The Turk and his lost provinces

by William Eleroy Curtis

People say that Alexander lacked judgment and discretion; that he talked too much; that he was no diplomatist; that he quarreled with his advisers; that he was lamentably deficient in the arts of the politician, and was too liberal and lenient to govern a country which had never known any ruler but a despot. This is probably true. If Alexander could have had a sagacious and experienced statesman to guide him, he might have had a different fate. But, under his brief administration, Bulgaria made extraordinary progress, and if he had been allowed to remain upon the throne, by this time it would have advanced to a gratifying position among nations. When he came to Sofia the entire country was in a state of anarchy, a hundred times worse than Cuba after the Spanish war. The people had been suffering horrors that shocked the civilized world, and had been oppressed by cruelty that cannot be described. Being exasperated into resistance, their oppressors punished them with sword and torch. The number of victims is unknown. The British minister, who made an investigation, declared that not less than 12,000 persons were massacred in a single month by the Turks. Eugene Schuyler, the American consul then at Constantinople, put the number at 15,000. The country had been in a state of chronic revolution for several years and the theater of a war between two powerful nations whose armies foraged upon the farms, burned the cities and left desolate a large portion of the territory. Most of the population had fled to the mountains from their burning homes, and many of them were too poor and discouraged to repair damages when peace was restored.

In attempting to regenerate this distracted nation, Alexander of Battenberg undertook a task more difficult than was attempted by any other man of his generation. He endeavored to build up a new nation out of heterogeneous materials, and had little assistance but much interference from the Powers that had intrusted him with the work. He is one of the most romantic figures in modern European history. His frank and cheerful nature, his social charms, his personal courage upon the field of battle and his heroic attempts to overcome the impossible won for him the enduring affection of the common people and all patriotic spirits in Bulgaria, who recognized that he had no motive but their good. The same qualities, however, made him bitter and relentless enemies. He was surrounded by ambitious and avaricious adventurers and corrupt officials whom he dismissed the moment he discovered their misconduct. He was a poor judge of a rascal. He was so honest and candid himself that he could not detect the insincerity of others. He might have overcome these obstacles and defeated the conspiracies that were constantly formed against him if Alexander II. of Russia, whose assassination was a sad blow to Bulgaria as well as to his own people, had lived. He had great confidence in his nephew, Prince Alexander, loved him like his own son and supported him in every direction, even against the intrigues of Russian politicians who had been sent to Sofia to control the government. The people of Bulgaria loved him and still call him their “Liberator.”

Alexander III., for some reason or other, never liked his cousin of Battenberg, and soon after ascending the throne called him to account for his anti-Russian policy in Bulgaria. The explanation was unsatisfactory. Alexander said he was endeavoring to administer affairs for the best interests of the people themselves without regard to foreign complications. His liberality was too great to please the Czar. He was a Protestant and encouraged education to an extent that was not appreciated by the clergy of the Greek Church. He granted freedom to the press, which encouraged the democratic spirit of the people and strengthened the Liberal party in politics, which was anti-Russian in its tendencies and even advocated a republican form of government. Failing to meet the requirements of the Czar, Alexander found he was no longer allowed to be master in his own house, and that the Russian officials who surrounded him were taking their orders from St. Petersburg rather than from their own sovereign. He attempted to dismiss them and asserted his independence by filling their positions with native Liberals upon whom he could rely. The Russians retaliated by one of the most scandalous and shameful conspiracies that has ever occurred in political history. It might have happened in the Middle Ages, in the days of the robber barons and the Medicis, but there is nothing to compare with it in modern times.

At two o’clock on the morning of August 21, 1886, Prince Alexander was aroused from his slumbers by his valet, who thrust a revolver into his hand and begged him to flee through an open window. But the prince was a man to face danger, and, partially dressing himself, stepped into an ante-room where he found a crowd of Russian officers, some of whom he had recently dismissed from their positions, and others still in the employment of the government. They coolly informed him that he had the option to choose between death and abdication. A Russian officer tore a blank page out of the visitors’ book that lay upon the table and attempted to write an abdication, but he was too drunk to do so. A young cadet from the military academy took the pen and wrote a few incoherent words at his dictation. With five revolvers pointing at his head, Alexander calmly read the document and remarked sarcastically:

“Gentlemen, you shall have your way,” and wrote in German the words, “God protect Bulgaria. Alexander.”

A few moments later he was hustled into a carriage and, guarded by an escort of Russian officers and cadets from the military academy, which was in their charge, he was driven at a gallop seventeen miles to a monastery, where, after a few hours’ rest, an exchange of horses was made and he was hurried over the Balkan Mountains to the Danube River and placed upon a yacht.

The conspirators at Sofia, with the aid of the Metropolitan, or archbishop, of the Greek Church, proclaimed a provisional government; but Stambouloff, the young president of the parliament, who was equal to the emergency, declared them to be outlaws, appealed to the Bulgarians to defend the throne against the Russian conspirators, and persuaded the parliament to appoint him regent until Prince Alexander could be restored. It was several days before the latter could be found. In the meantime he was concealed upon the yacht on the Danube River. When the facts became known throughout Europe the Russians were compelled by public sentiment to surrender him, and the Czar made desperate efforts to exculpate himself from the responsibility. Nevertheless, not one of the Russian officials who were engaged in the plot was ever punished or even censured.

Prince Alexander returned to Sofia in triumph, and was enthusiastically welcomed by the people; but, with characteristic frankness, immediately telegraphed the Czar:

“I received my crown from Russia. I am ready to return it to the hands of her sovereign whenever it is demanded.”

The Czar at once replied, as might have been expected, expressing disapproval of the return of Alexander to Bulgaria and censuring his administration of affairs. In vain Stambouloff and other Bulgarians implored their prince to remain and defy Russia, and even threatened to prevent him by force from abdication, but Alexander declared that his usefulness was ended, and that it was the only wise course for him to retire and save the country from a war with Russia. Before doing so, however, he exacted a pledge from the Czar that he would permit the Bulgarians to manage their own affairs without interference—a pledge that was violated within the next thirty days, and has never been kept in any respect. Then, appointing a regency, Alexander formally abdicated authority and left the country with the affection and confidence of the people. He went to Austria, where he remained in retirement, under the title of Count Hartenau, until his death in 1893.