The Eastern Question

The Eastern Question

By L. A. S.

We are not surprised at the uneasiness caused in Constantinople by the strange spectacle of Russia’s ambassador supporting Great Britain’s demand for the withdrawal of Turkish troops from Tabah, the Egyptian frontier town, and for a delimitation of Egypt’s eastern boundary. When the two Christian nations which for a century have pursued diametrically different policies with regard to the Ottoman empire are found in cordial co-operation, the expulsion of the Turks from Europe may well seem to be not distant.

At the time when the treaty between France and Great Britain was signed, and all the old causes of friction between the two countries were eliminated, we pointed out that a logical result of the friendship thus established would be a readjustment of England’s relations with the French republic’s Russian ally. The drift of things in this direction was accelerated rather than checked by the offensive and defensive alliance concluded between Great Britain and Japan, for thereby Russia’s aspirations were diverted from the far East and the central East to the near East. Nor is it any longer a matter of vital concern to England, now that her possession of Egypt and the Suez Canal is assured, to shut out Russia from the Bosporus. For these reasons British public opinion has undergone a remarkable change with reference to Russian expansion in south-eastern Europe. . . .

It must be obvious to every well-informed and candid Turk that from the time when General Diebitsch advanced to Adrianople, some three quarters of a century ago, up to the conclusion of the treaty of San Stefano in 1878, there has never been an hour when the Ottoman sultan did not practically rely upon Great Britain’s fleet to protect Constantinople from a Russian army. That protection can be counted on no longer. In view of the cordial understanding which was established primarily between England and France, but which inevitably tended to create amicable relations between the former country and the latter’s Russian ally, the Sultan Abdul Hamid must recognize that no British prime minister is likely to follow Lord Beaconsfield’s example and interpose to save his capital by sending a fleet to Besika Bay. For the moment, of course, the Ottoman ruler has no molestation to dread from the northeast, for Russia is absorbed in the process of national self-regeneration. But whatever may be the outcome of the great political experiment now making at St. Petersburg, whether the popular hunger for expansion shall find expression through representative institutions, or a restored autocracy shall seek to atone for acts of perfidy by military glory, the eyes of the Russian people are certain soon to revert to the city on the Bosporus. . . .

The support given by a Russian ambassador to a demand urged by Great Britain at Constantinople marks the beginning of the end of the Ottoman power in Europe.

When the end of Ottoman rule in Europe shall come,—when the Turk, driven into Asia, shall plant the tabernacles of his palace “between the seas in the glorious holy mountain,” then “shall Michael stand up,” “and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was . . . and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book.” We stand now at “the beginning of the end.”