CHAPTER XIII
DETAILS OF THE ASSASSINATION OF MIDHAT PASHA, ACCORDING TO INFORMATION DERIVED FROM HAÏROULLAH EFFENDI.
In the course of the third year of his exile at Taïf, Midhat Pasha had a large tumour on his right shoulder. The doctor, who was permitted to attend him, was a certain Nashid Effendi, who delayed a fortnight before diagnosing it as anthrax, and who, being ignorant of all modern surgical knowledge, did not even perform the necessary operation, alleging the age of the Pasha as a cause for this omission.
This infamous and unworthy conduct on the part of the doctor was, at first, explained in two ways: as he had only just left the School of Medicine, perhaps he had not sufficient experience, or perhaps he was acting under superior orders of those who were desirous of the death of the invalid. But what is certain is that Damad Mahmoud Pasha, companion in exile of Midhat, having no confidence either in the capacity or honesty of Nashid, and fearing lest he had some criminal design, sent a telegram to the Governor‐General of Hedjaz, residing at Mecca—Osman Nouri Pasha, who is now Marshal and Aide‐de‐camp to Abdul Hamid—in which he implored him to send another doctor, accusing Nashid of incapacity. But Osman Nouri had not even the politeness to reply to him. However, fortunately the anthrax burst of itself, and it was always this same Nashid, accompanied by an officer, Captain Ibrahim Aga, who dressed the wound. The state of health of the invalid, which grew worse from day to day, was caused probably by the treatment to which he was submitted. It must be said that it is almost by a miracle that the wound healed eventually, thanks to a different but altogether rudimentary treatment, which was tried.
The doctor made a report to the Governor‐General after each visit, and that official never failed to transmit it regularly by telegraph to Yildiz Kiosk.
One day Nashid, after dressing the wound with Ibrahim, suddenly asked Midhat Pasha, to the general consternation, if it were really true that in Europe criminals were now only executed by means of chloroform. This question, simple enough in itself, gave more than one person cause for reflection.
Major Bekir[29] of the Third Battalion, 10th Regiment, who was specially charged with the surveillance of the prisoners, had gone away some days previously to Mecca and Medina. It was with very great surprise, therefore, that we saw him enter Midhat Pasha’s room with the doctor and Ibrahim. When asked the reason of his sudden return, Bekir replied simply, with extraordinary cunning, that it was only to arrange certain affairs of the garrison, in the first place, and secondly, to collect the taxes in the villages situated on the side of Tarié. He added that he was getting ready for this journey on the receipt of a special order from the Muchir (Marshal).
This was a bare‐faced lie, and we shall see further on what was in reality the mission with which he was charged.
The sixth day after the arrival of Major Bekir was a Friday, and, as usual, the servants belonging to the prisoners, accompanied by a guard, went to the mosque in the town for the Friday prayer. Arif Aga, servant to Midhat Pasha, remained by his suffering master.
On their return, Major Bekir stopped them all before the caracol or guard‐room, and not seeing Arif Aga amongst them, had him at once sent for.
Arif refused to obey this order, alleging that he could not leave his invalid alone. When the Pashas perceived that Bekir insisted, they told the orderly to fetch him, in order that they might learn the reason of this inexplicable affair. Bekir, on receiving this communication, jumped up, and going to Midhat Pasha’s room in the kalé (fortress), declared in a haughty, insulting manner that the servants would be dismissed from their service, that in future they would have to be contented to eat from caravanas, and that they would no longer be allowed to purchase eggs, cheese, nor olives, only tobacco; and last of all, that they would now be forbidden to present any further requests to the Sultan.
Such was the arrogant language employed by Bekir. Later on, changing his tone, he added with less impertinence that he was charged with a special mission, and that he had received an order to send Haïroullah Effendi’s wife (who was living in the town with her baby) first of all to Mecca, and thence to Constantinople. This was most alarming news to many, for it all pointed to secret plots. However, there was no other course open than to await the end with resignation.
Damad Mahmoud Pasha, who was of a very hot‐blooded disposition, and who easily got angry, lost patience, and replied to the explanations of Bekir by demanding that at least the dismissed attendants might be allowed to return to them in order to settle their accounts. Bekir, now become almost amiable, replied that this would be contrary to the orders he had received, but in order to do them a service, he would take the responsibility upon himself and allow the servants to come, accompanied by a guard.
The servants, after their accounts had been settled, were lodged in a room near the principal door of the barracks. The cooking utensils, pens, paper, and ink‐stands, which until then had been placed at the disposition of the Pashas, were now taken from them. Bekir, in order to make the preparations for his travels, spent the night at the barracks.
Midhat Pasha had more than once filled the office of Grand Vizier, and had rendered eminent services to his country. The manner in which they treated him shocked me, for even under these circumstances, taking into consideration his age and the weak state of his health, they might have shown him some consideration.
A hospital attendant, a soldier, who was completely ignorant of the habits of the Pasha, was now appointed as his servant. Nevertheless, Midhat Pasha, we must allow, whilst we render homage to his energy, submitted to all these humiliations with the greatest calm, and even with indifference.
On the 8th of April, a Sunday, Bekir visited Midhat, undoubtedly with the intention, after some conversation, of taking the latest news to the Pasha at Hedjaz, for that same day he was going to leave for Mecca, taking with him the wife of Haïroullah, his child, the servants, and the cooks.
“Are you going now?” asked Midhat Pasha of Bekir.
“Yes, in a few hours,” he replied; “if you have any communications to make me, will you kindly do so now?”
“Very well! Listen to me attentively. His Majesty, Abdul Hamid, has recently raised the Vali to the rank of Marshal, and I congratulate the latter with all my heart. You know, however, all the services that I have rendered my country; no one can deny them. You are not ignorant of the distinguished posts I have successively occupied. Now, you see how I am treated; I see nothing before me except the most gloomy prospect, and it is through you that they will get rid of me. You will be the instruments, and each of you, most probably, will be promoted; the officer will become colonel, the colonel will be gazetted as a general, and so on; but remember that you may die after Abdul Hamid. If you die before, your titles will be inscribed on your tombs; but if the contrary occurs, then I am convinced it will be quite otherwise. Pause now, examine your conscience, calculate your own moral and material interests, and without looking so far ahead, whilst His Majesty is still alive, just think for a moment what has become of the Chief President of that arbitrary tribunal which condemned me in so cowardly a manner, without any tangible proof. It is quite true that Sourouri Effendi was appointed Cadi Asker; but was he not exiled soon afterwards, under the title of Governor of Manissa. As to Djevdet Pasha, the second President, he is, as everyone knows, deprived of his functions, and is now at home—a disgraced man. Think of these events, and you will form a correct idea of the situation. I see that some crime is overhanging me. Remember the verse of the Koran which says: ‘Whosoever kills shall be punished with hell and eternal tortures.’... We are all deserving of chastisement at the hands of Divine Justice. And now that you know my opinion, will you communicate it faithfully to the Vali?”
Bekir grew pale, but plucking up courage, replied: “I have been present at several battles; but, apart from war, I have never even cut off the head of a fowl.” The conversation coming to an end, Bekir went out of the prisoner’s room, and at once started on his journey to Mecca, accompanied by the individuals we have already mentioned.
On the seventh day after his departure—a Friday evening—we saw him return to Taïf. To the general surprise he reinstated the servants in the Pashas’ service. After a few days Haïroullah’s wife also returned from Djeddah with her baby and the cook. Haïroullah ordered his servant Ibrahim to look after his household in the town, and contented himself with the services of a common soldier.
The day after his return Bekir once more made his appearance in the Pashas’ quarters, saying that a new Irade had just been telegraphed ordering a diminution of the prisoner’s rations and the dismissal of the cooks. He also presented the greetings from the Vali, who would, nevertheless, allow them to purchase from the bazaar all that they needed.
Why this toleration? What did it mean, coming after the diminution of the rations and the dismissal of the cooks? Bekir replied to this maliciously, stating that such a duty was most unpleasing to him, but that as a soldier he was compelled to obey his superiors, although he regretted to be unable to act otherwise.
At this time, Midhat Pasha was fortunately almost entirely cured of his illness, but they still continued to telegraph daily the state of his health to the Governor‐General.
One day Midhat Pasha sent his attendant to the town to buy some milk from a milkman named Echreff. Immediately on learning this, one of the officers, told off to guard the prisoners, a certain Nouri, wished to accompany the soldier to the milkman’s house. On arriving at their destination, they asked for the milk. Echreff declared that he had only three kilos of milk, which had been ordered by the General, but that he would give them one ock at once if it were for the Pasha. Nouri accepted this offer, and ordered the soldier to take it to Daïra. This most unexpected and unusual amiability on the part of Nouri was noticed, and gave rise to suspicions.
During the Pasha’s illness, it was Saïd Bey, another prisoner, who watched over the food prepared by Midhat’s servant, Arif Aga. Saïd Bey at once took care to examine the can that contained this milk, and noticed to his surprise that the colour of it was unnatural. He tasted a small spoonful and found that the milk had a bitter flavour that hurt his throat. Saïd mentioned this fact to several people who were present, and especially to the lieutenant, Mehemet Aga, and they all tasted it—some of them even had to keep to their beds for several days afterwards, having been so imprudent as to take a sufficient quantity to upset their system.
When this was related to Midhat Pasha, he at once sent for Mehemet Aga, and with much self‐restraint spoke to him as follows: “I sent to‐day for some of the same milk as that ordered by the Binbashi (Major). It has been found to contain verdigris; this has been proved by all those who drank it; I believe that you also tasted it.”
Mehemet acknowledged that the milk had been very much adulterated. Midhat, still preserving his sang‐froid, continued: “Since this is the case, why do you not go to the Binbashi (Major) and warn him to be careful not to drink it.”
The officer went away hurriedly, and soon after returned, saying: “That the Binbashi was going to send for the milkman, that he intended to investigate the matter, and that if it were deserved, a severe punishment would be inflicted. That he meant to get to the bottom of the whole business.”
But we learned later on that before Mehemet went to inform the Binbashi, this latter was in the garden of the military hospital, surrounded by his confidants, whom he asked from time to time if all had gone off well! If the milk had been drunk, and if it had proved efficacious.
At the same time we were told that several soldiers who had drunk the Binbashi’s milk had become ill. This, undoubtedly, was nothing but a rumour which had been purposely spread, and has never received confirmation from any trustworthy source.
A sample of this milk was sent to the Binbashi to be analysed by the doctors. The only reply he made was: “That they had not got the necessary apparatus for analysis!” This is absolutely incredible.
In order to save appearances, Bekir sent for Echreff, the milkman, and remonstrated with him. But Echreff, on his side, protested most vehemently. Besides which all his cans were in good condition. He insisted that the milk must have been contaminated by some medicament after it had left his dairy.
Thus the incident was closed, for the Binbashi did not follow up the affair, which he wished to be forgotten.
Another time a strange fact was again noticed. It was when Arif, Midhat’s servant, was still in his service. He always passed his nights in the Pasha’s room, having first of all locked up his own, in which he frequently kept the food he had prepared for the following day.
Arif perceived one morning that the lids of his saucepans had been disturbed, and that their contents presented an unusual appearance. He immediately told Midhat of his extraordinary discovery, and the Pasha sent at once for Damad Mahmoud and the other prisoners, begging them to examine the saucepans. After a summary examination they ascertained that some foreign matter had been introduced. The perpetrator of this odious attempt remained as much unknown as he who had put the verdigris in the milk. The contents of all the saucepans were given to the dogs and cats, but as these animals were none the worse, we thought that this foreign matter could not have been a poison. However, after the assassination of Midhat Pasha we learned that the sub‐lieutenants Mehemet and Nouri, getting in one night by the window, had managed to poison all those dishes of which Midhat Pasha would have partaken the following day. These two gentlemen made a complete confession of this crime some time afterwards.
During this time there was an honest soldier, Mehemet Yosgad, whose duty it was to prepare the coffee. We now know that it was suggested to him more than once that he should give poison to the prisoners, mixing it with their coffee. However, as this honourable man firmly refused to commit this crime, others had to be found who would undertake it.
Mahmoud Pasha, who was very fond of coffee, began to give up drinking it, and no longer smoked his narghilé, but in order to show his confidence in honest Mehemet, he never refused coffee that had been prepared by him.
Another time it was noticed that the water which was kept in a baradé had a most offensive smell. The jar was broken, and very great precautions were taken thenceforth.
Major Bekir was a thoroughly bad man, and extremely cunning. He took as many precautions about the crime he was about to commit as he did about his accomplices. So far all attempts at poisoning had failed; other means must be employed!
On the 9th of Redjeb, 1301 (23rd April 1883, O.S.), a Sunday, a detachment of cavalry, with two guns, arrived at Taïf, under the command of a Circassian colonel belonging to the 53rd regiment of the 7th Army Corps. Mehemet Lutfi at once chose out about forty of the strongest soldiers and increased the prisoners’ guard.
Before the arrival of Mehemet Lutfi, Bekir had several times called Hadji Chukri Aga, Mahmoud Pasha’s servant, into his own private room very late at night, when every one was asleep, and kept him there in trivial conversation; but he had never dared to confide the secret to him, nor to ask his help, for Chukri was not the kind of man to become his accomplice, or to commit a crime against his benefactor.
As has been stated above, the colonel reorganised the prisoners’ guards after his own manner. The same day he sent for Arif Aga in order that he might have the incident of the milk explained to him, but in reality he proposed to Arif that he should poison his master.
“The poison is ready,” he said, “and if you succeed in making Midhat drink it, you will receive very great rewards from His Majesty the Sultan. Another man has been commissioned to kill Damad Mahmoud, but if you are willing to undertake that as well, your recompense shall be doubled. If ever you divulge the secret you will be killed.”
The promised reward amounted to £T1000 for the death of Midhat, and £T600 for that of Mahmoud.
Arif was a devoted and faithful servant, besides being a good Mussulman. He not only refused the rewards, but, disregarding all intimidations, protested strongly against the cowardly and unworthy schemes that they had formed against his master. He hastened also to relate to Midhat and to Mahmoud Pasha all that had been said to him.
These two Pashas, deeply moved by this communication, held a long consultation together, but to no purpose. What could they do? For a long time now they had foreseen very clearly that their end was approaching, if not by one way, then by another.
The colonel, who had not thought fit to pay them a visit, appeared very much preoccupied.
On the second night after his arrival he had the prisoners’ quarters surrounded by numerous soldiers, and gave special orders to those who formed the inside guard. On Tuesday evening, he wished to end the whole affair, but circumstances obliged him to put off the execution until the following night. Ibrahim Aga, the captain, and three lieutenants sent for Arif Aga, and told him plainly that owing to a command received from the Palace of Yildiz Kiosk, they were obliged to put an end to Midhat, and that as Arif had refused to poison him, they hoped that at least he would have a little good sense and open the door of the Pasha’s room about midnight; and that if he refused this little service they would know what steps to take.
Poor Arif Aga, maddened by hearing of the odious crime which was about to be committed against his beloved master, sprang up in rage and cried frantically to these wretches: “Oh no! I will never do what you suggest—I will never open the door! I will not be your accomplice! I am afraid of my conscience and of Allah!”
They were beginning to ill‐treat him, but at that moment the prisoners happened to be going to their separate rooms. Midhat, who was on his way to his bedroom, was descending the stairs when he heard the voice of his faithful servant crying out over and over again: “Master, do not go down; return to your friends at once, and spend the night with them. These cowards are meaning to assassinate you!”
Midhat Pasha went up the stairs again, re‐assembled the prisoners, and informed them of this sinister occurrence. Just then one of the officers went to tell the colonel what had happened. He ordered that Arif should be arrested and the prisoners all separated. The faithful servant was dragged off to the barracks, where he was imprisoned, whilst an officer, Memiche, was sent by the colonel to separate the prisoners and to try and calm their fears.
“The colonel,” said Memiche, “presents his compliments to you all, and begs that you will withdraw to your separate bedrooms, as the law requires.” To this command Midhat and Mahmoud replied that they would only be separated by force. They sent for Ibrahim, who arrived somewhat troubled by the turn of affairs. They also requested to speak with Bekir, in order to obtain some explanation of this matter. The major arrived, and entering the room, said—“That good‐for‐nothing Arif doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It looks as if he were doing all this in order to get sent away, unless he is quite out of his mind.” The Pashas could not succeed in hiding their anxiety, for everything foreboded the approaching crime.
“At the present moment,” continued Bekir, “no such order exists. But we are soldiers, and therefore owe unquestioning obedience to our superiors. Be quite at ease! Do you think that anyone would be afraid of you whilst you are in our safe keeping?”
He then began to swear by all that he held most sacred in the world that there was no cause for them to fear. Meanwhile Arif Aga was being tortured for having divulged the secret.
Midhat passed the whole of that night with Ali Bey, another prisoner.
Colonel Mehemet Lutfi and Major Bekir remained in the room overlooking the principal entrance to the barracks, whence they directed the operations. The soldiers were given the same orders as on the preceding night, and cartridges were distributed amongst them.
A captain and three lieutenants were placed in the prisoners’ quarters to superintend operations, and two soldiers, bare‐footed for the occasion, and with bayonets fixed, were stationed at the door of each prisoner’s room.
About six o’clock,[30] Hadji Chukri Aga, Mahmoud’s servant was awakened and transferred to the barracks, where he was imprisoned.
Colonel Mehemet Lutfi remained in the barracks, whilst Major Bekir directed the assassination from the officers’ room.[31]
We have stated above that Ali Bey was sharing Midhat’s room. At about half‐past six (1.30 A.M.) the door was forced open, and Ali Bey was dragged from the room. Then they strangled this old man, who was incapable of offering any resistance.
On bursting in the door of Mahmoud’s room, they threw round his neck a soaped cord, which had been specially prepared, for they were aware that he possessed very considerable muscular strength. Mahmoud made a most desperate resistance, giving vent to piercing cries. They tried every means to hasten his death, with such ferocity that even the animals in the neighbourhood trembled at the sound of his heartrending cries for help. But soon the screams of anguish died away.
A few moments after, two corpses, wrapped in sheets, were transported to a room in the hospital. The perpetrators waited until the day broke before digging their graves in the cemetery, set apart for soldiers, which lies outside the fortifications. There these two martyrs repose in their eternal sleep.
Even the religious ceremonies were not carried out with regard to the funeral—doubtless, in order that the secret might be better preserved. They knew not that Time is the Revealer of all things!
* * * * *
Midhat Pasha had recovered completely from his indisposition. One evening, a little while before his assassination, after a lengthy meditation, he had said to his friends: “I am thinking of death. The pain thereof only endures for five minutes. But I do not know what kind of death may be the least painful. Perhaps poison, or a bullet, or death at the end of some illness. My body, sixty year old, is worn out. Why live beyond this age if it be only to suffer! I should have been happy if my illness had carried me off. But what can I do? The hour has not struck yet. Several innocent people are prisoners here on my account, being obliged to mount guard over me; I should have liked to give them back their liberty.”
Finishing these reflections, he once more returned to his sad and harrowing meditations.
* * * * *
Immediately after the horrible execution, that same night, the doors and locks were all repaired, and two days later the belongings of the Pashas were taken into a room in the barracks. During two consecutive days several subordinates kept going in and out of this room, removing small objects.
Terror had reigned in the hearts of all the prisoners during the assassination. The following day the sentinels were removed, and when the prisoners went to make their morning prayer they embraced and took a last farewell of each other, bursting into tears and awaiting their turn with resignation. The reign of terror still continued, and every word and gesture gave rise to suspicion.
* * * * *
Thus ends the faithful translation of the document sent by Halroullah Effendi, ex‐Sheik‐ul‐Islam. We have preserved all its originality.
APPENDICES
APPENDIX A
THE NEGOTIATIONS BETWEEN THE BERLIN NOTE AND THE CONFERENCE OF CONSTANTINOPLE
The effects of the Bulgarian troubles on British policy were clearly visible. England, that had hitherto been favourable and friendly to Turkey; that had counselled against the Consular Commission of August 1875; had adhered to the Andrassy note of December (1875) only at the express request of the Ottoman Government (on the 13th June 1876); had pressed reforms upon Turkey as a means of forestalling the designs of the enemies of the Ottoman Empire,[32] and had firmly refused to adhere to the Berlin Memorandum, now took up a slightly altered position. This nuance was clearly perceived in a despatch from Lord Derby to Sir H. Elliot of the 25th May 1876, in which he said: “In the course of conversation with Musurus Pasha, I took the opportunity of suggesting to His Excellency that it would be undesirable that the Turkish Government should misunderstand the attitude of Her Majesty’s Government in regard to the proposals of the Berlin Conference. Her Majesty’s Government had declined to join in proposals which they thought ill‐advised, but both the circumstances and the state of feeling in this country were very much changed since the Crimean War, and the Porte would be unwise to be led, by recollections of that period, to count upon more than the moral support of Her Majesty’s Government in the event of no satisfactory solution of the present difficulties being found.”[33] It will be seen later on that even this attitude of benevolent diplomatic neutrality was not entirely preserved by the British Government at the Conference of Constantinople or the negotiations that led up to it.
“The three Northern and allied Powers” were evidently disconcerted by the turn matters were taking at Constantinople. It seemed impossible to present a comminatory note to a new Sultan and a new Government established by a revolution, the very purpose and aim of which was to introduce practical reforms in the country, without a certain delay demanded by equity and even decency. They determined to make it as short as possible.
In spite, however, of strenuous efforts to conceal the fact, differences had arisen among “the allied Courts,” or rather between the two principal parties interested. Russia was in favour of an occupation of the three disturbed provinces, with a view to the eventual establishment of autonomies on the model of Servia and Roumania. Austria was dead opposed to both propositions. There is no doubt that she had been working up to an occupation by her own troops of Bosnia and Herzegovina as the mandate of Europe—up to the time of the Bulgarian insurrection; but now that such an occupation would be accompanied by a Russian occupation of Bulgaria, she entirely changed her mind. If a joint occupation took place, the last state of those provinces would be worse than the first. At present she had the strategical advantage of position over Russia, but Russia in Bulgaria would have it over her. She was firmly opposed to joint occupation. Neither would autonomy suit her. The establishment of autonomous provinces, placed under the guarantee of the Great Powers, would make the absorption by herself of these coveted possessions impossible. Count Andrassy put his foot down against both these proposals.
A very active interchange of ideas consequently took place during the whole of the month of June between the two Empires, and it was here that the full value of a third partner, the disinterested broker, was revealed. Russia evidently meant business, for Servia, which was, as Consul‐General White explained, absolutely in her hands, now (1st July 1876) formally declared war against Turkey, and invaded the Ottoman territory. Montenegro followed her example. In the latter case it was rather a superfluous or ex post facto formality.
A knot had occurred worthy of the interposition of the gods, and on the 8th July a meeting was arranged at Reichstadt between the Emperor Francis Joseph and the Czar. Of course it is only in Homeric times that accounts of the interviews of Olympic gods were vouchsafed to men, and simple mortals have to content themselves nowadays with being told the results of these interviews. The result of this particular interview was “very satisfactory.” According to Sir A. Buchanan, “the Emperor and Count Andrassy returned last night (10th July 1876) greatly satisfied with the interview of Reichstadt.” “The Emperors parted on the best terms; they agreed to maintain the present principle of non‐intervention, reserving for the future the expediency of coming to an understanding with the Great Powers, according to circumstances which may arise.”[34] So, according to this authority, the Emperor of Austria returned to Vienna “greatly satisfied” with doing nothing. It was scarcely worth while going all the way to Reichstadt for that. It was, however, generally supposed in well‐informed chancelleries in Europe at the time, and subsequent events greatly corroborated the surmise, that the Emperor had something else to be greatly satisfied about than what was vouchsafed to Sir A. Buchanan.
It was said that two specific points had been formally agreed upon between the rulers of these two military Empires, in presence of the threatening aspect that affairs were assuming. (1) That, should affairs in the East eventuate in war between Turkey and Russia, Russia would, under no circumstances, seek any territorial acquisition in Europe. (2) That Bosnia and Herzegovina should be considered within the exclusive sphere of Austria’s influence, and that Russia would not actively oppose any arrangement with respect to them that Europe might propose. All the rest would be left to their respective chancellors, each would retain his liberty of action and pursue the policy he deemed the best, certain that nothing that could happen in the way of differences of opinion between them could bring about a rupture between the two Empires. The middle term of an agreement had evidently been found. “British interests” would pay the bill, and the desertion of Bucharest would be avenged.
By a curious coincidence, on the same day (8th July) that this historical interview took place, there appeared in the Daily News the famous “atrocity article” that set all England ablaze and started the greatest orator of the day on his crusade against the “unspeakable Turk.”
The indirect effect on English policy of this crusade and the atrocity meetings all over England that followed it, was seen in the nuance already noticed, between the terms of the despatch of the 25th May and that of the 25th September, which was the prelude to the Conference where it was still further accentuated.
July was destined to bring an aggravation of trouble on the Turkish Empire and anxiety on Turkish Ministers. Austria chose this moment (1st July) to shut to Turkey the port of Klek, through which the Turkish army in Herzegovina received its chief supplies. It is not necessary to enter here into the question of international right involved in this matter. This turned on the interpretation of ancient treaties with the Venetian Republic, and on the boundaries of the “enclaves” in Dalmatia, and these questions had, by mutual consent, been left dormant for long years between the Austrian and Ottoman Governments. Suffice it to say that a modus vivendi had been arrived at between the two Governments in 1853 (“in the hope that an amicable arrangement will intervene relative to the question of the enclaves of Klek and Suttorina”), and had subsisted ever since. For Austria, after leaving the question of right in abeyance for twenty‐three years, to choose that particular moment when the maximum of inconvenience would be thereby caused to the Ottoman Government, was a high‐handed proceeding of the most unfriendly nature, and could only be justified on the principle of la force prime le droit. At any rate, it finally exploded the pretext of “her deep and earnest anxiety” for the pacification of these provinces which she was continually putting forward as the motives of her diplomatic actions, as well as all pretence of friendly dispositions towards the Porte. The energy displayed by the new Government at Constantinople in sending reinforcements to the scene of action, and the success attending these efforts, were perhaps the real motive of this unqualified act, for in consequence of that energy, things were not going well with the insurrection, and new factors would have to be imported to keep it going.
Accordingly, at the same time the port of supply for the Turkish troops was closed, Montenegro and Servia declared war on the Porte (1st July 1876). (As far as the first‐named principality was concerned this formality was rather superfluous ex post facto formality.) Ever since the “intimate relations which had existed for two years back” between the Courts of Vienna and Cettinje, Montenegro had never ceased to carry on war against the Ottoman troops. Indeed her mountaineers, together with the Grenzers and Dalmatians, had been the mainstay of the “rebellion.” Only as, nominally, peaceful relations had never been interrupted, the Turkish Commanders were debarred from following the rebels on Montenegrin soil, and Russia had drawn a taboo round Montenegro, and forbidden, under penalty of war, the invasion of that land, and Mr Jomine, the Russian diplomatic agent at Cettinje, was, with his Austrian colleague, the confidential adviser of the prince.
As far back as January 1876, Sir H. Elliot had informed Lord Derby of “the system employed by the Montenegrins in aid of the Herzegovinian insurgents. All the men (in Montenegro), capable of bearing arms, are considered to be soldiers, and are made into battalions of 600 men. The commanders and majors of these battalions, who are called commanders and pod‐commanders, receive pay; the remaining officers and men are unpaid. When an expedition is contemplated, each man takes with him potatoes and bread, if he has any, for five days, and a reserve of provisions from each village is carried by women or baggage horses. The Austrian Committees, having provided surgeons and medicines, hospitals and ambulances have been organised in some villages on the frontier. The prince furnishes all those who join the insurgents without authorisation, but he sends one‐fifth of his effective forces into the Herzegovina. Not to overtire these poor people, His Highness takes care to change them at the end of each expedition, or when their provisions are exhausted. Reforms alone, it is stated, will never put an end to the insurrection, and force is of no avail so long as the insurgents and their Montenegrin friends have only to cross the frontier to be in safety.”[35]
As for Servia, Consul‐General White had for months past warned his Government of what was preparing, and of the wholesale influx of Russians into the Servian army, nor had Prince Milan made any disguise of the fact of the likelihood of his being drawn into the mêlée, but a certain almost comic jealousy existed between the rulers of these two little principalities, lest the one should steal a march on the other, and acquire a better right to the title of the “liberator of the Slav race.”
They consequently agreed to declare war on Turkey together. As Servia, confident in her new levies, was now determined to act, Montenegro could not afford to be behindhand, however much it might have suited her to continue the particular mode of safe warfare that she had, for twelve months, been indulging in.
In spite of the new levies, military matters did not progress to Prince Milan’s satisfaction. The fact was that a new spirit had been infused into Ottoman Councils by the new ministers, and large reinforcements of regular troops under competent generals had been hurried to the Servian frontiers and despatched into Bosnia. The consequence was that victory did not attend the Servian arms, and, after the loss of an important position near Deligrad on the 24th August 1876, barely two months after the pompous declaration of war, Prince Milan “with the approval of his ally, the Prince of Montenegro,” requested the good offices of the Powers for a suspension of hostilities. All Europe eagerly seconded this request, and although a formal armistice was never concluded, a de facto suspension of hostilities took place. It is unnecessary to detail the negotiations that followed.
The Porte very naturally desired that an agreement on the basis of peace should precede or accompany an armistice, otherwise it would lose all the advantages of its present military position. Servia wanted an armistice without any basis of peace. When at last, in consequence of the insistence of Europe, the Porte agreed to this, a dispute arose about the duration of the armistice. The Porte proposed six months to give ample time to negotiate a permanent settlement, and England adhered to this view of the matter. Servia would have none of it; one month or nothing. She was moving on safe ground, for she knew well that Europe had taken the negotiations out of her hand and would never allow a renewed attack upon her. Russia strongly insisted on the shorter term, and when, in order to solve the difficulty, England appealed to the honest broker at Berlin, he proposed as a compromise an armistice of six weeks.
These pourparlers occupied about a month, and when they seemed to be on the point of being settled, as usual by the Porte yielding in the matter, it was found that Prince Milan had changed his mind, and would have no armistice at all.
What had occurred in the interval to account for this change of front?
On the 24th September, Consul‐General White writes to Sir Henry Elliot[36] “that the last six weeks have produced an important change in the affairs of Servia. The Civil Government has ceased to have a voice in public affairs; the presence of Russian officers, some of them officers of the Imperial Guard, the courage and enthusiasm with which they are animated, the growing influence of the Slavonic Committees through their agents, have all given a warlike tone to what is called public opinion here.... The Russians present here say openly that it is their aim and object to prevent the conclusions of peace.” And again, on 4th October 1876, he writes to Lord Derby:[37] “It may be interesting for your Lordship to hear that money appears abundant in the Servian Exchequer, and although the Ministers deny that it is derived from Russian sources, it is quite impossible to account in any other way for its origin.”
But something more particular must have occurred to encourage Prince Milan to order on the 26th September, the very next day on which the suspension of hostilities terminated, a general attack on the Turks in the Morava Valley. What was it? On the 28th September 1876, Mr Malet (afterwards Sir Edward Malet), writing from Rome to Lord Derby,[38] states that Sig. Melegari, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, in order to convince him “of the imminence of the danger to the Ottoman Empire” read the following paper to him, as coming from Livadia, adding that England alone was able to avert the execution of the design by “compelling” the Porte to acquiesce in His Lordship’s demands. The paper was dated 26th September, and ran as follows: “The Emperor has sent General Soumarakoff to Vienna with instructions to propose a peace, should Turkey attempt to evade the armistice, upon conditions that would suit all the Powers, viz. Austrian military intervention in Bosnia, Russian military intervention in Bulgaria, and the joint entry of all the squadrons of the Levant into the Bosphorus. These steps appear to us indispensable in order to bring the Porte to its senses, to prevent war, and save the Christians from a general massacre.”[39]
This grandis epistola a Capreis which frightened Mr Malet so much that he immediately telegraphed its substance to Lord Derby, and which was, no doubt, intended to frighten Lord Derby, had no chance at all of being accepted at Vienna, and if the constant and continuous intercourse between the three Northern “and allied Powers” was to any purpose at all, it is quite impossible that the nature of the reception it should meet with there, should have been ignored. It could therefore only have been intended as a “spur” to the Foreign Office, and it succeeded admirably in its intention.
It is scarcely worth while to waste many words over the proposal from Livadia. Austria feared nothing so much as a joint occupation with Russia. It would have been a guarantee exacted from her for her own eventual simultaneous retirement, which would have upset all her plans. Nor was England yet brought up to concert pitch. But the notice had served its purpose. England, a little timorously, and with the best intentions towards Turkey, and with the general approval and even applause of Europe,[40] had undertaken the lead in proposing terms to Turkey as a basis of pacification. As early as the 11th September Count Schouvaloff in an interview described “(1) The status quo, speaking roughly, both as regards Servia and Montenegro. (2) Administrative reforms in the nature of local autonomy for Bosnia and the Herzegovina. (3) Guarantees of some similar kinds (the exact details of which might be reserved for later discussion) against the future maladministration of Bulgaria.”[41]
Ten days later, on the 21st September, Lord Derby, having in the meantime secured the agreement of the Austrian Government[42] to these proposals, these terms were forwarded to Sir H. Elliot for communication to the Porte. The second condition relating to Bosnia and Herzegovina was amplified by the important stipulation “that the Porte should undertake, in a Protocol to be signed at Constantinople with the Representatives of the mediatory Powers, to grant, etc.”[43]
Sir H. Elliot, in obedience to positive instructions, went to the utmost limit of friendly pressure[44] to induce the Porte to accept these conditions. The Porte, on its side, showed the greatest possible desire to meet the wishes of the English Ambassador.[45] The term “local autonomy,” and still more the form of a Protocol demanded, were the two most serious obstacles to an understanding. So great was Sir H. Elliot’s influence on the Turkish Minister, and so great was their confidence in England’s loyalty, that an understanding was almost arrived at when the news of General Soumarakoff’s Mission reached the Porte. On the 4th October, the new Turkish Government telegraphed to the Ottoman Ambassador in London an indignant protest against the proposals of which that envoy was the bearer, and concluded by saying: “If the Sublime Porte has, though challenged (by Servia), not made use of her victory, she will never forget that she is still an independent State, and that she owes it to herself to choose an honourable death rather than the dismemberment and partition of her States.”[46]
This incident did not facilitate Sir H. Elliot’s task. On the day following the 5th October, Lord Derby instructs Sir H. Elliot to inform the Porte that it is intended that the armistice should be followed by a Conference, and that if an armistice for not less than a month is not granted, the Ambassador was to quit Constantinople and leave Turkey to its fate.[47]
On the 8th October, the Porte asks the very pertinent question whether, in the event of the conditions being accepted, a Conference would still be proposed.[48] No answer seems ever to have been given to this important question.
The Turkish Ministers now submitted the question of the armistice to a Grand Council, which acceded to it for five months.[49] On the 13th October, in a long telegram to Musurus Pasha, the Porte makes a last despairing attempt to stay the decision for a Conference, which it says “will at least give rise to the danger of certain impulses on which head we have the right to be anxious, and which in reality would be of no use. The five months’ armistice would leave ample time for the Powers to exchange explanations and observations without any Conference. During this time, the work of internal reform would go on, and Europe would have the opportunity of being edified as to the serious and practical character of the promises of the Imperial Government,” and concluded by saying, referring evidently to the negotiations with Sir H. Elliot, “I hope His Lordship will agree with us in preventing the question, which was just beginning to look brighter, thanks to so many sacrifices and efforts, from being turned into a path of new difficulties and perils.”[50]
If it had not been for the Soumarakoff Mission, and the scare it created in the Foreign Office, it would have been an inexplicable mystery why Lord Derby, abandoning negotiations carried on by Sir H. Elliot, which “were just beginning to look brighter,” should have hurriedly fathered this proposal of a Conference. If the Soumarakoff Mission was only intended to secure this point, it was most eminently successful. Anyway, from this time forth, Lord Derby stuck grimly to a Conference. Without a Conference there was no salvation. The question, however, of the duration of the armistice was not yet settled, and as England, having accepted six months, could not recant, General Ignatieff arrived from Livadia to settle it.
But here an incident occurred of a too charmingly amusing character to be passed over in silence. La note comique is never entirely absent from these negotiations. Lord Adolphus Loftus, Her Britannic Majesty’s Ambassador at St Petersburg, received leave in the middle of October to go to the Crimea, whither the Russian Court had removed, and where Prince Gortchakoff, the Chancellor, was slaying, in order to be nearer the official source of diplomatic information. On Friday, the 27th, accordingly, he arrived at Yalta, accompanied by Mr Egerton of his Embassy. On Sunday, the 29th, he had an interview at Orianda with Prince Gortchakoff, “who received him very cordially, and after some friendly remarks, the conversation turned to Constantinople.” After stating that the state of affairs there was grave, the Chancellor expressed “a hope that the question of the armistice was arranged, the Porte having, on the advice of Sir H. Elliot, yielded to the considerations in favour of the shorter term.” His Highness further stated “that General Ignatieff had been instructed to be yielding and conciliatory on the subject of the armistice.”
Two days after this, i.e. on Tuesday, the 31st October, Lord A. Loftus “met” Prince Gortchakoff, who, in answer to the question whether there was any news from Constantinople, replied that there was, but “that he preferred that the Emperor should communicate it.” Lord A. Loftus’s audience with the Czar had been arranged for the next day, 1st November, but was subsequently postponed till the 2nd. Between the accidental meeting with the Chancellor and this audience, Lord A. Loftus received the Journal de St Petersbourg of the 31st October, in which he read that General Ignatieff had presented that day an ultimatum to the Porte to conclude an armistice with Servia, and had required an answer within forty‐eight hours. So that the English Ambassador, having traversed the whole length of Europe in a four days’ journey with a secretary of his Embassy attached to him, in order to be near the fountain of official information, would have received the news two days sooner if he had stayed at home!
We will let Lord A. Loftus describe his audience on the 2nd at Livadia, himself: “I had an audience with the Emperor of Russia to‐day at Livadia, when His Majesty was pleased to receive me with his customary kindness and cordiality (sic). After some gracious enquiries after my family, His Majesty at once opened on the Eastern question. His Majesty stated that he had that morning received a telegram from Constantinople announcing the probable acceptance of the armistice, and he read to me another telegram reporting that orders had been already sent by the Porte to their commanders to suspend military operations. This, His Majesty observed, was very satisfactory. On my observing on the sudden change which had taken place between the Sunday when I had seen the Chancellor and the following day when the ultimatum was despatched, His Majesty said that this had been caused by the intelligence he had received of the complete discomfiture of the Servian army, and his fear that it might be followed by similar atrocities to those which had occurred in Bulgaria....”[51]
It would indeed be a pity to spoil the uniqueness of this tableau by any superfluous commentary, but a despatch from Sir H. Elliot at Constantinople, dated on the same day as this audience (2nd November), throws some further light on this already luminous incident. “In the course of conversation this morning with General Ignatieff, I remarked that I understood that he had returned from Livadia with instructions to present his ultimatum. He answered that he had brought it with him with a discretionary authority to withhold it if he thought desirable. This is a rather different version from that which he had previously given to my colleagues and myself, when he told us on Tuesday (31st October) that he had received the ultimatum two days before, and that he had taken on himself the responsibility of withholding it, but had now imperative orders to execute his instructions. It is impossible to doubt that he had kept his Government fully informed of the progress of his negotiations with the Porte, or that they were perfectly well aware that his own proposals had been accepted with very trifling modifications, upon which an understanding could very easily be arrived at. It is evident enough that the sudden sending in of the ultimatum was decided upon in the hope that by an immediate cessation of hostilities, and the acceptance of an armistice, the fall of Alexinatz would be averted. The capture of the Servian positions at Junis made it certain that “the occupation of Alexinatz and Deligrad would soon follow, and the only hope of saving the Servians and the Russian Auxiliary troops from this mortification lay in the chance of stopping the Turks before they had time to reap the fruits of their success.”[52]
But, independently of the object lesson in veracity that this narrative inculcates, it gives the measure of the value attached by the Emperor of Russia to the European concert, and the degree to which it was likely to hamper his own liberty of action whenever he thought proper to liberate himself from it. The procédé with regard to the British Ambassador only concerns the British Government.
The Porte had yielded to the ultimatum.
In the meantime negotiations for assembling a Conference continued. The Czar had expressed to the English Ambassador “a very earnest wish that the Conference should meet with the least possible delay, and that instructions should even be immediately sent by the several Governments to enable the Ambassadors at Constantinople to deliberate at once on the necessary preliminaries of peace.”[53] Prince Gortchakoff, too, expressed his anxious wish that on the arrangement of the armistice no time should be lost in organising a Conference.[54]
But Austria was coy. The term “local autonomy” accompanied by no matter what gloss, seriously perturbed her; and yet this was the very point on which Russia insisted the most. In reporting his conversation with Prince Gortchakoff at Orianda, Lord A. Loftus said: “It is evident to me that Prince Gortchakoff does not wish to make the question of the armistice the ground for a rupture with the Porte, and that he looks to the question of the ‘autonomy of the three Provinces’ as being the important deciding point of peace or war.”[55]
Until Count Andrassy received guarantees that no kind of political autonomy was meant, he would have nothing to do with a Conference, and it was only when, after a good deal of fencing, this guarantee was at last accorded him, that he gave his consent to the proposal.
Although there had been a serious proposal to exclude Turkey from the Conference to be held in her own capital to decide on the administration of her provinces, the cynical incongruity of the proposition had procured its rejection, and now the Porte was asked to adhere to it. Without any illusion, since Russia’s ultimatum, as to whither the Conference would lead, the Porte, on the 18th November, with the sanction of a Grand Council, gave her assent to a proposal, the rejection of which would have meant immediate war.
In the course of the six months that intervened between the 13th of May (date of the Berlin Note) and the meeting of the Conference in December, an apparent contradiction seems to manifest itself between the “intimate alliance” of the three Northern Powers (which for the purpose of these negotiations means between Austria and Russia), and the frictions and disagreements between their respective Governments. On no less than five points did this disagreement manifest itself: (1) as to whether Turkey should be coerced into an armistice, pure and simple, with Servia, or whether a basis of peace should, at the same time as the armistice, be proposed;[56] (2) as to inculcating prudence of conduct on Servia;[57] (3) as to the joint occupation with Russia of the Turkish provinces;[58] (4) as to the “autonomy” of the revolted provinces;[59] (5) on the question of the Conference.[60]
On the other hand, we have seen Count Beust calling at the Foreign Office to assure Lord Derby that never was the alliance of the three Northern Powers so “intimate”; we have the meeting of Reichstadt, and General Soumarakoff delivering an autograph letter from the Czar to the Emperor of Austria, and we have a very mysterious communication from Lord A. Loftus on the 15th August 1876, in which he says: “In speaking of Austria, Prince Gortchakoff again repeated to me that he had fully discussed the question of a pacification with Count Andrassy, and that they were entirely agreed on all points and for all eventualities. ‘I can state no more,’ said the Chancellor, ‘but that much I can tell you, as I have done to your Colleagues; and I can add that our Ambassadors at the other Courts know no more than you do.’ This language,” continues Lord A. Loftus, “though, perhaps, satisfactory ... is mysterious, and we can only unravel the mystery by conjectures.”[61]
Perhaps the mystery, as Lord A. Loftus calls it, is not so mysterious after all. A reference to what took place in another diplomatic discussion in 1859 will help to unravel it without the aid of much conjecture. In that year Mr Disraeli startled the House of Commons by informing it, on the faith of information on which he relied, that there was a secret treaty between Italy and France for the cession to the latter Power of the provinces of Savoy and Nice. Lord Palmerston denied the existence of any such treaty, and twitted Mr Disraeli with having discovered a mare’s nest. When Mr Disraeli’s information was proved to be substantially correct, Lord Palmerston explained that there had been no treaty but a mere pacte de famille agreed upon on the occasion of the marriage of the Princess Clotilde to Prince Jerome Napoleon. The mystery that puzzled Lord A. Loftus is easily unravelled. There was undoubtedly a distinct and specific understanding between the two Emperors; but none between their Governments; so that Lord Derby could, on the 20th October, write to Sir A. Buchanan that “The Austro‐Hungarian Ambassador called upon me to‐day, and informed me, by order of his Government, that the reports which have been recently, and are still, current as to the existence of a secret understanding between the Austrian and Russian Governments are absolutely unfounded.”[62] In countries and ages where the letter of a declaration is considered more important than its spirit, such hair‐splitting distinctions may pass current. At any rate, they serve their purpose.
APPENDIX B
THE INSURRECTION OF HERZEGOVINA AND BOSNIA, AND THE BERLIN NOTE
On the 2nd July 1875, Consul Holmes, writing to Lord Derby from Bosna‐Serai, says:[63] “I have the honour to report to your Lordship that there is disturbance in the Herzegovina. Early last winter some 164 of the inhabitants of the district of Nevesinje left their homes and went into Montenegro. After remaining there some months, however, they petitioned the Porte to be allowed to return to Nevesinje. The Governor‐General advised the Porte to reply, that, as they had chosen to leave their country for Montenegro, they might remain there. The Government, however, decided to grant their request, and allowed them to return. Shortly afterwards they appeared in revolt, declared that they were oppressed, refusing to pay their taxes or admit the police amongst them, and they have been endeavouring by intimidation to cause their neighbours in the surrounding districts to join them. The Mutesarif of Mostar invited them to come to that place to state their grievances, which he assured them would be redressed, but they refused, and the Governor‐General tells me that they cut to pieces a man quite unconnected with them, who had gone to Mostar to seek redress for some grievance, and threatened with the same fate any within their reach who should do so in future. The Governor‐General informs me that at present he has no intention of sending troops against them, but will prevent their efforts to extend their revolt by surrounding those districts with policemen, and he will probably send some of the notables of Serajevo to endeavour to bring them to reason.”
In a subsequent despatch dated a week later, Consul Holmes adds that “Haidar Bey and Petrarchi Effendi, two notables of Serajevo, were sent to communicate with the rebels, but before they reached Nevesinje they found that the rebels had forced and persuaded many others to join them, and had attacked and captured a caravan of twenty‐five horses on the road from Mostar to Nevesinje, belonging to some merchants of Serajevo, laden with rice, sugar, and coffee, which they carried off to the village of Odrichnia. At the same time, they murdered and decapitated five Turkish travellers, named Salih, Hassosunovich, Marich, Sarnich, Ali of Nevesinje, and another whose name is not yet known, a native of Erassni. One of the insurgents, named Tschoubate, at the head of some three hundred followers, drove away forty Zaptiés placed in the defile of Stolatz, and, separating into small bands, have, for the moment, interrupted the various roads in the neighbourhood. One band is stationed out at the bridge over the Krappa, and renders the road between Mostar and Meteorich unsafe. The detached bands of insurgents are endeavouring to force others to join them by burning the houses of those who refuse to do so, and by other means of intimidation. The Governor‐General has received telegrams from Mostar signed by the two Commissioners and the Mutesarif and Commander of the troops at Mostar, stating these facts; also that the headless bodies of the Turks have been recovered and burnt. Under these circumstances, the Commissioners hesitated to continue their journey; and the authorities at Mostar state that great excitement prevails throughout the Mussulman population, who are impatient to attack the insurgents and avenge the savage murders of their co‐religionists, whose decapitation has particularly roused their feelings, and requesting five battalions to keep order.”[64]
The methods adopted by the insurgents were the same as those adopted in Bulgaria, and wherever an organised attempt at insurrection was made in the Ottoman provinces by agents provocateurs and foreign bands with a view to provoke the Mussulmans to deeds of retaliation which would be exploited by the Committees and excite indignation in the world. It will be remembered that when Midhat Pasha was Governor of the Danubian vilayet (p. 43), the band that crossed into Bulgaria from Sistovo began by massacring five Mussulman children between the ages of eight and twelve. When the Consuls, sent on a peace message to the insurgents visited Nevesinje, they “found all the Eastern part of the town towards the plain and all the bazaar, burnt and in ruins. Dead bodies were lying in various corners unburied; and we noticed the head of a boy in one of the streets blackening in the sun. A little Turkish girl was brought to us, wounded in the throat, and we were told that an insurgent was on the point of cutting off her head when she was snatched from him by one less bloodthirsty, and allowed to escape.”[65]
Another aim of the insurgents was to force an emigration en masse into Austrian territory by promises that they should be well fed and cared for by the Austrian authorities until favourable conditions were secured for them. Montenegro, too, was let loose on Turkey and well supplied with the sinews of war. It was determined at Vienna that no time should be lost in “putting their pin in the game,” and in taking the lead in negotiations that must necessarily precede an occupation. The principle of interference once admitted, all the rest would follow in due course. On the 24th August 1875, Lord Derby writes to Sir H. Elliot that: “Her Majesty’s Government have had under their consideration your telegraphic despatch of the 20th inst., in which you report that a proposal, concerted at Vienna by the three Northern Powers, had been made to the Porte by their Ambassadors. Your Excellency states that they propose that Consuls should be delegated by the Embassies to proceed to the scene of the insurrection and inform the insurgents that they must expect no support or countenance from their Governments. They are also to advise the insurgents to desist from hostilities, but to make known their complaints to a Commission.... The proposal is favourably received by the Porte, and the Grand Vizier (Mahmoud Nedim) had just been to beg you not to stand aloof.... Her Majesty’s Government consent to this step with reluctance, as they doubt the expediency of the intervention of foreign consuls. Such an intervention is scarcely compatible with the independent authority of the Porte over its own territory, offers an inducement to an insurrection as a means of appealing to foreign sympathy against Turkish rule, and may, not improbably, open the way to further diplomatic interference in the internal affairs of the Empire.”[66] Prophetic words on the part of Lord Derby. Of course the consular farce came to nothing. The rebels would not even meet the Consuls. Facts were more eloquent than words, and they had their cues from the Committees. Now was the time, if the Powers had been in earnest, to shut the Dalmatian frontier to the rebels, as they had undertaken to do. We shall see how Austria fulfilled this part of the bargain. Instead of occupying themselves in the slightest degree with this part of the business, they immediately set about concocting another diplomatic move.
On 11th December 1875, the Austrian Ambassador, Count Beust, called on Lord Derby, and said that “The Turkish Ministers had hitherto directed their energies exclusively to the task of preventing anything which could be construed into an interference of any kind with the internal affairs of Turkey. This standpoint, however respectable it may be, has the disadvantage the Austro‐Hungarian Government considered, of prolonging a regrettable state of things, and therefore of aggravating the danger. Negotiations respecting the affairs of the East are now being carried on between Vienna and St Petersburg, the result of which will be communicated as soon as an agreement has been arrived at, to Her Majesty’s Government, not in the light of an accomplished fact, but for their consideration, and for them to state their own opinions on the propositions agreed upon.”[67]
On the 3rd January 1876, Lord Derby received from Count Beust a copy of the famous despatch, which goes by the name of the Andrassy Memorandum, of the 30th December 1875, which, after stating that the three Courts of Austria‐Hungary, Russia, and Germany, after exchanging their views on this subject, “have united for the purpose of employing in common their efforts for pacification, and this object appeared too much in conformity with the general wish for them to doubt that the other Cabinets when invited to associate themselves in the movement, through their representatives at Constantinople, would hasten to join their efforts to ours,” proceeded to recommend to the Porte the following five points:—
(1) Full and entire religious liberty.
(2) Abolition of the system of farming the taxes.
(3) A law guaranteeing the produce of direct taxes being employed in the interest of the provinces.
(4) The institution of a special commission composed of an equal number of Christians and Mussulmans, to control the execution of the reforms.
(5) The improvement of the position of the rural population.
And in submitting these proposals to the English Minister, Count Beust added that “they were not regarded by his Government in the light of mere good advice. They wanted a pledge that the reforms that they recommended should be carried into execution, failing which, they would not undertake to use their influence with the Christian population to advise them to lay down their arms.”[68] And in another interview, the next day, he spoke again of an “explicit engagement” from the Porte, adding that “there could be no doubt that the postponement of the pacifying influences of the Powers even by single days might in the present state of affairs be fraught with incalculable danger.”[69] The Austrian Government, however, repudiated any idea “of armed intervention, and stated that it had no desire to constitute itself guardians of the peace beyond its own frontiers,” and that if the Porte accepted, and the insurgents did not submit, “then the Porte would be left to subdue them by force of arms, and that they (the insurgents) would be prevented from obtaining the support derived by them from exterior aid.”[70]
This was six months after the so‐called insurrection had broken out, and had been all the time “obtaining continuous support from exterior aid,” and three months after the Consular Commission, which had been obtained from the Porte by a formal promise to shut the frontier to the rebels if they refused the advice of the Consuls. Lord Derby, after distinctly stating that he would be no party to any pressure being brought to bear on the Porte to carry out these reforms, and having ascertained that the Turkish Government desired England’s adhesion to the Note, consented to support it at Constantinople.
In connection with this famous Memorandum, it is interesting to note an interpolation that took place in the Hungarian Diet on 11th March with respect to it. In answer to Deputy Pollit, Mr Tisza, the Minister President, stated “in the answer to the question as to whether the Hungarian Government approves of the intervention, there is no question of intervention, but only of good advice, which had been given in concert with the European Powers, and which had been accepted in the most friendly manner by the Porte.... In answer to the question as to the action of Hungary if the pacification was not effected, and if Servia intervened, such an eventuality was most improbable ... but in that case the policy of the Empire would be guided by the interests of Europe.... With reference to the question of the refugees, the Empire had not disregarded the interests of humanity ... as was shown by the subvention amounting to nearly 1,000,000 florins which had been already given to them.... The speaker concluded by expressing a hope that the House would accept his explanation.” If they did, they were easily satisfied, these Hungarian Deputies. Not a word about the capital question of shutting the frontier to the rebels. Servia, too, was arming to the teeth, and was to declare war on Turkey three months later.
We shall see the literal fulfilment of this prediction. Bosnia was the first to follow suit with the Herzegovina. On the 8th February 1876, Sir H. Elliot writes to Lord Derby: “The Porte is much disturbed by the unsatisfactory account received from the Governor‐General of Bosnia, who has applied for fresh troops. Bands supposed to consist of old Grenzers are stated to have passed the Save from Austria at four different points, but have been repulsed. The body which invaded Bosnia is stated to have consisted of 400 or 500 men all well‐armed. Much excitement is said to prevail on both sides of the Servian frontier, and apprehensions are entertained of an aggression from that quarter. Reschid Pasha tells me that Count Zichy has given him, on the part of Count Andrassy, the strongest assurance ... that measures shall be adopted to prevent the recurrence of such acts, and has promised ... that those who have taken part in them shall be disarmed and internés.”[71]
It would be difficult to carry intentional bad faith further. All this time, notes and memorandums were flying about the Chancelleries of Europe to force the Porte to give guarantees for suppressing an insurrection which was being organised and fed by bands “all well‐armed” across a friendly frontier, its suppression being thus rendered materially impossible. As well might one try to extinguish a conflagration, over an unlimited area, that was being continually fed by petroleum springs, the sources of which could not be got at. Nor let it be supposed that to guard such a line of frontier was impossible. The rebels had it all their own way. And so had the Diplomatists of the “Allied Courts of Berlin, Vienna, and St Petersburg.” Russian Committees were joining their efforts to Austrian.
On the 14th February 1876, Sir H. Elliot writes to Lord Derby: “The accounts of the encouragement given to the insurgents at Ragusa greatly exceeds all that I was prepared for. The Russian Consulate is the open resort of the insurgent chiefs; their correspondence is sent to the Consul, who is a party to all their projects, and associates himself intimately with them. He does not appear to make any attempt to conceal the part he is playing, for on the occasion of the death of the chief Maxima, in one of the late encounters, the Russian flag at the Consulate was hoisted at half‐mast, and M. Jomini himself joined the funeral procession.
“Some of the wounded when asked why they continue the struggle when the Porte is ready to grant all their demands, have answered plainly that they are bound to go on as long as they are told by Russia to do so. The assurances given at St Petersburg of the wish of the Imperial Government that the insurgents would lay down their arms, must naturally go for nothing as long as its official Representative, with whom they are in communication, encourages them to go on.”[72] Pretty plain speaking this! and Austria that continued the “exequatur” to a foreign Consul, acting thus on its territory towards a friendly Power. So gross and palpable was this assistance given by Austria to the insurgents, whilst pretending all the time to be so keenly anxious for its suppression, that Lord Derby thought it necessary on the 10th March 1876, to give the following instructions to Sir A. Buchanan, the English Ambassador at Vienna: “I have to inform Your Excellency that it has come to the knowledge of Her Majesty’s Government, through Her Majesty’s Ambassador at Constantinople, that the Porte had received information that a severe fight took place on the Dalmatian frontier on the 4th inst., and that on the following day, the combat was renewed by a force said to be 700 strong, who came from Austrian territory with large supplies of ammunition, and that this having occurred so immediately after the assurances of the Austro‐Hungarian Government that their frontier would be officially guarded, has caused great discouragement to the Turkish Government, and it is feared that the effect of it in Montenegro will be very mischievous, and I have therefore to request Your Excellency to call the serious attention of the Imperial Government to this matter.”[73] But these remonstrances, which were evidently sincere and well‐meaning, had not the very slightest effect at Vienna. The Hungarian Chancellor was always ready to give any amount of assurances and promises to the credulous Sir A. Buchanan. On the 3rd April 1876, Sir H. Elliot was obliged to write again: “I learn that the Porte has received information of the passage of considerable bands said to be accompanied by two pieces of artillery from Dalmatia and Croatia, into the north‐western district of Bosnia.”[74] And further, on the next day, 4th April, he writes: “A telegram from the Governor‐General of Bosnia, which has been read to me by Reschid Pasha, gives a very alarming account of the state of things in that province. Armed bands are passing freely from the Austrian territory, and there are symptoms indicating a probable insurrection of the populations along the rivers Save and Una. The Governor‐General states that he has been unable to re‐establish the line of telegraph along the Save, as the workmen are continually fired at from the Austrian bank of the river, and his remonstrances addressed to the Austrian authorities have been unattended to.”[75] The reason why Austria was not content to confine her operations to Herzegovina, but had extended them to Bosnia, was clear. The Porte was succeeding, in spite of all difficulties, in pacifying the former, and as the Berlin note was being drawn up at Berlin for the three “Allied Powers” and would be presented in a month, such a precipitation would derange all their plans.
The following despatch of Sir H. Elliot of 7th April 1876 clearly indicates this state of things. “The enclosed report from Mr Sandison of the account received at the Porte from Haidar Effendi (the Turkish Commissioner) gives a very serious aspect to the state of affairs in Bosnia. It is evident that the Austro‐Hungarian Government have failed lamentably in their engagement to guard their own frontier, and by means of well‐armed bands coming from their territory, a formidable insurrection has been excited in districts which have hitherto remained quiet. Although the news received from the Herzegovina is good, and gave hopes of a pacification, it would be too much to expect that the movement in Bosnia should not produce its effect in the districts which have been so long in insurrection.”[76]
In the month of May we arrived at another stage of the business. It is time that diplomacy should register another point of “terrain acquis.” On the 4th May 1876 Lord Derby, writing to Sir A. Buchanan, says: “The Austrian Ambassador called upon me this afternoon and placed in my hands for perusal a despatch which he had received from his Government. The purport of the despatch was to state that there is an entire agreement between the Governments of Austria, Germany and Russia as to affairs in the East, and that any reports that may have been circulated to the contrary are simple inventions.”[77]
The purport of making this communication could be no other than a warning to all whom it may concern, that they could join or not join the “European Concert,” as they thought proper. It would make no difference to the European Concert. It was a notice certainly calculated to open the eyes, even of the blind, to what was going on.
As the fact of armed bands could not be disputed, it was obviously the interest of Austria to endeavour to throw the blame on others, Montenegro and Servia especially. We shall come to these little
States later, but à propos of shifting the blame on Servia, there is a very significant despatch from Consul‐General White, dated Belgrade, 28th April 1876. “The Prince (of Servia) takes no pains to conceal that, more than ever, he considers a collision with the Porte as within the range of possibilities; but he continues to disclaim at the same time any intention to act as the aggressor. He pointed out to me the other day that the portion of Bosnia which is conterminous to Servia has been entirely free from armed bands since last November, when the Papas Zarko was repulsed into Servia, whilst the insurgents who had within the last few weeks made their appearance on the river Unna between Bihatch, Novi and Kostainitza, were all in proximity to the Austrian frontier, and he defied anyone to show that Servia had been instrumental in fostering insurrection in that department of Bosnia, though he added that such an accusation had been made somewhere, evidently alluding to Austrian Authorities.”[78] The explanation of these apparent mysteries was really simple enough. Servia was reserving herself for Bulgaria, which was within the sphere of her action, as she herself was within the orbit of Russia’s influence, and she had no intention of playing Austria’s game for Austria’s sole benefit.
Unless strongly backed by Russia, Servia knew well enough that Austria, posted in the conterminous province of Bosnia, would be a most awkward neighbour, and render any hope of future independence on her part purely illusory. Turkey’s yoke would be light indeed in comparison to that of Austria, if she were surrounded on three sides by the Kaiserlich. A great deal of the apparent contradiction, see‐sawing and hesitation of this period is to be accounted for by these conflicting inner currents, set in motion by two of the three allied Governments, whose agreement Count Beust was instructed to inform Lord Derby was “entire.” It was entire as regarded Turkey, there was no doubt about that, but there was a very pretty little by‐play going on besides, within the circle of the larger drama. No wonder this state of things created a situation, as Consul Holmes pithily described it, “in which everyone seems to profess precisely what he fails to practise.”