DETAILS OF THE ASSASSINATION OF MIDHAT PASHA, ACCORDING TO
INFORMATION DERIVED FROM HAÏROULLAH EFFENDI.
In the course of the third year of his exile at Taïf, Midhat Pasha had
a large tumour on his right shoulder. The doctor, who was permitted
to attend him, was a certain Nashid Effendi, who delayed a fortnight
before diagnosing it as anthrax, and who, being ignorant of all modern
surgical knowledge, did not even perform the necessary operation,
alleging the age of the Pasha as a cause for this omission.
This infamous and unworthy conduct on the part of the doctor was, at
first, explained in two ways: as he had only just left the School of
Medicine, perhaps he had not sufficient experience, or perhaps he was
acting under superior orders of those who were desirous of the death
of the invalid. But what is certain is that Damad Mahmoud Pasha,
companion in exile of Midhat, having no confidence either in the
capacity or honesty of Nashid, and fearing lest he had some criminal
design, sent a telegram to the Governor‐General of Hedjaz, residing at
Mecca—Osman Nouri Pasha, who is now Marshal and Aide‐de‐camp to Abdul
Hamid—in which he implored him to send another doctor, accusing Nashid
of incapacity. But Osman Nouri had not even the politeness to reply
to him. However, fortunately the anthrax burst of itself, and it was
always this same Nashid, accompanied by an officer, Captain Ibrahim
Aga, who dressed the wound. The state of health of the invalid, which
grew worse from day to day, was caused probably by the treatment to
which he was submitted. It must be said that it is almost by a miracle
that the wound healed eventually, thanks to a different but altogether
rudimentary treatment, which was tried.
The doctor made a report to the Governor‐General after each visit, and
that official never failed to transmit it regularly by telegraph to
Yildiz Kiosk.
One day Nashid, after dressing the wound with Ibrahim, suddenly asked
Midhat Pasha, to the general consternation, if it were really true that
in Europe criminals were now only executed by means of chloroform. This
question, simple enough in itself, gave more than one person cause for
reflection.
Major Bekir[29] of the Third Battalion, 10th Regiment, who was
specially charged with the surveillance of the prisoners, had gone
away some days previously to Mecca and Medina. It was with very great
surprise, therefore, that we saw him enter Midhat Pasha’s room with the
doctor and Ibrahim. When asked the reason of his sudden return, Bekir
replied simply, with extraordinary cunning, that it was only to arrange
certain affairs of the garrison, in the first place, and secondly, to
collect the taxes in the villages situated on the side of Tarié. He
added that he was getting ready for this journey on the receipt of a
special order from the _Muchir_ (Marshal).
This was a bare‐faced lie, and we shall see further on what was in
reality the mission with which he was charged.
The sixth day after the arrival of Major Bekir was a Friday, and, as
usual, the servants belonging to the prisoners, accompanied by a
guard, went to the mosque in the town for the Friday prayer. Arif Aga,
servant to Midhat Pasha, remained by his suffering master.
On their return, Major Bekir stopped them all before the _caracol_ or
guard‐room, and not seeing Arif Aga amongst them, had him at once sent
for.
Arif refused to obey this order, alleging that he could not leave his
invalid alone. When the Pashas perceived that Bekir insisted, they told
the orderly to fetch him, in order that they might learn the reason
of this inexplicable affair. Bekir, on receiving this communication,
jumped up, and going to Midhat Pasha’s room in the _kalé_ (fortress),
declared in a haughty, insulting manner that the servants would be
dismissed from their service, that in future they would have to be
contented to eat from _caravanas_, and that they would no longer be
allowed to purchase eggs, cheese, nor olives, only tobacco; and last of
all, that they would now be forbidden to present any further requests
to the Sultan.
Such was the arrogant language employed by Bekir. Later on, changing
his tone, he added with less impertinence that he was charged with a
special mission, and that he had received an order to send Haïroullah
Effendi’s wife (who was living in the town with her baby) first of all
to Mecca, and thence to Constantinople. This was most alarming news to
many, for it all pointed to secret plots. However, there was no other
course open than to await the end with resignation.
Damad Mahmoud Pasha, who was of a very hot‐blooded disposition, and
who easily got angry, lost patience, and replied to the explanations
of Bekir by demanding that at least the dismissed attendants might be
allowed to return to them in order to settle their accounts. Bekir,
now become almost amiable, replied that this would be contrary to the
orders he had received, but in order to do them a service, he would
take the responsibility upon himself and allow the servants to come,
accompanied by a guard.
The servants, after their accounts had been settled, were lodged in a
room near the principal door of the barracks. The cooking utensils,
pens, paper, and ink‐stands, which until then had been placed at the
disposition of the Pashas, were now taken from them. Bekir, in order to
make the preparations for his travels, spent the night at the barracks.
Midhat Pasha had more than once filled the office of Grand Vizier, and
had rendered eminent services to his country. The manner in which they
treated him shocked me, for even under these circumstances, taking into
consideration his age and the weak state of his health, they might have
shown him some consideration.
A hospital attendant, a soldier, who was completely ignorant of the
habits of the Pasha, was now appointed as his servant. Nevertheless,
Midhat Pasha, we must allow, whilst we render homage to his energy,
submitted to all these humiliations with the greatest calm, and even
with indifference.
On the 8th of April, a Sunday, Bekir visited Midhat, undoubtedly with
the intention, after some conversation, of taking the latest news to
the Pasha at Hedjaz, for that same day he was going to leave for Mecca,
taking with him the wife of Haïroullah, his child, the servants, and
the cooks.
“Are you going now?” asked Midhat Pasha of Bekir.
“Yes, in a few hours,” he replied; “if you have any communications to
make me, will you kindly do so now?”
“Very well! Listen to me attentively. His Majesty, Abdul Hamid, has
recently raised the Vali to the rank of Marshal, and I congratulate
the latter with all my heart. You know, however, all the services
that I have rendered my country; no one can deny them. You are not
ignorant of the distinguished posts I have successively occupied.
Now, you see how I am treated; I see nothing before me except the
most gloomy prospect, and it is through you that they will get rid
of me. You will be the instruments, and each of you, most probably,
will be promoted; the officer will become colonel, the colonel will be
gazetted as a general, and so on; but remember that you may die after
Abdul Hamid. If you die before, your titles will be inscribed on your
tombs; but if the contrary occurs, then I am convinced it will be quite
otherwise. Pause now, examine your conscience, calculate your own moral
and material interests, and without looking so far ahead, whilst His
Majesty is still alive, just think for a moment what has become of the
Chief President of that arbitrary tribunal which condemned me in so
cowardly a manner, without any tangible proof. It is quite true that
Sourouri Effendi was appointed _Cadi Asker_; but was he not exiled
soon afterwards, under the title of Governor of Manissa. As to Djevdet
Pasha, the second President, he is, as everyone knows, deprived of his
functions, and is now at home—a disgraced man. Think of these events,
and you will form a correct idea of the situation. I see that some
crime is overhanging me. Remember the verse of the Koran which says:
‘Whosoever kills shall be punished with hell and eternal tortures.’...
We are all deserving of chastisement at the hands of Divine Justice.
And now that you know my opinion, will you communicate it faithfully to
the Vali?”
Bekir grew pale, but plucking up courage, replied: “I have been present
at several battles; but, apart from war, I have never even cut off the
head of a fowl.” The conversation coming to an end, Bekir went out of
the prisoner’s room, and at once started on his journey to Mecca,
accompanied by the individuals we have already mentioned.
On the seventh day after his departure—a Friday evening—we saw him
return to Taïf. To the general surprise he reinstated the servants in
the Pashas’ service. After a few days Haïroullah’s wife also returned
from Djeddah with her baby and the cook. Haïroullah ordered his servant
Ibrahim to look after his household in the town, and contented himself
with the services of a common soldier.
The day after his return Bekir once more made his appearance in the
Pashas’ quarters, saying that a new Irade had just been telegraphed
ordering a diminution of the prisoner’s rations and the dismissal of
the cooks. He also presented the greetings from the Vali, who would,
nevertheless, allow them to purchase from the bazaar all that they
needed.
Why this toleration? What did it mean, coming after the diminution
of the rations and the dismissal of the cooks? Bekir replied to this
maliciously, stating that such a duty was most unpleasing to him, but
that as a soldier he was compelled to obey his superiors, although he
regretted to be unable to act otherwise.
At this time, Midhat Pasha was fortunately almost entirely cured of his
illness, but they still continued to telegraph daily the state of his
health to the Governor‐General.
One day Midhat Pasha sent his attendant to the town to buy some milk
from a milkman named Echreff. Immediately on learning this, one of the
officers, told off to guard the prisoners, a certain Nouri, wished to
accompany the soldier to the milkman’s house. On arriving at their
destination, they asked for the milk. Echreff declared that he had only
three _kilos_ of milk, which had been ordered by the General, but
that he would give them one _ock_ at once if it were for the Pasha.
Nouri accepted this offer, and ordered the soldier to take it to Daïra.
This most unexpected and unusual amiability on the part of Nouri was
noticed, and gave rise to suspicions.
During the Pasha’s illness, it was Saïd Bey, another prisoner, who
watched over the food prepared by Midhat’s servant, Arif Aga. Saïd Bey
at once took care to examine the can that contained this milk, and
noticed to his surprise that the colour of it was unnatural. He tasted
a small spoonful and found that the milk had a bitter flavour that
hurt his throat. Saïd mentioned this fact to several people who were
present, and especially to the lieutenant, Mehemet Aga, and they all
tasted it—some of them even had to keep to their beds for several days
afterwards, having been so imprudent as to take a sufficient quantity
to upset their system.
When this was related to Midhat Pasha, he at once sent for Mehemet Aga,
and with much self‐restraint spoke to him as follows: “I sent to‐day
for some of the same milk as that ordered by the Binbashi (Major). It
has been found to contain verdigris; this has been proved by all those
who drank it; I believe that you also tasted it.”
Mehemet acknowledged that the milk had been very much adulterated.
Midhat, still preserving his _sang‐froid_, continued: “Since this is
the case, why do you not go to the Binbashi (Major) and warn him to be
careful not to drink it.”
The officer went away hurriedly, and soon after returned, saying:
“That the Binbashi was going to send for the milkman, that he intended
to investigate the matter, and that if it were deserved, a severe
punishment would be inflicted. That he meant to get to the bottom of
the whole business.”
But we learned later on that before Mehemet went to inform the
Binbashi, this latter was in the garden of the military hospital,
surrounded by his confidants, whom he asked from time to time if all
had gone off well! If the milk had been drunk, and if it had proved
efficacious.
At the same time we were told that several soldiers who had drunk
the Binbashi’s milk had become ill. This, undoubtedly, was nothing
but a rumour which had been purposely spread, and has never received
confirmation from any trustworthy source.
A sample of this milk was sent to the Binbashi to be analysed by
the doctors. The only reply he made was: “That they had not got the
necessary apparatus for analysis!” This is absolutely incredible.
In order to save appearances, Bekir sent for Echreff, the milkman,
and remonstrated with him. But Echreff, on his side, protested most
vehemently. Besides which all his cans were in good condition. He
insisted that the milk must have been contaminated by some medicament
after it had left his dairy.
Thus the incident was closed, for the Binbashi did not follow up the
affair, which he wished to be forgotten.
Another time a strange fact was again noticed. It was when Arif,
Midhat’s servant, was still in his service. He always passed his nights
in the Pasha’s room, having first of all locked up his own, in which he
frequently kept the food he had prepared for the following day.
Arif perceived one morning that the lids of his saucepans had been
disturbed, and that their contents presented an unusual appearance. He
immediately told Midhat of his extraordinary discovery, and the Pasha
sent at once for Damad Mahmoud and the other prisoners, begging them
to examine the saucepans. After a summary examination they ascertained
that some foreign matter had been introduced. The perpetrator of this
odious attempt remained as much unknown as he who had put the verdigris
in the milk. The contents of all the saucepans were given to the dogs
and cats, but as these animals were none the worse, we thought that
this foreign matter could not have been a poison. However, after the
assassination of Midhat Pasha we learned that the sub‐lieutenants
Mehemet and Nouri, getting in one night by the window, had managed to
poison all those dishes of which Midhat Pasha would have partaken the
following day. These two gentlemen made a complete confession of this
crime some time afterwards.
During this time there was an honest soldier, Mehemet Yosgad, whose
duty it was to prepare the coffee. We now know that it was suggested to
him more than once that he should give poison to the prisoners, mixing
it with their coffee. However, as this honourable man firmly refused to
commit this crime, others had to be found who would undertake it.
Mahmoud Pasha, who was very fond of coffee, began to give up drinking
it, and no longer smoked his _narghilé_, but in order to show his
confidence in honest Mehemet, he never refused coffee that had been
prepared by him.
Another time it was noticed that the water which was kept in a _baradé_
had a most offensive smell. The jar was broken, and very great
precautions were taken thenceforth.
Major Bekir was a thoroughly bad man, and extremely cunning. He took as
many precautions about the crime he was about to commit as he did about
his accomplices. So far all attempts at poisoning had failed; other
means must be employed!
On the 9th of Redjeb, 1301 (23rd April 1883, O.S.), a Sunday, a
detachment of cavalry, with two guns, arrived at Taïf, under the
command of a Circassian colonel belonging to the 53rd regiment of the
7th Army Corps. Mehemet Lutfi at once chose out about forty of the
strongest soldiers and increased the prisoners’ guard.
Before the arrival of Mehemet Lutfi, Bekir had several times called
Hadji Chukri Aga, Mahmoud Pasha’s servant, into his own private room
very late at night, when every one was asleep, and kept him there in
trivial conversation; but he had never dared to confide the secret to
him, nor to ask his help, for Chukri was not the kind of man to become
his accomplice, or to commit a crime against his benefactor.
As has been stated above, the colonel reorganised the prisoners’ guards
after his own manner. The same day he sent for Arif Aga in order that
he might have the incident of the milk explained to him, but in reality
he proposed to Arif that he should poison his master.
“The poison is ready,” he said, “and if you succeed in making Midhat
drink it, you will receive very great rewards from His Majesty the
Sultan. Another man has been commissioned to kill Damad Mahmoud, but
if you are willing to undertake that as well, your recompense shall be
doubled. If ever you divulge the secret you will be killed.”
The promised reward amounted to £T1000 for the death of Midhat, and
£T600 for that of Mahmoud.
Arif was a devoted and faithful servant, besides being a good
Mussulman. He not only refused the rewards, but, disregarding all
intimidations, protested strongly against the cowardly and unworthy
schemes that they had formed against his master. He hastened also to
relate to Midhat and to Mahmoud Pasha all that had been said to him.
These two Pashas, deeply moved by this communication, held a long
consultation together, but to no purpose. What could they do? For
a long time now they had foreseen very clearly that their end was
approaching, if not by one way, then by another.
The colonel, who had not thought fit to pay them a visit, appeared very
much preoccupied.
On the second night after his arrival he had the prisoners’ quarters
surrounded by numerous soldiers, and gave special orders to those who
formed the inside guard. On Tuesday evening, he wished to end the whole
affair, but circumstances obliged him to put off the execution until
the following night. Ibrahim Aga, the captain, and three lieutenants
sent for Arif Aga, and told him plainly that owing to a command
received from the Palace of Yildiz Kiosk, they were obliged to put an
end to Midhat, and that as Arif had refused to poison him, they hoped
that at least he would have a little good sense and open the door of
the Pasha’s room about midnight; and that if he refused this little
service they would know what steps to take.
Poor Arif Aga, maddened by hearing of the odious crime which was about
to be committed against his beloved master, sprang up in rage and
cried frantically to these wretches: “Oh no! I will never do what you
suggest—I will never open the door! I will not be your accomplice! I
am afraid of my conscience and of Allah!”
They were beginning to ill‐treat him, but at that moment the prisoners
happened to be going to their separate rooms. Midhat, who was on his
way to his bedroom, was descending the stairs when he heard the voice
of his faithful servant crying out over and over again: “Master, do not
go down; return to your friends at once, and spend the night with them.
These cowards are meaning to assassinate you!”
Midhat Pasha went up the stairs again, re‐assembled the prisoners,
and informed them of this sinister occurrence. Just then one of the
officers went to tell the colonel what had happened. He ordered that
Arif should be arrested and the prisoners all separated. The faithful
servant was dragged off to the barracks, where he was imprisoned,
whilst an officer, Memiche, was sent by the colonel to separate the
prisoners and to try and calm their fears.
“The colonel,” said Memiche, “presents his compliments to you all,
and begs that you will withdraw to your separate bedrooms, as the law
requires.” To this command Midhat and Mahmoud replied that they would
only be separated by force. They sent for Ibrahim, who arrived somewhat
troubled by the turn of affairs. They also requested to speak with
Bekir, in order to obtain some explanation of this matter. The major
arrived, and entering the room, said—“That good‐for‐nothing Arif
doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It looks as if he were doing all
this in order to get sent away, unless he is quite out of his mind.”
The Pashas could not succeed in hiding their anxiety, for everything
foreboded the approaching crime.
“At the present moment,” continued Bekir, “no such order exists. But
we are soldiers, and therefore owe unquestioning obedience to our
superiors. Be quite at ease! Do you think that anyone would be afraid
of you whilst you are in our safe keeping?”
He then began to swear by all that he held most sacred in the world
that there was no cause for them to fear. Meanwhile Arif Aga was being
tortured for having divulged the secret.
Midhat passed the whole of that night with Ali Bey, another prisoner.
Colonel Mehemet Lutfi and Major Bekir remained in the room overlooking
the principal entrance to the barracks, whence they directed the
operations. The soldiers were given the same orders as on the
preceding night, and cartridges were distributed amongst them.
A captain and three lieutenants were placed in the prisoners’ quarters
to superintend operations, and two soldiers, bare‐footed for the
occasion, and with bayonets fixed, were stationed at the door of each
prisoner’s room.
About six o’clock,[30] Hadji Chukri Aga, Mahmoud’s servant was awakened
and transferred to the barracks, where he was imprisoned.
Colonel Mehemet Lutfi remained in the barracks, whilst Major Bekir
directed the assassination from the officers’ room.[31]
We have stated above that Ali Bey was sharing Midhat’s room. At
about half‐past six (1.30 A.M.) the door was forced open, and Ali Bey
was dragged from the room. Then they strangled this old man, who was
incapable of offering any resistance.
On bursting in the door of Mahmoud’s room, they threw round his neck
a soaped cord, which had been specially prepared, for they were aware
that he possessed very considerable muscular strength. Mahmoud made a
most desperate resistance, giving vent to piercing cries. They tried
every means to hasten his death, with such ferocity that even the
animals in the neighbourhood trembled at the sound of his heartrending
cries for help. But soon the screams of anguish died away.
A few moments after, two corpses, wrapped in sheets, were transported
to a room in the hospital. The perpetrators waited until the day broke
before digging their graves in the cemetery, set apart for soldiers,
which lies outside the fortifications. There these two martyrs repose
in their eternal sleep.
Even the religious ceremonies were not carried out with regard to the
funeral—doubtless, in order that the secret might be better preserved.
They knew not that Time is the Revealer of all things!
* * * * *
Midhat Pasha had recovered completely from his indisposition. One
evening, a little while before his assassination, after a lengthy
meditation, he had said to his friends: “I am thinking of death. The
pain thereof only endures for five minutes. But I do not know what kind
of death may be the least painful. Perhaps poison, or a bullet, or
death at the end of some illness. My body, sixty year old, is worn out.
Why live beyond this age if it be only to suffer! I should have been
happy if my illness had carried me off. But what can I do? The hour
has not struck yet. Several innocent people are prisoners here on my
account, being obliged to mount guard over me; I should have liked to
give them back their liberty.”
Finishing these reflections, he once more returned to his sad and
harrowing meditations.
* * * * *
Immediately after the horrible execution, that same night, the doors
and locks were all repaired, and two days later the belongings of the
Pashas were taken into a room in the barracks. During two consecutive
days several subordinates kept going in and out of this room, removing
small objects.
Terror had reigned in the hearts of all the prisoners during the
assassination. The following day the sentinels were removed, and when
the prisoners went to make their morning prayer they embraced and took
a last farewell of each other, bursting into tears and awaiting their
turn with resignation. The reign of terror still continued, and every
word and gesture gave rise to suspicion.
* * * * *
Thus ends the faithful translation of the document sent by Halroullah
Effendi, ex‐Sheik‐ul‐Islam. We have preserved all its originality.
APPENDICES
APPENDIX A
THE NEGOTIATIONS BETWEEN THE BERLIN NOTE AND THE CONFERENCE OF
CONSTANTINOPLE
The effects of the Bulgarian troubles on British policy were clearly
visible. England, that had hitherto been favourable and friendly
to Turkey; that had counselled against the Consular Commission of
August 1875; had adhered to the Andrassy note of December (1875) only
at the express request of the Ottoman Government (on the 13th June
1876); had pressed reforms upon Turkey as a means of forestalling
the designs of the enemies of the Ottoman Empire,[32] and had firmly
refused to adhere to the Berlin Memorandum, now took up a slightly
altered position. This nuance was clearly perceived in a despatch
from Lord Derby to Sir H. Elliot of the 25th May 1876, in which he
said: “In the course of conversation with Musurus Pasha, I took
the opportunity of suggesting to His Excellency that it would be
undesirable that the Turkish Government should misunderstand the
attitude of Her Majesty’s Government in regard to the proposals of
the Berlin Conference. Her Majesty’s Government had declined to
join in proposals which they thought ill‐advised, _but both the
circumstances and the state of feeling in this country were very
much changed since the Crimean War_, and the Porte would be unwise
to be led, by recollections of that period, to count upon more than
the moral support of Her Majesty’s Government in the event of no
satisfactory solution of the present difficulties being found.”[33]
It will be seen later on that even this attitude of benevolent
diplomatic neutrality was not entirely preserved by the British
Government at the Conference of Constantinople or the negotiations
that led up to it.
“The three Northern and allied Powers” were evidently disconcerted by
the turn matters were taking at Constantinople. It seemed impossible
to present a comminatory note to a new Sultan and a new Government
established by a revolution, the very purpose and aim of which was to
introduce practical reforms in the country, without a certain delay
demanded by equity and even decency. They determined to make it as
short as possible.
In spite, however, of strenuous efforts to conceal the fact,
differences had arisen among “the allied Courts,” or rather between
the two principal parties interested. Russia was in favour of an
occupation of the three disturbed provinces, with a view to the
eventual establishment of autonomies on the model of Servia and
Roumania. Austria was dead opposed to both propositions. There is no
doubt that she had been working up to an occupation by her own troops
of Bosnia and Herzegovina as the mandate of Europe—up to the time of
the Bulgarian insurrection; but now that such an occupation would be
accompanied by a Russian occupation of Bulgaria, she entirely changed
her mind. If a joint occupation took place, the last state of those
provinces would be worse than the first. At present she had the
strategical advantage of position over Russia, but Russia in Bulgaria
would have it over her. She was firmly opposed to joint occupation.
Neither would autonomy suit her. The establishment of autonomous
provinces, placed under the guarantee of the Great Powers, would make
the absorption by herself of these coveted possessions impossible.
Count Andrassy put his foot down against both these proposals.
A very active interchange of ideas consequently took place during the
whole of the month of June between the two Empires, and it was here
that the full value of a third partner, the disinterested broker, was
revealed. Russia evidently meant business, for Servia, which was, as
Consul‐General White explained, absolutely in her hands, now (1st
July 1876) formally declared war against Turkey, and invaded the
Ottoman territory. Montenegro followed her example. In the latter
case it was rather a superfluous or _ex post facto_ formality.
A knot had occurred worthy of the interposition of the gods, and on
the 8th July a meeting was arranged at Reichstadt between the Emperor
Francis Joseph and the Czar. Of course it is only in Homeric times
that accounts of the interviews of Olympic gods were vouchsafed to
men, and simple mortals have to content themselves nowadays with
being told the results of these interviews. The result of this
particular interview was “very satisfactory.” According to Sir A.
Buchanan, “the Emperor and Count Andrassy returned last night (10th
July 1876) _greatly satisfied_ with the interview of Reichstadt.”
“The Emperors parted on the best terms; they agreed to maintain the
present principle of non‐intervention, reserving for the future the
expediency of coming to an understanding with the Great Powers,
according to circumstances which may arise.”[34] So, according to
this authority, the Emperor of Austria returned to Vienna “greatly
satisfied” with doing nothing. It was scarcely worth while going all
the way to Reichstadt for that. It was, however, generally supposed
in well‐informed chancelleries in Europe at the time, and subsequent
events greatly corroborated the surmise, that the Emperor had
something else to be greatly satisfied about than what was vouchsafed
to Sir A. Buchanan.
It was said that two specific points had been formally agreed upon
between the rulers of these two military Empires, in presence
of the threatening aspect that affairs were assuming. (1) That,
should affairs in the East eventuate in war between Turkey and
Russia, Russia would, under no circumstances, seek any territorial
acquisition _in Europe_. (2) That Bosnia and Herzegovina should be
considered within the exclusive sphere of Austria’s influence, and
that Russia would not actively oppose any arrangement with respect
to them that Europe might propose. All the rest would be left to
their respective chancellors, each would retain his liberty of action
and pursue the policy he deemed the best, certain that nothing that
could happen in the way of differences of opinion between them could
bring about a rupture between the two Empires. The middle term of an
agreement had evidently been found. “British interests” would pay the
bill, and the desertion of Bucharest would be avenged.
By a curious coincidence, on the same day (8th July) that this
historical interview took place, there appeared in the _Daily News_
the famous “atrocity article” that set all England ablaze and
started the greatest orator of the day on his crusade against the
“unspeakable Turk.”
The indirect effect on English policy of this crusade and the
atrocity meetings all over England that followed it, was seen in the
nuance already noticed, between the terms of the despatch of the 25th
May and that of the 25th September, which was the prelude to the
Conference where it was still further accentuated.
July was destined to bring an aggravation of trouble on the Turkish
Empire and anxiety on Turkish Ministers. Austria chose this moment
(1st July) to shut to Turkey the port of Klek, through which the
Turkish army in Herzegovina received its chief supplies. It is not
necessary to enter here into the question of international right
involved in this matter. This turned on the interpretation of ancient
treaties with the Venetian Republic, and on the boundaries of the
“enclaves” in Dalmatia, and these questions had, by mutual consent,
been left dormant for long years between the Austrian and Ottoman
Governments. Suffice it to say that a _modus vivendi_ had been
arrived at between the two Governments in 1853 (“in the hope that
an amicable arrangement will intervene relative to the question of
the enclaves of Klek and Suttorina”), and had subsisted ever since.
For Austria, after leaving the question of right in abeyance for
twenty‐three years, to choose that particular moment when the maximum
of inconvenience would be thereby caused to the Ottoman Government,
was a high‐handed proceeding of the most unfriendly nature, and
could only be justified on the principle of _la force prime le
droit_. At any rate, it finally exploded the pretext of “her deep
and earnest anxiety” for the pacification of these provinces which
she was continually putting forward as the motives of her diplomatic
actions, as well as all pretence of friendly dispositions towards the
Porte. The energy displayed by the new Government at Constantinople
in sending reinforcements to the scene of action, and the success
attending these efforts, were perhaps the real motive of this
unqualified act, for in consequence of that energy, things were not
going well with the insurrection, and new factors would have to be
imported to keep it going.
Accordingly, at the same time the port of supply for the Turkish
troops was closed, Montenegro and Servia declared war on the Porte
(1st July 1876). (As far as the first‐named principality was
concerned this formality was rather superfluous _ex post facto_
formality.) Ever since the “intimate relations which had existed for
two years back” between the Courts of Vienna and Cettinje, Montenegro
had never ceased to carry on war against the Ottoman troops. Indeed
her mountaineers, together with the Grenzers and Dalmatians, had
been the mainstay of the “rebellion.” Only as, nominally, peaceful
relations had never been interrupted, the Turkish Commanders were
debarred from following the rebels on Montenegrin soil, and Russia
had drawn a taboo round Montenegro, and forbidden, under penalty of
war, the invasion of that land, and Mr Jomine, the Russian diplomatic
agent at Cettinje, was, with his Austrian colleague, the confidential
adviser of the prince.
As far back as January 1876, Sir H. Elliot had informed Lord Derby of
“the system employed by the Montenegrins in aid of the Herzegovinian
insurgents. All the men (in Montenegro), capable of bearing arms,
are considered to be soldiers, and are made into battalions of 600
men. The commanders and majors of these battalions, who are called
commanders and pod‐commanders, receive pay; the remaining officers
and men are unpaid. When an expedition is contemplated, each man
takes with him potatoes and bread, if he has any, for five days, and
a reserve of provisions from each village is carried by women or
baggage horses. The Austrian Committees, having provided surgeons
and medicines, hospitals and ambulances have been organised in some
villages on the frontier. The prince furnishes all those who join
the insurgents _without authorisation, but he sends one‐fifth of his
effective forces into the Herzegovina. Not to overtire these poor
people, His Highness takes care to change them at the end of each
expedition, or when their provisions are exhausted. Reforms alone, it
is stated, will never put an end to the insurrection, and force is of
no avail so long as the insurgents and their Montenegrin friends have
only to cross the frontier to be in safety._”[35]
As for Servia, Consul‐General White had for months past warned
his Government of what was preparing, and of the wholesale influx
of Russians into the Servian army, nor had Prince Milan made any
disguise of the fact of the likelihood of his being drawn into the
_mêlée_, but a certain almost comic jealousy existed between the
rulers of these two little principalities, lest the one should steal
a march on the other, and acquire a better right to the title of the
“liberator of the Slav race.”
They consequently agreed to declare war on Turkey together. As
Servia, confident in her new levies, was now determined to act,
Montenegro could not afford to be behindhand, however much it might
have suited her to continue the particular mode of safe warfare that
she had, for twelve months, been indulging in.
In spite of the new levies, military matters did not progress to
Prince Milan’s satisfaction. The fact was that a new spirit had
been infused into Ottoman Councils by the new ministers, and large
reinforcements of regular troops under competent generals had
been hurried to the Servian frontiers and despatched into Bosnia.
The consequence was that victory did not attend the Servian arms,
and, after the loss of an important position near Deligrad on the
24th August 1876, barely two months after the pompous declaration
of war, Prince Milan “with the approval of his ally, the Prince
of Montenegro,” requested the good offices of the Powers for a
suspension of hostilities. All Europe eagerly seconded this request,
and although a formal armistice was never concluded, a _de facto_
suspension of hostilities took place. It is unnecessary to detail the
negotiations that followed.
The Porte very naturally desired that an agreement on the basis of
peace should precede or accompany an armistice, otherwise it would
lose all the advantages of its present military position. Servia
wanted an armistice without any basis of peace. When at last, in
consequence of the insistence of Europe, the Porte agreed to this, a
dispute arose about the duration of the armistice. The Porte proposed
six months to give ample time to negotiate a permanent settlement,
and England adhered to this view of the matter. Servia would have
none of it; one month or nothing. She was moving on safe ground,
for she knew well that Europe had taken the negotiations out of
her hand and would never allow a renewed attack upon her. Russia
strongly insisted on the shorter term, and when, in order to solve
the difficulty, England appealed to the honest broker at Berlin, he
proposed as a compromise an armistice of six weeks.
These _pourparlers_ occupied about a month, and when they seemed to
be on the point of being settled, as usual by the Porte yielding in
the matter, it was found that Prince Milan had changed his mind, and
would have no armistice at all.
What had occurred in the interval to account for this change of front?
On the 24th September, Consul‐General White writes to Sir Henry
Elliot[36] “that the last six weeks have produced an important change
in the affairs of Servia. The Civil Government has ceased to have
a voice in public affairs; the presence of Russian officers, some
of them officers of the Imperial Guard, the courage and enthusiasm
with which they are animated, the growing influence of the Slavonic
Committees through their agents, have all given a warlike tone to
what is called public opinion here.... The Russians present here say
openly that it is their aim and object to prevent the conclusions of
peace.” And again, on 4th October 1876, he writes to Lord Derby:[37]
“It may be interesting for your Lordship to hear that money appears
abundant in the Servian Exchequer, and although the Ministers deny
that it is derived from Russian sources, it is quite impossible to
account in any other way for its origin.”
But something more particular must have occurred to encourage Prince
Milan to order on the 26th September, the very next day on which
the suspension of hostilities terminated, a general attack on the
Turks in the Morava Valley. What was it? On the 28th September
1876, Mr Malet (afterwards Sir Edward Malet), writing from Rome to
Lord Derby,[38] states that Sig. Melegari, the Minister for Foreign
Affairs, in order to convince him “of the imminence of the danger to
the Ottoman Empire” read the following paper to him, as coming from
Livadia, adding that England alone was able to avert the execution of
the design by “compelling” the Porte to acquiesce in His Lordship’s
demands. The paper was dated 26th September, and ran as follows: “The
Emperor has sent General Soumarakoff to Vienna with instructions to
propose a peace, should Turkey attempt to evade the armistice, upon
conditions that would suit all the Powers, viz. Austrian military
intervention in Bosnia, Russian military intervention in Bulgaria,
and the joint entry of all the squadrons of the Levant into the
Bosphorus. These steps appear to us indispensable in order to bring
the Porte to its senses, to prevent war, and save the Christians from
a general massacre.”[39]
This _grandis epistola a Capreis_ which frightened Mr Malet so
much that he immediately telegraphed its substance to Lord Derby,
and which was, no doubt, intended to frighten Lord Derby, had no
chance at all of being accepted at Vienna, and if the constant and
continuous intercourse between the three Northern “and allied Powers”
was to any purpose at all, it is quite impossible that the nature of
the reception it should meet with there, should have been ignored. It
could therefore only have been intended as a “spur” to the Foreign
Office, and it succeeded admirably in its intention.
It is scarcely worth while to waste many words over the proposal
from Livadia. Austria feared nothing so much as a joint occupation
with Russia. It would have been a guarantee exacted from her for
her own eventual simultaneous retirement, which would have upset
all her plans. Nor was England yet brought up to concert pitch. But
the notice had served its purpose. England, a little timorously,
and with the best intentions towards Turkey, and with the general
approval and even applause of Europe,[40] had undertaken the lead
in proposing terms to Turkey as a basis of pacification. As early
as the 11th September Count Schouvaloff in an interview described
“(1) The _status quo_, speaking roughly, both as regards Servia
and Montenegro. (2) Administrative reforms in the nature of local
autonomy for Bosnia and the Herzegovina. (3) Guarantees of some
similar kinds (the exact details of which might be reserved for later
discussion) against the future maladministration of Bulgaria.”[41]
Ten days later, on the 21st September, Lord Derby, having in the
meantime secured the agreement of the Austrian Government[42] to
these proposals, these terms were forwarded to Sir H. Elliot for
communication to the Porte. The second condition relating to Bosnia
and Herzegovina was amplified by the important stipulation “that the
Porte should undertake, _in a Protocol to be signed at Constantinople
with the Representatives of the mediatory Powers_, to grant, etc.”[43]
Sir H. Elliot, in obedience to positive instructions, went to the
utmost limit of friendly pressure[44] to induce the Porte to accept
these conditions. The Porte, on its side, showed the greatest
possible desire to meet the wishes of the English Ambassador.[45]
The term “local autonomy,” and still more the form of a Protocol
demanded, were the two most serious obstacles to an understanding.
So great was Sir H. Elliot’s influence on the Turkish Minister,
and so great was their confidence in England’s loyalty, that an
understanding was almost arrived at when the news of General
Soumarakoff’s Mission reached the Porte. On the 4th October, the new
Turkish Government telegraphed to the Ottoman Ambassador in London
an indignant protest against the proposals of which that envoy was
the bearer, and concluded by saying: “If the Sublime Porte has,
though challenged (by Servia), not made use of her victory, she will
never forget that she is still an independent State, and that she
owes it to herself to choose an honourable death rather than the
dismemberment and partition of her States.”[46]
This incident did not facilitate Sir H. Elliot’s task. On the day
following the 5th October, Lord Derby instructs Sir H. Elliot to
inform the Porte that it is intended that the armistice should be
followed by a Conference, and that if an armistice for not less than
a month is not granted, the Ambassador was to quit Constantinople and
leave Turkey to its fate.[47]
On the 8th October, the Porte asks the very pertinent question
whether, in the event of the conditions being accepted, a Conference
would still be proposed.[48] No answer seems ever to have been given
to this important question.
The Turkish Ministers now submitted the question of the armistice
to a Grand Council, which acceded to it for five months.[49] On the
13th October, in a long telegram to Musurus Pasha, the Porte makes a
last despairing attempt to stay the decision for a Conference, which
it says “will at least give rise to the danger of certain impulses
on which head we have the right to be anxious, and which in reality
would be of no use. The five months’ armistice would leave ample time
for the Powers to exchange explanations and observations without
any Conference. During this time, the work of internal reform would
go on, and Europe would have the opportunity of being edified as to
the serious and practical character of the promises of the Imperial
Government,” and concluded by saying, referring evidently to the
negotiations with Sir H. Elliot, “I hope His Lordship will agree
with us in preventing the question, _which was just beginning to
look brighter_, thanks to so many sacrifices and efforts, from being
turned into a path of new difficulties and perils.”[50]
If it had not been for the Soumarakoff Mission, and the scare it
created in the Foreign Office, it would have been an inexplicable
mystery why Lord Derby, abandoning negotiations carried on by Sir H.
Elliot, which “were just beginning to look brighter,” should have
hurriedly fathered this proposal of a Conference. If the Soumarakoff
Mission was only intended to secure this point, it was most eminently
successful. Anyway, from this time forth, Lord Derby stuck grimly
to a Conference. Without a Conference there was no salvation. The
question, however, of the duration of the armistice was not yet
settled, and as England, having accepted six months, could not
recant, General Ignatieff arrived from Livadia to settle it.
But here an incident occurred of a too charmingly amusing character
to be passed over in silence. _La note comique_ is never entirely
absent from these negotiations. Lord Adolphus Loftus, Her Britannic
Majesty’s Ambassador at St Petersburg, received leave in the middle
of October to go to the Crimea, whither the Russian Court had
removed, and where Prince Gortchakoff, the Chancellor, was slaying,
in order to be nearer the official source of diplomatic information.
On Friday, the 27th, accordingly, he arrived at Yalta, accompanied
by Mr Egerton of his Embassy. On Sunday, the 29th, he had an
interview at Orianda with Prince Gortchakoff, “who received him very
cordially, and after some friendly remarks, the conversation turned
to Constantinople.” After stating that the state of affairs there
was grave, the Chancellor expressed “a hope that the question of
the armistice was arranged, the Porte having, on the advice of Sir
H. Elliot, yielded to the considerations in favour of the shorter
term.” His Highness further stated “that General Ignatieff had been
instructed to be yielding and conciliatory on the subject of the
armistice.”
Two days after this, _i.e._ on Tuesday, the 31st October, Lord A.
Loftus “met” Prince Gortchakoff, who, in answer to the question
whether there was any news from Constantinople, replied that there
was, but “that he preferred that the Emperor should communicate it.”
Lord A. Loftus’s audience with the Czar had been arranged for the
next day, 1st November, but was subsequently postponed till the 2nd.
Between the accidental meeting with the Chancellor and this audience,
Lord A. Loftus received the _Journal de St Petersbourg_ of the 31st
October, in which he read that General Ignatieff had presented that
day an ultimatum to the Porte to conclude an armistice with Servia,
and had required an answer within forty‐eight hours. So that the
English Ambassador, having traversed the whole length of Europe in a
four days’ journey with a secretary of his Embassy attached to him,
in order to be near the fountain of official information, would have
received the news two days sooner if he had stayed at home!
We will let Lord A. Loftus describe his audience on the 2nd at
Livadia, himself: “I had an audience with the Emperor of Russia
to‐day at Livadia, when His Majesty was pleased to receive me with
his customary kindness and cordiality (_sic_). After some gracious
enquiries after my family, His Majesty at once opened on the Eastern
question. His Majesty stated that he had that morning received a
telegram from Constantinople announcing the probable acceptance of
the armistice, and he read to me another telegram reporting that
orders had been already sent by the Porte to their commanders to
suspend military operations. This, His Majesty observed, was very
satisfactory. On my observing on the _sudden change which had taken
place between the Sunday when I had seen the Chancellor and the
following day when the ultimatum was despatched_, His Majesty said
that this had been caused by the intelligence he had received of the
complete discomfiture of the Servian army, and his fear that it might
be followed by similar atrocities to those which had occurred in
Bulgaria....”[51]
It would indeed be a pity to spoil the uniqueness of this _tableau_
by any superfluous commentary, but a despatch from Sir H. Elliot
at Constantinople, dated on the same day as this audience (2nd
November), throws some further light on this already luminous
incident. “In the course of conversation this morning with General
Ignatieff, I remarked that I understood that he had returned from
Livadia with instructions to present his ultimatum. He answered
_that he had brought it with him_ with a discretionary authority to
withhold it if he thought desirable. _This is a rather different
version_ from that which he had previously given to my colleagues
and myself, when he told us on Tuesday (31st October) that he _had
received the ultimatum two days before_, and that he had taken on
himself the responsibility of withholding it, but had now imperative
orders to execute his instructions. It is impossible to doubt
that he had kept his Government fully informed of the progress of
his negotiations with the Porte, or that they were perfectly well
aware that his own proposals had been accepted with very trifling
modifications, upon which an understanding could very easily be
arrived at. It is evident enough that the sudden sending in of the
ultimatum was decided upon in the hope that by an immediate cessation
of hostilities, and the acceptance of an armistice, the fall of
Alexinatz would be averted. The capture of the Servian positions at
Junis made it certain that “the occupation of Alexinatz and Deligrad
would soon follow, and the only hope of saving the Servians and the
Russian Auxiliary troops from this mortification lay in the chance of
stopping the Turks before they had time to reap the fruits of their
success.”[52]
But, independently of the object lesson in veracity that this
narrative inculcates, it gives the measure of the value attached by
the Emperor of Russia to the European concert, and the degree to
which it was likely to hamper his own liberty of action whenever he
thought proper to liberate himself from it. The _procédé_ with regard
to the British Ambassador only concerns the British Government.
The Porte had yielded to the ultimatum.
In the meantime negotiations for assembling a Conference continued.
The Czar had expressed to the English Ambassador “a very earnest
wish that the Conference should meet with the _least possible
delay_, and that instructions should even be immediately sent by the
several Governments to enable the Ambassadors at Constantinople to
deliberate _at once_ on the necessary preliminaries of peace.”[53]
Prince Gortchakoff, too, _expressed his anxious wish_ that on the
arrangement of the armistice _no time should be lost_ in organising a
Conference.[54]
But Austria was coy. The term “local autonomy” accompanied by no
matter what gloss, seriously perturbed her; and yet this was the
very point on which Russia insisted the most. In reporting his
conversation with Prince Gortchakoff at Orianda, Lord A. Loftus
said: “It is evident to me that Prince Gortchakoff does not wish to
make the question of the armistice the ground for a rupture with the
Porte, and that he _looks to the question of the ‘autonomy of the
three Provinces’ as being the important deciding point of peace or
war_.”[55]
Until Count Andrassy received guarantees that no kind of _political_
autonomy was meant, he would have nothing to do with a Conference,
and it was only when, after a good deal of fencing, this guarantee
was at last accorded him, that he gave his consent to the proposal.
Although there had been a serious proposal to exclude Turkey from
the Conference to be held in her own capital to decide on the
administration of her provinces, the cynical incongruity of the
proposition had procured its rejection, and now the Porte was asked
to adhere to it. Without any illusion, since Russia’s ultimatum,
as to whither the Conference would lead, the Porte, on the 18th
November, with the sanction of a Grand Council, gave her assent to a
proposal, the rejection of which would have meant immediate war.
In the course of the six months that intervened between the 13th of
May (date of the Berlin Note) and the meeting of the Conference in
December, an apparent contradiction seems to manifest itself between
the “intimate alliance” of the three Northern Powers (which for the
purpose of these negotiations means between Austria and Russia), and
the frictions and disagreements between their respective Governments.
On no less than five points did this disagreement manifest itself:
(1) as to whether Turkey should be coerced into an armistice, pure
and simple, with Servia, or whether a basis of peace should, at the
same time as the armistice, be proposed;[56] (2) as to inculcating
prudence of conduct on Servia;[57] (3) as to the joint occupation
with Russia of the Turkish provinces;[58] (4) as to the “autonomy” of
the revolted provinces;[59] (5) on the question of the Conference.[60]
On the other hand, we have seen Count Beust calling at the Foreign
Office to assure Lord Derby that never was the alliance of the three
Northern Powers so “intimate”; we have the meeting of Reichstadt, and
General Soumarakoff delivering an autograph letter from the Czar to
the Emperor of Austria, and we have a very mysterious communication
from Lord A. Loftus on the 15th August 1876, in which he says: “In
speaking of Austria, Prince Gortchakoff again repeated to me that
he had fully discussed the question of a pacification with Count
Andrassy, and _that they were entirely agreed on all points and for
all eventualities_. ‘I can state no more,’ said the Chancellor, ‘but
that much I can tell you, as I have done to your Colleagues; and I
can add that our Ambassadors at the other Courts know no more than
you do.’ This language,” continues Lord A. Loftus, “though, perhaps,
satisfactory ... is mysterious, and we can only unravel the mystery
by conjectures.”[61]
Perhaps the mystery, as Lord A. Loftus calls it, is not so mysterious
after all. A reference to what took place in another diplomatic
discussion in 1859 will help to unravel it without the aid of much
conjecture. In that year Mr Disraeli startled the House of Commons
by informing it, on the faith of information on which he relied,
that there was a secret treaty between Italy and France for the
cession to the latter Power of the provinces of Savoy and Nice. Lord
Palmerston denied the existence of any such treaty, and twitted Mr
Disraeli with having discovered a mare’s nest. When Mr Disraeli’s
information was proved to be substantially correct, Lord Palmerston
explained that there had been no treaty but a mere _pacte de famille_
agreed upon on the occasion of the marriage of the Princess Clotilde
to Prince Jerome Napoleon. The mystery that puzzled Lord A. Loftus
is easily unravelled. There was undoubtedly a distinct and specific
understanding between the two Emperors; but none between their
Governments; so that Lord Derby could, on the 20th October, write to
Sir A. Buchanan that “The Austro‐Hungarian Ambassador called upon
me to‐day, and informed me, by order of his Government, that the
reports which have been recently, and are still, current as to the
existence of a secret understanding _between the Austrian and Russian
Governments_ are absolutely unfounded.”[62] In countries and ages
where the letter of a declaration is considered more important than
its spirit, such hair‐splitting distinctions may pass current. At any
rate, they serve their purpose.
APPENDIX B
THE INSURRECTION OF HERZEGOVINA AND BOSNIA, AND THE BERLIN NOTE
On the 2nd July 1875, Consul Holmes, writing to Lord Derby from
Bosna‐Serai, says:[63] “I have the honour to report to your Lordship
that there is disturbance in the Herzegovina. Early last winter some
164 of the inhabitants of the district of Nevesinje left their homes
and went into Montenegro. After remaining there some months, however,
they petitioned the Porte to be allowed to return to Nevesinje. The
Governor‐General advised the Porte to reply, that, as they had chosen
to leave their country for Montenegro, they might remain there. The
Government, however, decided to grant their request, and allowed
them to return. Shortly afterwards they appeared in revolt, declared
that they were oppressed, refusing to pay their taxes or admit the
police amongst them, and they have been endeavouring by intimidation
to cause their neighbours in the surrounding districts to join them.
The Mutesarif of Mostar invited them to come to that place to state
their grievances, which he assured them would be redressed, but they
refused, and the Governor‐General tells me that they cut to pieces
a man quite unconnected with them, who had gone to Mostar to seek
redress for some grievance, and threatened with the same fate any
within their reach who should do so in future. The Governor‐General
informs me that at present he has no intention of sending troops
against them, but will prevent their efforts to extend their revolt
by surrounding those districts with policemen, and he will probably
send some of the notables of Serajevo to endeavour to bring them to
reason.”
In a subsequent despatch dated a week later, Consul Holmes adds
that “Haidar Bey and Petrarchi Effendi, two notables of Serajevo,
were sent to communicate with the rebels, but before they reached
Nevesinje they found that the rebels had forced and persuaded many
others to join them, and had attacked and captured a caravan of
twenty‐five horses on the road from Mostar to Nevesinje, belonging
to some merchants of Serajevo, laden with rice, sugar, and coffee,
which they carried off to the village of Odrichnia. At the same time,
they murdered and decapitated five Turkish travellers, named Salih,
Hassosunovich, Marich, Sarnich, Ali of Nevesinje, and another whose
name is not yet known, a native of Erassni. One of the insurgents,
named Tschoubate, at the head of some three hundred followers, drove
away forty Zaptiés placed in the defile of Stolatz, and, separating
into small bands, have, for the moment, interrupted the various
roads in the neighbourhood. One band is stationed out at the bridge
over the Krappa, and renders the road between Mostar and Meteorich
unsafe. The detached bands of insurgents are endeavouring to force
others to join them by burning the houses of those who refuse to do
so, and by other means of intimidation. The Governor‐General has
received telegrams from Mostar signed by the two Commissioners and
the Mutesarif and Commander of the troops at Mostar, stating these
facts; also that the headless bodies of the Turks have been recovered
and burnt. Under these circumstances, the Commissioners hesitated
to continue their journey; and the authorities at Mostar state that
great excitement prevails throughout the Mussulman population, who
are impatient to attack the insurgents and avenge the savage murders
of their co‐religionists, whose decapitation has particularly roused
their feelings, and requesting five battalions to keep order.”[64]
The methods adopted by the insurgents were the same as those adopted
in Bulgaria, and wherever an organised attempt at insurrection was
made in the Ottoman provinces by agents _provocateurs_ and foreign
bands with a view to provoke the Mussulmans to deeds of retaliation
which would be exploited by the Committees and excite indignation in
the world. It will be remembered that when Midhat Pasha was Governor
of the Danubian vilayet (p. 43), the band that crossed into Bulgaria
from Sistovo began by massacring five Mussulman children between the
ages of eight and twelve. When the Consuls, sent on a peace message
to the insurgents visited Nevesinje, they “found all the Eastern part
of the town towards the plain and all the bazaar, burnt and in ruins.
Dead bodies were lying in various corners unburied; and we noticed
the head of a boy in one of the streets blackening in the sun. A
little Turkish girl was brought to us, wounded in the throat, and we
were told that an insurgent was on the point of cutting off her head
when she was snatched from him by one less bloodthirsty, and allowed
to escape.”[65]
Another aim of the insurgents was to force an emigration _en masse_
into Austrian territory by promises that they should be well fed and
cared for by the Austrian authorities until favourable conditions
were secured for them. Montenegro, too, was let loose on Turkey and
well supplied with the sinews of war. It was determined at Vienna
that no time should be lost in “putting their pin in the game,” and
in taking the lead in negotiations that must necessarily precede
an occupation. The principle of interference once admitted, all
the rest would follow in due course. On the 24th August 1875, Lord
Derby writes to Sir H. Elliot that: “Her Majesty’s Government have
had under their consideration your telegraphic despatch of the 20th
inst., in which you report that a proposal, _concerted at Vienna
by the three Northern Powers_, had been made to the Porte by their
Ambassadors. Your Excellency states that they propose that Consuls
should be delegated by the Embassies to proceed to the scene of
the insurrection and inform the insurgents that they must expect
no support or countenance from their Governments. They are also to
advise the insurgents to desist from hostilities, but to make known
their complaints to a Commission.... The proposal is favourably
received by the Porte, and the Grand Vizier (Mahmoud Nedim) had just
been to beg you not to stand aloof.... Her Majesty’s Government
consent to this step with reluctance, _as they doubt the expediency
of the intervention of foreign consuls. Such an intervention is
scarcely compatible with the independent authority of the Porte
over its own territory, offers an inducement to an insurrection as
a means of appealing to foreign sympathy against Turkish rule, and
may, not improbably, open the way to further diplomatic interference
in the internal affairs of the Empire._”[66] Prophetic words on the
part of Lord Derby. Of course the consular farce came to nothing.
The rebels would not even meet the Consuls. Facts were more eloquent
than words, and they had their cues from the Committees. Now was
the time, if the Powers had been in earnest, to shut the Dalmatian
frontier to the rebels, as they had undertaken to do. We shall see
how Austria fulfilled this part of the bargain. Instead of occupying
themselves in the slightest degree with this part of the business,
they immediately set about concocting another diplomatic move.
On 11th December 1875, the Austrian Ambassador, Count Beust, called
on Lord Derby, and said that “The Turkish Ministers had hitherto
directed their energies exclusively to the task of preventing
anything which could be construed into an interference of any kind
with the internal affairs of Turkey. This standpoint, however
respectable it may be, has the disadvantage the Austro‐Hungarian
Government considered, of prolonging a regrettable state of things,
and therefore of aggravating the danger. _Negotiations respecting
the affairs of the East are now being carried on between Vienna and
St Petersburg_, the result of which will be communicated as soon as
an agreement has been arrived at, to Her Majesty’s Government, not
in the light of an accomplished fact, but for their consideration,
and for them to state their own opinions on the propositions agreed
upon.”[67]
On the 3rd January 1876, Lord Derby received from Count Beust a
copy of the famous despatch, which goes by the name of the Andrassy
Memorandum, of the 30th December 1875, which, after stating that
the three Courts of Austria‐Hungary, Russia, and Germany, after
exchanging their views on this subject, “have united for the
purpose of employing in common their efforts for pacification,
and this object appeared too much in conformity with the general
wish for them to doubt that _the other Cabinets when invited to
associate themselves in the movement_, through their representatives
at Constantinople, would hasten to join their efforts to ours,”
proceeded to recommend to the Porte the following five points:—
(1) Full and entire religious liberty.
(2) Abolition of the system of farming the taxes.
(3) A law guaranteeing the produce of direct taxes being employed in
the interest of the provinces.
(4) The institution of a special commission composed of an equal
number of Christians and Mussulmans, to control the execution
of the reforms.
(5) The improvement of the position of the rural population.
And in submitting these proposals to the English Minister, Count
Beust added that “they were not regarded by his Government in the
light of mere good advice. _They wanted a pledge_ that the reforms
that they recommended should be carried into execution, failing
which, they would not undertake to use their influence with the
Christian population to advise them to lay down their arms.”[68] And
in another interview, the next day, he spoke again of an “explicit
engagement” from the Porte, adding that “there could be no doubt that
the postponement of the pacifying influences of the Powers _even
by single days_ might in the present state of affairs be fraught
with incalculable danger.”[69] The Austrian Government, however,
repudiated any idea “of armed intervention, and stated that it had
no desire to constitute itself guardians of the peace beyond its own
frontiers,” and that if the Porte accepted, and the insurgents did
not submit, “then the Porte would be left to subdue them by force
of arms, and that they (the insurgents) would be prevented from
obtaining the support derived by them from exterior aid.”[70]
This was six months after the so‐called insurrection had broken out,
and had been all the time “obtaining continuous support from exterior
aid,” and three months after the Consular Commission, which had been
obtained from the Porte by a formal promise to shut the frontier to
the rebels if they refused the advice of the Consuls. Lord Derby,
after distinctly stating that he would be no party to any pressure
being brought to bear on the Porte to carry out these reforms, and
having ascertained that the Turkish Government desired England’s
adhesion to the Note, consented to support it at Constantinople.