Twenty Years of Balkan Tangle

by M. E. Durham

CHAPTER TWENTY. 1914

DURING the winter of 1913-14 I gathered funds for Albania, and the American missionaries worked hard at feeding the refugees of Gostivar and Dibra. General Phillips, in command at Scutari, did all his funds would allow for the refugees there, but reported that the Serbs' victims were dying of hunger in the Gashi mountains at the rate of twenty a day. But the Mansion House refused to start a fund. Mr. Willard Howard took cinema photographs of the starving people in their burnt ruins, hoping to rouse public feeling against the Serbs and stop their further war plans.

At the Foreign Office I begged protection for the Balkan Moslems, who were being barbarously exterminated, and stated that until it was seen that the Balkan conquerors were capable of just rule, the Capitulations should remain in force. Those with whom I spoke admitted that the consular reports from Uskub and Monastir were very bad, but that it was not advisable to publish them. In truth, we were hopelessly tied to Russia and could say nothing about her pet lambs, even though the truth of the accusations had been proved up to the hilt by the Carnegie Report. The laws signed by King Petar in October 1913 for the purpose of crushing the annexed regions are alone enough in their barbarity to condemn Serbia. They are published in the Carnegie Report, which should be read by all interested in forming a just and lasting Balkan peace.

It was also made clear by the Carnegie Commission that the accusation that the atrocities were planned and carried out by the Serb "Black Hand" society were true. Damian Popovitch, the leader of the regicides, led the massacres of Kosovo. All was part of a prearranged Great Serbian plan. "The Serbs," I overheard two Montenegrins say in the inn at Rijeka, "are right. They put these gentry (non-Serb population) to the sword as they go, and clean the land." As the Black Hand was a "government within a government," and unofficial, Belgrade could always pretend to be ignorant of its doings. Both the Tsrna Ruka (Black Hand) and larodna Odbrana (National Defence) societies had a free hand. The Carnegie Report tells: "The population at Uskub called their station the Black House, from the name of the League itself, The Black Hand. The worst crimes were committed by this organization, known to all the world, and under powerful protection. It was of distinct advantage to the regular government to have under its hand an irresponsible power like this, which soon became all powerful, and could be disowned if necessary. . . . Our records are full of depositions which throw light on the activities of these legalized brigands. Each town had its captain. . . . Where complaints were made to the regular authorities they pretended to know nothing, or, if the person were obscure, punished him. If he were a personage, as for example the Archbishop of Veles, the bands were sent from the town down to the villages, only to be replaced immediately by bands from Uskub."

In February 1914 I received a letter from Monastir, from my former dragoman of 1904. Since then he had worked for years for a well-known Greek firm in India, and returned invalided home to Monastir just before the first Balkan war broke out From him I had heard of the first joy of the populace when the Turkish army fled before the invading Serb, and then of the speedy revulsion of feeling when they found that the Serb came not as a liberator, but as a conqueror. In January 1914 he wrote: "Hardly a year has elapsed since Monastir fell into Servian hands, and this very short period has been enough to turn it into a desert city." And he detailed the reasons.

In February, 1914, he wrote: "I write from Monastir, or I should say Bitoli, for there is no city of the name of Monastir in the vast Serbian Empire whose Emperor, Peter Karageorgevitch is daily wheting (sic) his sword sharp in order to be able to inflict a death-blow on the old Austrian Emperor. The conquest of Bosnia and Herzegovina and the creation of a vast and powerful Serbian Empire, even mightier than that of Dushan, is occupying the minds of all army men. . . . Travelling from Salonika to Monastir one is struck with the fewness of the passengers . . . where have all these people gone? The average number does not exceed ten, against hundreds in Turkish times. It is roughly estimated twenty thousand persons have emigrated from Monastir. . . . Taxes are tremendous; this city must pay a war tax of 1,000,000 francs. We see we have only exchanged a bad rule for a worse rule. This amount will go to the War Office, for in Serbia the army has twofold duties—to rule and to fight. There is hardly any other country in the world where military men have concentrated such a great power in their hands. The King and the civil authorities, needs must comply with the wishes of the officers. The Serbian officer has no respect for any one, and Albanian subjects, natives of Elbasan and Koritza, are enlisted by force in the army. And when Mr. ——- interfered on behalf of a man from Koritza, saying that they compelled people to complain to the foreign consuls, the recruiting officer replied: 'We shall imprison every blessed man who steps over the threshold of a consulate. You mean to say you will go to that big idiot the British consul. That fool of a consul must think himself very lucky for England is a friendly power, otherwise we would have killed him!'" He had, in fact, reported their conduct, and they seem to have been aware of this. The letter continues: "You cannot but pity us who are ruled by such men. . . . The only thing they are interested in is to collect taxes and to send gendarmes from house to house telling people that if they do not send their children to Serbian schools they will be punished. Of vino and beer they drink abundance. 'Bozhe, Bozhe, bez vino ne se mozhe!' . . . Corruption in all branches of the administration Is the essence of Serbian rule."

This picture, corroborating as it does the Carnegie Report of the "government within a government," is the more valuable, as it is evident that early in 1914 the writer had heard the plans for a "death-blow to the Austrian Emperor" discussed. Possibly his death and not that of his heir was first intended. The Serbs seem to have been so sure of Entente support that even the adverse reports of a consul had no terrors for them.

It was the last letter I had from the writer. He is dead, the bright and honest boy who used to discuss endlessly to me the happy land that Macedonia would be if once "freed from the Turk." From Montenegro news was no better. I learnt of the boycott of the Albanian population of Podgoritza—the people who, in fact, carried on most of the trade of Montenegro, and heard: "As to the Moslems there is a regular exodus of them from the 'liberated' country. Four thousand have gone, four thousand five hundred are in process of going, and two to three thousand more are to go as soon as possible." The unfortunate tribes of Hoti and Gruda been handed over to Montenegro and devastated.

It was reported that Prince Mirko was out of his mind, and Princess
Natalie had definitely left him and claimed the children
—Montenegro's only heirs.

Meanwhile the Powers could not longer delay the election of a Prince for Albania.

The combined efforts of France and Russia had whittled down Albania to nearly half her size, and had made a very cruel frontier, whereby all the populations of a wide mountain tract were cut off from their market town, Djakovo. The Dibra refugees were still camped in Albania, and the Prince hoped for as a Messiah still did not come. Prince Arthur of Connaught was the desire of the Albanians. "Give us even your King's youngest son," they said, "and we shall be safe. No one will dare attack us."

Essad now insisted on being a member of the provisional government. All feared him. None wanted him. He started a government of his own at Durazzo. In February the British and German Commissioners went there. Sir Harry Lamb worked hard on Albania's behalf, and did all he could to establish her safely. "The Albanians," he once said to me, "are the only Balkan race which ever tells the truth." He and the German tried to persuade Essad to resign, but he refused, and as he had an armed force at his command, the Commission' thought it risky to press him. He undertook to meet the Commission later at Valona. Ismail Kemal asked the Commission to take over the government till a Prince should arrive, and resigned. Essad then was induced to resign by being promised he should be president of the delegation which was to meet the newly-elected Prince, of Wied. After months of squabbling the Powers in their united wisdom had chosen this man. Why, it is hard to see. The feelings of the Albanians were not considered. Even Sir Edward Grey said: "The primary thing was to preserve agreement between the Powers themselves." The infant state of Albania was to be flung to the wolves to save its elders.

It was decided that Albania should be governed by a Prince elected by the Powers; that it should enjoy perpetual neutrality under the collective guarantee of the Powers, and that these six Powers should be represented in Albania by an International Commission, with one Albanian on it. Dutch officers were to train the gendarmerie. On paper it looked well. But France raised Albania's worst enemy, Krajevsky, from Vice-consul to International Commissioner. France was represented thus by a Levantine Slav. Italy, too, selected a Levantine, Aliotti, to carry out her schemes at Durazzo. Only England and Germany were acting honestly.

Essad Pasha began to move soon. He demanded that the provisional government should be removed to Durazzo, where it would be in his power, and where he had two partners, the Montenegrin Gjurashkovitch and the Greek bishop. The International Commission chose Valona as its seat.

Meanwhile Scutari was ruled by the International force separately. The Powers had thus given two international governments to Albania. One with plenty of force and very limited jurisdiction, and the other with wide jurisdiction and no force. And there was also the little provisional Albanian government. The Prince was an officer with a limited military mind, and without experience of the Near East. His one qualification for the post was that he was "the nephew of his aunt," Carmen Sylva of Roumania, and she pressed his candidature. The true reason for his unanimous selection was probably that the Powers who had planned Albania's destruction knew him to be a man of little ability, and therefore the more easily to be got rid of. France and Russia were combined to overthrow him, even while agreeing to his election.

When Greece and Bulgaria were respectively liberated and put under a foreign Prince, he was given in each case sufficient military force to maintain order till a native army should be organized. In the case of Albania it was arranged that he should be provided with no armed force—otherwise he would be difficult to evict. The International forces in Scutari were to squat there and look on. Essad Pasha was the agent of the Italians, Serbs, and French, and intrigued, so soon as the Prince was appointed, to obtain power over him. He bargained to be one of those who went to invite the Prince to Albania, and, accompanied by a party of Albanians, many of them better men than himself, he went to Neu Wied. How he contrived to worm himself into the Prince's confidence is a mystery. But he did, and in a luckless moment for the Prince, induced him to make Durazzo his capital. There he would be completely in the hands of Essad. He was welcomed at Durazzo by rejoicing Albanians, who knew nothing of the sinister plots of the Powers. But his fate was already sealed. The tale of William of Wied is among the most sordid that the Powers have woven.

Only an extremely able man could have forced his way through the mesh of intrigue which surrounded him. Already, in February, he had been warned in Austria to have no dealings with Essad. The "end soon began."

A Prince having been appointed, the Powers notified the Greeks they must evacuate South Albania within the limits drawn by the Frontier Commission. Members of this Commission told of the amazing series of tricks by which Greek agents had tried to hoodwink them. Wherever the Greeks had a school they dragged out a cartload of little children bidden to sing or shout in Greek. They tried to steer the Commission away from places which knew no Greek, and in one place actually shut up the women in a house for they could speak nothing but Albanian. Greek soldiers, while pretending to tell people not to make a noise, threatened them with punishment if they did not shout for Greece. They even imported Greeks, and dumped them on the path of the Commission. And ordered people, under threat of flogging, to paint their houses blue and white—the Greek colours. But they overacted the part so badly that in many cases they succeeded only in disgusting the Commissioners. At Borova a number of school children were sent to play in front of the house where the Commission was, and ordered to speak Greek only. Signor Labia, the Italian commissioner, threw out a handful of coppers. In their rush to pick up the money the poor children forgot their orders, and disputed aloud in their mother tongue—Albanian, to the amusement of the Commission, which, disgusted by these tricks, drew a frontier which gave the Albanians less than they had hoped for, but very much more than the Greeks had intended. These hastened to make another grab at the land, and sent Zographos, formerly Greek Minister for Foreign Affairs, and a gang of Greek officials to South Albania to claim it as Greek, and appoint themselves as the "Provisional Government of Epirus." A Greek colonel was made War Minister to this so-called government, and a Greek member of Parliament, Karapanos, was its Minister for Foreign Affairs. An American called Duncan, who had a Greek wife and went about dressed mainly in bath towels, collected much money, incited the people to resist Wied, armed them, and urged them to a fratricidal war. The Greek Government denied all connection with this "provisional government," just as the Serb Government has always denied responsibility for and knowledge of the deeds of the Black Hand.

At the command of the Powers the Greek regular army was obliged to evacuate the occupied districts. It departed from Koritza, but left a so-called hospital of wounded "not fit to be moved," and joined it to the Greek frontier by a telephone. Much of the army, however, remained in out-of-the-way spots, removing and concealing their insignia, so that the Greek Government might be able to deny that they were soldiers.

Formally the Greeks handed over Koritza to the Dutch gendarmerie officers under the International Control, on March 1, 1914. Had the Powers meant honestly by Albania they would have sent a force to clear the land of the lurking Greek bands of soldiery. But in spite of several questions asked in the House of Commons, Cretan and Greek komitadjis continued to land at Santa Quaranta, the Greek Government persistently denying all knowledge. "There are none so blind as those that won't see."

Such was the state of things when Prince zu Wied landed at Durazzo on March 7th. Had he at once made a journey throughout his domain, gone to Koritza via Berat and Elbasan, and claimed it as his, he might have triumphed. But it was Essad's business, as agent of Albania's enemies, to keep the Prince in Durazzo till the plans for his eviction were matured.

The International Control Commissioners handed over their authority to the Prince, and he, to the general dismay of the Albanians, appointed Essad War Minister, thus putting the armaments into his hands.

All this news seemed to me very bad. I was detained in London. My book on the war, The Struggle for Scutari, was finished, but my publisher was bent on keeping it for the autumn publishing season. I stood out for immediate publication in May. He said: "You know nothing about publishing." I said: "You do not know the state of the Near East. Anything may happen by October."

I offered to risk having no payment at all for it. It came out in May, and the thing that happened before October (Yougourieff's date) was bigger than even the shouts of the Montenegrins in 1913 had led me to expect.

Meanwhile the Greek "wounded" at Koritza telephoned for medical comforts, and the Greek Bishop sprang his plot. The "medicine" arrived in the form of armed bands and weapons. The Greek "wounded," the Bishop's servants, and a band of Grecophile students made an attack within the town on the night of April 11th, and the bands of lurking Greek soldiers attacked from without. Koritza was taken by surprise, was not well armed, and had but fifty newly trained gendarmes, commanded by the Dutch officers. Nevertheless the town put up a gallant resistance. Reinforcements arrived, and the Albanians "rushed" the house of the Bishop and carried him off a prisoner to Elbasan, along with a number of Greek soldiers, who readily gave their names and regiments, and told of the orders they had received. They had long been kept in readiness on the frontier. The Greek Government, as usual, declared the men must all be deserters, over which it had no control, which, at best, was a poor compliment to the Greek army, and did not explain how the "deserters" became possessed of artillery and ammunition.

The Greeks, furious at being beaten out of Koritza, avenged themselves on their retreat by committing outrages and burning villages. The Albanians drove back the Greeks to Argyrokastro, and would have chased them over the border had not the Greek General Papoulias come to the aid of his compatriots with large reinforcements and artillery. The Greek Government still "knew nothing" about the actions of its officers.

It is to be hoped that a future League of Nations will be in readiness to investigate at once similar occurrences, and that "ignorance" on the part of a government shall not be accepted as innocence without full inquiry. In this case the Albanians had no tribunal before which to present their case. The invading Greeks burnt and sacked numbers of villages, and destroyed the town of Leskoviki, committing at the same time terrible atrocities.

The International Commissioners went to Corfu to meet the Greeks and arrange peace. The Greeks were told to evacuate the district delimited by the Frontier Commission, and certain privileges were accorded to the very few Greeks it contained.

I learnt from Dr. Totirtoulis and others the following facts about the so-called "Epirote" government of Zographos. The plan was made in Paris, for, as Krajevsky had declaimed, France did not mean Albania to exist. The Greeks brought some Greeks from America and presented them to Cambon, and, it is believed, to Sir Edward Grey also, saying that they were "Epirotes." The Greek society in Paris was a strong one, and pushed them. Cambon, in November, advised them to form an independent government, which was done, as we have shown. Mr. Lamb (now Sir Harry) told me that at Corfu he told Zographos to his face that most of his "Epirotes" were Cretans, and that the mere fact that a Greek ex-minister of Foreign Affairs was running this "independent government" and trying to dictate terms, was enough in itself to "give the whole show away," but for the fact that certain Powers were determined not to see.

The Albanians in the defence of their land had been much hampered by shortage of ammunition, though quantities had been sent from Durazzo. It never reached Koritza, for Essad, who was Minister of War, diverted if for his own purposes. He was in league with the Serbo-Greek combine, and did not mean the Albanians of the South to win. He was hated by all the South for his conduct when commanding gendarmerie in Janina, and also for betraying Scutari. He knew that a victory for the South meant ruin for him.

A rumour rose soon that the ammunition had gone up to Essad's town, Tirana, and that there was unrest at Shiak, a village on the road leading there. Mr. Lamb and the German commissioner hastened to Durazzo. The foul play over the munitions convinced the Nationalist Albanians that Essad was brewing mischief. Unless he was preparing a coup against the Prince, he could have no need of a private munition store. Information was given to the Prince, who had him arrested by the Dutch gendarmes and a band of Nationalists on the night of May 18th. A few shots were fired amid shouts of "Down with the tyrant." He was arrested by the Dutch officer in command, and taken first to the palace, and then to the Austrian battleship Szigetvar. Essad was, as most folk knew, the agent of the combine against Austria and Germany. Italy was ready to partition Albania between the Greeks and Serbs, rather than let Austria gain power there. Now she has realized that the Slav is her enemy, but then, in May 1914, she was furious at Essad's arrest, and demanded his release. The correct course was to try and, if guilty, execute him. But trial would have meant conviction, and Italy would not hear of it. The Italian and Austrian battleships cleared for action, though the Powers had neutralized the Albanian coast. For twenty-four hours the position was precarious, but Austria once more swallowed her pride and yielded—this time to Italy. The Prince surrendered Essad to the Italians on condition that he did not return to Albania. With amazing effrontery the Italians took him to Rome and feted him in such a way as to make it clear they were rewarding him for his action.

Italy's conduct as a member of the Triple Alliance was in the highest degree insulting to her allies, and can be explained only by supposing that for the sake of the Adriatic she was ready to stab them on the first opportunity.

It was soon plain that the report of a prepared rising was true.
Armed men were concentrating at Shiak on the road to Tirana.

The ignorant Moslem inhabitants had been told that the Prince meant to abolish Islam and promote incestuous marriages, and bidden to demand his immediate withdrawal. There were also the mass of refugees from Dibra and Gostivar. They had passed the winter wretchedly enough, and were told that if they would combine and drive out Wied the Serbs would restore to them their lost lands. In vain the American missionaries warned them not to believe this. Dibra was their one hope and desire.

A party of armed men, led by one of the Dutch officers, went to parley with the insurgents, and took a machine gun. Unluckily, Captain Saar was ignorant of local customs. He and his party were unduly nervous, for when an Albanian has given his "besa" (peace oath) he keeps it. Alarmed unnecessarily, he ordered his men to fire at a group of three armed men. One escaped, fled to Shiak, and spread the alarm that the Prince had begun to massacre Moslems. A number of people rushed to aid the Shiak men, and a fight took place. How much foreign influence was behind it all it is hard to say. That Italy was not unconcerned in it seems proved by the fact that the Italian representative at Durazzo at once hurried to convince the Prince that he was in imminent danger, and persuaded him to go on board an Italian battleship. The Italians may have believed that the plot, engineered by Essad, was sure of success. Other members of the International Control persuaded the Prince to return to land. But by his flight he had hopelessly compromised his position.

That Italy was mixed in the affair appeared a little later. Red signal lights were seen flashing to the insurgents from a house in Durazzo by many persons, among them the British Vice-Consul. Lieutenant Fabius, of the Dutch gendai'merie, entered the house and caught an Italian officer, Colonel Muricchio, red-lamp-handed. Again no trial was allowed. It was pleaded that the Capitulations had not been abrogated! And the officer was released. We may blame Wied for incompetency, but only a man of unusual force of character and intimate knowledge of the land could have made headway against the Powers combined against him.

All this I learnt from members of the International Control, from the Dutch officers, from the Albanians, from the American Missionaries, and from some private individuals.

That the rising was planned and the ammunition embezzled by Essad and his gang hardly admits of doubt.

On June 8, 1914, I reached Trieste. Here our vice-consul, M. Salvari, himself an Albanian, was very anxious about the situation. I had intended going to Scutari, but he begged me to go to Durazzo, where I arrived on June 11th. On board the boat I met Mr John Corbett, who had lately been in South Albania, and said it was nonsense of the Greeks to pretend no Greek troops had remained there as he had seen parties of them in many places, and had seen money being collected in Corfu to aid Zographos's enterprise. Durazzo was crammed with people of all races. Fighting had ceased, but a large force of armed men was some miles outside the town and negotiations were going on. Dr. Dillon, the well-known correspondent, was there, and his strong Russian proclivities caused much anxiety, more especially as he and his young wife had been staying with Essad shortly before his arrest. The Russian agents were suspected of taking active part in the anti-Wied intrigues, and the correspondent of the Birzhevije Viedomosti was in Durazzo and on friendly terms with Dr. Dillon. The Russian, Olghinsky, I had met in Andrijevitza in 1912, when the Montenegrins were making ready for the Balkan war. He then complained to me freely of the apathy of the Russians, and said he and his paper were doing all they could to rouse the country to war. His paper (Birzhevije Viedomosti) had already, in March 1914, blown the war trumpet loudly:

"Until now the Russian plan of military operations had a defensive character; to-day it is known that the Russian army will, on the other hand, play an active part. . . . Our artillery possesses guns which are in no respect inferior to foreign models. Our coast and fortification guns are even superior to those of other states. Our artillery will no longer have to complain of want of ammunition. The teachings of the past have fallen on fruitful soil. Military automobile service has reached a high degree of perfection . . . all our military units have telephonic appliances."

More details are given, and the writer says: "It is important that Russian public opinion be conscious that the country is prepared for all possibilities." Yougourieff had given October as the date when "we should be ready for our great war." The Birzhevije Viedomosti said all was ready in March. To find Dr. Dillon, an avowed partisan of Russia, in company with a correspondent of Birzhevije Viedomosti, supporting Essad in Durazzo, was a sinister omen. He protested Essad's innocence to me, but had no proof to offer save that Essad was in bed when arrested, and that no documentary evidence was found. The first proved only that the rising was not timed for that night. The second was valueless in a land where few could write and messages go from mouth to mouth. Subsequent events have proved that Essad, as we suspected, was a Serb agent.

During the following days very bad news came from the South. Eye-witnesses gave evidence of the Greeks' atrocities. It was generally believed that as Italy was determined to keep the Greek islands, she was conniving at the Greeks finding compensation at Albania's expense.

At the house of Dom Nikola Kaciorri, a plucky little Catholic priest, I found an Orthodox Albanian priest from Meljani, near Leskoviki, who told how the Greeks had burnt his village and ordered all those who belonged to the Orthodox Church to come along with them, using force to make them, and falling on those who refused. They had driven a number along before them, including his wife and children, whom he could not rescue. He told how the Greeks had given the inhabitants of Odrichan permission to return to it, and had then fallen on them and slaughtered them. Mr. Lamb ascertained that this man's wife and children were alive, but the Greeks refused to give them up.

Almost as soon as I arrived I was invited to have an audience with the Princess of Wied. She was very friendly, and much distressed by the web of intrigue in which she found herself tied. I regretted that she and the Prince had fallen into the wrong hands, and begged her to go to Valona or Scutari, and at once start a tour through the land. I offered to go with her, and assured her safe conduct, saying all misunderstanding would have been avoided had she and the Prince made such a journey on arrival. She said she had wished to, but that Essad always advised against it. I spoke to her of the Russo-Serbo-French-Italian combine, and said the Albanians wanted none of it, and that she could yet have the whole country on her side But she continually quoted the advice of. Carmen Sylva, Queen of Roumania, till I had to say: "Yes, ma'am. But Albania is not Roumania. Here you will do much better by appealing direct to the people." I left promising to support her to the best of my ability. She struck me as honest, intelligent, and very well-meaning. She would have made a good Queen for the country had she been given a chance, and might have done as much for it as did Carmen Sylva for Roumania.

That same day Mr. Lamb told me that the inhabitants of three Moslem villages, Nenati, Mercati, and Konispoli, recently burnt by the Greeks, had sent to beg help, and asked me if I would go and investigate.

That night, June 12th, came a fresh development. The Dutch gendarmerie arrested Gjurashkovitch, the Montenegrin, who had still been allowed to function as Mayor of the town, to which he had been appointed in Turkish times. Again Albania's enemies stood up for him. His brother was dragoman to the Russian commissioner; Russia claimed him as under her protection, and raised the old cry of "Capitulations." He, too, was released. The thing was becoming a farce. The Prince was unable to try any suspect. The Italian papers raised choruses of blame against the Dutch gendarmerie, which at that time was very honestly trying to do its duty. The Prince, who was like a large, good-natured St. Bernard dog, yapped and snapped at all round, completely confused by the din, yielded each time, and so soon alienated the sympathy of the Dutch officers, who, as more than one of them complained to me, got into trouble on his behalf and then received no support.

News arrived that Osman Bali, one of the two men reported to have assassinated Hussein Riza in Scutari, had been seen among the insurgents, and was probably this time also acting for Essad. The Italians put in a demand that Lieutenant Fabius, who had arrested the Italian Colonel Muricchio, should apologize. This Fabius very properly refused to do, and many of us supported him. I had known him during the Balkan war, and found him a very honest boy. Italy then demanded his dismissal. But this time the Prince stood firm.

Fachinetti, the Italian correspondent, whom I had known well during the war of 1912-13, was also in Durazzo. In the Balkan war he had warmly taken the part of the Albanians, and had worked with me. Now he knew I should not approve his doings, and he kept out of my way, dodging whenever he saw me coming. Crajevsky, too, was not pleased to see me. He was now more pro-Slav even than the Russians, and as he had been more Turk than the Turks only two years before, he must have known that his volte face was, to me, rather comical. And he is the kind of man that does not like being thought funny.

Colonel Thompson, who was commanding the Dutch gendarmes, met me and told me that he was going to =give an ultimatum to the insurgents in the next few days, and asked me to call at eleven next morning and talk the matter over with him. I never did. That night things seemed shaky. I overheard Fachinetti, whose room was next mine, tell the landlord to knock him up if anything happened. So I did very little undressing, thinking he was probably behind some plot. I put my boots handy, and laid down as I was, for a bit of sleep, and jumped up to the sound of rifle fire as the landlord banged on Fachinetti's door. Sharp firing sounded close. I dashed out so soon as I could lace my boots, and went down to the entrance of the town where Fabius was in great haste serving out ammunition from the depot there. He begged me not to go out towards the scene of the fight, as he suspected the Italians, and wanted to give an order that no foreigner should leave the town. Up rushed the Italians, greatly excited, and were headed back by Fabius. I told them I, too, was forbidden to go, and we sent them back. We got the artillery ammunition on donkeys and sent it up the hill. Dutch and Austrian officers were to serve the guns. A wounded Albanian, crying feebly "Rrnoft Mbreti" (Long live the King), was carried by on a stretcher, and one of the bearers whispered to Fabius: "Thompson is hit. I fear he is dead." To lose the commander in the first hour of the fight was a terrible blow. Fabius begged me to tell no one. Later, Arthur Moore, The Times correspondent, came and told how poor Thompson had been struck down and died almost immediately in his arms in a hut by the wayside.

Too many battle books have been written of late, so I will not describe the fighting In the afternoon. I was under cover behind a bank on the top of the hill with Mr. Corbett when the Prince came up on horseback with a small suite. He dismounted and climbed the bank, a tall, lean man, worn and anxious, with a yellow-white face as from a touch of fever. We called to him he had better take cover as the bullets came over pretty often. He looked dazed and stupefied. I said: "A bullet has just cut down that plant, Sir!" pointing to one close by. He roused himself, mounted, and rode away. Our side soon got the upper hand, and all danger of the town being rushed seemed over.

Meanwhile, within the town, the Italians did all they could to create a panic. They built rubbishy barricades, and annoyed me by making one across the street near the hotel door. I pulled it down so as to be able to get in and out easily. The officer was very angry. I explained that the town was not his to barricade, and if it were it was no good to build a barricade there, as men behind it could only fire into the house opposite. Which made him the more angry, because it was true, and the thing a mere dummy to scare people. So sure were the Italians that they were 'going to get the town taken this time that the correspondents wrote gory accounts of its capture and the slaughter of the inhabitants, and sent them to Italy, where they were published. I do not now believe in Italian correspondents every time.

The Russians were as bad as the Italians. They, too, hoped for the fall of the town.

The Russian secretary was a typical ultra-neurotic Slav. Could not exist, he told me, without operas, ballets, and "stir tout des Emotions." Was horribly vexed that the Albanian Nationalist party proved so strong, and that Albania had not yet been overthrown. In order to keep himself alive meanwhile in this miserable hole he tried to get people to play bridge with him for as high stakes as possible. And this did not suffice him. He told me that having run through all the sensations of life he thought of committing suicide.

"Why don't you, then, Monsieur?" I asked enthusiastically. "No one will regret you. Suicide yourself, I beg you, quickly!" Which so infuriated him that I dare say he is alive still. It roused him to an attack on the English, who, he said, were ruining civilization by the way they treated the Jews. I retorted by hoping that the terrible accounts we had had of Jewish pogroms were exaggerated. "Exaggerated!" cried he. "You may believe everything you have heard. Nothing is bad enough or too bad for those brutes."

"You have no right," said I, "to speak so of any human beings."

"Human beings!" cried he. "What you English must learn is that they are not human beings. They are bugs, and must be cr-r-rushed."

This is a mere detail. But what sort of peace can be expected when men such as this are in the diplomatic service helping to pull the strings?

At night the heat was terrible. The motionless air was shrill with mosquitoes from the fever swamps. The Italian forces were camped just under my window and he stench of unwashed men and sweaty uniforms penetrated the miserable garret I slept in with suffocating acridity. I lay awake for hours thinking of the fate of thousands of human beings dependent on such men as Petar Karageorgevitch, with his blood-stained hands; his hoary father-in-law, Nikola, weaving spider webs; the decadent Russian, fanatical and cruel; the Levantine Slav, agent of France; the Italians like a pack in full cry with the victim in sight; the Greek Varatassi mainly playing bridge, but plotting behind the scenes with the Greek bishop, and probably with Essad too. All bent on war, and meaning to have it in some form.

Only Mr. Lamb and the German commissioner were playing straight. On 16th H.M.S. Defence and Admiral Troubridge arrived. Fighting went on, on and off, for the next few days. The Russian correspondent chuckled indecently over the Albanian wounded. On the 20th a deputation of townsfolk went to try and make terms with the insurgents. From the messages they brought it was clear that the luckless Albanians without the town were being used as cat's paw by more than one Power. A truce was called, and the insurgents asked to give up their arms and leaders. They replied they would yield their arms, but not their leaders. Who the leaders were remained a mystery.

While the armistice lasted at Durazzo the insurgents began to march to other places. No other town was armed. The people in vain asked what it was all about, and what the Powers wanted them to do. The Russian Vice-consul at Valona sent messages about to say that the Powers would be very angry if they fought on the side of Wied, The Albanians did not want to fight each other. Towns at once surrendered to the insurgents. The police changed their badges and business went on as usual. The populace did not want civil war, and continued to believe that the Powers would keep their promises. News then came that the Greeks were massing on the frontier ready to again fall on Koritza.

The insurgents now sent a message into Durazzo that they wanted to parley with an Englishman. They believed in England. General Phillips came from Scutari and went to meet them. He reported that the leaders were certainly not Albanians, and that they had refused to give their names. One was a Greek priest.

The game of the Greeks, then, was to incite the Moslems to ask for a Moslem ruler. With this in view they blackened Wied as an "anti-Moslem," hoping thus to split Albania and more easily destroy it.

One of the chief spokesmen said to General Phillips: "In England there is a Liberal Government. Many of you do not like it, but you must accept it because it is the will of the majority. We are the majority here, and we will have a Moslem Prince." This man the General "believed to be a Young Turk leader disguised." He asked why they objected to Wied, and they replied: "Because he is against our religion!" which was entirely untrue. And they added that they could easily take Durazzo because they knew that the international battleships off the coast had orders not to fire. In the end General Phillips made a strong appeal to them to cease this foolish warfare and accept Wied as the choice of Europe.

The Albanian crowd, he reported, appeared to agree and to be anxious to come to terms. But the five foreign leaders stuck out. And the ignorant crowd which believed that by following these leaders they would regain Dibra and other districts finally refused to come to terms.

Mr. Lamb also made a vain attempt to obtain the names of these leaders, and they obstinately refused to come into Durazzo to discuss terms with the Commissioners and the Prince. Nor would they permit any delegates to come. The Mirdite and Maltsor reinforcements who arrived were all reluctant to fight. "We are not in blood with these people," they said, "Why should we fight them?" We had a number of the enemy wounded in our hospitals along with our own men. They were most grateful for the care bestowed upon "them, and bore no ill-will at all. It was sadly true that these poor people were being killed and wounded, offered as human sacrifices at the altar of the rival ambitions of the Entente and the Central Powers.

The Breslau, since notorious, and a Russian warship now arrived. There were many Germans, both military and civilian, in the town, and the Germans and English worked together in the hospital. The surgeon, from the Russian warship, claimed the right to work in the English hospital as a member of the Entente. But as he proposed to give an anaesthetic to a man whose arm we had promised not to amputate, and then to take it off, we got rid of him in spite of his protests that a promise to "an animal like that" did not count.

I took my meals very often with the Germans, and we discussed often the danger caused to Europe by the Anglo-Russian Alliance. I said that though I believed Russia was heading for war I was sure we should not support her, and we drank to a speedy Anglo-German alliance. They were disgusted with Wied's folly, and said the Kaiser had been reluctant to appoint him, but had been over-persuaded by Carmen Sylva. They took me on board the Breslau, where I was received with great cordiality, and the captain, who took me on to the bridge, said his ship for her size was one of the fastest.

On Sunday, June 28th, I was having tea with Mr. and Mrs. Lamb, when we saw Admiral Troubridge climbing the hill towards us. He came into the house very hot, and said almost at once: "I have come to tell you our wireless has picked up a bit of a message. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand has been murdered at Serajevo. Just that!"

My first idea was: "They have done what they said they would last year. They have begun in Bosnia."

I said to Mr. Lamb: "This means war, doesn't it?"

He replied: "Not necessarily." And seemed surprised. His manner reassured me. But unless very strong pressure were brought to bear, I could not see how war between the Slavs and Austria could be avoided, for "we the Russian army with us" was part of the programme.

No official confirmation of the news came till next day.

That the Serbo-Greek combine expected to have more than the Russian army to support it seemed shown by a remarkable letter the insurgent leaders wrote to Berat, advising the town to surrender, because "we are supported by the Triple Entente." Berat, however, refused to surrender.

The insurgents sent a message to Durazzo that they were willing to be ruled by the International Commissioners if Wied were dismissed.

Terrible rumours came as to what was happening at Koritza. A force of Albanians went to its defence, led by Dutch officers. Greeks were pouring in over the border. At the same time it was said that Essad was returning to Tirana via Serbia, and meant to proclaim himself as Prince. No one wanted him.

On July 11th came a telegram from Berat. "With heart full of grief I send the bad news that Koritza, after two days' fight, has fallen into the hands of the enemy. More than fifty thousand people are coming away. Take measures for these unfortunates. The Greek army is spreading on all sides, killing, and burning, and turning into ashes every Albanian place it enters."

The Albanians were aghast. The Nationalists had all trusted Wied and the Powers. Without artillery and short of ammunition, with no trained army and no officers save the Dutchmen, they had done their best. The "insurrection" had been engineered by Albania's enemies for the express purpose, among others, of giving a door by which the Greeks could enter. Not until the Greeks began the wholesale destruction of Moslems and their villages, accompanied by every kind of atrocity, did the luckless Moslems of Tirana realize how they had been tricked.

On July 13th I went at Mr. Lamb's request to Valona to examine into the number and condition of the refugees. I have no space to describe the horrors of the next few weeks. The Dutch officers, who had flung away their uniforms and bolted down to Valona in civilian dress before the Greek onrush, gave terrible accounts of the mass of struggling refugees in their flight across the mountains; the dead and dying children en route; the aged falling by the wayside; the jam of desperate creatures in a pass; the hideous cruelties of the advancing Greeks. It had been impossible, said the Dutch officers, to hold Koritza with irregular troops against an army with artillery. The Greeks burned as they advanced, and burnt Tepelcni and all the villages near it.

The refugees crawled into Valona in the last stages of exhaustion, thousands and thousands of them, and lay about under the trees in all the surrounding country. Food and shelter there was none. The heat was overwhelming. I look back on it as a nightmare of agony. In a century of repentance the Greeks cannot expiate the abominable crime of those weeks.

Mr. Lamb telegraphed to appoint me as English representative on an international relief committee, which consisted of the Italian and Austrian Consuls, the Russian Vice-Consul, and some of the Albanian headmen.

I proposed at our first meeting that we should report to our respective Governments that an international naval demonstration off Athens should be at once made to stop this scandalous state of things, and save the miserable victims of the Greeks.

The Russian was indignant; the other two consuls looked at their boots, and said they would get into trouble if they did so; the Albanians were delighted. The Austrian, an old friend of mine, told me in private I was right, and only international intervention would have any effect.

All Valona was Nationalist. Even the little children shouted: "Rrnoft Mbreti!" (Note.—The spelling Mpret was invented by The Times for reasons of its own.) The luckless refugees hoped that the Prince, as a sort of supernatural power, would arrive with an army, drive out the Greeks, and restore them to their homes. Numbers of Bektashi dervishes were among them, reverend white-robed men, who prayed me to send a special petition from them to King George, who has so many Moslem subjects. Their rich monasteries especially had been set on and pillaged by the andartis, and Greek fanaticism would, they said, wipe out Bektashism from the land.

The place was a hell of misery. We dealt out maize flour and bread in tiny rations. It was all we could do. There were by now at least seventy thousand in and around Valona, 'more between Berat and Valona, and more always crawling in.

One ray of hope came. On July 27th it was rumoured that Austria had declared war on Serbia. A sort of gasp =of relief ran through the starving, miserable refugees. A great Power, they hoped, was now coming to their Rescue. All were aware that they owed their misery to the Greco-Serb combine. All knew of the martyrs of Fostivar and of Kosovo. I shall never forget the inspired enthusiasm with which one of the headmen of Valona cried, as he raised his hands to heaven: "God is about to avenge the innocent! The Serbs will be punished for their crimes!" He was an Ipek man, and knew too well what those crimes were.

A letter came to me from England from a man versed in military matters, suggesting a line of attack, and urging the Albanians to hasten at once to Kosovo and take the Serbs in the rear, should Austria attack in the front. No official news of any kind or sort came through. The Italian consul had no news, the Austrian none since the news that the Serajevo murderers had confessed that they and their bombs had come from Belgrade, and the latter had been supplied by a Serbian officer, and that the Belgrade papers approved the crime. To me it appeared that the affair was similar to the attempt on King Nikola in 1907. I said: "I suppose Russia is mixed up in this?" The Consul said: "Probably. We shall insist on a very complete investigation as to all the guilty parties."

Meanwhile, it was daily clearer that the refugees could not remain in the terrible heat and fever-laden atmosphere of the Valona plains. They were doomed to die in that case. Small-pox as well as malaria had broken out. It was barely possible to feed the poor creatures, let alone give them quinine. One lump of bread per head per day was all we could manage. I laughed bitterly later on when I was called on to sympathize with Belgians who, after a short though uncomfortable journey, had arrived in England and were living like fighting cocks.

At the last meeting of the Relief Committee we decided we must try and move them to higher land. The question was, where was the Greek army? Could any of the refugees return in safety to their burnt villages, or, at least, cut the corn that must now be ripe? The three consuls said it was impossible for them to spy the Greek position as, if caught, they would get into political trouble. Nor could Albanians be sent, for fear of starting fighting and bringing the Greeks down on Valona.

I therefore volunteered to go myself, if provided with a guide to take me up to the limit held by the Albanians. Ernst Gorlitz, a very friendly youth, of whom I had seen a good deal, and who was acting as correspondent to the Deutsches Tages Zefamg, came at the last minute and asked if he might accompany me, and I gladly consented, as he would be another witness. We started early on July 31st. Neither of us had the least idea of what was going on outside. It was a terrible ride. All along the track were camps of miserable beings, who hailed us as angels come to save them. Poor young Gorlitz, who had never done refugee work, was almost broken down by it. He cried at intervals: "It is the work of Huns—Huns. We must expose the Greeks to all Europe." At Skozi we found an almost desperate Kaimmakam trying to cope with 7,000 refugees in most miserable condition. He warned us to be careful, as the Greeks were not far off, and were still burning villages. We promised to make a united appeal in Berlin and in London, and do all we could to rouse European indignation. Gfirlitz was so upset he could not sleep, and looked bad when we started at dawn next day. We reached the last Albanian outpost beyond Thembla, and there left our horses. Gorlitz and I then scrambled along the mountain till on the opposite side of a deep valley we could see clearly with his field-glasses the camp of the Greek outposts, their tents and the men in khaki uniforms. It was a regular camp with military tents, and completely refuted the Greek lie that "Epirote insurgents" and not Greek regulars were concerned.

We had attained our object. All the mountain side was covered with black patches. The fields of the standing corn we had hoped to reap, the Greeks had burnt to ensure the starvation of the population. It was growing late. To advance further would mean we could not get back that night. We might also be arrested and detained too long to be able to act efficiently. We decided to return to Thembla, and next day make a forced ride to Valona. Starting about 5 a.m. we arrived tired and dirty at Balona rather after 8 p.m., and dismounted at my inn. Gorlitz said he would sup with me. Returning to the dining-room after a "wash and brush up," I found him collapsed with his head in his arms on the table. "What is the matter? Are you ill?" I asked anxiously. He looked up with horror on his face, and half-stunned.

"Russia has mobilized, and we have mobilized, too. They have all gone!" he said. I was thunderstruck. All the Germans had left Valona. Possibly the steamboat service would cease. Gorlitz was in despair, as if he could not get away he might be reckoned a deserter.

"And I shall never see my father again," he said. "He is on the Russian frontier. They will have killed him before I can get back." We went to the post office the first thing next morning, but as the boats from Trieste had stopped running, his remittance from his paper had not arrived, and never would arrive. The Austrian consul could advance no money, having barely enough for his own subjects.

A Thessalian liner was due that night, and might be the last boat up. There was no time to lose, so I paid Gorlitz's fare and gave him enough to see him through. Neither of us having an idea of what was happening, I saw him off at the port, with best wishes for Germany's rapid victory over Russia and an Anglo-German alliance. "As for us," I assured him, "you may be certain we shall side with the assassins." He left. Mr. Moore, of The Times, passing Valona on his way to Salonika, dropped at the quay a hasty scribbled note for me. "Nothing but a miracle can now stop the biggest war in history. Clear out while you can, or you will be cut off, money and food. Please take this seriously." I took it to the Austrian consulate. The Italian was there. Neither had any news. If I left, I wanted to go to Austria. But unless a gunboat came for the consul that was not now possible. Neither of them had any idea England would be dragged in, and assured me I should be all right anywhere. I asked the Italian point-blank: "Are you going to war as Austria's ally?" He replied: "The Triple Alliance is a secret one. I do not know its terms. But I have my own ideas about them. My opinion is that we are not obliged to fight, and in that case we certainly shall not." A letter arrived from Mr. Lamb at Durazzo, asking me to find the kavas of the British Embassy at Constantinople, who, with his family, was among the refugees burnt out by the Greeks, and send them on to Constantinople! by the first possible boat. No mention of war or warning.

Valona was in huge enthusiasm over the news that Belgrade was attacked. "Now the Serbs and Russians and Austrians will have their own affairs to attend to, and will leave us in peace!" they cried.

August 4th, the fatal day, I spent hunting up the family of the kavas, and doing relief work.

August 5th I went to the bank and found a sort of panic. Orders had come to close in two days. That meant no more cash for relief work or anything. I asked for all the gold he had, and the manager let me draw almost all the balance of my relief fund, which I distributed, and 30 pounds for myself. More he could not give. The Italian consul said an Italian coasting-boat would touch that night, and that as it was impossible for me to go to Austria I had better take the kavas' family to Brindisi and there tranship them, see the British consul, and learn what was happening. If things were all right, I could return and make fresh arrangements for the relief work. Without money it was useless to stay, as the whole of the mass of wretched sufferers would come to me for help, which I could not give. And at 10 p.m. I left for Brindisi. Shortly before the boat started an American came on board and shouted: "They've got news at the consulates that your people are in it, too." But I did not take it at all seriously.

Only next day at the British consulate, after I had transhipped my proteges and been examined for small-pox by the doctor—for I was from an infected area—did I learn to my amazement that not only had Great Britain declared war, but to my shame and disgust had done so on the side of the Slav. After that I really did not care what happened. The cup of my humiliation was full.

No more help could be got for the refugees. It was no use to go back. The difficulty was indeed to go anywhere. I wondered which flag would fly in Valona next time I saw it—the Austrian or the Italian.

Had I had enough money I should have gone to the Pacific islands, or anywhere out of the dirty squabbles of Europe. As it was, the only thing to do was to clear out of Italy lest she should be drawn in by the Triple Alliance. A White Star liner chartered to take off British tourists, who were swarming down from the Tyrol and South Germany, took about a thousand of us from Genoa on August 13th.

It was years since I had been with a large crowd of English. They seemed to me a strange race. To me the boat was the acme of comfort, and coolness, and cleanliness. But the bulk of my compatriots thought they were roughing it. I thought of the seventy thousand houseless creatures under the sun and the rain, starving on a daily bread dole—and these people wanted two or three courses for breakfast. None of them had seen war. None knew what a burnt village or a rotting corpse, or a living man with his abdomen shot through was like. None had the faintest idea of the thing that had happened. Many would have liked, I believe, to throw me overboard when I said that the war would last two years for certain, and how many more I did not know. When I told them that Russia would crumple like wet brown paper, they said I ought to be ashamed of myself. Nor when I added that I expected to live to see England fighting the Russians would they believe me.

And I saw the steamer as typical of England. Masses and masses of blind people, wilfully blind, who had never even troubled to try and find out whither they were going, but filled with an overwhelming conceit. Some even genuinely believed the war would be nearly over by the time we reached Liverpool. I could not help hoping we should meet my friend the Breslau, just to bring them up against facts. "If these are the English" I used to say to myself, "what an hell of a mess there will be before this is finished." And the war lasted more than two years, and we have already fought the Russians.