Plan of Plevna.

the onset. Riding on horseback before the invigorating lines, he swept on the stragglers and waverers until all of them came under the full blast of the Turkish flames vomited from the redoubt. There his sword fell, shivered in his hand, and his horse rolled over at the very verge of the fosse. Fierce as ever, the leader sprang to his feet, waved the stump in air, and uttered a shout which put fresh heart into his men. With him they swarmed into the fosse, up the bank, and fell on the defenders. The bayonet did the rest, taking deadly revenge for the murderous volleys.

But Osman's engineers had provided against such an event. The redoubt was dominated from the left and could be swept by cross fire from the rear and right. On the morrow the Turks drew in large forces from the north side and pressed the victors hard. In vain did Skobeleff send urgent messages for reinforcements to make good the gaps in his ranks. None were sent, or indeed could be sent. Five times his men beat off the foe. The sixth charge hurled them first from the Kavanlik redoubt, and thereafter from the flanking works and trenches out on to that fatal slope. A war correspondent saw Skobeleff after this heart-breaking loss, "his face black with powder and smoke, his eyes haggard and bloodshot, and his voice quite gone. I never before saw such a picture of battle[148]."

Thus all the efforts of the Russians and Roumanians had failed to wrest more than a single redoubt from the Moslems; and at that point they were unable to make any advance against the inner works. The fighting of September 11-12 is believed to have cost the allies 18,000 men killed and wounded out of the 75,000 infantrymen engaged. The mistakes of July 31 had been again repeated. The number of assailants was too small for an attack on so great an extent of fortified positions defended with quick-firing rifles. Had the Russians, while making feints at other points to hold the Turks there, concentrated their efforts either on the two Grivitza redoubts, or on those about the Kavanlik work, they would almost certainly have succeeded. As it was, they hurled troops in close order against lines, the strength of which was not well known; and none of their commanders but Skobeleff employed tactics that made the most of their forces[149]. The depression at the Russian headquarters was now extreme[150]. On September 13 the Emperor held a council of war at which the Prince of Roumania, the Grand Duke Nicholas, General Milutin (Minister of War), and three other generals were present. The Grand Duke declared that the only prudent course was to retire to the Danube, construct a tête de pont guarding the southern end of their bridge and, after receiving reinforcements, again begin the conquest of Bulgaria. General Milutin, however, demurred to this, seeing that Osman's army was not mobile enough to press them hard; he therefore proposed to await the reinforcements in the positions around Plevna. The Grand Duke thereupon testily exclaimed that Milutin had better be placed in command, to which the Emperor replied: "No; you shall retain the command; but the plan suggested by the Minister of War shall be carried out[151]."

The Emperor's decision saved the situation. The Turks made no combined effort to advance towards Plevna in force; and Osman felt too little trust in the new levies that reached him from Sofia to move into the open and attack Sistova. Indeed, Turkish strategy over the whole field of war is open to grave censure. On their side there was a manifest lack of combination. Mehemet Ali pounded away for a month at the army of the Czarewitch on the River Lom, and then drew back his forces (September 24). He allowed Suleiman Pasha to fling his troops in vain against the natural stronghold of the Russians at the Shipka Pass, and had made no dispositions for succouring Lovtcha. Obviously he should have concentrated the Turkish forces so as to deal a timely and decisive blow either on the Lom or on the Sofia-Plevna road. When he proved his incapacity both as commander-in-chief and as commander of his own force, Turkish jealousy against the quondam German flared forth; and early in October he was replaced by Suleiman. The change was greatly for the worse. Suleiman's pride and obstinacy closed the door against larger ideas, and it has been confidently stated that at the end of the campaign he was bribed by the Russians to betray his cause. However that may be, it is certain that the Turkish generals continued to fight, each for his own hand, and thus lost the campaign.

It was now clear that Osman must be starved out from the position which the skill of his engineers and the steadiness of his riflemen had so speedily transformed into an impregnable stronghold. Todleben, the Russian engineer, who had strengthened the outworks of Sevastopol, had been called up to oppose trench to trench, redoubt to redoubt. Yet so extensive were the Turkish works, and so active was Shevket Pasha's force at Sofia in sending help and provisions, that not until October 24 was the line of investment completed, and by an army which now numbered fully 120,000 men. By December 10 Osman came to the end of his resources and strove to break out on the west over the River Wid towards Sofia. Masking the movement with great skill, he inflicted heavy losses on the besiegers. Slowly, however, they closed around him, and a last scene of slaughter ended in the surrender of the 43,000 half-starved survivors, with the 77 guns that had wrought such havoc among the invaders. Osman's defence is open to criticism at some points, but it had cost Russia more than 50,000 lives, and paralysed her efforts in Europe during five months.

The operations around Plevna are among the most instructive in modern warfare, as illustrating the immense power that quick-firing rifles confer upon the defence. Given a nucleus of well-trained troops, with skilled engineers, any position of ordinary strength can quickly be turned into a stronghold that will foil the efforts of a far greater number of assailants. Experience at Plevna showed that four or five times as many men were needed to attack redoubts and trenches as in the days of muzzle-loading muskets. It also proved that infantry fire is far more deadly in such cases than the best served artillery. And yet a large part of Osman's troops--perhaps the majority after August--were not regulars. Doubtless that explains why (with the exception of an obstinate but unskilful effort to break out on August 31) he did not attack the Russians in the open after his great victories of July 31 and September 11-12. On both occasions the Russians were so badly shaken that, in the opinion of competent judges, they could easily have been driven in on Nicopolis or Sistova, in which case the bridges at those places might have been seized. But Osman did not do so, doubtless because he knew that his force, weak in cavalry and unused to manoeuvring, would be at a disadvantage in the open. Todleben, however, was informed on good authority that, when the Turkish commander heard of the likelihood of the investment of Plevna, he begged the Porte to allow him to retire; but the assurance of Shevket Pasha, the commander of the Turkish force at Sofia, that he could keep open communications between that place and Plevna, decided the authorities at Constantinople to order the continuance of defensive tactics[152].

Whatever may have been the cause of this decision it ruined the Turkish campaign. Adherence to the defensive spells defeat now, as it has always done. Defeat comes more slowly now that quick-firing rifles quadruple the power of the defence; but all the same it must come if the assailant has enough men to throw on that point and then at other points. Or, to use technical terms, while modern inventions alter tactics, that is, the dispositions of troops on the field of battle--a fact which the Russians seemed to ignore at Plevna--they do not change the fundamental principles of strategy. These are practically immutable, and they doom to failure the side that, at the critical points, persists in standing on the defensive. A study of the events around Plevna shows clearly what a brave but ill-trained army can do and what it cannot do under modern conditions.

From the point of view of strategy--that is, the conduct of the great operations of a campaign--Osman's defence of Plevna yields lessons of equal interest. It affords the most brilliant example in modern warfare of the power of a force strongly intrenched in a favourable position to "contain," that is, to hold or hold back, a greater force of the enemy. Other examples are the Austrian defence of Mantua in 1796-97, which hindered the young Bonaparte's invasion of the Hapsburg States; Bazaine's defence of Metz in 1870; and Sir George White's defence of Ladysmith against the Boers. We have no space in which to compare these cases, in which the conditions varied so greatly. Suffice it to say that Mantua and Plevna were the most effective instances, largely because those strongholds lay near the most natural and easy line of advance for the invaders. Metz and Ladysmith possessed fewer advantages in this respect; and, considering the strength of the fortress and the size and quality of his army, Bazaine's conduct at Metz must rank as the weakest on record; for his 180,000 troops "contained" scarcely more than their own numbers of Germans.

On the other hand, Osman's force brought three times its number of Russians to a halt for five months before hastily constructed lines. In the opinion of many authorities the Russians did wrong in making the whole campaign depend on Plevna. When it was clear that Osman would cling to the defensive, they might with safety have secretly detached part of the besieging force to help the army of the Czarewitch to drive back the Turks on Shumla. This would have involved no great risk; for the Russians occupied the inner lines of what was, roughly speaking, a triangle, resting on the Shipka Pass, the River Lom, and Plevna as its extreme points. Having the advantage of the inner position, they could quickly have moved part of their force at Plevna, battered in the Turkish defence on the Lom, and probably captured the Slievno passes. In that case they would have cleared a new line of advance to Constantinople farther to the east, and made the possession of Plevna of little worth. Its value always lay in its nearness to their main line of advance, but they were not tied to that line. It is safe to say that, if Moltke had directed their operations, he would have devised some better plan than that of hammering away at the redoubts of Plevna.

In fact, the Russians made three great blunders: first, in neglecting to occupy Plevna betimes; second, in underrating Osman's powers of defence; third, in concentrating all their might on what was a very strong, but not an essential, point of the campaign.

The closing scenes of the war are of little interest except in the domain of diplomacy. Servia having declared war against Turkey immediately after the fall of Plevna, the Turks were now hopelessly outnumbered. Gurko forced his way over one of the western passes of the Balkans, seized Sofia (January 4, 1878), and advancing quickly towards Philippopolis, utterly routed Suleiman's main force near that town (January 17). The Turkish commander-in-chief thus paid for his mistake in seeking to defend a mountain chain with several passes by distributing his army among those passes. Experience has proved that this invites disaster at the hands of an enterprising foe, and that the true policy is to keep light troops or scouts at all points, and the main forces at a chief central pass and at a convenient place in the rear, whence the invaders may be readily assailed before they complete the crossing. As it was, Suleiman saw his main force, still nearly 50,000 strong, scatter over the Rhodope mountains; many of them reached the Aegean Sea at Enos, whence they were conveyed by ship to the Dardanelles. He himself was tried by court-martial and imprisoned for fifteen years[153].

A still worse fate befell those of his troops which hung about Radetzky's front below the Shipka Pass. The Russians devised skilful moves for capturing this force. On January 5-8 Prince Mirsky threaded his way with a strong column through the deep snows of the Travna Pass, about twenty-five miles east of the Shipka, which he then approached; while Skobeleff struggled through a still more difficult defile west of the central position. The total strength of the Russians was 56,000 men. On the 8th, when their cannon were heard thundering in the rear of the Turkish earthworks at the foot of the Shipka Pass, Radetzky charged down on the Turkish positions in front, while Mirsky assailed them from the east. Skobeleff meanwhile had been detained by the difficulties of the path and the opposition of the Turks on the west. But on the morrow his onset on the main Turkish positions carried all before it. On all sides the Turks were worsted and laid down their arms; 36,000 prisoners and 93 guns (so the Russians claim) were the prize of this brilliant feat (January 9, 1878)[154].

In Roumelia, as in Armenia, there now remained comparatively few Turkish troops to withstand the Russian advance, and the capture of Constantinople seemed to be a matter of a few weeks. There are grounds for thinking that the British Ministry, or certainly its chief, longed to send troops from Malta to help in its defence. Colonel Wellesley, British attaché at the Russian headquarters, returned to London at the time when the news of the crossing of the Balkans reached the Foreign Office. At once he was summoned to see the Prime Minister, who inquired eagerly as to the length of time which would elapse before the Russians occupied Adrianople. The officer thought that that event might occur within a month--an estimate which proved to be above the mark. Lord Beaconsfield was deeply concerned to hear this and added, "If you can only guarantee me six weeks, I see my way." He did not further explain his meaning; but Colonel Wellesley felt sure that he wished to move British troops from Malta to Constantinople[155]. Fortunately the Russian advance to Adrianople was so speedy--their vanguard entered that city on January 20--as to dispose of any such project. But it would seem that only the utter collapse of the Turkish defence put an end to the plans of part at least of the British Cabinet for an armed intervention on behalf of Turkey.

Here, then, as at so many points of their history, the Turks lost their opportunity, and that, too, through the incapacity and corruption of their governing class. The war of 1877 ended as so many of their wars had ended. Thanks to the bravery of their rank and file and the mistakes of the invaders, they gained tactical successes at some points; but they failed to win the campaign owing to the inability of their Government to organise soundly on a great scale, and the intellectual mediocrity of their commanders in the sphere of strategy. Mr. Layard, who succeeded Sir Henry Elliot at Constantinople early in 1878, had good reason for writing, "The utter rottenness of the present system has been fully revealed by the present war[156]." Whether Suleiman was guilty of perverse obstinacy, or, as has often been asserted, of taking bribes from the Russians, cannot be decided. What is certain is that he was largely responsible for the final débacle.

But in a wider and deeper sense the Turks owed their misfortunes to themselves--to their customs and their creed. Success in war depends ultimately on the brain-power of the chief leaders and organisers; and that source of strength has long ago been dried up in Turkey by adhesion to a sterilising creed and cramping traditions. The wars of the latter half of the nineteenth century are of unique interest, not only because they have built up the great national fabrics of to-day, but also because they illustrate the truth of that suggestive remark of the great Napoleon, "The general who does great things is he who also possesses qualities adapted for civil life."

FOOTNOTES:

[129] Hertslet, vol. iv. p. 2625.

[130] The Campaign in Bulgaria, by F.V. Greene, pt. ii. ch. i.; W.V. Herbert, The Defence of Plevna, chaps, i.-ii.

[131] Aus drei Kriegen, by Gen. von Lignitz, p. 99.

[132] With the Russians in War and Peace, by Colonel F.A. Wellesley (1905), ch. xvii.

[133] Hertslet, vol. iv. p. 2577.

[134] Reminiscences of the King of Roumania, edited by S. Whitman (1899), pp. 269, 274.

[135] Farcy, La Guerre sur le Danube, p. 73. For other malpractices see Colonel F.A. Wellesley's With the Russians in Peace and War, chs. xi. xii.

[136] Punch hit off the situation by thus parodying the well-known line of Horace: "Russicus expectat dum defluat amnis."

[137] Quoted from a report by an eye-witness, by "O.K." (Madame Novikoff), Skobeleff and the Slavonic Cause, p. 38. The crossing was planned by the Grand Duke Nicholas; see von Lignitz, Aus drei Kriegen, p. 149.

[138] F.V. Green, Sketches of Army Life in Russia, p. 142.

[139] Farcy, La Guerre sur le Danube, ch. viii.; Daily News Correspondence of the War of 1877-78, ch. viii.

[140] General Gurko's Advance Guard In 1877, by Colonel Epauchin, translated by H. Havelock (The Wolseley Series, 1900), ch. ii.; The Daily News War Correspondence (1877), pp. 263-270.

[141] Parl. Papers, Turkey, No. 9 (1878), Nos. 2, 3. With the Russians in Peace and War, by Colonel the Hon. F.A. Wellesley, ch. xx.

[142] W.W. Herbert, The Defence of Plevna, p. 81.

[143] For these qualities, see Turkey in Europe, by "Odysseus," p. 97.

[144] Herbert, The Defence of Plevna, p. 129.

[145] F.V. Greene, The Campaign in Bulgaria, p. 225.

[146] Reminiscences of the King of Roumania, p. 275.

[147] F.V. Greene, op. cit. p. 232.

[148] War Correspondence of the "Daily News," pp. 479-483. For another character-sketch of Skobeleff see the Fortnightly Review of Oct. 1882, by W.K. Rose.

[149] For an account of the battle, see Greene, op. cit. pt. ii. chap. v.

[150] Gen. von. Lignitz, Aus drei Kriegen, p. 167.

[151] Col. F.A. Wellesley, op. cit. p. 281.

[152] A. Forbes, Czar and Sultan, p. 291. On the other hand, W.V. Herbert (op. cit. p. 456) states that it was Osman's wish to retire to Orkanye, on the road to Sofia, and that this was forbidden. For remarks on this see Greene, op. cit. chap. viii.

[153] Sir N. Layard attributed to him the overthrow of Turkey. See his letter of February 1, 1878, in Sir W. White: Life and Correspondence, p. 127.

[154] Greene, op. cit. chap. xi. I have been assured by an Englishman serving with the Turks that these numbers were greatly exaggerated.

[155] With the Russians in Peace and War, by Colonel F.A. Wellesley, p. 272.

[156] Sir William White: Life and Correspondence, p. 128.

CHAPTER IX

So far this was satisfactory; but other signs seemed to betoken a resolve on the part of Russia to gain time while her troops pressed on towards Constantinople. The return of the Czar to St. Petersburg after the fall of Plevna had left more power in the hands of the Grand Duke Nicholas and of the many generals who longed to revenge themselves for the disasters in Bulgaria by seizing Constantinople.

In face of the probability of this event, public opinion in England underwent a complete change. Russia appeared no longer as the champion of oppressed Christians, but as an ambitious and grasping Power. Mr. Gladstone's impassioned appeals for non-intervention lost their effect, and a warlike feeling began to prevail. The change of feeling was perfectly natural. Even those who claimed that the war might have been averted by the adoption of a different policy by the Beaconsfield Cabinet, had to face the facts of the situation; and these were extremely grave.

The alarm increased when it was known that Turkey, on January 3, 1878, had appealed to the Powers for their mediation, and that Germany had ostentatiously refused. It seemed probable that Russia, relying on the support of Germany, would endeavour to force her own terms on the Porte. Lord Loftus, British Ambassador at St. Petersburg, was therefore charged to warn the Ministers of the Czar (January 16) that any treaty made separately between Russia and Turkey, which affected the international treaties of 1856 and 1871, would not be valid without the consent of all the signatory Powers. Four days later the Muscovite vanguard entered Adrianople, and it appeared likely that peace would soon be dictated at Constantinople without regard to the interests of Great Britain and Austria.

Such was the general position when Parliament met at Westminster on January 17. The Queen's Speech contained the significant phrase that, should hostilities be unfortunately prolonged, some unexpected occurrence might render it incumbent to adopt measures of precaution. Five days later it transpired that the Sultan had sent an appeal to Queen Victoria for her mediation with a view to arranging an armistice and the discussion of the preliminaries of peace. In accordance with this appeal, the Queen telegraphed to the Emperor of Russia in these terms:--

I have received a direct appeal from the Sultan which I cannot
leave without an answer. Knowing that you are sincerely desirous
of peace, I do not hesitate to communicate this fact to you, in hope
that you may accelerate the negotiations for the conclusion of an
armistice which may lead to an honourable peace.

This communication was sent with the approval of the Cabinet. The nature of the reply is not known. Probably it was not encouraging; for on the next day (January 23) the British Admiralty ordered Admiral Hornby with the Mediterranean fleet to steam up the Dardanelles to Constantinople. On the following day this was annulled, and the Admiral was directed not to proceed beyond Besika Bay[157]. The original order was the cause of the resignation of Lord Carnarvon. The retirement of Lord Derby was also announced, but he afterwards withdrew it, probably on condition that the fleet did not enter the Sea of Marmora.

Light was thus thrown on the dissensions in the Cabinet, and the vacillations in British policy. Disraeli once said in his whimsical way that there were six parties in the Ministry. The first party wanted immediate war with Russia; the second was for war in order to save Constantinople; the third was for peace at any price; the fourth would let the Russians take Constantinople and then turn them out; the fifth wanted to plant the cross on the dome of St. Sofia; "and then there are the Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who desire to see something done, but don't know exactly what[158]." The coupling of himself with the amiable Sir Stafford Northcote is a good instance of Disraelian irony. It is fairly certain that he was for war with Russia; that Lord Carnarvon constituted the third party, and Lord Derby the fourth.

On the day after the resignation of Lord Carnarvon, the British Cabinet heard for the first time what were the demands of Russia. They included the formation of a Greater Bulgaria, "within the limits of the Bulgarian nationality," practically independent of the Sultan's direct control; the entire independence of Roumania, Servia, and Montenegro; a territorial and pecuniary indemnity to Russia for the expenses of the war; and "an ulterior understanding for safeguarding the rights and interests of Russia in the Straits."

The extension of Bulgaria to the shores of the Aegean seemed at that time a mighty triumph for Russian influence; but it was the last item, vaguely foreshadowing the extension of Russian influence to the Dardanelles, that most aroused the alarm of the British Cabinet. Russian control of those straits would certainly have endangered Britain's connections with India by way of the Suez Canal, seeing that we then had no foothold in Egypt. Accordingly, on January 28, the Ministry proposed to Parliament the voting of an additional sum of £6,000,000 towards increasing the armaments of the country. At once there arose strong protests against this proposal, especially from the districts then suffering from the prolonged depression of trade. The outcry was very natural; but none the less it can scarcely be justified in view of the magnitude of the British interests then at stake. Granted that the views of the Czar were pacific, those of his generals at the seat of war were very much open to question[159]. The long coveted prize of Constantinople, or the Dardanelles, was likely to tempt them to disregard official orders from St. Petersburg, unless they knew that any imprudent step would bring on a European war. In any case, the vote of £6,000,000 was a precautionary measure; and it probably had the effect of giving pause to the enthusiasts at the Russian headquarters.

The preliminary bases of peace between Russia and Turkey were signed at Adrianople (Jan. 31) on the terms summarised above, except that the Czar's Ministers now withdrew the obnoxious clause about the Straits. A line of demarcation was also agreed on between the hostile forces; it passed from Derkos, a lake near the Black Sea, to the north of Constantinople, in a southerly direction by the banks of the Karasou stream as far as the Sea of Marmora. This gave to the Russians the lines of Tchekmedje, the chief natural defence of Constantinople, and they occupied this position on February 6. This fact was reported by Mr. Layard, Sir Henry Elliot's successor at Constantinople, in alarmist terms, and it had the effect of stilling the opposition at Westminster to the vote of credit. Though official assurances of a reassuring kind came from Prince Gortchakoff at St. Petersburg, the British Ministry on February 7 ordered a part of the Mediterranean fleet to enter the Sea of Marmora for the defence of British interests and the protection of British subjects at Constantinople. The Czar's Government thereupon declared that if the British fleet steamed up the Bosporus, Russian troops would enter Constantinople for the protection of the Christian population.

This rivalry in philanthropic zeal was not pushed to its logical issue, war. The British fleet stopped short of the Bosporus, but within sight of the Russian lines. True, these were pushed eastwards slightly beyond the limits agreed on with the Turks; but an arrangement was arrived at between Lord Derby and Prince Gortchakoff (Feb. 19) that the Russians would not occupy the lines of Bulair close to Constantinople, or the Peninsula of Gallipoli commanding the Dardanelles, provided that British forces were not landed in that important strait[160]. So matters rested, both sides regarding each other with the sullenness of impotent wrath. As Bismarck said, a war would have been a fight between an elephant and a whale.

The situation was further complicated by an invasion of Thessaly by the Greeks (Feb. 3); but they were withdrawn at once on the urgent remonstrance of the Powers, coupled with a promise that the claims of Greece would be favourably considered at the general peace[161].

In truth, all the racial hatreds, aspirations, and ambitions that had so long been pent up in the south-east of Europe now seemed on the point of bursting forth and overwhelming civilisation in a common ruin. Just as the earth's volcanic forces now and again threaten to tear their way through the crust, so now the immemorial feuds of Moslems and Christians, of Greeks, Servians, Bulgars, Wallachs, and Turks, promised to desolate the slopes of the Balkans, of Rhodope and the Pindus, and to spread the lava tide of war over the half of the Continent. The Russians and Bulgars, swarming over Roumelia, glutted their revenge for past defeats and massacres by outrages well-nigh as horrible as that of Batak. At once the fierce Moslems of the Rhodope Mountains rose in self-defence or for vengeance. And while the Russian eagles perforce checked their flight within sight of Stamboul, the Greeks and Armenians of that capital--nay, the very occupants of the foreign embassies--trembled at sight of the lust of blood that seized on the vengeful Ottomans.

Nor was this all. Far away beyond the northern horizon the war cloud hung heavily over the Carpathians. The statesmen of Vienna, fearing that the terms of their bargain with Russia were now forgotten in the intoxication of her triumph, determined to compel the victors to lay their spoils before the Great Powers. In haste the Austrian and Hungarian troops took station on the great bastion of the Carpathians, and began to exert on the military situation the pressure which had been so fatal to Russia in her Turkish campaign of 1854.

But though everything betokened war, there were forces that worked slowly but surely for a pacific settlement. However threatening was the attitude of Russia, her rulers really desired peace. The war had shown once again the weakness of that Power for offence. Her strength lies in her boundless plains, in the devotion of her millions of peasants to the Czar, and in the patient, stubborn strength which is the outcome of long centuries of struggle with the yearly tyrant, winter. Her weakness lies in the selfishness, frivolity, corruption, and narrowness of outlook of her governing class--in short, in their incapacity for organisation. Against the steady resisting power of her peasants the great Napoleon had hurled his legions in vain. That campaign of 1812 exhibited the strength of Russia for defence. But when, in fallacious trust in that precedent, she has undertaken great wars far from her base, failure has nearly always been the result. The pathetic devotion of her peasantry has not made up for the mental and moral defects of her governing classes. This fact had fixed itself on every competent observer in 1877. The Emperor Alexander knew it only too well. Now, early in 1878, it was fairly certain that his army would succumb under the frontal attacks of Turks and British, and the onset of the Austrians on their rear.

Therefore when, on Feb. 4, the Hapsburg State proposed to refer the terms of peace to a Conference of the Powers at Vienna, the consent of Russia was almost certain, provided that the prestige of the Czar remained unimpaired. Three days later the place of meeting was changed to Berlin, the Conference also becoming a Congress, that is, a meeting where the chief Ministers of the Powers, not merely their Ambassadors, would take part. The United Kingdom, France, and Italy at once signified their assent to this proposal. As for Bismarck, he promised in a speech to the Reichstag (Feb. 19) that he would act as an "honest broker" between the parties most nearly concerned. There is little doubt that Russia took this in a sense favourable to her claims, and she, too, consented.

Nevertheless, she sought to tie the hands of the Congress by binding Turkey to a preliminary treaty signed on March 3 at San Stefano, a village near to Constantinople. The terms comprised those stated above (p. 225), but they also stipulated the cession of frontier districts to Servia and Montenegro, while Russia was to acquire the Roumanian districts east of the River Pruth, Roumania receiving the Dobrudscha as an equivalent. Most serious of all was the erection of Bulgaria into an almost independent Principality, extending nearly as far south as Midia (on the Black Sea), Adrianople, Salonica, and beyond Ochrida in Albania. As will be seen by reference to the map (p. 239), this Principality would then have comprised more than half of the Balkan Peninsula, besides including districts on the Ægean Sea and around the town of Monastir, for which the Greeks have never ceased to cherish hopes. A Russian Commissioner was to supervise the formation of the government for two years; all the fortresses on the Danube were to be razed, and none others constructed; Turkish forces were required entirely to evacuate the Principality, which was to be occupied by Russian troops for a space of time not exceeding two years.

On her side, Turkey undertook to grant reforms to the Armenians, and protect them from Kurds and Circassians, Russia further claimed 1,410,000,000 roubles as war indemnity, but consented to take the Dobrudscha district (offered to Roumania, as stated above), and in Asia the territories of Batoum, Kars, Ardahan, and Bayazid, in lieu of 1,100,000,000 roubles. The Porte afterwards declared that it signed this treaty under persistent pressure from the Grand Duke Nicholas and General Ignatieff, who again and again declared that otherwise the Russians would advance on the capital[162].

At once, from all parts of the Balkan Peninsula, there arose a chorus of protests against the Treaty of San Stefano. The Mohammedans of the proposed State of Bulgaria protested against subjection to their former helots. The Greeks saw in the treaty the death-blow to their hopes of gaining the northern coasts of the Aegean and a large part of Central Macedonia. They fulminated against the Bulgarians as ignorant peasants, whose cause had been taken up recently by Russia for her own aggrandisement[163]. The Servians were equally indignant. They claimed, and with justice, that their efforts against the Turks should be rewarded by an increase of territory which would unite to them their kinsfolk in Macedonia and part of Bosnia, and place them on an equality with the upstart State of Bulgaria. Whereas the treaty assigned to these protégés of Russia districts inhabited solely by Servians, thereby barring the way to any extension of that Principality.

Still more urgent was the protest of the Roumanian Government. In return for the priceless services rendered by his troops at Plevna, Prince Charles and his Ministers were kept in the dark as to the terms arranged between Russia and Turkey. The Czar sent General Ignatieff to prepare the Prince for the news, and sought to mollify him by the hint that he might become also Prince of Bulgaria--a suggestion which was scornfully waved aside. The Government at Bukharest first learnt the full truth as to the Bessarabia-Dobrudscha exchange from the columns of the Journal du St. Pétersbourg, which proved that the much-prized Bessarabian territory was to be bargained away by the Power which had solemnly undertaken to uphold the integrity of the Principality. The Prince, the Cabinet, and the people unanimously inveighed against this proposal. On Feb. 4 the Roumanian Chamber of Deputies declared that Roumania would defend its territory to the last, by armed force if necessary; but it soon appeared that none of the Powers took any interest in the matter, and, thanks to the prudence of Prince Charles, the proud little nation gradually schooled itself to accept the inevitable[164].

The peace of Europe now turned on the question whether the Treaty of San Stefano would be submitted as a whole to the Congress of the Powers at Berlin; England claimed that it must be so submitted. This contention, in its extreme form, found no support from any of the Powers, not even from Austria, and it met with firm opposition from Russia. She, however, assured the Viennese Court that the Congress would decide which of the San Stefano terms affected the interests of Europe and would pronounce on them. The Beaconsfield Cabinet later on affirmed that "every article in the treaty between Russia and Turkey will be placed before the Congress--not necessarily for acceptance, but in order that it may be considered what articles require acceptance or concurrence by the several Powers and what do not[165]."

When this much was conceded, there remained no irreconcilable difference, unless the treaty contained secret articles which Russia claimed to keep back from the Congress. As far as we know, there were none. But the fact is that the dispute, small as it now appears to us, was intensified by the suspicions and resentment prevalent on both sides. The final decision of the St. Petersburg Government was couched in somewhat curt and threatening terms: "It leaves to the other Powers the liberty of raising such questions at the Congress as they may think it fit to discuss, and reserves to itself the liberty of accepting, or not accepting, the discussion of these questions[166]."

This haughty reply, received at Downing Street on March 27, again brought the two States to the verge of war. Lord Beaconsfield, and all his colleagues but one, determined to make immediate preparations for the outbreak of hostilities; while Lord Derby, clinging to the belief that peace would best be preserved by ordinary negotiations, resigned the portfolio for foreign affairs (March 28); two days later he was succeeded by the Marquis of Salisbury[167]. On April 1 the Prime Minister gave notice of motion that the reserves of the army and militia should be called out; and on the morrow Lord Salisbury published a note for despatch to foreign courts summarising the grounds of British opposition to the Treaty of San Stefano, and to Russia's contentions respecting the Congress.

Events took a still more threatening turn fifteen days later, when the Government ordered eight Indian regiments, along with two batteries of artillery, to proceed at once to Malta. The measure aroused strong differences of opinion, some seeing in it a masterly stroke which revealed the greatness of Britain's resources, while the more nervous of the Liberal watch-dogs bayed forth their fears that it was the beginning of a Strafford-like plot for undermining the liberties of England.

So sharp were the differences of opinion in England, that Russia would perhaps have disregarded the threats of the Beaconsfield Ministry had she not been face to face with a hostile Austria. The great aim of the Czar's government was to win over the Dual Monarchy by offering a share of the spoils of Turkey. Accordingly, General Ignatieff went on a mission to the continental courts, especially to that of Vienna, and there is little doubt that he offered Bosnia to the Hapsburg Power. That was the least which Francis Joseph and Count Andrassy had the right to expect, for the secret compact made before the war promised them as much. In view of the enormous strides contemplated by Russia, they now asked for certain rights in connection with Servia and Montenegro, and commercial privileges that would open a way to Salonica[168]. But Russia's aims, as expressed at San Stefano, clearly were to dominate the Greater Bulgaria there foreshadowed, which would probably shut out Austria from political and commercial influence over the regions north of Salonica. Ignatieff's effort to gain over Austria therefore failed; and it was doubtless Lord Beaconsfield's confidence in the certainty of Hapsburg support in case of war that prompted his defiance alike of Russia and of the Liberal party at home.

The Czar's Government also was well aware of the peril of arousing a European war. Nihilism lifted its head threateningly at home; and the Russian troops before Constantinople were dying like flies in autumn. The outrages committed by them and the Bulgarians on the Moslems of Roumelia had, as we have seen, led to a revolt in the district of Mount Rhodope; and there was talk in some quarters of making a desperate effort to cut off the invaders from the Danube[169]. The discontent of the Roumanians might have been worked upon so as still further to endanger the Russian communications. Probably the knowledge of these plans and of the warlike preparations of Great Britain induced the Russian Government to moderate its tone. On April 9 it expressed a wish that Lord Salisbury would formulate a definite policy.

The new Foreign Minister speedily availed himself of this offer; and the cause of peace was greatly furthered by secret negotiations which he carried on with Count Shuvaloff. The Russian ambassador in London had throughout bent his great abilities to a pacific solution of the dispute, and, on finding out the real nature of the British objections to the San Stefano Treaty, he proceeded to St. Petersburg to persuade the Emperor to accept certain changes. In this he succeeded, and on his return to London was able to come to an agreement with Lord Salisbury (May 30), the chief terms of which clearly foreshadowed those finally adopted at Berlin.

In effect they were as follows: The Beaconsfield Cabinet strongly objected to the proposed wide extension of Bulgaria at the expense of other nationalities, and suggested that the districts south of the Balkans, which were peopled almost wholly by Bulgarians, should not be wholly withdrawn from Turkish control, but "should receive a large measure of administrative self-government . . . with a Christian governor." To these proposals the Russian Government gave a conditional assent. Lord Salisbury further claimed that the Sultan should have the right "to canton troops on the frontiers of southern Bulgaria"; and that the militia of that province should be commanded by officers appointed by the Sultan with the consent of Europe. England also undertook to see that the cause of the Greeks in Thessaly and Epirus received the attention of all the Powers, in place of the intervention of Russia alone on their behalf, as specified in the San Stefano Treaty.

Respecting the cession of Roumanian Bessarabia to Russia, on which the Emperor Alexander had throughout insisted (see page 205), England expressed "profound regret" at that demand, but undertook not to dispute it at the Congress. On his side the Emperor Alexander consented to restore Bayazid in Asia Minor to the Turks, but insisted on the retention of Batoum, Kars, and Ardahan. Great Britain acceded to this, but hinted that the defence of Turkey in Asia would thenceforth rest especially upon her--a hint to prepare Russia for the Cyprus Convention.

For at this same time the Beaconsfield Cabinet had been treating secretly with the Sublime Porte. When Lord Salisbury found out that Russia would not abate her demands for Batoum, Ardahan, and Kars, he sought to safeguard British interests in the Levant by acquiring complete control over the island of Cyprus. His final instructions to Mr. Layard to that effect were telegraphed on May 30, that is, on the very day on which peace with Russia was practically assured[170]. The Porte, unaware of the fact that there was little fear of the renewal of hostilities, agreed to the secret Cyprus Convention on June 4; while Russia, knowing little or nothing as to Britain's arrangement with the Porte, acceded to the final arrangements for the discussion of Turkish affairs at Berlin. It is not surprising that this manner of doing business aroused great irritation both at St. Petersburg and Constantinople. Count Shuvaloff's behaviour at the Berlin Congress when the news came out proclaimed to the world that he considered himself tricked by Lord Beaconsfield; while that statesman disdainfully sipped nectar of delight that rarely comes to the lips even of the gods of diplomacy.

The terms of the Cyprus Convention were to the effect that, if Russia retained the three districts in Asia Minor named above, or any of them (as it was perfectly certain that she would); or if she sought to take possession of any further Turkish territory in Asia Minor, Great Britain would help the Sultan by force of arms. He, on his side assigned to Great Britain the island of Cyprus, to be occupied and administered by her. He further promised "to introduce necessary reforms, to be agreed upon later between the two Powers, into the government, and for the protection of the Christian and other subjects of the Porte in these territories." On July I Britain also covenanted to pay to the Porte the surplus of revenue over expenditure in Cyprus, calculated upon the average of the last five years, and to restore Cyprus to Turkey if Russia gave up Kars and her other acquisitions[171].

Fortified by the secret understanding with Russia, and by the equally secret compact with Turkey, the British Government could enter the Congress of the Powers at Berlin with complete equanimity. It is true that news as to the agreement with Russia came out in a London newspaper which at once published a general description of the Anglo-Russian agreement of May 30; and when the correctness of the news was stoutly denied by Ministers, the original deed was given to the world by the same newspaper on June 14; but again vigorous disclaimers and denials were given from the ministerial bench in Parliament[172]. Thus, when Lords Beaconsfield and Salisbury proceeded to Berlin for the opening of the Congress (June 13), they were believed to hold the destinies of the British Empire in their hands, and the world waited with bated breath for the scraps of news that came from that centre of diplomacy.

On various details there arose sharp differences which the tactful humour of the German Chancellor could scarcely set at rest. The fate of nations seemed to waver in the balance when Prince Gortchakoff gathered up his maps and threatened to hurry from the room, or when Lord Beaconsfield gave pressing orders for a special train to take him back to Calais; but there seemed good grounds for regarding these incidents rather as illustrative of character, or of the electioneering needs of a sensational age, than as throes in the birth of nationalities. The "Peace with honour," which the Prime Minister on his return announced at Charing Cross to an admiring crowd, had virtually been secured at Downing Street before the end of May respecting all the great points in dispute between England and Russia.

We know little about the inner history of the Congress of Berlin, which is very different from the official Protocols that half reveal and half conceal its debates. One fact and one incident claim attention as serving to throw curious sidelights on policy and character respectively. The Emperor William had been shot at and severely wounded by a socialist fanatic, Dr. Nobiling, on June 2, 1878, and during the whole time of the Congress the Crown Prince Frederick acted as regent of the Empire. Limited as his powers were by law, etiquette, and Bismarck, he is said to have used them on behalf of Austria and England. The old Emperor thought so; for in a moment of confiding indiscretion he hinted to the Princess Radziwill (a Russian by birth) that Russian interests would have fared better at Berlin had he then been steering the ship of State[173]. Possibly this explains why Bismarck always maintained that he had done what he could for his Eastern neighbour, and that he really deserved a Russian decoration for his services during the Congress.

The incident, which flashes a search-light into character and discloses the recherché joys of statecraft, is also described in the sprightly Memoirs of Princess Radziwill. She was present at a brilliant reception held on the evening of the day when the Cyprus Convention had come to light. Diplomatists and generals were buzzing eagerly and angrily when the Earl of Beaconsfield appeared. A slight hush came over the wasp-like clusters as he made his way among them, noting everything with his restless, inscrutable eyes. At last he came near the Princess, once a bitter enemy, but now captivated and captured by his powers of polite irony. "What are you thinking of," she asked. "I am not thinking at all," he replied, "I am enjoying myself[174]." After that one can understand why Jew-baiting became a favourite sport in Russia throughout the next two decades.

We turn now to note the terms of the Treaty of Berlin (July 13, 1878)[175]. The importance of this compact will be seen if its provisions are compared with those of the Treaty of San Stefano, which it replaced. Instead of the greater Bulgaria subjected for two years to Russian control, the Congress ordained that Bulgaria proper should not extend beyond the main chain of the Balkans, thus reducing its extent from 163,000 square kilometres to 64,000, and its population from four millions to a million and a half. The period of military occupation and supervision of the new administration by Russia was reduced to nine months. At the end of that time, and on the completion of the "organic law," a Prince was to be elected "freely" by the population of the Principality. The new State remained under the suzerainty of Turkey, the Sultan confirming the election of the new Prince of Bulgaria, "with the assent of the Powers."

Another important departure from the San Stefano terms was the creation of the Province of Eastern Roumelia, with boundaries shown in the accompanying map. While having a Christian governor, and enjoying the rights of local self-government, it was to remain under "the direct political and military authority of the Sultan, under conditions of administrative autonomy." The Sultan retained the right of keeping garrisons there, though a local militia was to preserve internal order. As will be shown in the next chapter, this anomalous state of things passed away in 1885, when the province threw off Turkish control and joined Bulgaria.

The other Christian States of the Balkans underwent changes of the highest importance. Montenegro lost half of her expected gains, but secured access to the sea at Antivari. The acquisitions of Servia were now effected at the expense of Bulgaria. These decisions were greatly in favour of Austria. To that Power the occupation of Bosnia and Herzegovina was now entrusted for an indefinite period in the interest of the peace of Europe, and she proceeded forthwith to drive a wedge between the Serbs of Servia and Montenegro. It is needless to say that, in spite of the armed opposition of the Mohammedan people of those provinces--which led to severe fighting in July to September of that year--Austria's occupation has been permanent, though nominally they still form part of the Turkish Empire.

[Illustration: MAP OF THE TREATIES OF BERLIN AND SAN STEFANO.]

Roumania and Servia gained complete independence and ceased to pay tribute to the Sultan, but both States complained of the lack of support accorded to them by Russia, considering the magnitude of their efforts for the Slavonic cause. Roumania certainly fared very badly at the hands of the Power for which it had done yeoman service in the