Servia, too, was preparing to enter the lists. Although without the shred of a grievance against the suzerain Power, nor indeed alleging any, Prince Milan, moved by the sole ambition to convert his principality into a kingdom, had easily allowed himself to be drawn into the conspiracy of a concerted attack on the Ottoman Empire. All the reserves of his army were called out and armed with newly imported rifles; and trains full of Russian officers of all grades and ranks, from Generals of divisions to corporals and sergeants, arrived daily at the capital to organise this militia into a fighting machine, and to drill the raw peasants into soldiers. The whole country, in fact, from Belgrade to Alexinatz, was an armed camp.
Everything portended important developments for the ensuing spring (1875). Early in the year, information reached the Porte that a serious outbreak would take place in Bulgaria in the month of April, and that the districts of Philippopolis, Eski‐Zagra, and Tirnova would be the scene of the explosion. The information which was very detailed and supported by evidence as to its accuracy, was accompanied by an earnest request by the authorities of the threatened districts that a body of regular troops should be despatched to the spot to inspire confidence in the inhabitants and to protect the lives and property of peaceful citizens. General Ignatieff again interfered, and in the capacity of amicus curiæ, insisted that the presence of regular troops would only inflame the passions of the population and precipitate a crisis. Mahmoud Nedim allowed himself to be persuaded by the Russian Ambassador, and persisted in turning a deaf ear to the reiterated requests of the local authorities for the despatch of a regular force.
Three weeks before the appointed day (16th April 1875) the anticipated rising took place. It was accompanied by exactly the same incidents that had characterised every previous rising that obeyed a mot d’ordre from outside. The armed bands fell on the first Mussulmans they met with, and massacred them all, regardless of age or sex, with the obvious aim of provoking reprisals that should play into the hands of the enemies of Turkey.[8] These reprisals did, in fact, take place, and were, no doubt, of a sanguinary and wholesale character. It is not intended here to defend or condemn the atrocities that took place on this occasion; but human nature being what it is, and the provocation endured by the Mussulman population being taken into account, and due allowance being made for the contagion of passion and panic, it is no great wonder if scenes were enacted in Bulgaria that have marked revolution and jacqueries in all ages in every part of the world; and perhaps still less if a confessedly and bitterly hostile Press in Europe denounced “methods of barbarism” with little sifting of evidence and with much dramatic exaggeration. Party spirit has occasionally not scrupled to apply exactly the same terms without much reason to the methods of warfare of its own regular troops. One fact was clearly and conclusively established by the various commissions subsequently sent to prosecute enquiries on the spot, viz., that not a single instance occurred of an unarmed Christian being injured, or of a Christian village being destroyed whose inhabitants had not actually risen in armed rebellion. Fanaticism, in the strict acceptation of the term, is not so discriminating.
Matters had now come to such a pass that a general cataclysm was to be apprehended. Bulgaria, Montenegro and Herzegovina in flames, Servia arming to the teeth under the supervision of competent foreign officers, Roumania preparing to move in the same direction, a bankrupt treasury at home, a Grand Vizier whose sole resource seemed to be in the promises and counsels of a perfidious ambassador, the arch‐enemy of his country, and a sovereign wholly unconscious, or careless, of the condition of the empire, provided his own extravagant caprices were gratified—such was the aspect of affairs in Turkey in the spring of 1876. But that was not all.
Under the spur of public opinion, and moved by secret springs in the same direction, European diplomacy was meddling with the matter. Rulers of State and masters of many legions were holding meetings to discuss the situation in the East, and “Notes” and “Memorandums” were flying about the Chancellories of Europe. The diplomatic outlook was quite as menacing as the situation at home was critical.
It was in such a condition of affairs that counsel was being taken in Midhat’s Konak, among a few patriots who did not yet despair of their country, as to the best mode of saving the empire. But before the events that led up to the deposition of the Sultan Abdul Aziz are detailed, it will be useful to cast a glance at what was passing in the diplomatic world in Europe.
The first and most important event in this respect, inasmuch as it was the key of all that subsequently occurred, was the meeting of the Czar and the Emperor of Austria at Reichstadt, 8th July 1876.[9]
The outcome of that interview, with respect to Turkey, is no secret to‐day, but twenty‐five years ago it was certainly ignored in London, otherwise the negotiations that took place between the English and Austrian Governments relative to the contingency of an armed intervention in the Turko‐Russian War—carried on through the Austrian Embassy in London in the significant absence of the Ambassador, which went so far as to discuss the terms of a guaranteed war loan—would certainly not have occurred. The acumen of the English Government on this occasion would seem to have been somewhat at fault, and the information that came to it from Vienna strangely unreliable; for it acted, throughout negotiations extending over two years, in undisturbed reliance on the bonâ fides of the Austrian Chancellor’s assurances, and apparently in a secure trust in the force of his Magyar prejudices with respect to Russia. The fact is patent to‐day—and was well known at Berlin, and was not ignored in Paris—that Austria was, if not the actual instigator of the Herzegovinian rising—which is by no means certain—the Power that was determined to profit by it, and that her whole policy and diplomatic action with respect to the events that were taking place in the South‐East of Europe was governed by this determination.
The turning‐point of Austrian policy with respect to Turkey has already been indicated: the abandonment by England of Austria’s interests on the Danube left her free, or even compelled her to have regard to what she considered her own exclusive interests; and the meeting of the two Emperors, at the breaking out of the Herzegovinian disturbances, was the confirmation of this change of policy.