“My Dear Family,—Nearly a month ago I sent you a letter through Saïd Bey—the last that I was able to write before this—in which I gave you the list of the numbered letters which I had previously sent you. A week after, I became ill with an abscess on the right shoulder‐blade. Later on, this was diagnosed as being anthrax. It caused me very great suffering. The only doctor here is quite a young man, without any experience. My companions in exile,26 seeing my condition, became very uneasy, and, without consulting me, took upon themselves to address a letter to the Governor of Mecca, asking that a doctor might be sent here. But they did not receive any reply from this personage, who, however, had just received through an aide‐de‐camp sent from Constantinople the firman bestowing on him the rank of marshal, and also strict secret orders that we must perish, either by starvation or by some other means.
“To this end the Vali chose Major Bekir Effendi, who was charged with our surveillance and with the execution of this mission. As soon as he arrived, Bekir dismissed our servants and cooks and reduced our rations. I was in bed, suffering from the pain of this abscess, when Bekir came and told me the orders he had received, which he did in a severe voice, with a rough tone and without the least touch of feeling. He told us that we must be contented with a little soup and with vegetables, which would be served to us in one of those bowls used by the soldiers, and that we were strictly forbidden to procure other food than that which was provided for us. At the same time he forbade us to have our linen washed, a task which each one of us must perform for himself. Besides this, he took away the inkstand, pen and paper that was at our disposition, and everything necessary for correspondence. Luckily, I had burned your letters, although they contained nothing compromising, but complications might have arisen from them if they had fallen into their hands.
“This part of his mission accomplished, Major Bekir had the wife and child of Haïroullah Effendi, who were occupying a separate house, sent off to Mecca that very night. Our servants and cooks followed very soon afterwards.
“The treatment to which we are submitted is one means of many to get rid of us. For my companions have always been accustomed to luxury and ease, and even though hunger may oblige them to eat the poor food given to the soldiers, their health cannot endure such a regimen, and they will certainly end by succumbing, but only after how much suffering and misery! I cannot give you an idea of the melancholy into which they are plunged. They are constantly praying Heaven for their deliverance. As to me, what I find the most painful, is being deprived of my servant, whom they removed by force, and whose attentions were more than ever necessary to me at a moment when my state of health has got so much worse.
“The refusal of the Governor‐General of Mecca to send a doctor, and the speech and most unjustifiable conduct of Bekir, contributed not a little to the aggravation of my condition. I had no other consolation than the hope of quitting this life and of at last succumbing to the sufferings that I endured. But it cannot be helped; the supreme hour has not yet come, and I must still suffer. I had lost all hope, although Heaven in its mercy often reserves consolations for the unhappy, and relief for their sorrows.
“I was thus in despair of ever getting well, when, thanks to the care of my companions, who applied a poultice, the abscess burst and continued suppurating for a fortnight. Since then the pain has diminished and the wound is beginning to heal. At the moment when Haïroullah Effendi’s wife and child, and our servants also, were embarking at Djeddah for Constantinople, a telegraphic order caused them to return to Taïf in company with Major Bekir. Thus, when on the point of becoming free, these unhappy beings were once more cast into prison.
“This is a brief statement of our situation, and if no change takes place in the conditions of our existence, it will be very difficult for me to send letters as hitherto. The linen, food and money that you wish to send me will never reach me. Perhaps you could find some one who might be able to send me my false teeth. Give up any idea of sending me money, for we are now forbidden to buy any really nourishing food, such as meat, vegetables, rice, etc., and as to coffee, coal, and soap, I have plenty of money to buy those. I embrace you all affectionately.
“(Signed) Midhat.
“8th Djemazi‐ul‐Ahir, 1301” (1883).
xxx
(Year of the Hegira.)
“P.S.—Every morning they bring a bowl of soup for eight people, a dish of radish leaves or something of that nature; in the evening we all assemble round these bowls and those who are very hungry are obliged to eat from them; the others content themselves with a piece of bread kept back from the day before. Those who have money buy soap and coal, and heat water for washing their linen. Those who are without the necessary means use water mixed with cinders. As to me, who have no teeth, I live on bread‐soup. The abscess is nearly cured, but my weakness is very great. As I have already told you, all these means are taken with the sole aim of destroying us. Time will show who will be the first to give me the coup de grâce.”
Another Autograph Letter from Midhat Pasha.
“My dear Wife, my beloved Daughters, my dear Son Ali Haidar,—This letter is perhaps the last that I shall ever write you; for, as I told you in my two preceding letters, it is now proved that in modifying our regimen and in depriving us of all means of correspondence, they have no other aim than that of getting rid of us. Besides which they have tried to poison us.
“Ten days ago, my servant Arif, whom I had ordered to buy some milk through one of the officers, discovered when he was boiling it that it was poisoned. Four days after this, Arif, having bought some meat, prepared it in the evening and placed it in his room. In the morning we perceived that the metal of the saucepan bore traces of poison. Several days afterwards they poisoned the water in the jug from which we drink. All these attempts have been foiled by the attention and watchfulness of the servant. Seeing this want of success, they will try other means. We are surrounded by very dangerous people; especially Major Tcherkesse Bekir, one of the college companions of the famous Tcherkesse Hassan,27 who was sent two years ago from Constantinople to keep watch over us. This Tcherkesse Bekir has, as accomplices, three non‐commissioned officers, who lodge with us. Every day the most sinister orders are transmitted to the Vali, Osman Pasha (Governor of Mecca), who in return for his services has received a Marshal’s bâton. Yesterday there arrived Colonel Tcherkesse Mehemet Lutfi, always with the same orders. We are face to face with very great danger and are threatened with the blackest designs; I believe that there is little hope that we shall escape. Perhaps even before receiving this letter you will learn the news of my death. In this case it is useless to suffer great affliction. May the merciful God pardon us our sins! And if we are destined to succumb, there can be no greater happiness than to be martyrs in a holy cause.
“My supreme desire is that you should live in peace, united around the family hearth. May the Almighty God have you in His Holy keeping!
“(Signed) Midhat.
“10 Redjeb 1301, O.S.”
xxx
(24th September 1883).
Madame Midhat had these facts brought to the knowledge of Lord Dufferin, at Constantinople. At the same time the Duke of Sutherland, who was going to Constantinople, passed through Smyrna and went to see Midhat’s family, assuring them that he would do all in his power to persuade the Sultan to give Midhat Pasha his liberty. Lord Dufferin made representations to the Ottoman Government, and charged the Dragoman belonging to the British Consulate at Djeddah to procure news of Midhat’s health from the Grand Shereef of Mecca. The Grand Shereef, Abdul Mutalib Pasha, assured the Dragoman that Midhat was perfectly well.28 But the Sultan, terrified at the relations between the Grand Shereef Abdul Mutalib and the English Dragoman, accused the former of holding secret relations with England, with a view to saving Midhat and combining with him against his person; he therefore disgraced him, throwing him into the fortress of Taïf. It was on this account that Midhat, without knowing the real reason, wrote the following letter to his family on the arrest of the Grand Shereef:—
Another Letter from Midhat Pasha to his Family.
“My Dear Family,—Two days ago a very strange event occurred. During the night of 30th August, at midnight, the house of the Emir of Mecca, Shereef Abdul Mutalib (who was then in residence at Taïf), was suddenly surrounded by four battalions of Infantry and four guns. At daybreak he was torn from his bed and conducted to the fortress where we are imprisoned. He has been replaced in his office by the Shereef Abdullah Pasha. It is believed that Abdul Mutalib will be sent to Constantinople or elsewhere. He is accused of having kept up a correspondence with the English. The fact that this personage, who, in his anxiety to please in a high quarter, caused us so much suffering, is now thrown into a wretched hole of a prison, is a very great example. However, we can only pity his fate, when we think of his great age—he is a hundred—and that he is a descendant of the Prophet.
“(Signed) Midhat.
“2nd September 1299, O.S.”
xxx
(14th September 1882.)
Whilst the Sultan was assuring England of his good intentions, he was at the same time maturing his tyrannical plan of execution. Damad Nouri Pasha had already died—mad; but it was extremely difficult to put a Sheik‐ul‐Islam to death on a false accusation, and above all before the “Softa” (Theological Students and Ulemas, of whom he is the Supreme Head); for this reason, Haïroullah Effendi was placed on one side. The Vali of Hedjaz—Marshal Osman Nouri Pasha—received an order by special envoys to see to the execution of the murder. On the 26th of April, 1883, they entered Midhat’s room during the night, and by means of a cord they strangled him in his bed without the least resistance. Damad Mahmoud Djelaleddin Pasha attempted to defend himself, but was overcome by brute force. An eye‐witness of the crime, Haïroullah Effendi, sent a letter of condolence to the family of Midhat Pasha, of which we publish a translation.
To the Honourable Family of Midhat Pasha.
“I humbly present my most respectful homage to Madame and Mesdemoiselles Midhat Pasha, and also to his son Ali Haydar Bey, with the expression of my profound regret and sympathy on the occasion of the death of our beloved master, Midhat Pasha. May the Almighty grant them as great a measure of happiness as there are grains of dust in the earth that covers his martyred remains.
“You will have heard of his tragic death and of the circumstances under which it occurred. His Highness did not succumb, as has been announced in the newspapers, to the illness from which he was suffering. It is true that he had anthrax, but it was not bubonic. The truth is that in the same night and at the same moment both Midhat Pasha and Damad Mahmoud Pasha were strangled. May the Divine clemency and blessing be upon them.
“There are many things that I ought to tell you, but I dare not write more fully, as I am in dread of our persecutors. Kindly let me hear that you have received this letter, and do not divulge the name of him who sent it. If you have anything that you wish to ask me you can write to me.
“Half of the Pasha’s possessions have been stolen by the employés, the rest has been sent to Constantinople.
“The servant, who so faithfully served our lamented Midhat Pasha, is well worthy of being helped. The Pasha, shortly before his death, left him £T100. He gave me a note signed to this effect, which I enclose to you, begging that you will send the poor man the money.
“I beg you, Madame and Mesdemoiselles, to accept the expression of my respectful affection.
“Hassan Haïroullah.
(ex‐Sheik‐ul‐Islam.)
“Taïf, 15th Zilkade, 1301” (1883).
Wishing to render a last service to his country, the Sheik‐ul‐Islam, Haïroullah Effendi, also sent to the Reform Party a record of the details of this assassination, which is contained in the following chapter.
CHAPTER XIII
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 Bekir29 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 Elliot36 “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 Government42 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 pressure44 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.