It was not until some months afterwards that I learnt what my unhappy plan proposed to do. Kars was doomed to fall as a make-weight for the capture of half of Sebastopol, and a Captain of Bashi-Bazouks (myself) had madly attempted to arrest the course of haute politique.
The tale of the fall of Kars is pathetic enough. While the British officers dined with General Mouravieff, the gallant Turkish soldiers were ordered to pile arms and march off under escort, and, dashing their muskets to the ground, they cried, "Perish our Wazirs who have even shamed us with this shame." And the disastrous and dishonourable result brought about by our political inaptitude has never ceased to weaken our prestige in Central Asia. Civilized Turks simply declared that an officer of artillery, sent out as Commissioner by England, had unwarrantably interfered with the legitimate command of Kars, where Turkey had a powerful army and an important position; and that by keeping the soldiers behind walls, when he knew the City could not be saved, he had lost both Army and City. The criticism was fair and sound.
General (afterwards Sir) W. F. Williams of Kars was at first in huge indignation, and declared that he would persuade the Government to impeach Lord Stratford. But on the way he was met by an offer of the Command at Woolwich, which apparently made him hold his peace. He was somewhat an exceptional man. For years an instructor of the Turkish Artillery, then English member of the mixed Commission for the topography of the Turko-Persian frontier, and finally Queen's Commissioner with the Turkish army at Kars, he had never learnt a word of Turkish. Of course he was hustled into the House of Commons. Whenever a man makes himself known in England that is apparently his ultimate fate. But he fell flatly, as even Kars did, before the sharp tongue of Bernal Osborne. During some debate on the Chinese question, he had assured the House that he was an expert, because he had had much experience of Turkish matters. "Oh, the fall of Kars!" cried the wit; and the ex-Commissioner was extinguished for ever.
Lord Stratford, I suppose by way of consoling me, made an indirect offer, through Lord Napier and Ettrick, about commissioning me to pay an official visit to Schamyl, whom some call "The Patriot," and others "The Bandit," of the Caucasus. The idea was excellent, but somewhat surprised me. Schamyl had lately been accused, amongst other atrocious actions, of flogging Russian ladies whom he had taken prisoners, and I could not understand how Lord Stratford, who had an unmitigated horror of all Russian cruelties, and who always expressed it in the rawest terms, could ally himself with such a ruffian. Possibly the political advantages in his opinion counterbalanced his demerits, for, had Schamyl been fairly supported, the Russian conquest of the great mountains might have been retarded for years. I consulted on the subject Alison and Percy Smythe, and both were of the same opinion, namely, that although there were difficulties and dangers, involving a long ride through Russian territory, the task might have been accomplished. They relied greatly upon the ardent patriotism of the Circassian women who then filled the harems of Constantinople. I should not have seen a single face, except perhaps that of a slave-girl, but I should have been warmly assisted with all the interest the fair patriots could make. So I began seriously to think of the matter. But the first visit to Lord Stratford put it entirely out of my head. I asked his Excellency what my reply was to be, should Schamyl ask me upon what mission I came. "Oh, say that you are sent to report to me." "But, my lord, Schamyl will expect money, arms, and possibly troops, and what am I to reply if he asks me about it? Otherwise he will infallibly set me down for a spy, and my chance of returning to Constantinople will be uncommonly small."
However, the "Eltchi" could not see it in that light, and the project fell through.
Here also, although somewhat out of place, I may relate my last chance of carrying out a project upon which I was very warm, namely, to assist Circassia and to attack Georgia.
On returning to London I received a hint that Lord Palmerston had still some project of the kind, and was willing that I should be employed on it. So I wrote a number of letters, which I was allowed to publish in the Times, upon the subject of levying a large force of Kurdish Irregular Cavalry, and these being supported by the excellent work of Sir Henry Rawlinson, found favour with the public. But presently came the Franco-Russian peace of 1856. France, who had won all the credit of the mismanaged Campaign because she washed her dirty linen at home, and who had left all the discredit to England, whose practice was the opposite, lost all interest in the war. Louis Napoleon was thoroughly satisfied with what he had done, and Russia, after a most gallant and heroic defence of her territory, wanted time to heal her wounds. Accordingly the Treaty of Paris was entered into, the result being that, fifteen years afterwards, when France was in her sorest straits, Russia, with the consent of England (!), tore up that treaty and threw it in our face.
After this fruitless visit to Constantinople, I returned post haste to the Dardanelles, where I found the Bashi-Bazouks, like the unfortunate Turks at Kars, in a state of siege. On the morning of the 26th of September we were astounded to see the Turkish Regulars drawn out in array against us, Infantry supported by the guns, which were pointed at our camp, and patrols of Cavalry occupying the rear. Three War-steamers commanded the main entrance of the Town, and the enemy's outposts were established within three hundred yards of the 1st Regiment of Beatson's Horse, evidently for the purpose of ensuring a sanguinary affair. The inhabitants had closed their shops, and the British Consulate was deserted. The steamer Redpole was sent off in hottest haste to Constantinople with a report that a trifling squabble between the French infirmiers and the Bashi-Bazouks had ended in deadly conflict, and that the most terrible consequences were likely to ensue.
General Beatson at once issued an order to his men, who were furious at this fresh insult, and requested permission to punish the aggressors by taking the enemy's guns; and by means of his officers he restrained the natural anger of his much-suffering men.