Light was thus thrown on the dissensions in the Cabinet, and the vacillations in British policy. Disraeli once said in his whimsical way that there were six parties in the Ministry. The first party wanted immediate war with Russia; the second was for war in order to save Constantinople; the third was for peace at any price; the fourth would let the Russians take Constantinople and then turn them out; the fifth wanted to plant the cross on the dome of St. Sofia; "and then there are the Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who desire to see something done, but don't know exactly what[158]." The coupling of himself with the amiable Sir Stafford Northcote is a good instance of Disraelian irony. It is fairly certain that he was for war with Russia; that Lord Carnarvon constituted the third party, and Lord Derby the fourth.
On the day after the resignation of Lord Carnarvon, the British Cabinet heard for the first time what were the demands of Russia. They included the formation of a Greater Bulgaria, "within the limits of the Bulgarian nationality," practically independent of the Sultan's direct control; the entire independence of Roumania, Servia, and Montenegro; a territorial and pecuniary indemnity to Russia for the expenses of the war; and "an ulterior understanding for safeguarding the rights and interests of Russia in the Straits."
The extension of Bulgaria to the shores of the Aegean seemed at that time a mighty triumph for Russian influence; but it was the last item, vaguely foreshadowing the extension of Russian influence to the Dardanelles, that most aroused the alarm of the British Cabinet. Russian control of those straits would certainly have endangered Britain's connections with India by way of the Suez Canal, seeing that we then had no foothold in Egypt. Accordingly, on January 28, the Ministry proposed to Parliament the voting of an additional sum of £6,000,000 towards increasing the armaments of the country. At once there arose strong protests against this proposal, especially from the districts then suffering from the prolonged depression of trade. The outcry was very natural; but none the less it can scarcely be justified in view of the magnitude of the British interests then at stake. Granted that the views of the Czar were pacific, those of his generals at the seat of war were very much open to question[159]. The long coveted prize of Constantinople, or the Dardanelles, was likely to tempt them to disregard official orders from St. Petersburg, unless they knew that any imprudent step would bring on a European war. In any case, the vote of £6,000,000 was a precautionary measure; and it probably had the effect of giving pause to the enthusiasts at the Russian headquarters.
The preliminary bases of peace between Russia and Turkey were signed at Adrianople (Jan. 31) on the terms summarised above, except that the Czar's Ministers now withdrew the obnoxious clause about the Straits. A line of demarcation was also agreed on between the hostile forces; it passed from Derkos, a lake near the Black Sea, to the north of Constantinople, in a southerly direction by the banks of the Karasou stream as far as the Sea of Marmora. This gave to the Russians the lines of Tchekmedje, the chief natural defence of Constantinople, and they occupied this position on February 6. This fact was reported by Mr. Layard, Sir Henry Elliot's successor at Constantinople, in alarmist terms, and it had the effect of stilling the opposition at Westminster to the vote of credit. Though official assurances of a reassuring kind came from Prince Gortchakoff at St. Petersburg, the British Ministry on February 7 ordered a part of the Mediterranean fleet to enter the Sea of Marmora for the defence of British interests and the protection of British subjects at Constantinople. The Czar's Government thereupon declared that if the British fleet steamed up the Bosporus, Russian troops would enter Constantinople for the protection of the Christian population.
This rivalry in philanthropic zeal was not pushed to its logical issue, war. The British fleet stopped short of the Bosporus, but within sight of the Russian lines. True, these were pushed eastwards slightly beyond the limits agreed on with the Turks; but an arrangement was arrived at between Lord Derby and Prince Gortchakoff (Feb. 19) that the Russians would not occupy the lines of Bulair close to Constantinople, or the Peninsula of Gallipoli commanding the Dardanelles, provided that British forces were not landed in that important strait[160]. So matters rested, both sides regarding each other with the sullenness of impotent wrath. As Bismarck said, a war would have been a fight between an elephant and a whale.
The situation was further complicated by an invasion of Thessaly by the Greeks (Feb. 3); but they were withdrawn at once on the urgent remonstrance of the Powers, coupled with a promise that the claims of Greece would be favourably considered at the general peace[161].
In truth, all the racial hatreds, aspirations, and ambitions that had so long been pent up in the south-east of Europe now seemed on the point of bursting forth and overwhelming civilisation in a common ruin. Just as the earth's volcanic forces now and again threaten to tear their way through the crust, so now the immemorial feuds of Moslems and Christians, of Greeks, Servians, Bulgars, Wallachs, and Turks, promised to desolate the slopes of the Balkans, of Rhodope and the Pindus, and to spread the lava tide of war over the half of the Continent. The Russians and Bulgars, swarming over Roumelia, glutted their revenge for past defeats and massacres by outrages well-nigh as horrible as that of Batak. At once the fierce Moslems of the Rhodope Mountains rose in self-defence or for vengeance. And while the Russian eagles perforce checked their flight within sight of Stamboul, the Greeks and Armenians of that capital--nay, the very occupants of the foreign embassies--trembled at sight of the lust of blood that seized on the vengeful Ottomans.
Nor was this all. Far away beyond the northern horizon the war cloud hung heavily over the Carpathians. The statesmen of Vienna, fearing that the terms of their bargain with Russia were now forgotten in the intoxication of her triumph, determined to compel the victors to lay their spoils before the Great Powers. In haste the Austrian and Hungarian troops took station on the great bastion of the Carpathians, and began to exert on the military situation the pressure which had been so fatal to Russia in her Turkish campaign of 1854.
But though everything betokened war, there were forces that worked slowly but surely for a pacific settlement. However threatening was the attitude of Russia, her rulers really desired peace. The war had shown once again the weakness of that Power for offence. Her strength lies in her boundless plains, in the devotion of her millions of peasants to the Czar, and in the patient, stubborn strength which is the outcome of long centuries of struggle with the yearly tyrant, winter. Her weakness lies in the selfishness, frivolity, corruption, and narrowness of outlook of her governing class--in short, in their incapacity for organisation. Against the steady resisting power of her peasants the great Napoleon had hurled his legions in vain. That campaign of 1812 exhibited the strength of Russia for defence. But when, in fallacious trust in that precedent, she has undertaken great wars far from her base, failure has nearly always been the result. The pathetic devotion of her peasantry has not made up for the mental and moral defects of her governing classes. This fact had fixed itself on every competent observer in 1877. The Emperor Alexander knew it only too well. Now, early in 1878, it was fairly certain that his army would succumb under the frontal attacks of Turks and British, and the onset of the Austrians on their rear.