midhat Pasha, who was grand vizier, Abdul-Hamid proved to be just the opposite kind of ruler from what the progressive leaders had expected and hoped for. Before many months he had suspended the Constitution and sent the Young Turk leaders into exile. Midhat was eventually done to death in his place of exile at Taif, near Mecca.
The explanation of Abdul-Hamid's behavior seems to lie in his fear of the growing influence and rapacity of the European Powers who were at that time engaged in a deadly rivalry of imperialist expansion, in which possession of Constantinople loomed as one of the greatest prizes for Russia, Britain, or whoever else was fortunate enough to fall heir to it when the long-desired demise of the Turkish Empire should take place. Abdul-Hamid, apparently motivated by fear of these Western gluttons, who were watching and seizing every opportunity to increase their influence in Turkey and be ready to bite off delectable portions, and by disgust for everything which had any connection with the hated infidels, adopted a new and desperate policy. Instead of seeking to strengthen his Empire by the adoption of new efficient methods, he turned his back definitely on the West and sought to build bulwarks against his European foes by facing toward the Orient and calling on the Moslems of the world to unite in fighting off every approach of the hated infidel. Importation of Western literature and novelties was prohibited, and a pan-Islamic movement was commenced with emphasis being placed on Abdul-Hamid's position as caliph of Islam--a position which was asserted to give him spiritual authority over all Moslems in the world. He also proved himself adroit in playing European rivalries off against each other and thus preventing any one nation from attaining too much influence in Turkish affairs.
With such a reversion to old practices, and with all liberally inclined Turks either in exile or closely watched by palace spies, the era of progress in Turkey seemed definitely to have come to an end. But there was an Achilles' heel in the form of Turkey's young army officers. Abdul-Hamid had not been so fanatical as to restore medieval methods in his army; on the contrary, he had had his military leaders trained in Western methods and had sometimes sent them to Europe for instruction in order that he might be able to fight his adversaries with their own weapons. But these young officers who had had a glimpse of the progress and ways of the West were determined that their own country should no longer remain so far behind. Secret committees were formed, of which the one at Salonika was the most important and effective, and contact was made with the exiles in Paris and elsewhere, who furnished intellectual and moral support. In 1908 the Constitutional Revolution forced Abdul-Hamid to restore the Constitution he had set aside in 1876 and to declare a new era of liberality. An attempted reactionary counter-revolution a few months later, led by fanatical Moslems and suspected to be sponsored by Abdul-Hamid's money, was promptly subdued by the army of the Young Turks and resulted only in proving the strength and popularity of the reform and in bringing about the deposition of Abdul-Hamid in favor of Mohammed V, who was a mere puppet in the hands of the new leaders.
Division of counsels among the new leaders and consequent disputes brought constitutional rule to a virtual conclusion once again in the years immediately following 1909, and power became concentrated in the hands of three strong men--Enver, Talaat, and Djemal Pashas. Seizure of outlying Turkish possessions in North Africa and Eastern Europe by enemy Powers, and the revolt and attacks of the Balkan Christian states seeking to throw off Turkish rule, caused the government to undertake a policy of Ottomanization, or Turkification, of the Empire in an effort to solidify it and prevent further defections. The chief consequence of this policy was further to embitter the remaining subject peoples whose national individualities had begun to develop, thereby bringing about further restiveness, which the World War succeeded in precipitating into successful revolutions and attainment of independence, particularly by the Arab states. Although the men in control of Turkey's destinies at this time were sympathetic toward modernization, they found their hands too full with international matters and the task of maintaining their own hold on the controls of government to achieve anything notable in the social and internal reformation of the country. Though they were not sympathetic at heart to the Moslem religion, they were not above using it where it might serve their own ends, as in the case of the proclamation of Djihad, or Holy War, against the Allied Powers in 1915. No strong measures were taken to curb the influence of superstitious and unenlightened religion over the people, though secular schools were opened here and there, and a legal code was drawn up which modified the extent of Koranic influence over the Turkish society. The close of the Young Turk or Unionist régime with Turkey's collapse after the World War found Turkey physically shattered, but socially little changed from the days of unquestioned religious supremacy under Abdul-Hamid.
After this brief historical summary which may serve as a background, we must proceed to our study of the movements and forces which in the last seventeen years have achieved infinitely more in the transformation of Turkey from a medieval, superstition-ridden country to a twentiethcentury, westward-looking nation than the efforts of wellmeaning reformers of the past hundred years.
Turkey, Under the Leadership of Kemal Atatürk
Mustafa Kemal Ataturk (1881 - 1938) Poster
18 in. x 24 in.
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Turkey under the leadership of Kemal Ataturk had thrown her lot wholly on the side of Westernization. The manifestations and consequences of this decision will occupy our full attention from this point on, for the transformed Turkish nation had opened herself to a host of new influences which could not help affecting every phase of her existence. To the outside world there was probably no change so far reaching in its effect on international relations as Turkey's complete allegiance to the Western doctrine of nationalism. In the present chapter we shall notice how Turkey's status as leader of Islam was affected, and in the chapter which follows we shall see how nationalism altered the entire structure of Turkey's internal social life.
Turkish Pottery
View Toward Constantinople, Turkey
18 in. x 24 in.
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So far we have dealt mainly with those tiles used on walls, and the reason for this is that, with a few exceptions, the dates of construction of the buildings which these tiles adorn are known, so that we have been able to base our assessments on firmer principles. Besides which, there are are so many tiled buildings in Turkey, most of which are decorated with tiles almost up to their domes, that it is natural there should be a good deal more information on this subject. Some pieces from among our wall tiles have found their way to museums in the West by one means or another, and although these are not very many in number, yet their origins are mostly unknown, and it is therefore very difficult to study them or to base on them any definite conclusions. However plates, bowls, water-jugs and similar pottery have gone in greater quantities to foreign lands, and some scholars have made a careful study of them.
On the other hand one can never find in any one piece of pottery the magnificence of design, colour and composition that can be seen on a small panel, and in addition when studying pottery it is difficult to ascertain when and where it was made. So much so that at one time some very wonderful Turkish tiles and pottery (consisting of plates and bowls) were attributed to Rhodes, and it was even said that they had been made in Lindos, and that the art had been brought here by slaves taken from the Turks by the Knights of Rhodes. Wall tiles resembling these designs were also attributed to Rhodes. The origin for this mistaken view is that certain items of Turkish pottery belonging to the XVIth century, found in the Museum of Cluny, had been bought in Rhodes and Lindos and entered in their inventory as such. This mistake was eventually discovered and because of this a great many museums which had classed exhibits as coming from Rhodes had to correct this to Ceramics of Asia Minor.
There is no doubt that studies made in the field of ceramics have to suffer from these drawbacks. Nevertheless pottery doubtless played a great role in the development of this art. Because it was practised on objects in constant use, it was able to spread over large areas, even including places outside the country, and although the dishes, tumblers, bowls, and even water jugs of olden times were made from metal, it is also to be expected that a great amount of porcelain should have been used. Actually at a big banquet during the time of Sultan Murat III, among the things bought there is a long list of various dishes, plates and other objects from Nicea. The total number of these was 1,033, and had all these remained until the present day, besides their relative value, their value in money would have added up to a fortune. In actual fact, however, not one of these items now remain, as is shown in the archive documents.
The Turkish pottery which we still possess to-day goes back at the earliest to the XVth century. These early specimens mostly carry blue designs on a white background. The decorations consist of floral ornamentations and inscriptions. With regard to the pieces of pottery found in excavations at Konya and Diyarbakir studies have still to be made, and these belong to an earlier period. However, in the excavations made at Darüş+015FUifa, at Bursa, some rare pieces were found, rare that is both in design and shape. In our opinion these belong to the XVth and XVIth centuries. It is quite clear that this coloured pottery showed an artistic development parallel to that of the wall tiles, and there is no doubt that in the secound half of the XVIth century quite a number of floral designs, such as the tulip in red relief, the carnation, rose and hyacinth, were used as decorations. On some plates, however, pictures of boats are also seen. And on others are reprsented roe and other deer, rabbits, lions and birds.
Although colours were less widely used in the XVIIth and XVIIIth centuries vessels with handles and spouts (ibrik). jars, cups, bowls and flasks, continued to be made. On some of these bowls and plates, and especially on those with a white background, blue linear designs are to be found which are very similar in appearance to the tugras (the shape of the Imperial seal) found on firmans. It has been proved that these were done in Istanbul. In a canal near the Old Palace in Istanbul quite a large number of pieces of pottery were found, and in numerous other places cups, some of which were seen to bear the signature of the maker. As with some of the tile squares, so too on some of the pottery, writings in Greek or Armenian are to be met with, and there can be no doubt that among the craftsmen there were those who wrote in their mother tongue.
With regard to the pendants done for the mosques, one finds either floral decoration on a blue background, or else plain green, white, or turquoise colouring. On the other hand, on those done for churches pictures of angels are often to be seen.
Amongst the reasons responsible for the gradual cessation in the manufacture of wall tiles was, as we have seen, the fact that large buildings were no longer to any great extent constructed, while in those that were were no longer used. Turning to pottery we see that from the beginning of the XVIIIth century onwards the western world started to manufacture porcelain and that it was not carried on in Turkey on the same scale, in addition to which the Turkish tiles had lost their previous beauty. It is very natural that such a reaction should have arisen in a country which had imported thousands of valuable items from China and appreciated their beauty before Europe had started on her porcelain industry. Indeed when this industry progressed in Europe, great popularity was achieved by the chinaware of Sax, Sevres and Vienna, all of which was gathered under the general name of Saxony. Saxony plates were given in the trousseaus of young girls and these plates were also used at parties and even in mosques, especially at prayers where sweets were given out afterwards, such as the Mevlud.
Again, the distribution of a certain kind of Turkish sweet during the month of Muharrem was made in valuable Western bowls, and these bowls were usually given as presents with the sweet (aşure), all of which resulted in a considerable import of this porcelain into the country. However all these dinner sets were made, both in colour and design, to suit the taste of the Turks, and they too have a special distinctive quality of their own. Jugs and basins in which to wash the hands carried floral decorations and some of the tumblers too had on them pictures of buildings and mosques in Istanbul, as well as writing in Arabic characters or tugra, while even the dinner sets, which included artistic ware from Vienna, Sevres, and Meisen, were greatly influenced by Turkish taste. As a result of this Turkish money flowed to foreign lands, while Turkish factories of china became more and more inactive, and gradually most of them closed. At one time a factory was started at Beykoz which began to turn out objects with the trade mark "Istanbul work" and these were very similar to the products of Meisen, but this factory closed down with the death of its founder, Ahmet Fethi Pasha, and Yildiz factory, which was founded by Sultan Abdulhamit II, also closed clown after his deposition.
We shall be happy if our work is able to play a small part in the progress of the art of Turkish Ceramics, which has such a rich history, adapted to the needs of modern life.
Orta Oyunu
The earliest historical mention of this theatre of the Turks appears in the 12th century. We know that performances were given in the city of Konya (the ancient Iconium), in Asia Minor, at the court of the Sultans of the Seldjuk dynasty. But the origins of this theatre, its roots, so to say, are distinguishable in remotest antiquity. Let us assume that the reader knows nothing of that theatre of the classic world, which was called mime. Let him then consult any encyclopaedia to obtain a general idea of what that theatre was like. Comparing the classic mime with the later Turkish Orta oyunu, the resemblance is striking. The arrangement is the same, the course of action the same; even the dialogue constructions have much in common. Some scholars tend to see in the costumes of Orta oyunu also certain traces of the classic mime, as far as that detail is known to us. Thus it is evident that the Turks received their theatre of Orta oyunu from the classic world. But it was, of course, impossible that they should have received it directly. There must have been a mediator, and that mediator was Byzantium, whose heirs, the Turks, conquered Asia Minor and the Balkan Peninsula step by step.
The Turkish theatre was marked, besides, by a second European influence. If one compares the Turkish Orta oiunu on one hand and the Italian Commedia dell'arte on the other, one will find a great resemblance in the course of the action and in the personages of the plays. This phenomenon is very easily explained. The Turkish Empire, through many centuries, maintained the closest relations, commercial, political and cultural, with Venice and Genoa and their colonies scattered everywhere along the eastern coast of the Mediterranean. Thus, it was through Italy that the second road passed, along which the classic mime penetrated into Turkey and was transmuted into the Orta oiunu.
Another sufficiently important circumstance indicates the influence of the classic mime. According to the opinion of the Turks themselves, the principal feature of the entire performance in the Orta oiunu is taklid. Taklid means a mimicry, an imitation. In the plays of the Orta oiunu, as we shall see later, the personages represent various peoples inhabiting Turkey. These personages endeavor to imitate the pronunciation of these peoples, to speak the Turkish language as it is variously spoken by those they represent. Moreover they follow on the stage the professions and occupations proper to these peoples. This is known as taklid. And in the significance of taklid we see a direct connection with the classic mime.
There is considerable data extant in the works of historians, geographers and travellers, both Turkish and European, showing the existence of the Orta oiunu during the life of the Ottoman Empire. We have already mentioned its existence at the time of the Seldjuks in Asia Minor. During the ascendancy of their successors, the Ottomans, the Orta oyunu played a very important role. Imperial holidays--as for instance the birthday of a sovereign, the day of his accession to the throne, his coronation, the circumcision of a prince, and so on--were always marked by theatrical performances. A band of actors was attached to the Sultan's retinue and accompanied him on his war campaigns. The players lived in his temporary military quarters, that they might be ready to distract the Sultan after his difficult war feats. In the capital, at the Imperial ourt, such a company of actors was maintained permanently for the same reason. The aristocrats, grandees and dignitaries, who followed the customs of the Sultan's court, organized performances on family feast days. The Ottoman envoys and ambassadors extraordinary, travelling to foreign countries, took with them bands of actors. The names of the celebrated artists of those old days have been preserved in historical sources and have come down to us. These Turkish entertainments became so fashionable that they were introduced in the conquered provinces which were earlier independent states. In Moldavia and Walachia, which are now districts of Roumania, the local nobility, who wished to follow the example of the conquerors, also organized theatrical performances. Step by step this theatre was popularized, until it reached the lowest strata of society and became a source of entertainment for all.
The Turkish theatre was marked, besides, by a second European influence. If one compares the Turkish Orta oiunu on one hand and the Italian Commedia dell'arte on the other, one will find a great resemblance in the course of the action and in the personages of the plays. This phenomenon is very easily explained. The Turkish Empire, through many centuries, maintained the closest relations, commercial, political and cultural, with Venice and Genoa and their colonies scattered everywhere along the eastern coast of the Mediterranean. Thus, it was through Italy that the second road passed, along which the classic mime penetrated into Turkey and was transmuted into the Orta oiunu.
Another sufficiently important circumstance indicates the influence of the classic mime. According to the opinion of the Turks themselves, the principal feature of the entire performance in the Orta oiunu is taklid. Taklid means a mimicry, an imitation. In the plays of the Orta oiunu, as we shall see later, the personages represent various peoples inhabiting Turkey. These personages endeavor to imitate the pronunciation of these peoples, to speak the Turkish language as it is variously spoken by those they represent. Moreover they follow on the stage the professions and occupations proper to these peoples. This is known as taklid. And in the significance of taklid we see a direct connection with the classic mime.
There is considerable data extant in the works of historians, geographers and travellers, both Turkish and European, showing the existence of the Orta oiunu during the life of the Ottoman Empire. We have already mentioned its existence at the time of the Seldjuks in Asia Minor. During the ascendancy of their successors, the Ottomans, the Orta oyunu played a very important role. Imperial holidays--as for instance the birthday of a sovereign, the day of his accession to the throne, his coronation, the circumcision of a prince, and so on--were always marked by theatrical performances. A band of actors was attached to the Sultan's retinue and accompanied him on his war campaigns. The players lived in his temporary military quarters, that they might be ready to distract the Sultan after his difficult war feats. In the capital, at the Imperial ourt, such a company of actors was maintained permanently for the same reason. The aristocrats, grandees and dignitaries, who followed the customs of the Sultan's court, organized performances on family feast days. The Ottoman envoys and ambassadors extraordinary, travelling to foreign countries, took with them bands of actors. The names of the celebrated artists of those old days have been preserved in historical sources and have come down to us. These Turkish entertainments became so fashionable that they were introduced in the conquered provinces which were earlier independent states. In Moldavia and Walachia, which are now districts of Roumania, the local nobility, who wished to follow the example of the conquerors, also organized theatrical performances. Step by step this theatre was popularized, until it reached the lowest strata of society and became a source of entertainment for all.
Karagöz
We have been discussing forms of the Turkish popular theatre in which the rôles are assumed by living men. Now we pass to the puppet theatre. The name most commonly used for this theatre is Karagöz. There are other names as well, to which we shall refer later. Kara and göz are two Turkish words which mean "black-eyed". This term is applied to the principal character, and thus the theatre received its name. It suggests the childish shadow pictures shown on magic lantern slides. But whence did the Turks derive this theatre?
In the style of their art and especially in their coloring, the puppets resemble Chinese drawings more than anything else, so we have the right to assume that this theatre had its origin in the Far East. It is not without cause that the magic lantern pictures are called in French "les ombres chinoises"--Chinese shadows. It is quite probable that in ancient times the Mongols learned the art of this lantern from the Chinese and transmitted their knowledge to the Turks. How completely the Turks assimilated it is clear from the fact that as early as the 13th century the theatre was called by the purely Turkish name "cabarchuk". Later it was given the Arabic name "haial", i.e. imagination, fancy, mirror, show.
The Gipsies seem to have been instrumental in popularizing this theatre. We have data showing that the first quasi-historical Karagöz was a Gipsy. The Gipsy type is clearly defined in several of the puppets which represent Karagöz. In some plays Karagöz' addresses his welcome to the public in Gipsy language. In other plays he appears as a blacksmith, a Gipsy's occupation. Sometimes he refers to Gessas, the legendary stock of the Gipsies.
This theatre has met with great success throughout the Near East. In Beirut and Damascus we still see a strong Turkish influence in the Arabic Karagöz, but in Egypt, Morocco and Algeria it already has its own character. In Bosnia-Herzegovina it flourished even at the time of the Austrian yoke. In Greece and on the Greek islands it is still a beloved popular attraction. Some of the material of the Karagöz plays shows evidence of having been borrowed from the literature of the Arabs (The Thousand and One Nights or The Arabian Nights Entertainments), from India and China. Moreover its plays, especially the prologues, abound with the ideas of Moslem mysticism, known by the term Sufism. Numerous works have been written on Sufism, but here it is enough to say that it is a kind of pantheism, the roots of which derive from classic Greece as well as from India and Iran, or ancient Persia.
Karagöz too is related to classic Greece, through Byzantium, thanks to the Orta oyunu and Meddah. In the former as in the latter the principal action revolves about the taklid or, as we have said before, the classic mime. It is opportune to indicate here the following fact as well. The Moslem miniature, or the picture which illustrates the text, was created under the influence of the painting of several countries. Scholars see in this miniature the product of the art of the classic world, of Byzantium, of the Copts and Arabs, of India, Iran and China. All this is also true of the puppets of Karagöz. They are direct descendants of the Moslem miniature, though, of course, their style has been greatly popularized.
Generally, all that has been said of the origin of the Orta oiunu and of the Meddah may be accepted as relating to the Karagöz as well, but it must be added that the embryo of the latter appeared in China. The Karagöz is besides closely related--the cousin or brother--to all the similar popular puppet theatres of various countries of Europe; the English Punch, the French Guignol, the German Hanswurst, the Italian Pulcinella, the Russian Petrushka, and others. It bears the same relationship, on the other hand, through China with the shadow theatres of Indo-China, Siam, the Dutch East-Indies, Japan and so on. This whole question of relationship is very complicated and its final solution is far from complete. An enormous amount of work in this field has already been done as a result of the brilliant research of the German Orientalist, Georg Jacob.
Karagöz or haial was already flourishing at the dawn of Turkey's existence. That is, according to tradition, for we have no historical proof. At Bursa (in the North-Western part of Asia Minor, the first capital of the Ottoman Empire) there was a man, we are told, Sheih Küshteri by name, who presented the shows of the puppet theatre. An echo of this legend comes down to us in the term sometimes used for the Karagtz' screen--"Sheih Küshteri Meidani", i.e. the place of Sheih Kiishteri. A dervish, Mehmed Küshteri, an emigrant from Persia, actually lived at the time of the second Ottoman sovereign Orhan, 1326-1359, and died at Brusa in l366; his tomb is still preserved. But we do not know whether or not he was a specialist in Karagöz.
In the style of their art and especially in their coloring, the puppets resemble Chinese drawings more than anything else, so we have the right to assume that this theatre had its origin in the Far East. It is not without cause that the magic lantern pictures are called in French "les ombres chinoises"--Chinese shadows. It is quite probable that in ancient times the Mongols learned the art of this lantern from the Chinese and transmitted their knowledge to the Turks. How completely the Turks assimilated it is clear from the fact that as early as the 13th century the theatre was called by the purely Turkish name "cabarchuk". Later it was given the Arabic name "haial", i.e. imagination, fancy, mirror, show.
The Gipsies seem to have been instrumental in popularizing this theatre. We have data showing that the first quasi-historical Karagöz was a Gipsy. The Gipsy type is clearly defined in several of the puppets which represent Karagöz. In some plays Karagöz' addresses his welcome to the public in Gipsy language. In other plays he appears as a blacksmith, a Gipsy's occupation. Sometimes he refers to Gessas, the legendary stock of the Gipsies.
This theatre has met with great success throughout the Near East. In Beirut and Damascus we still see a strong Turkish influence in the Arabic Karagöz, but in Egypt, Morocco and Algeria it already has its own character. In Bosnia-Herzegovina it flourished even at the time of the Austrian yoke. In Greece and on the Greek islands it is still a beloved popular attraction. Some of the material of the Karagöz plays shows evidence of having been borrowed from the literature of the Arabs (The Thousand and One Nights or The Arabian Nights Entertainments), from India and China. Moreover its plays, especially the prologues, abound with the ideas of Moslem mysticism, known by the term Sufism. Numerous works have been written on Sufism, but here it is enough to say that it is a kind of pantheism, the roots of which derive from classic Greece as well as from India and Iran, or ancient Persia.
Karagöz too is related to classic Greece, through Byzantium, thanks to the Orta oyunu and Meddah. In the former as in the latter the principal action revolves about the taklid or, as we have said before, the classic mime. It is opportune to indicate here the following fact as well. The Moslem miniature, or the picture which illustrates the text, was created under the influence of the painting of several countries. Scholars see in this miniature the product of the art of the classic world, of Byzantium, of the Copts and Arabs, of India, Iran and China. All this is also true of the puppets of Karagöz. They are direct descendants of the Moslem miniature, though, of course, their style has been greatly popularized.
Generally, all that has been said of the origin of the Orta oiunu and of the Meddah may be accepted as relating to the Karagöz as well, but it must be added that the embryo of the latter appeared in China. The Karagöz is besides closely related--the cousin or brother--to all the similar popular puppet theatres of various countries of Europe; the English Punch, the French Guignol, the German Hanswurst, the Italian Pulcinella, the Russian Petrushka, and others. It bears the same relationship, on the other hand, through China with the shadow theatres of Indo-China, Siam, the Dutch East-Indies, Japan and so on. This whole question of relationship is very complicated and its final solution is far from complete. An enormous amount of work in this field has already been done as a result of the brilliant research of the German Orientalist, Georg Jacob.
Karagöz or haial was already flourishing at the dawn of Turkey's existence. That is, according to tradition, for we have no historical proof. At Bursa (in the North-Western part of Asia Minor, the first capital of the Ottoman Empire) there was a man, we are told, Sheih Küshteri by name, who presented the shows of the puppet theatre. An echo of this legend comes down to us in the term sometimes used for the Karagtz' screen--"Sheih Küshteri Meidani", i.e. the place of Sheih Kiishteri. A dervish, Mehmed Küshteri, an emigrant from Persia, actually lived at the time of the second Ottoman sovereign Orhan, 1326-1359, and died at Brusa in l366; his tomb is still preserved. But we do not know whether or not he was a specialist in Karagöz.
Kiz Ahmed, The Meddahs
One story-teller, Kiz Ahmed, famous for his talent and ingenuity enjoyed such popularity that his plays were attended even by European tourists. Much later, in the seventies of the last century, such a great Orientalist as Martin Hartmann studied this art with the no less famous Meddah Shükri. In 1887 Sultan Abdul Hamid invited Shükri to present his play in the palace and paid him 1000 piastres (then about 50 dollars), an enormous sum for those days.
Since the second half of the 19th century, especially during the period of the dark yoke of Abdul Hamid, the Meddahs, while retaining their moderately liberal tendencies, were obliged to express their ideas very diplomatically. The censor permitted all moral improprieties, but expressions of political opinion were severely punished. A term of imprisonment was generally fixed for any mockery of the Moslem clergy. Any reference to riots or revolutions, even non-Turkish, was punished no less rigorously. The use of the word "Sultan" was forbidden; the Meddahs evaded this ban by using the word "bei", i.e. a noble, a prince, sir. The police exacted from the Meddahs a written promise to refrain from criticizing acts of government; nor were any political allusions permitted. The following curious incident is recorded: A European magazine once published a caricature of Abdul Hamid, representing him as a lobster. When this was learned in Turkey, the Meddahs were forbidden to pronounce the word "lobster". After the constitution of 1908, at the time of the so-called era of liberty, when it became impossible to persecute the Meddahs officially, the police invented a new method of annoying them by placing excessively high taxes on their plays.
The Meddahs are subject to another censor, no less formidable-the public. Very often a member of a certain class of the citizenry or of a certain tribe or race which has been lampooned by the Meddah in his story, is transported by rage and makes a violent scene. In such cases the Meddah, in apology, explains that he imitates everybody without exception or distinction. And the other spectators generally go to his rescue and defend him.
Since the second half of the 19th century, especially during the period of the dark yoke of Abdul Hamid, the Meddahs, while retaining their moderately liberal tendencies, were obliged to express their ideas very diplomatically. The censor permitted all moral improprieties, but expressions of political opinion were severely punished. A term of imprisonment was generally fixed for any mockery of the Moslem clergy. Any reference to riots or revolutions, even non-Turkish, was punished no less rigorously. The use of the word "Sultan" was forbidden; the Meddahs evaded this ban by using the word "bei", i.e. a noble, a prince, sir. The police exacted from the Meddahs a written promise to refrain from criticizing acts of government; nor were any political allusions permitted. The following curious incident is recorded: A European magazine once published a caricature of Abdul Hamid, representing him as a lobster. When this was learned in Turkey, the Meddahs were forbidden to pronounce the word "lobster". After the constitution of 1908, at the time of the so-called era of liberty, when it became impossible to persecute the Meddahs officially, the police invented a new method of annoying them by placing excessively high taxes on their plays.
The Meddahs are subject to another censor, no less formidable-the public. Very often a member of a certain class of the citizenry or of a certain tribe or race which has been lampooned by the Meddah in his story, is transported by rage and makes a violent scene. In such cases the Meddah, in apology, explains that he imitates everybody without exception or distinction. And the other spectators generally go to his rescue and defend him.
Meddah
Meddah, an Arabic word which means "encomiast, eulogist, panegyrist". At first it was used in that sense in the Arabic and Turkish languages. Later it began to be used in a more general sense to mean a story-teller who used mimicry, without any special idea of eulogy.
It is quite probable that in the old times the Meddah's themes were the stories of saints taken from the holy history of the Moslems. According to the legends, a holy man, Sahib Rumi by name, a native of Sivas (in Asia Minor), was patron of the Turkish Meddahs; he was also himself the first Meddah. Later, when the Mohammedan clergy forbade any reference to the saints in the plays, the Meddahs went over to secular themes; at first, to be sure, these themes were of panegyric character. It was only very gradually that the Meddahs developed into story-tellers pure and simple. They are story-tellers par excellence, masters of speech by birth. They present chiefly comic situations from the life of the lowest strata of the people. Possessed of remarkable powers of observation, they transcribe vividly scenes from life, characterized by plenty of humor and caricature. In the form of dialogue, they successfully imitate the voices and, above all, the dialects of the characters involved.
We know that the Ottoman-Turkish language, i.e. the language of the Turks of the late Ottoman Empire, is flooded with Arabic and Persian words. So largely has it borrowed from these languages and so firmly have these borrowed words embedded themselves through the centuries, that modern reformers will hardly succeed in "cleaning" their tongue. The cause of this borrowing is to be found in the fact that the Turks in the course of their history were subjected to the religious-cultural influence of the Arabs and to the purely cultural influence of the Persians. This influence is apparent not in the language alone. It may be observed in every aspect of Turkish life throughout every century of her existence. Like everything else, the Meddahs, too, came under this influence.
We have certain data which suggest that the Turks borrowed the art of the Meddahs from the Arabs. There lived at the end of the 9th century of our era (i.e. long before the appearance of the Ottomans on the historic stage) a celebrated Arabian story-teller, Ibn al-Magazili, who was already introducing into his tales national types and comic effects. In the 13th century the Meddahs organized at Bagdad a guild headed by a sheih or chief (literally "an elder").
Although we can find the roots of Meddah among the Arabs, the question of its origin and influences is not so simple. As in the Orta oyunu the traces of the antique mime, which apparently entered by way of Byzantium, are perceptible. Besides, it is known to us that story-tellers played an important role in the life of Eastern Asia. Therefore, before detecting in the Meddahs the offspring of the Arabian and classic worlds, we must study the story-teller of China, of whom nothing is known beyond the fact of his existence. We find traces of India too in the creative art of the Turkish Meddah. In more recent times, that is to say, in the second half of the 19th century, the Meddah did not escape European influence, particularly that of the French, which swept like a wave over Turkish literature.
The Meddahs, as story-tellers, were already popular at the dawn of Turkey's history; they are mentioned in the reign of the Sultan Bayazid Yildirim or the Thunderbolt, 1389-1402. Turkish historians tell us how the Meddahs flourished at the courts of the Sultans Mustapha I, 1617-1623, and Murad IV, 1623-1640. Not only have the names of the most famous of these story-tellers reached us, but information as to their repertoires as well. From one source we learn of their linguistic capacity, of their skilled reproduction of scenes of court life and other every-day episodes, of the nocturnal adventures of their heroes, and so forth.
In the 18th century the Meddahs enjoyed the special favour of the Sultan Ahmed III. The end of that century saw the first attempt of European travellers to collect the material of the Meddahs and to note down their stories. At the beginning of the 19th century, at the time of the reforms of Mahmud II, the Meddahs played an important political rôle and championed the conservative party. At that period they were the owners of those coffee-houses in which they acted as artists. Because of this, their income, as well as their success, was increased.
Usually the Meddah began his performance by the recitation of a proverb or a passage from a religious text; he drew therefrom a moral precept, on the basis of which he went on to construct his parable.
It is quite probable that in the old times the Meddah's themes were the stories of saints taken from the holy history of the Moslems. According to the legends, a holy man, Sahib Rumi by name, a native of Sivas (in Asia Minor), was patron of the Turkish Meddahs; he was also himself the first Meddah. Later, when the Mohammedan clergy forbade any reference to the saints in the plays, the Meddahs went over to secular themes; at first, to be sure, these themes were of panegyric character. It was only very gradually that the Meddahs developed into story-tellers pure and simple. They are story-tellers par excellence, masters of speech by birth. They present chiefly comic situations from the life of the lowest strata of the people. Possessed of remarkable powers of observation, they transcribe vividly scenes from life, characterized by plenty of humor and caricature. In the form of dialogue, they successfully imitate the voices and, above all, the dialects of the characters involved.
We know that the Ottoman-Turkish language, i.e. the language of the Turks of the late Ottoman Empire, is flooded with Arabic and Persian words. So largely has it borrowed from these languages and so firmly have these borrowed words embedded themselves through the centuries, that modern reformers will hardly succeed in "cleaning" their tongue. The cause of this borrowing is to be found in the fact that the Turks in the course of their history were subjected to the religious-cultural influence of the Arabs and to the purely cultural influence of the Persians. This influence is apparent not in the language alone. It may be observed in every aspect of Turkish life throughout every century of her existence. Like everything else, the Meddahs, too, came under this influence.
We have certain data which suggest that the Turks borrowed the art of the Meddahs from the Arabs. There lived at the end of the 9th century of our era (i.e. long before the appearance of the Ottomans on the historic stage) a celebrated Arabian story-teller, Ibn al-Magazili, who was already introducing into his tales national types and comic effects. In the 13th century the Meddahs organized at Bagdad a guild headed by a sheih or chief (literally "an elder").
Although we can find the roots of Meddah among the Arabs, the question of its origin and influences is not so simple. As in the Orta oyunu the traces of the antique mime, which apparently entered by way of Byzantium, are perceptible. Besides, it is known to us that story-tellers played an important role in the life of Eastern Asia. Therefore, before detecting in the Meddahs the offspring of the Arabian and classic worlds, we must study the story-teller of China, of whom nothing is known beyond the fact of his existence. We find traces of India too in the creative art of the Turkish Meddah. In more recent times, that is to say, in the second half of the 19th century, the Meddah did not escape European influence, particularly that of the French, which swept like a wave over Turkish literature.
The Meddahs, as story-tellers, were already popular at the dawn of Turkey's history; they are mentioned in the reign of the Sultan Bayazid Yildirim or the Thunderbolt, 1389-1402. Turkish historians tell us how the Meddahs flourished at the courts of the Sultans Mustapha I, 1617-1623, and Murad IV, 1623-1640. Not only have the names of the most famous of these story-tellers reached us, but information as to their repertoires as well. From one source we learn of their linguistic capacity, of their skilled reproduction of scenes of court life and other every-day episodes, of the nocturnal adventures of their heroes, and so forth.
In the 18th century the Meddahs enjoyed the special favour of the Sultan Ahmed III. The end of that century saw the first attempt of European travellers to collect the material of the Meddahs and to note down their stories. At the beginning of the 19th century, at the time of the reforms of Mahmud II, the Meddahs played an important political rôle and championed the conservative party. At that period they were the owners of those coffee-houses in which they acted as artists. Because of this, their income, as well as their success, was increased.
Usually the Meddah began his performance by the recitation of a proverb or a passage from a religious text; he drew therefrom a moral precept, on the basis of which he went on to construct his parable.
The Turkish film industry
The Turkish film industry has had a long life, dating from 1914, when Fuat Uzkinay (who was later involved in the Army Cinema Department, created in 1917) made the documentary, The Destruction of the Russian Monument in Agia Stefanos. Films had first been screened in Turkey as early as 1897, and the first motion picture theatre was built in 1908.
From 1923 to 1939, Turkish cinema went through a "theatre period," when stage directors and actors, such as Muhsin Ertugrul, dominated the industry, making films during the off-season from the theatre. The first Turkish sound film was Istanbul's Streets, made in 1932 by Ipek Film Studio Company, which was to produce six sound films in the 1932-1933 period. Ipek, along with Halil Kamil operated the two major pre-Second World War Turkish studios, which supplied product for the country's 155 theatres.
During the Second World War, European films were not screened in Turkey, and Egyptian cinema was dominant. However, in the postwar years, Egyptian films were banned, and the Turkish film industry grew from eight production companies in 1948 to twenty in 1959. Similarly, the number of Turkish films proliferated, from sixteen in 1949 to twenty-three in 1959. By the seventies the country was producing an average of two hundred features a year, and its seven hundred and fifty winter theatres and two thousand summer theatres constituted an important market for American films. By the eighties the situation had deteriorated through the advent of television, and the country's film output was largely limited to sex-oriented productions.
Censorship has been strictly enforced in the Turkish film industry since 1936. The winner of the Golden Bear award at the Berlin Film festival, Susuz Yaz/The Dry Summer ( 1965), directed by Metin Erksan, had to be smuggled out of the country because of censorship problems.
"Young Turkish Cinema" was a movement within the industry from 1961 onwards, and among the directors associated with it are Ertem Görec, Ömer Kavur , Ali Ozgentürk, and Yilmaz Güney. The last had been an actor and he continued making films from political imprisonment until his death in 1985; his memorable features are Umut/Hope (1971) and Yol ( 1983), which was written in prison by Güney and directed by Şerif Gönen.
From 1923 to 1939, Turkish cinema went through a "theatre period," when stage directors and actors, such as Muhsin Ertugrul, dominated the industry, making films during the off-season from the theatre. The first Turkish sound film was Istanbul's Streets, made in 1932 by Ipek Film Studio Company, which was to produce six sound films in the 1932-1933 period. Ipek, along with Halil Kamil operated the two major pre-Second World War Turkish studios, which supplied product for the country's 155 theatres.
During the Second World War, European films were not screened in Turkey, and Egyptian cinema was dominant. However, in the postwar years, Egyptian films were banned, and the Turkish film industry grew from eight production companies in 1948 to twenty in 1959. Similarly, the number of Turkish films proliferated, from sixteen in 1949 to twenty-three in 1959. By the seventies the country was producing an average of two hundred features a year, and its seven hundred and fifty winter theatres and two thousand summer theatres constituted an important market for American films. By the eighties the situation had deteriorated through the advent of television, and the country's film output was largely limited to sex-oriented productions.
Censorship has been strictly enforced in the Turkish film industry since 1936. The winner of the Golden Bear award at the Berlin Film festival, Susuz Yaz/The Dry Summer ( 1965), directed by Metin Erksan, had to be smuggled out of the country because of censorship problems.
"Young Turkish Cinema" was a movement within the industry from 1961 onwards, and among the directors associated with it are Ertem Görec, Ömer Kavur , Ali Ozgentürk, and Yilmaz Güney. The last had been an actor and he continued making films from political imprisonment until his death in 1985; his memorable features are Umut/Hope (1971) and Yol ( 1983), which was written in prison by Güney and directed by Şerif Gönen.
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