The year 1876, which was a memorable year in the life of Henty, is
familiar to the elders among us in connection with the troubles in the
East and the risings in Bulgaria and Servia. Christian England was,
politically, ringing with the charges made against Turkey in the matter
of the stern suppression of the risings in the former country.
"Bulgarian Atrocities" were made a party question, and debate followed
debate. All our great parliamentary speakers delivered columns of
speeches in the House, denouncing Turkey or speaking in her defence,
while special deputations were made to Government by leading members of
Parliament, Mr Gladstone being foremost in the attack.
It fell to the lot of the writer to be in the gallery of the House of
Commons upon one of the most important evenings, when he had the
opportunity of hearing Mr Gladstone deliver one of his most fervent and
denunciatory speeches--a speech which was replied to by Mr Disraeli
calmly, coldly, and disdainfully. The future Lord Beaconsfield
expressed his disbelief in the charges made by the Opposition. He
declared that it was not in the nature of the Turks to stoop to such
atrocities, that they were too gentlemanly a race of men. They might,
when stirred up to anger and in the hot blood of war, slay outright, but
they would scorn to commit the ruffianly acts of which they were
accused.
It was at this time that the Turks were sending their armies into Servia
to suppress the rising in that country, in defiance of the protecting
aegis of Russia, and Henty, as representative of the _Standard_, was
despatched to the head-quarters of the Turkish army to fulfil one of his
familiar missions. His letters from the seat of war ring all through
with a sturdy conservative belief in the qualities of the Turk as
vouched for by the late Lord Beaconsfield; indeed, he is full of high
praise for the patience, kindliness, and hospitality of the Turkish
soldier. He was well received everywhere by officer and man alike. One
and all were ever ready to share with the English representative of the
press their shelter, or their last crust of bread and cup of water.
The whole of Asia Minor was at the time in a political volcanic state of
eruption, and Prince Milan's name was constantly reaching the Turkish
head-quarters, while beneath, like a muttering undercurrent of rumour,
there was the constant rumble of what was doing among the Russ.
Henty's pen was, of course, as busy as ever, and when he was not
reporting some attack or some defence, the creaking of the tumbrel
wheels that bore away the wounded from the field, or the rattle and roar
of musketry and artillery, he was making his letters attractive with
descriptions of the beauty of the country, and of the richness of the
orchards whose fruit was to supply the plum brandy of the country.
Then, full perhaps of recollections of Moore's poetry descriptive of the
attar of the rose, he reverted to the showering petals of the
nightingale flower, and drew attention to the copper stills, to be found
in almost every cottage or village, used by the peasantry for the
distillation of the wondrous penetrating attar of roses. One cannot
help thinking, though, that in a country where the inhabitants depend
upon obtaining their alcohol from the juice of the plum, their brandy
may possibly by accident be occasionally obtained from the same copper
still.
Be that as it may, the descriptions of the dreamy beauty of such a
picturesque and flowery land bring up a feeling of sadness that the
nature of both people alike, Christian and Moslem, should tend so
strongly towards bloodshed and rapine.
Here, too, in the midst of constant travel and change of quarters, in
spite of friendly treatment from the people among whom his lot was cast,
the special correspondent was called upon to suffer severely from the
intense heat and the consequent thirst, and though he knew it not at the
time, it was to find later that he had been laying the foundation for
much ill-health and trouble to come.
But Henty was too busy making up, column by column, the long and always
interesting letters that by some means or another he sent north and west
on their way to the _Standard_, to think much about self. In fact,
every note he sent seems to have running through it the spirit of the
earnest, hard-working man with a certain duty to fulfil.
There was always something to write about, and when short of material
and if in doubt, it seemed as if he played trumps--by this one means
that, soldierlike, he fell back upon his old habit of giving a
picturesque description of the uniform of the soldiery among whom he was
cast. In the case of the Turks the richness of its colour--blue; its
newness and well-kept aspect came in for much praise, while at other
times he was as graphic and true to nature about the rags to which this
uniform was reduced. He always noted, though, that the men's weapons
were perfectly serviceable and bright.
In spite of the friendliness with which Henty found himself greeted by
the Moslem, Turk, and the Graeco-Christian Bulgar alike, he noted that
invariably when he and his _zaptieh_ (servant) approached the
Circassians--the dreaded Tcherkesses constituting the Turkish irregular
soldiery, who were fierce mercenaries, and undoubtedly answerable for
whatever atrocities were perpetrated in Bulgaria--they turned away their
heads with a scowl of mingled scorn and hatred.
It was here again that Henty's old training came to his aid, giving him
the firmness and determination that impressed those whom he passed, as
showing that he was well armed, and that he was ready, if it should
prove necessary, to use his weapons. For he states that in spite of
their peaceful mission, he and his man had to hold revolver and rifle
ready during their advances till they were quite certain that they were
approaching Turkish regular soldiers and not Circassians, for if they
met the regulars they were always cordially welcomed and received with
black coffee and cigarettes.
This reception may possibly be due to the fact that the Turks seem to
have a sort of traditionary feeling that a European who is travelling
must be a _hakeem_--in plain English, a doctor, in which belief they are
somewhat supported by the meaning of the good old word doctor--a learned
man.
Now a glance at Henty's portrait seems to stamp him, big-bearded and
bluff, with the learned look of one who, being a traveller, must be
endowed with the knowledge that would enable him to treat any complaint
with skill. As a matter of fact, if called upon for aid in a case of
emergency or ordinary ailment, he was quite prepared to open a medical
battery upon a sufferer. It is, therefore, in no wise surprising that
during his travels in Servia the Turkish gendarmes occasionally applied
to him to treat their complaints. Even his own _zaptieh_, who after a
few drops of opium was ready to cry, like the man in the old
tooth-tincture advertisement, "Ha, ha! Cured in a instant!" was always
afterwards ready to spread his master's reputation and increase the
number of his grateful patients.
Of course there are some who would shrug their shoulders at this and
softly murmur, "Quack!" But one fails to see it. In fact, the writer
feels disposed to assert that the reputation of _hakeem_ was very
honestly earned by one who had commenced his profession with a good
sound English education, who had served a certain time in the military
hospitals of the Crimea and in Italy, who had been a student in sanitary
matters, who had worked hard among the sick and wounded, and to whom
anything in the shape of a military hospital had an intense attraction.
We must remember, too, that he had learned much from the sufferings he
was called upon to witness in this later war, where the surgeon and
physician were so terribly in the minority, and in a country where,
during certain of the horrible attacks and defences, it was no unusual
thing for the camp-followers to go round at night, and, to use a
horrible, old, and familiar expression, put the enemy's wounded out of
their misery.
This knowledge on the part of Henty, and his readiness also and ability
to give some slight alleviation of their sufferings and help to the
wounded, enabled him to make sure of a friendly welcome, to say nothing
of smiles and gratitude, almost wherever he went--except among the
Tcherkesses.