In those years the Russian people did not move, although they undoubtedly followed with intense interest all the eloquent speeches delivered in England on behalf of the unhappy Armenians, for Russia certainly can never be indifferent to the Christian cause in Turkey. All her policy in the East had that permanent basis. But this time the lead was taken by Great Britain, who was credited with some definite plan of her own. Russia's help was never asked in the only way which could be fruitful, and her Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Lobanoff, unhesitatingly expressed his dissent from the half-measures which were proposed, and which would only irritate the Sultan and further injure the cause of the unhappy Armenians—bad enough already.
Thank God, their losses did not amount to the 250,000 lives stated in the English Press; but even the tenth part is a terrible, terrible slaughter. The poor Armenians would never have risen in rebellion had they not expected from Great Britain the help that the Slavs received from Russia. I suppose our crime is that we did not do Great Britain's work. But really this cannot constitute Russia's duty!
It was at the beginning of 1878, when the long agony of the War of Emancipation in the Balkans and in Armenia was drawing to a close, that I published Is Russia Wrong? It was a protest and an appeal against the fatal superstition that our two countries were natural enemies. The appeal was for the re-establishment of the Russo-English alliance, which seemed to me essential for the best interests of both countries. It was venturesome, perhaps even audacious, to issue such an appeal when all your arsenals were ringing with preparations for war with Russia, and when Lord Beaconsfield was even completing his arrangements for forcing your fleet up to the gates of Constantinople.
In those days there were few who listened to Russian protests; among these few, however, were the flower of English intellect. My great friend, Mr. J. A. Froude, in an eloquent preface, commended my appeal to the attention of his countrymen. Mr. Carlyle honoured it with his emphatic assurances of support. In fact, it was he who was the first in urging me to republish in book form all my letters on the Anglo-Russian relations. Four years later, when I re-issued the appeal with other matter in my Russia and England, M. Emile de Laveleye reviewed it in the Fortnightly, but so great was the popular prejudice against Russians, that Mr. Morley would not allow him even to name the author of the book whose proposals were under review. I shall never forget De Laveleye's indignation at having been so roughly treated by the editor. "It is pure despotism," exclaimed he. "People talk of freedom of opinion, and they will not allow you, at the same time, to express that which you most strongly hold! It is despotism and deceit combined. Of all kinds of despotism—the worst," concluded he. I did not contradict my friend, as he was expressing exactly my own views.
Fortunately for me, Mr. Gladstone was not handcuffed in the same way by the editor of the Nineteenth Century. He reviewed the book not only at length, but warmly supported my humble plea for a cordial and good understanding between the two great Empires which dominate Asia. "Every Englishman," said he, with his wonderful outspokenness, "must read this book." His advice may have been followed by some of his party, but I certainly ignominiously failed to convince the Jingoes.
But all this is very long ago and a new era has since opened for Russia and England. I have written this chapter to show what apparently insurmountable obstacles have been overcome to allow Russia and England to join forces in 1914 with the common object of freeing Europe from an intolerable tyranny. In the meantime, poor Armenia suffers as even she has not suffered before, and once more Russia is carrying hope to the hearts of unfortunate Christians ground beneath the Turkish heel.