The Last of the Ottomans

The death of Sultana Neslişah marked the end of the history of the Ottoman dynasty. Although she was one of the 16 living sultanas of the Ottoman family, Sultana Neslişah, who was born on Feb. 4, 1921, to the marital union of Sabiha Sultan and Ömer Faruk Efendi, was the last record made into the registry book of the Ottoman dynasty. The official history of the Ottoman dynasty had come to an end with the birth of Sultan Neslişah. The members of the dynasty who were born later were recorded only in the family registry as the sultanate was abolished.

Sultana Neslişah was born in the palace in İstanbul, and she was the last living sultana. The last prince born in the palace, Ertuğrul Osman Efendi, died in 2009. As a relatively lucky member of a family whose members tended to lead unhappy lives in the wake of the collapse of a 600-year-old empire, Sultana Neslişah had a life rife with trials and tribulations as well. Upon birth, Sultana Neslişah was dubbed “Devletlû İsmetlû Neslişah Sultan Aliyyetuş’şan Hazretleri,” a maternal granddaughter of Sultan Vahdettin) and a paternal granddaughter of an heir apparent (Caliph Abdülmecid), and she lived at Dolmabahçe Palace until she was sent into exile at the age of three under law no. 431, which was passed on March 3, 1924. Her family had spent the first years of their exile in Nice, France. After a childhood and early youth spent in France, she went to Egypt with her family.

Sultana Neslişah, who could speak Turkish fluently and was also proficient in French, English, German and Arabic, married Egyptian Prince Muhammad Abdel Moneim from the Egyptian dynasty on Sept. 26, 1940. She gave birth to Prince Abbas Hilmi and Princess İkbal. After the coup of 1952 in Egypt, her husband became the regent, and she became the wife of the regent (Egypt’s First Lady). She served in this position until the kingdom was abolished. After the establishment of the republic, she and her husband were accused of taking part in an international conspiracy against the Egyptian government. She was confined to her house during the trials that lasted for months, and finally, she was sent into exile along with the other members of the dynasty. This was her second exile, and she and her husband moved to France, where they lived until 1963.

Benefiting from a pardon Turkey passed for members of the Ottoman dynasty in 1952, Sultana Neslişah returned to her homeland and was naturalized as a Turkish citizen, assuming the surname of “Osmanoğlu.” “She was a figure highly respected in the circles to which even aristocrats are not easily accepted,” says history professor İlber Ortaylı, who knew her well. “Some people inspire respect and admiration due to their nature or disposition. This has nothing do with power, lineage, money or education. This can be done perhaps with a combination of all these elements and the balanced radiance of a bright intelligence” (see Milliyet newspaper, Feb. 5, 2011).

During her long life, she had seen two palaces and two sorrowful exiles, and she can be considered as one of the luckiest members of the Ottoman dynasty, which had been discredited through serious campaigns after the establishment of the republic. Indeed, what another member of the Ottoman dynasty told me indicated that the other members of the dynasty were leading much harder lives. It was as if they were doomed to divided families, separated relatives, poverty and deprivation. Heartrending was the situation to which a magnificent family -- which had undertaken the most glorious achievements in Turkish history -- had been pushed by the early republican elites.

Sultana Neslişah wouldn’t like to make public appearances although she had been living in İstanbul since 1963. At the end of the episode about her on “Son Osmanlılar” (Last Ottomans), a documentary prepared by historian and author Murat Bardakçı, she described her longing for her homeland during exile as follows:

“During the time we were in exile, we grew up with a longing for the homeland. I asked my mother’s friend, who would visit İstanbul, to bring me a handful of soil from İstanbul. But no one brought it. Finally, I came here and set food on this soil, and I am very glad that I came. Now, when I go out, I see that everything that is beautiful was built by my grandfathers. I feel very proud, and it seems as if everything is mine, and I am part of it. I realize that I belong here.”

Notwithstanding all these sorrows, Sultana Neslişah was luckier than most members of the Ottoman dynasty. A letter Bardakçı published in his column in the Hürriyet newspaper on Jan. 17, 2006, exemplifies this well. It was sent by Sultana Ayşe, the daughter of Abdülhamid II, one of the most powerful sultans of latter Ottoman history, to Sultana Sabiha, the daughter of the last sultan, Vahdettin, both of whom were living in France in exile, on July 17, 1951. “I am writing this letter with tears rolling down my cheeks,” writes Sultana Ayşe, and asks 100 liras from her niece to pay for the treatment of her ill son. Let us read it together:

“My dear sister. I wouldn’t write to you and bother you with a request if I hadn’t been obliged to do so. ... It is deplorable that my son, Hamid, has been suffering from crises and fighting for his life for a month. I don’t know what to do, and I am utterly at a loss, hopeless and tearful. Physicians tell me that he must certainly be hospitalized. Otherwise, his life is at risk. I don’t know what to do. Can you send me 100 liras, sister? If you can do such a favor, you would save the life of my son. I know you are a very compassionate mother. I ask you to help him in this misfortune of mine. I am shedding tears as I write this letter. May God grant long lives to your children. Looking forward to hearing from you at once, and once again, I implore you, and kiss your eyes, my dear sister.”

This rueful letter is proof of the life that the early political elites of the republic deemed proper for the children of a family that built a glorious history for Turks as these elites were filled with hatred and animosity against their own past, history and culture. It is a great agony to see this. May God have mercy on Sultana Fatma Neslişah, the last Ottoman princess, and I extend my condolences to the Turkish nation.