large force to Salonika, there are still some 45,000 men in and around
the capital. These, with the exception of the Sultan’s guard of about
15,000 men, have been distributed along the chain of forts extending
from Roumelie Kavak to the Golden Horn. The telegraph is kept busily at
work summoning troops from all parts of the Empire. 15,000 men from the
Adrianople garrison are expected to arrive here to-night.
The Russian Ambassador is said to be ill. He has not left the Embassy in
the Grand Rue de Pera for now almost a week, and refuses to receive any
one. Even his French colleague found the door closed to him yesterday.
[Illustration:
RUSSIAN INFANTRY LANDING AT VARNA.
]
CONSTANTINOPLE, _April 19_.
A Russian force, variously computed at from 50,000 to 70,000 men,
occupied Varna this morning. There was some smart resistance, but the
comparatively small Bulgarian force was powerless against the heavy
metal of the Russian fleet, and after an hour’s fighting was compelled
to abandon the position.
Coincident with the receipt of this news is the delivery of a note by
the Russian Ambassador—suddenly restored to health—to the Minister for
Foreign Affairs, setting forth that, as a result of the extraordinary
and uncalled-for position taken up by Austria, the Czar’s Government
feels the necessity of acquiring a material guarantee for the
maintenance of peace, and will therefore effect a peaceful occupation of
Bourgas and Varna with that end in view.
RUSSIAN MOVEMENT UPON THE AUSTRIAN FRONTIER.
MOBILISATION OF GERMAN ARMY CORPS—WILD EXCITEMENT IN BERLIN.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
BERLIN, _April 21_ (8.50 P.M.).
Never since the fateful days of July 1870 has so much excitement been
caused here as by the news—which now seems to be beyond all doubt—that
Russia, having received an evasive, or, as other telegrams put it, a
flatly negative reply to her peremptory demand for the immediate
evacuation of Belgrade by the Austrians, has already begun to move down
immense masses of troops towards her south-western frontier; and it is
even rumoured that a division of cavalry has suddenly made its
appearance near the border, on the Warsaw-Cracow road, at a place called
Xiaswielki. This is a grave situation, indeed, as alarming as it is
sudden. The Unter den Linden, which is a perfect Babel with the bawling
voices of the newsvendors, is rapidly filling with crowds rushing
hither, as to the main channel of intelligence, from all parts of the
city, and the Foreign Office in the Wilhelm-Strasse is besieged by a
huge throng clamouring to hear the truth.
For on this depends the issue of peace or war for Germany. Let but
Russia lay one single finger of aggression on Austria, and Germany must
at once unsheath her sword and spring to her ally’s aid. Pray let there
be no mistake as to the terms of the Austro-German Treaty of 1879, which
was published a year or two ago, for it has often been misinterpreted.
Under this instrument a _casus fœderis_ does not arise for Germany in
all and any circumstances of a war between Russia and Austria, but only
in the event of the former being the aggressor; and it looks very much
as though Russia were now seriously bent on taking the offensive. Does
she really mean to do this? is the question on every one’s lips here,
and the excitement of people is equal to their suspense. It is known
that an active correspondence by wire is proceeding between here and
Vienna, but the authorities are very reticent, and only beg the crowds
to keep calm and hope for the best.
9 P.M.
I have just returned from the Schloss, whither the multitude, which
was unable to gratify its curiosity at the Foreign Office, had surged
along to pursue its eager inquiries, but only to find that the Emperor
was closeted with his Chancellor, General Count von Caprivi, and his
Chief of the Staff, Count von Schlieffen. It was remarked that when
both these magnates emerged from their interview with His Majesty, and
drove off at a rapid rate, they looked very serious and pre-occupied,
paying but little heed to the cheering which greeted their appearance.
This only tended to deepen the apprehension of the vast crowd in front
of the Schloss, whose fears were further augmented by a rumour (a true
one, as I found on tracing it to its source), which spread like
lightning, that the Emperor had telegraphed for the King of Saxony,
Prince Albrecht of Prussia, Prince-Regent of Brunswick—both
Field-Marshals—as also for Count Waldersee, Commander of the Ninth
Army Corps in Schleswig-Holstein, whom the Emperor, it may be
remembered, when parting with this distinguished officer, as Chief of
the General Staff, publicly designated as the Commander of a whole
army in the event of war.
10 P.M.
After despatching my last message, which I had the utmost difficulty in
doing owing to the frantic mass of newspaper correspondents of all
nationalities struggling desperately into and out of the Telegraph
Office, I had the good fortune to meet Baron von Marschall, the amiable
and accomplished Foreign Secretary, who favoured me with a brief
conversation on the momentous subject of the hour. Yes, he said, it was
unfortunately quite true that the Russians were rapidly concentrating
their forces towards the Austro-German frontier, and that a sotnia of
prying Cossacks, coming from Tarnogrod, had even pushed forward on the
Austrian side of the border towards Jaroslav, an important railway
junction point in Galicia. He had just received intelligence to this
effect from Prince Reuss, the German Ambassador in Vienna, who added
that things indeed looked their very worst. ‘But this,’ I remarked, ‘is
an act of invasion on the part of Russia, is it not, and means war?’ The
Baron shook his head ominously, and, with a kindly ‘come and see me
again to-morrow morning,’ squeezed my hand and hurried off to see Count
Syéchényi at the Austrian Embassy, which stands over against the former
home of M. Benedetti, with all its associations connected with the
beginning of Germany’s last great war.
On my way back to the Telegraph Office, where I write this, I
encountered, just at the entrance to the Russian Embassy, Unter den
Linden, its genial and honest occupant, Count Schouvaloff, who was good
enough to return my greeting by motioning me to stop, and telling me
that he had just been to see Count Caprivi, and assure him, on the part
of his Imperial master, that all these warlike preparations in Western
Poland implied no menace whatever to Germany, with whom Russia had not
the least cause of quarrel, but that, nevertheless, so long as Austria
threatened to derange the balance of power in the Balkan Peninsula for
her own selfish ends, Russia would be incriminating herself in the eyes
of history if she stood by with folded hands and sought not to safeguard
her most vital interests by all the means at her disposal. And as Pitt
had created a new world to redress the balance of the old, so Russia was
now compelled to re-establish equilibrium in one part of the Eastern
Continent of Europe by giving the would-be disturber of this equilibrium
work enough to engross all his attention in another. ‘These were not, of
course, the very words,’ added the Count, ‘which I used to the
Chancellor, but they express the exact sense of my communication.’
MIDNIGHT.
Berlin, which has poured all its teeming million-and-a-half into the
streets, is at this hour a scene of the wildest excitement, owing to a
rumour (and a friend of mine in the General Staff, whom I chanced to
meet, confirmed the truth of the rumour), that the awful and
electrifying words ‘_Krieg, mobil!_’ had (as in 1870) been already
flashed again to no fewer than seven of the twenty Army Corps
constituting the Imperial host—viz., to the 1st, or East Prussian; the
17th, West Prussian; the 3d, Brandenburg; the 4th, Province of Prussian
Saxony; the 5th, Posen; the 6th, Silesian; and the 12th, Kingdom of
Saxony.
Loud and long was the cheering in front of the Schloss—which is thronged
by an ever-increasing and excited multitude—when this intelligence oozed
out, and with one accord (for your Germans are a most wonderful people
of trained choral-singers) the whole mighty assemblage burst forth with
a battle-ballad, in which some deft patriotic poet had been quick to
embody the fears and determinations of the last few days under the title
of ‘_Die Weichsel-Wacht_,’ or the ‘Watch on the Vistula’—a war-song
which promises to fill as large and luminous a page among the lyric gems
of the Fatherland as Schneckenburger’s immortal ‘_Wacht am Rhein_.’ When
the frantic cheering which followed the chanting of this stirring
battle-anthem had subsided, the Emperor (who has now completely
recovered from the accident to his knee) came out to bow his
acknowledgments from the front balcony of the castle; and on his arm was
the Empress holding the hand of the pretty little flaxen-haired Crown
Prince, who had been routed out of his warm bed at this late and chilly
hour to add one crowning touch of spectacular effect to the _tableau_
which, amid another frenzied outburst of ‘hochs’ and ‘hurrahs,’ thus
closed the drama of a most exciting and momentous day.
INTERVIEW BETWEEN GENERAL CAPRIVI AND THE FRENCH AMBASSADOR.
DISPOSITION OF THE GERMAN TROOPS.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
BERLIN, _April 23_.
The excitement of the last few days has now calmed down into the serious
and stolid determination, which is the most striking characteristic of
the German race, and though it is known that, since the order to
mobilise seven Army Corps was issued, M. Herbette, the French
Ambassador, has had repeated interviews with General Caprivi, the nation
is meanwhile content to suppress its suspicion with regard to the
possible—nay, probable—policy of its western neighbour, and devote all
its attention to the development of events on its eastern border.
Certain official telegrams which I have been allowed to peruse leave
little doubt that, while the Russians are making a show of massing
troops in the direction of Cracow, the real line of their strategic
advance is towards the Lemberg side, whence a railway leads across the
Carpathians to Buda-Pesth. It is argued here that, had the Russians
merely to deal with Austria alone, the likeliest line of their advance
would be by way of Cracow and its fortress, which they would endeavour
to turn, and then strike for Vienna by the route which has been deemed,
on the whole, the easier for them, namely, that which leads to the
valley of the Danube across Austrian Silesia, and through the gap
between the Bohemian and Carpathian mountains. But with a German army
massed in Silesia, and menacing their right flank, the advantages of
this route would be more than countervailed, and so the Russians seem to
have chosen an invading route as remote as possible from the German base
of attack, namely, _viâ_ Lemberg and Stryj.
Meanwhile the mobilisation of the seven German Army Corps, enumerated by
me in a previous despatch, is in full swing, the reserve men hastening
to the colours with great alacrity; and as the railways are working
night and day, all public traffic being suspended, the troops will soon
be in the various positions assigned them. The 12th, or Royal Saxon
Corps, it seems, is to be sent over to strengthen the Austrians, which
will appear a wise and tactful disposition, when it is remembered how
the Saxons fought shoulder to shoulder with the Austrians at Königgrätz;
while Field-Marshal Prince George (brother of the King of Saxony) has
been intrusted by the Emperor with the command of what is to be called
the Army of Silesia, consisting of the 5th and 6th Corps, now swiftly
concentrating between Breslau (which, being at present an open town, is
undergoing rapid circumvallation by a ring of earthwork forts armed with
Schumann gun-turrets) and Neisse, the Prussian Crown Prince’s point of
departure for Bohemia in 1866. On the other hand, a Second Army,
consisting of the 3d and 4th Corps, to be called ‘of the Vistula,’ and
to be commanded by the King of Saxony, is swiftly massing round Thorn,
that Metz of the East; while a Third Army, compounded of the 1st and
17th Corps (East and West Prussia), and denominated ‘of the Baltic,’ has
been assigned to Count Waldersee, and is fast taking position on the
line flanked by the fortresses of Königsberg and Lötzen, the task
assigned to it being evidently an invasion of the Baltic Provinces and
the consequent splitting up and diversion of the Russian forces from
their southern objective. As to the First and Second German Armies
(those of Silesia and the Vistula), a glance at the map will show that,
roughly speaking, they form the base ends of a triangle whereof Warsaw
is the apex, and that a well-timed advance by road or rail, for both are
available, would enable them to effect a junction (on Moltke’s principle
of marching separately and fighting combined, as applied with such
brilliant success at Sadowa), and give decisive battle to the Russians
somewhere near Warsaw.
But I may not indulge at present in a more detailed forecast of the
impending campaign and its incidents. Suffice to say that the Germans
promise to keep General Gourko, commanding the Russian forces in Poland,
quite as busy as General Dragomiroff, commander at Kieff, and chief
director of the operations against Galicia, will be kept by the
Austrians themselves on their particular side of the seat of war.
DEPARTURE OF TROOPS TO THE EAST.
‘THE WATCH ON THE VISTULA.’
BERLIN, _April 24_.
I hear that the Guard Corps is also about to be mobilised as a
precautionary measure. This will, of course, be followed by similar
orders to all the rest of the German Army should France assume a
threatening attitude, and the signs that she means to do this are
increasingly ominous.
Meanwhile, the armies of the East are pouring towards the frontier with
machine-like order and rapidity. All night and all day long,
heavily-laden trains conveying the troops of the 4th Corps have been
passing through Berlin, one at the tail of the other, towards Thorn; and
there was tremendous cheering this afternoon at the Central Station,
which is littered about with beer barrels and piles of edibles offered
by the citizens for the refreshment and encouragement of the ‘_tapfere
Krieger_’ who are going at last to measure their strength with the
Muscovites, when the Bismarck Cuirassiers from Halberstadt steamed
slowly up to the platform for a stoppage just long enough to let the
couple of powerful engines water. Rolls and sausages were showered into
the carriages containing these splendid heavy troopers (in whose ranks,
by the way, Lieutenant Campbell of Craignish, a young Argyllshire
laird—now Rittmeister, like Dugald Dalgetty, and _aide-de-camp_ to the
Grand Duke of Coburg-Gotha—had captured a French eagle at Mars-la-Tour);
and when their heavy train again began to move away there arose another
ringing cheer mingled with ‘Hochs’ for Bismarck (and I wonder how the
exile of Friedrichsruh feels at the contemplation of all this!)—cheers
and ‘hochs’ that were responded to by these big, deep-chested fellows
roaring out the ‘Watch on the Vistula,’ which has already spread like
wildfire throughout the nation, and kindled its heart into a fine
warlike glow.
BANQUET IN THE SCHLOSS.
OMINOUS SPEECH BY THE EMPEROR.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
BERLIN, _April 25_.
To-night the Emperor gave a grand military banquet in the White Saloon
of the Schloss previous to his starting for Thorn—that tremendous
bulwark on the Vistula over against the Russian frontier, where the work
of concentrating the German troops is proceeding rapidly. At this
banquet I was favoured with a seat in the gallery, from which I have
witnessed so many pomps and pageants at this Court; and when the third
course had been reached, His Majesty (who wore the gala uniform of the
Gardes du Corps) rose, and, amid a silence in which you might have even
heard the fall of a hair, addressed his guests as follows, in a most
resolute and rasping voice:—
‘_Meine Herren_, God has willed it that Germany should draw her sword in
defence of her ally, and to God’s high, holy will we all must bow.
German loyalty (‘_Deutsche Treue_’) has ever been one of the most
conspicuous virtues of our race, and, if we now failed to prove true to
our treaty engagements, we should justly deserve to become a mockery and
a bye-word among the nations. Remembering, as I do, the very last words
almost which were addressed to me by my beloved grandfather, now resting
in God, who conjured me to be considerate towards and cultivate the
friendship of Russia, it is with a heart full of exceeding heaviness
that I look forward to the events that are ahead of us. Nevertheless, it
shall be in the power of no one to say that the German Government was
ever wanting in fidelity, or the German army deficient in courage.
‘Gentlemen, that courage has been displayed on a thousand glorious
battle-fields, and never more so than in those stupendous and heroic
encounters which made of us a great and united nation—a nation whereof
the safety and integrity would be gravely imperilled by disaster,
involving, perhaps, disruption to the dual monarchy of our allies. Such
a result, gentlemen, we cannot endure; and it is to obviate the bare
possibility of such a thing that we are now about to respond to the
solemn call of treaty obligations, by placing some of our heroic troops
side by side with the brave army of my august friend and ally, His
Majesty the Emperor Francis-Joseph; nor is it to be doubted that this
companionship-in-arms, among other things, will have the blessed effect
of wiping out all memory of our past conflicts and estrangements, and of
re-uniting, in the bonds of fraternal love and loyalty, the two greatest
sections of the mighty and invincible German race.
‘_Meine Herren_, God is above us, but uncertainty, to some extent, is
before us. Within the last few years the science of war has been
completely revolutionised, and we are all now about to grapple with
military problems which never taxed the powers of our predecessors. As
the Supreme War-Lord (‘_oberste Kriegs-Herr_’) of our armies, I mean to
make inspection of such of our forces as are now marshalling themselves
on our Eastern marches and also to remain at their head unless—which God
forfend!—the course of events should call me elsewhere. (Sensation.)
‘But, gentlemen, I do not require to tell you that the duties and
functions of a commander are very different now from what they were at
the beginning of this century, not to speak of the time of my invincible
and immortal ancestor, Frederick the Great, who inspired his troops by
his very presence and directed them _in_ battle; whereas now all that is
nearly left to the modern commander-in-chief is to lead his forces up
_to_ battle and then leave them to the charge of his subordinates—an era
in the science of warfare which was inaugurated by that great scientific
soldier, lately, alas! taken from us, who has written his deathless name
in indelible letters of gold on the tablets of his country’s history.
‘Forbidden by the nature and necessities of warfare, as now practised,
to be a tactician—such as Cæsar, or Frederick, or Napoleon, or
Wellington—the modern commander-in-chief must restrict himself to the
task of strategy, and intrust his colonels and his captains with the
duty of beating the enemy in detail. And as a modern battle must
necessarily stretch over a vast extent of front, it really resolves
itself into a hundred separate combats, in which even company leaders
become independent commanders; and thus, gentlemen, to all of you there
is opened up a glorious prospect of doing your duty to your country and
achieving a distinction which was reserved to the generalissimos of
yore. But though thus every colonel and every captain among you is now a
commander-in-chief, it behoves you to remember that, what with smokeless
powder, magazine rifles of vast range, and other innovations, the
conditions of fighting have altered immensely even since Germany last
took the field; but I doubt not that you will all prove true to our
highest traditions, and that our brave army, with God’s blessing, will
once more show the stuff of which it is made.
‘Gentlemen, this is a solemn moment, and it is not in a spirit of
festive mirth, but rather under the influence of the serious feelings
which dominate us all, that I ask you to drain your glasses to the
health of my august ally, His Majesty Francis-Joseph, Emperor of
Austria-Hungary. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!’
To-morrow the Emperor will leave for the frontier, and I have been
graciously permitted by His Majesty to attach myself to his
Headquarter-Staff.
DEPARTURE OF THE EMPEROR FOR THE EAST.
BERLIN, _April 26_.
It is long since the Linden Avenue witnessed such a scene of crowding
and excitement as it presented to-day, when the Emperor (who wore the
drill uniform of his Silesian Bodyguard Cuirassiers, named of the Great
Elector), drove from the Schloss to the Central Station to take train
for Thorn. His Majesty was accompanied by the Empress, who looked very
sad, where her august husband only wore a serious mien. The fine sunny
weather, balmy already with the fragrance of the budding spring, had
lured thousands and thousands into the streets to see the away-going of
the Emperor on his first campaign; and it was only with great difficulty
that the demi-squadron of cavalry (Gardes du Corps) escorting the
Imperial victoria could advance through the packed and cheering masses
of people who thronged every inch of standing-space in Unter den Linden,
and reached up to the very house-tops.
At one point of its route, just opposite Café Bauer, the Emperor’s
carriage was even brought to a stop; and it was then that a very excited
gentleman (who turned out to be an American admirer of His Majesty)
profited by the opportunity to throw a laurel wreath into the Imperial
equipage. Quick as thought, the Emperor placed the wreath on the point
of his sword-scabbard and tossed it back to his adulator, saying with a
smile, ‘Wait a little, my friend; let us earn this first’—a sally that
was the signal for a perfect storm of cheers on the part of the
witnesses of this charming incident, which furnished them with
additional reason for lauding the Emperor’s modesty and good sense.
There was much cheering, hat-waving and fluttering of handkerchiefs
as their Imperial Majesties—who never ceased bowing their
acknowledgments—threaded their way to the station, on the platform
of which was assembled Headquarter-Staff, with the great Household
officers and Ministers of State (who looked very grave indeed), and
others whom duty or curiosity had brought to see the Emperor off.
After conversing for a few minutes with Count Caprivi (who, unlike
his predecessor in office, is not to go to the front in the
meantime, pending the development of French schemes), His Majesty
turned to his sad-eyed consort, whom he embraced with great warmth,
and then entered his travelling saloon carriage. In another moment,
amid three parting ‘hochs,’ the train had glided away, carrying with
it the first German Emperor who has unsheathed his sword against the
Czar of all the Russias.
ILL-TREATMENT OF A WAR-CORRESPONDENT BY THE GERMAN HUSSARS.
THE BIVOUAC AT THORN.
SIGNIFICANT REMARK OF THE EMPEROR.
(_By Post from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
THORN, _April 27_.
Following the route taken by the Emperor, I arrived here this morning,
thanks to the courtesy of Baron von Tauchnitz (a son of the great
Leipzig publisher of the well-known Continental edition of our English
classics), who kindly allowed me a place (it was only a standing one) in
the train conveying to the front the Magdeburg Artillery Regiment of his
command, as well as the Train, or Army Service, Battalion of the 4th
Corps.