The Great Powers after Plevna
The undeniable prospect of an imminent Russian victory gave the Great Powers a good deal to think about. The prospect of the fall of Plevna alarmed Queen Victoria extremely, and Disraeli was obliged to calm her down, writing to her on November 16:
Unquestionably the fall of Plevna … would be a calamity to this country, but it would not be a disgrace … Now, we have adopted and announced a different policy [from the one of 1854]: one of neutrality, conditional on no British interest being menaced or attacked. We have defined those British interests. The occupation by Russia of Constantinople, or the Dardanelles, would assail one of those interests.1
The Cabinet having approved the proposal that a request be made to the Russian government for a promise not to take such a step, Disraeli had to press his reluctant Foreign Secretary to prepare a draft. Derby thought it ‘a very awkward paper’ but finally produced a draft. It included a paragraph promising continued neutrality if the Russians did not occupy Constantinople, and Disraeli struck this out, to Derby’s fury. Ultimately, after a Cabinet meeting, Disraeli prevailed, although Derby made an attempt during the discussion to distinguish between a threatened and an actual occupation of the city; the Prime Minister insisted that either must be a casus belli.
The capitulation of Plevna, expected though it was, caused an enormous reaction in Britain. Although the bulk of the press called for mediation, the Pall Mall Gazette called for a demonstration, and the Morning Post for a declaration of war if hostilities did not end immediately. In all this it was the threat to Constantinople that occupied everyone’s attention, as expressed in the bellicose music hall song that gave the word ‘jingo’ its special meaning. Written by G W Hunt, and performed by ‘The Great MacDermott,’ it was an immediate success; the Prince of Wales even asked for it to be sung to him at a private audience. There is no evidence to suggest that its sentiments were the product of official encouragement, but they must have reassured Disraeli in his belief that his policy was soundly based on popular feeling. The verses of the song outlined the misdeeds of the ‘Russian Bear,’ but it was the chorus that caught the public’s mood:
We don’t want to fight, but by jingo if we do …
We’ve got the ships, we’ve got the men, and got the money too!
We’ve fought the Bear before, and while we’re Britons true,
The Russian shall not have Constantinople.
When it came to it, Britain certainly had the ships, and no doubt the money; but its ability to put a substantial number of men into the field was much more doubtful. The only force immediately available was in Malta, and was 4,000 strong. The Queen was, predictably, profoundly affected by the news from Plevna, writing to her daughter, the Crown Princess of Germany, on December 17:
The fall of Plevna was a bitter pill, a true grief to me who feels too strongly to speak of it! I cannot express in words my indignation. But please God we shall assert our feeling and position2.
The entrance to the Dardanelles. (Ollier)
A view of Constantinople. (Ollier)
The Queen certainly did manage to express her own feelings, bombarding Disraeli with letters calling for firmness on the part of the Cabinet. He was not to hesitate, she said, about calling for Derby’s resignation. Her fear was that doing nothing would reduce Britain to a ‘subservient, second rate, cotton spinning power.’
On December 14 Disraeli put to his Cabinet proposals to summon Parliament, to seek a large increase in military spending, and to insist on mediation. Derby strongly objected; his position now was that he did not regard even the occupation of Constantinople as a casus belli, an approach which led Northcote, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, to express his concern to Salisbury that there would be ‘the most serious consequences if Derby cannot rouse himself to take a lead and give us a line of his own.’3 Salisbury thought Disraeli’s proposals would put Britain on ‘the steep slope which leads to war,’ and that Constantinople was in fact in no real danger. Another heated Cabinet meeting followed on December 17, and yet another on the following day, when Derby’s proposal to call Parliament and ask for money, but not to attempt mediation was rejected in favour of Disraeli’s plan; the Prime Minister got his way partly by a threat of his own resignation.
Derby had seen no prospect of mediation being successful, and his attitude was shared elsewhere. Bismarck preferred direct talks between Russia and Turkey, and so did Andrassy. Wellesley reported from St Petersburg that Alexander was in favour of peace, but was not interested in mediation. In fact, the British proposal for this was never delivered, as the Porte formally confirmed its desire that Britain should ask Russia if it would consider overtures for peace. When this was communicated to St Petersburg Gorchakov’s reply, on December 29, was that ‘Russia desired nothing better than to arrive at peace,’ but that the Porte must apply to the Russian commanders in chief in Europe and Asia, who would state the terms required for an armistice.4
The British Cabinet continued to meet very frequently although, due to the serious divisions that characterised its discussions, very ineffectually. Not unreasonably, it was anxious to persuade the Russians that armistice negotiations should be between governments rather than generals in the field. Gorchakov was adamant, however, and the Porte was advised to send representatives to the Russian headquarters. At this stage, ironically, both sides were deliberately dragging their feet; the Russians were anxious to press on with their advance to Constantinople while keeping an eye on British intentions as they were clarified after the recall of Parliament on January 17, while the Turks still clung to the hope of active British assistance. It was Layard who was responsible for this, repeatedly displaying such sympathy and encouragement that it is not surprising that the Turks deceived themselves into believing that British intervention was possible. Prince Reuss, the German ambassador, was blunt in his criticism of Layard:
He has never ceased to dissuade the Porte from following the correct path, i.e., that of direct negotiations with Russia, and on the other side, he is urging his own Government, as I learned from speeches made by him, to pursue an active Turkophil policy. I am not alone here in conjecturing that his action will tend considerably to postpone the end of the War, and that this policy will, therefore, have been full of consequences for Turkey.5
In his opinion, it was Layard’s daily comments to Server Pasha as to the attitude of Britain that led to the postponement of the dispatch of plenipotentiaries to Grand Duke Nicholas.
Queen Victoria’s passionate desire to see Britain taking affirmative action was expressed regularly in her correspondence with her Prime Minister; she wrote excitably for instance on January 10:
She feels she cannot remain sovereign of a country that is letting itself down to kiss the feet of the great barbarians, the retarders of all liberty and civilisation that exists … Oh, if the Queen were a man, she would like to go and give those Russians, whose word one cannot believe, such a beating. We shall never be friends again till we have it out. This the Queen feels sure of.6
On the same day Layard urged that the fleet should be brought nearer to Constantinople, and next day suggested that the Turks be advised to garrison the Bulair lines to defend Gallipoli. Disraeli thought this a good idea, and told the Queen of his intention to propose to the Cabinet on January 12 that the Dardanelles be occupied. He was also at pains to reassure her of the steps being taken to massage the Press, something that the Queen took very seriously. She had been particularly enraged by The Times, writing to her daughter:
Surely you must have known long ago, that The Times is a mere tool in the hands of Russia, takes its inspiration from Count Shuvalov, is, I believe, even bribed – and its reports from the seat of war are utterly unreliable, as Colonel Mansfield writes, having been written with only one object, viz for Russia.7
Demonstrating that spin doctoring was an art already being practised in the 19th century, Disraeli told her that his secretary, Montague Corry, ‘sees the editors of Telegraph, M.[orning] Post and Pall Mall every day, and guides, instructs and inspires them. And the Standard also, though the writers of that print are very dull.’8
Layard’s violent denunciations of Russia and his explanations and excuses for Turkey in his correspondence with Derby, were repeated to a wide audience. To the Foreign Secretary, he suggested that in relation to the allegations of atrocities by the Circassians, ‘the tendency to exaggerate among the Christians and Europeans in this country is the source of infinite mischief: it is impossible to get at the real truth.’ In a letter to Lord Lytton, the Viceroy of India, he suggested without any evidence whatever that it was Russia’s aim to remove the entire Muslim population from a new Bulgaria.9 As well as misleading the Turks with his sympathy and advice, Layard also continued to wind up Disraeli. Not that the Prime Minister needed much encouragement; when Parliament met on January 17 he was insulting and threatening by turns when he spoke of Britain’s resolve to fight for ‘precious interests.’
‘The Attack on the Redoubt’ – knowledge of the Siege of Plevna penetrated even children’s games of the time. (Illustrated London News)
Meanwhile, the Russian advance towards Adrianople continued. On January 10 the Turks made telegraphic contact with Grand Duke Nicholas, whose reply confirmed that negotiations for an armistice could only take place with him, and that first the bases of peace must be agreed. On January 13 Nicholas sent a telegram to the effect that the bases of peace would be communicated to a person sent with powers to accept them. A meeting should be held for the purpose at Kazanlik. This brought the Ottoman Council of Ministers at last to believe that they must do something, and after a lengthy meeting that day it was agreed to send Server Pasha and Namyk Pasha to Kazanlik on the following day. In fact, they did not leave until January 15, and it was January 19 before they reached their destination, having been delayed by the Russian advance. Two meetings were held with the Grand Duke next day, but matters were only discussed very generally, no specific terms being put forward. Both sides still seemed content to temporise, and it was only the imminence of the Russian occupation of Adrianople that led to a meaningful discussion on January 21, when Nicholas finally spelled out the only terms on which an armistice could be agreed.
The Russian terms were stark and it was made clear that they were not negotiable. Bulgaria was to be an autonomous state, including Roumelia. Montenegro was to be independent, with increased territory. Roumania and Serbia were to be independent, the former to have ‘an adequate territorial indemnity’ and the latter a frontier rectification. Bosnia and Herzegovina were to be autonomous. Turkey was to indemnify Russia for the expenses of the war; the nature of the indemnity, whether territorial or pecuniary, was to be settled later. The question of the Straits was to be settled between the two countries later.
Meanwhile Disraeli was beginning to get his own way with his Cabinet, which met on the afternoon of January 23 and, in the face of bitter objections from Derby, and from Lord Carnarvon, the Colonial Secretary, agreed to send the fleet to Constantinople. Orders went that evening to Admiral Hornby to that effect:
Sail immediately for Dardanelles and proceed with the fleet now with you to Constantinople. Abstain from taking any part in contest between Russia and Turkey, but waterway of straits is to be kept open, and in the event of tumult at Constantinople, protect life and property of British subjects.10
Hornby had been at anchor in Besika Bay since the end of June, and he and his officers had settled down to enjoy themselves. There was much shooting to be had, and a pack of beagles was brought out from England on November 10, and before long a number of horses were brought down, enabling the Admiral to go hunting. At the end of December the fleet had been moved to Vourla, the southerly winter gales making the Besika anchorage very dangerous. Hornby (after making fresh arrangements at Vourla for kennels and stables) had gone to Malta, but a week later the deteriorating situation had necessitated his return to the fleet. He was gloomy about the orders to sail, writing to complain to his wife that the vacillation they had revealed showed ‘that we are not well commanded, and I do not anticipate much credit will accrue to the country.’11
His pessimism was well founded; on the evening of January 24 he was ordered to return to Besika Bay. The reversal was due to information received in London from Layard, setting out the Russian peace terms which the ambassador understood would be accepted. Since the government had just announced that it would seek a vote of monies if the Russians did not put forward peace terms, it was felt that the even graver step of sending the fleet to Constantinople should not now be proceeded with.
In the meantime, however, both Derby and Carnarvon had resigned. Disraeli was perfectly ready to accept both resignations, and the Queen was particularly happy that he should do so; but Dyke, the government chief whip, and Northcote, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, feared the electoral consequences, while Salisbury considered that Derby’s departure would be taken to mean that the government meant to go to war. Carnarvon went, but Derby was persuaded to stay; Disraeli would have liked to move him to another post, but the Foreign Secretary was only prepared to continue in that office.
The Queen had expressed her’ immense satisfaction and relief’ when told of Derby’s resignation, so Disraeli had a considerable task on his hands to assuage her disappointment at the retention of the Foreign Secretary. He wrote to her to tell her that practically every member of the Cabinet wished him to remain, and that his retirement was ‘producing disastrous results on the Conservative party, both in Parliament and out of doors; a general disintegration is taking place.’12 The Queen had to put up with the situation, but she did not hide her regret.
In Parliament, the debate on the motion to add £6m to the Army and Navy estimates began on January 28 and went on for five nights, providing all shades of opinion with an opportunity for an airing, often in most extravagant language. George Trevelyan remarked of the Prime Minister that he had ‘never disguised his desire to plunge the nation into war,’ while Gladstone, speaking at Oxford on January 30, described the Cabinet as a bag in which ‘all the warning winds of heaven are shut up.’ Disraeli, hearing of this, described Gladstone as a ‘vindictive fiend’ rather than a pious Christian. In the end the Government’s motion was carried by a comfortable majority.
Meanwhile Disraeli had been hoping for some sort of accord with Austria. Andrassy had made no secret of his belief that he had been deceived by the Russians, but his discontent with the situation did not lead him to accept that a Russian entry into Constantinople was one of the points on which Austria and Britain had agreed to support each other. On the other hand, Andrassy was determined that the Russian terms for peace should be submitted to the Great Powers, and suggested the convening of a conference. To this Gorchakov sent a conciliatory reply, stating that the preliminary terms were provisional as far as they concerned Europe. Thereafter, discussions began about the possibility of a conference, and especially about the venue; Gorchakov was not prepared to consider Vienna, suggesting a small German resort such as Baden-Baden.13
HMS Sultan saluting the Turkish flag at Chanak. (Illustrated London News)
Although even Derby admitted that there might be circumstances to justify sending the fleet to Constantinople, and there was widespread concern about a possible Russian occupation of the city, the reality was that Britain alone did not possess the military resources to prevent it. The fear of such a step was increased by the news, which reached London on February 1, that the Turks had agreed to an armistice. The deepening crisis would put the divided Cabinet under even greater strain in the days to come. The news that the bases of the armistice had been agreed, but without confirmation of their signature, enhanced fears as to what the Russians were up to, as Derby observed in his diary on that day:
The unexplained delay causes great suspicion and irritation here, it being thought that the Russians are playing their usual tricks, and that time is being wasted in order to allow of an occupation of Constantinople. Schou. explains it by the difficulty of communication, there being only a field telegraph across the Balkans, which is easily put out of order. But that would not account for our hearing nothing from the Porte.14