CHAPTER TEN

‘Nations have no friends, they only have interests’

(Attributed to Lord Palmerston)

‘The German Powers disapproved of Italy’s adventure in Tripoli, but to check it would have been to drive her into the Triple Entente.’

H N Brailsford, The War of Steel and Gold, 19141

‘If the Powers of the Triple Entente wish to secure the goodwill of Italy, they must acquiesce in her designs on Tripoli. If they do this they must presumably pro tanto alienate the sympathy of Turkey and throw her more and more into the arms of Germany.’

Joseph Heller, British policy towards the Ottoman Empire, 1908–1914, 1983²

AS has already been pointed out, the last strand of Italian pre-war strategy had collapsed with the mutual alienation engendered by the Battle of Tripoli and its aftermath. Consequentially, all hopes of the conflict being a short, victorious war on the Italian side had vanished. When the in-theatre leadership decided that there could be no military resolution in the medium, or perhaps even long term, and that waiting upon events was the only option, then Italian strategy was paralysed. It could be argued that deadlock prevailed, inasmuch as the same applied to the Ottoman Empire. However time was very much on the Ottoman side. An unnamed Ottoman Senator who visited Britain in early 1912 was quoted by W T Stead as arguing:

We cannot make peace with Italy for two very good reasons. If we made peace signing away Tripoli, we should immediately be confronted with a far more serious war, a war of the Arabs against the Power which had betrayed them to their foes. The other reason why we cannot make peace is because it costs us less to make war than it did to govern Tripoli in time of peace. The war at present costs us nothing. Tripoli in time of peace was a burden upon our finances. Tripoli carries on the war without asking from us one piastre. But an Arab war would cost us much. To ask us to make peace, therefore, is to ask us to exchange a war with Italy, which costs us nothing and cannot possibly do us any serious harm, for a war with the Arabs which will cost millions and might entail the loss of the whole of Arabia and Mesopotamia. So far as we are concerned there will be no peace until the summer comes, when the cholera and perhaps the Senoussi may clear the invaders out of Tripoli.³

On the Italian side the conflict was becoming if not unaffordable then exorbitantly expensive; in the financial year 1912-13 it was reckoned to have absorbed nearly 47 per cent of total state expenditure.⁴ By March 1912 Italian strength in Tripolitania and Cyrenaica was around 100,000 strong and the campaign had seriously depleted the army’s stocks of weapons, ammunition, and equipment. The need to provide these reinforcements seriously disrupted the training and force levels of almost every unit in the army.

‘La fucilazione degli Arabi traditori (Shooting the treacherous Arabs).’ According to one Italian of the Bersaglieri, Lieutenant-Colonel Gherardo Pàntano: ‘Our officers demonstrate feelings of great resentment, hostility, and hatred against the Arabs, and do not know how to distinguish between friends and foes, or, rather, between those who we should fight and those we should protect […] Arabs found seriously injured are covered in gasoline and burned, or thrown into wells […] others are shot with no other reason than that of a cruel whim.’ These types of actions met with the general approval of a section of the Italian Press. Giuseppe Bevione was to put it thus following the Battle of Tripoli: ‘Executions that lasted for three days in the oasis and have sent to Allah more than a thousand faithful were indispensable. Only a generous return of killings could establish in the Arab soul a sense of justice and the certainty of our strength.’ Photograph from: Antonio de Martino, Tripoli Italiana: La Guerra Italo-Turca, Le Nostre Prime Vittorie (New York; Sociata Libraria Italiana, 1911).

Certain reservations also began to be expressed by the Italian press, which had, with the exception of anarchist and socialist organs, been generally supportive. Senator Maggiorino Ferraris, a former government minister and proprietor and chief editor of La Nuova Antologia, the oldest and most prestigious organ of Italy’s cultured press, ‘admitted frankly’ in the February 1912 edition of the magazine, that the Italian nation was deceived as to the probable attitude of the Arabs towards them. He noted that the resistance of the latter had introduced an entirely new element into the military situation, and argued for a policy of remaining on the coast and not venturing upon any hazardous expeditions. The conservative Rassegna Nazionale, whilst deploring the actions of the Socialist Party in opposing the campaign and the foreign press likewise, nevertheless conceded that the conquest would prove a far longer and more difficult task than the nation had imagined.

The Socialist Party that the more conservative press excoriated had indeed been strongly opposed to the war, and was outspoken about it from the start. On 1 October the Socialist organ Avanti (Forward) published an editorial on the matter:

Some people tell us that this will not be really a war at all, that there will be a few shots, a blockade by the fleet, the simple landing of an army corps, and that all will then be over. And perhaps this thought is behind the whole enterprise; doubtless this conviction led to the war being prepared and decided upon. By exalting the prowess of Italy’s military forces and ridiculously under-estimating the Turkish forces, our rulers have, as it were, administered morphia to a section of public opinion in this country and have rendered it insensible to the direct and indirect perils of the situation.5

Avanti was not then a large circulation paper. This was to change largely thanks to one, then little known, socialist named Benito Mussolini. When the war began he was editing another much smaller Socialist newspaper, La Lotta di Classe (Class Struggle) at Forli in the north-east of Italy. He was forthright in his opposition to the war and campaigned for a general strike. This led to him being arraigned for obstructing the public authorities in the performance of their duties, advocating violence against persons and property, and inciting people to cause specific damage. He was sentenced on 23 November 1911 to one year in prison, subsequently reduced to five months. His fame spread because of the conviction and on his release in April 1912 he was appointed as editor of Avanti in Milan. He increased the circulation and, because he wrote a great deal of the content personally, greatly expanded his influence.⁶ It is unsurprising that Avanti increased its circulation. The anti-war message had begun to resonate among the working class and the conscripts that had to fight it were drawn from their ranks. Many attempted to avoid military service and, for example, the Italian community in Australia ‘increased markedly, especially as a result of an influx of men trying to avoid call up.’⁷

Domestically unpopular as the war might have been in certain quarters, this opposition was in no way powerful enough to deflect the government. The problem was the government did not really have a policy in respect of bringing the Ottoman government to terms, and felt constrained in formulating one. As long as the war was confined to the territory of the Tripoli vilayet then it was, from the point of view of the Great Powers, considered generally containable. With Italy, in Lowe’s words, ‘straddling the Triple Alliance-Triple Entente confrontation’ neither of the blocs, or their members, would act in such a way as to push her into the arms of the opposing bloc; no power was willing to risk seriously offending Italy.⁸ Nevertheless, the Italo-Ottoman War had considerable potential to upset the delicate equilibrium of European politics should it spread.

The views of the most disinterested of the Great Powers, Russia, had been made known right at the outset: ‘So long as France does not protest it is a matter of indifference to Russia who occupies the North African coast […] Russian diplomacy will remain passive unless Turkey should seek compensation, leading to disturbances in the Balkans.’⁹ It was of course a cardinal point of Italian diplomacy that who occupied the North African coast remained ‘a matter of indifference’ to Russia and the other powers, insofar as it allowed Italy to be that occupier. On the other hand, and particularly after the situation there became militarily stalemated, Italy sought to involve the other powers in such a way as to pressure the Ottoman Empire to make peace on Italian terms. The Ottomans of course sought international aid for precisely the opposite reason, and had done so from the beginning of hostilities by making unsuccessful appeals for intervention and for one or other of the Great Powers, or a combination of them, to broker a deal. These approaches even included the offer of a formal Alliance with Britain, made on 30 October 1911. In return for this alliance Britain was expected to guarantee the integrity of the Ottoman Empire and use her power to intervene with Italy. The object of this last exercise being to get the Italians to accept a settlement which would recognize some version of Ottoman sovereignty in Tripoli and Cyrenaica. Such an action was though unpalatable to Sir Edward Grey, Britain’s Foreign Secretary, and he refused to countenance a departure from the policy of strict neutrality that he had proclaimed at the start of hostilities.10 As has already been noted, Italy could have had the substance of what she wanted from the outset, though this would have involved compromises over the form. The Italian declaration of sovereignty over the vilayet on 5 November prevented any further dubiety on that score, and so the situation became one of diplomatic, as well as military, stalemate.

Though all the powers sought to avoid estranging Italy, none of them wished their relations with the Ottoman Empire to be damaged either, or for the Empire to be greatly weakened. All the powers wanted to avoid disturbances in the Balkans, which were notoriously unstable, whilst, as has been noted, Austria-Hungary was particularly sensitive to any Italian action in the Adriatic that might precipitate this. Of all the Great Powers that wished an end to the Italo-Ottoman conflict, the one with perhaps the most compelling reasons was probably Germany. German-Ottoman links were several and seemingly deep. Such figures as the revered German Field-Marshal Count Helmuth von Moltke (the Elder) had, as a young officer, served with the Ottoman army from 1836 to 1839 as an adviser. Though undoubtedly he became the most famous German commander to have strong associations with the Ottoman army, he was not the first such, nor the last, and military ties between the two empires were to become very close.¹¹

In a similar vein Ottoman armaments were supplied by German companies, and Karl Küntzer calculated that in 1897 the profits on these arms sales, mainly accrued by Krupp and Mauser, were around 80 million Marks.¹² Indeed, these two firms had a ‘virtual monopoly’ on the supply of arms and ammunition to the Ottoman army after 1885.¹³ The main heavy units of the Ottoman navy, such as it was in the early twentieth century, were also ex-German, though new construction was being pursued in Britain. Nevertheless, between 1890 and 1910, trade with Germany increased from 6 per cent to 21 per cent of all Ottoman trade.

Apart from armaments, the most famous example of German-Ottoman ties came in the shape of railways. German capital and expertise built the Anatolian Railway, which was begun in May 1889, and the better known Baghdad Railway, started in 1904, whilst the rolling stock for these networks was provided by German enterprises.¹⁴ These were not just business deals; the German government pressurised the Deutsche Bank, the financial institution behind the business, to carry them through as part of German foreign policy.¹⁵

The attractions of being friendly with, if not allied to, the Ottoman Empire were obvious to Germany. If, in the event of a great European war involving Germany and Russia, the Ottoman Empire were opposed to the latter then a huge shift in Russian military attention from Germany’s east to the Balkans and Caucasus would take place. This would be of immense benefit to Germany whose war plan for dealing with Russia and her ally France had, since the early years of the century, envisaged massing her forces overwhelmingly in the west whilst leaving those in the east with the bare minimum. This policy was probably aided by Germany being the only one of the Great Powers that did not have any obvious ambitions as regards annexing or otherwise claiming Ottoman territory. However, Germany’s policy had its limits cruelly exposed by the Italian precipitation of war. Germany, in common with the other powers, could and would do nothing to jeopardize the international balance of power. But neither did Germany want to lose Italy as an ally nor the Ottomans as friends; a devilish conundrum for the German foreign office to attempt to solve.

Russia, the state that had proclaimed ‘indifference’ over the war whilst it remained confined to North Africa, and who probably had most to gain by any rupture in German-Ottoman relations, was however to be greatly interested by one gambit that was proposed separately and for differing reasons by both sides; the closure of the Dardanelles. The Dardanelles (the Hellespont of antiquity) formed the southern portion, from the Aegean Sea in the north-eastern part of the Mediterranean Basin to the Sea of Marmara, of the Turkish Straits. The northern portion consists of the Bosphorus (Bosporus), which links the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea. The Turkish Straits were of immense strategic importance internationally, with some forty per cent of all Russian trade passing through them on, largely, British owned ships. They were also of huge import to the Ottoman Empire, with its capital Istanbul (Constantinople), located at the southern entrance to the Bosphorus. One recent analysis of Turkish foreign policy stated it thus: ‘The foreign relations of Turkey, and the Ottoman Empire before her, have been in the large part, governed since the eighteenth century by the attempts of the Russians to gain control of the Straits, and the efforts of Britain and France (and lately the United States) to stop them.’16

The Straits were regulated by international treaty. The Treaty of Paris in 1856, which brought to an end the Crimean War, de-navalised the Black Sea by prohibiting the Ottoman Empire and Russia from deploying warships there. Further, the passage of warships of any nationality through the Straits was forbidden. Revision to this agreement was made by the 1871 Treaty of London (sometimes called the Pontus Treaty after the ancient Greek name for the Black Sea: Pontos Euxeinos) under which Russia and the Ottoman Empire could again deploy warships in the Black Sea. Such vessels were however excluded from passing through the Straits, except when in time of peace the Ottoman Sultan should deem it necessary in order to enforce the provisions of the Treaty of Paris. Russia had suffered from this prohibition during the Russo-Japanese War. The Black Sea Fleet had been unable to join the Second and Third Pacific Squadrons as they sailed around the world from the Baltic. Russia did ask the Ottoman Empire for permission to send the fleet through the Straits, but the British, who were allied with Japan, had argued that such action would be considered a breach of the treaty.

The right of merchant vessels of all nations to pass through the Straits, other than those of belligerents during a period of conflict, was affirmed by Article III. These various instruments had been signed by Austria, Britain, France, Germany, the Ottoman Empire, Italy, and Russia. British interest in the Straits and the prevention of Russian control of them had been elucidated by Lord Beaconsfield (Benjamin Disraeli) in 1876. He reckoned that possession of the Ottoman capital constituted the ‘key to India.’¹⁷ Disraeli may have exaggerated, but there is no doubt that the future of the Turkish Straits became a major concern for British defence planners and policy-makers throughout the rest of the long nineteenth century.

The first intimation that the closure of the Turkish Straits was in the offing came from the Ottoman government. Concerned by reported Italian naval activity in the Aegean Sea, which was actually confined to small-scale patrolling, the garrisons at several of the Dodecanese Islands were strengthened. Beehler states that these reinforcements amounted to sending 2,000 troops to Lesbos and 1,500 each to Rhodes, Samos and Chios (Khíos). Weapons were also issued to the Muslim population of the islands, though not to the majority Orthodox population.18 On 10 November 1911 a new Foreign Minister, Mustafa Assim Bey, had been appointed in Istanbul. He lost no time in asking his ambassadors to the five Great Powers to point out that the threat of Italian attacks in the Aegean could lead to the paralyzing of ‘general commerce.’ This was a less than subtle reference to the closure of the Straits, but it could be prevented if the Powers were able to persuade Italy not to extend the war.¹⁹ The Powers were unwilling to pressure Italy, and nothing came of the initiative; in any event the Straits remained open. Italy made the next move, or perhaps ‘hesitant step’ would be a better description, by informing the Austro-Hungarian and Russian governments on 20 November that it would set up a naval blockade of the Dardanelles.

The Russian Foreign Minister at the time was Sergei Sazonov, but he had been taken seriously ill and so foreign policy was in the hands of his deputy, Anatoli Neratov. The Russian reply, delivered to Istanbul as well as Rome on 22 November, was to the effect that any interference with neutral shipping was a violation of Article III of the 1871 Treaty of London. Also protested was the strengthening of the Ottoman defences, which involved the placing of mines in the southern portion of the Dardanelles.

When Sazanov resumed active control of the Foreign Ministry in December 1911 he immediately changed the policy of ‘indifference’ to a more pro-Italian approach, the emphasis being on improving relations with Italy in order to weaken her ties with the Triple Alliance. His first proposals were based on the Great Powers intervening with the Ottoman Empire in order to get her to accept the Italian conquest and annexation. This initiative, which was not taken up, was followed by others, also unsuccessful. Sazanov’s view with respect to the Italians blockading the Dardanelles was also benign at first. He knew that the Italians, for all that they were superior to the Ottomans in naval strength, did not have the ability to undertake sustained operations in the area; they were ‘the only power which could go there without staying there.’²⁰ Indeed, Sazonov went further and encouraged the Italians. Giolitti’s memoirs record that the Italian ambassador to St Petersburg was told by Sazonov that ‘he would be happy if we did something that hit Turkey in a vital part, and we gave a good lesson to the Young Turks in order to reduce their unbearable arrogance.’²¹ That such an operation might sink or damage part of the Ottoman fleet was, for him, a bonus. Sazonov wanted an Italian victory, and a quick one at that, for several reasons. According to Bobroff’s analysis, these included the value of Italian friendship as a counterpoise to Austria-Hungary in the Balkans, and the possibility of using Italian penetration of the Straits as an excuse for demanding Russian access.²² However, Italy was not to mount any naval operations against the Dardanelles until April 1912, and then British and Russian policy was found to be rather at odds.

If Russian policy was somewhat pro-Italian after December 1911, then events conspired to make that of France and Britain appear the opposite, at least to Italian popular opinion. The border between Egypt and Cyrenaica had never been accurately or officially delimitated; there had been little need as it ran through a region of seemingly little value. In 1907 this had been reiterated by Sir Edward Grey. He had been asked in Parliament whether he considered that a military position established at Sidi Barani, halfway between Sollum and Mersa Matru to prevent smuggling, would give rise to friction with the Ottoman garrison at Sollum. Further, would he advise the Egyptian government to enter negotiations ‘for the proper delimitation of the western frontier of Egypt.’ Grey confirmed the establishment of a ‘coastguard post’ but went on to state that there was ‘nothing in this act which renders delimitation necessary, or is likely to give rise to friction.’23

Sollum (Solum, Sallum, as-Sallum) was a small town situated on the Bay of Sollum (Khalij as-Sallum), and the Ottoman Empire had claimed it since 1840. Supposedly, this had been established following the Convention of London of that year. Two maps detailing the border were drafted, and it was believed that one was destroyed during a fire in Egypt whilst the other, apparently in Istanbul, is believed to have disappeared. Arthur Silva White visited the area in 1898 and reckoned that he could pinpoint the boundary, but it was of almost academic interest and the exact whereabouts were, and remained, unknown.²⁴

British interest became heightened when the Italians declared a blockade of the coast of Ottoman territory. They notified the British on 3 October 1911 that this had been established between the Tunisian and Egyptian frontiers. This demarcation included the whole of the Bay of Sollum, and the British objected. Italy deferred to the objection, and the eastern extremity of the blockade was moved west to exclude Sollum on 25 October. The question remained somewhat hypothetical, but this changed following the Italian occupation of Tobruk when the possibility of Italy converting it into a naval base arose. A naval force based there would be able to dominate the adjacent coastline and local sea area, including the only other decent anchorage for several hundred kilometres at the Bay of Sollum. Accordingly, the logic went, if Italy had Tobruk then Britain, via Egypt, would have to have the use of Sollum.

Italy was not popular with Egyptians at the time. Pier Luigi Grimani, the chargé d’affaires at the Italian embassy in Cairo, telegraphed San Giuliano on 17 November complaining of the hostile articles that appeared in the press there. This, he argued, had reached a stage where there was almost a competition amongst the newspapers concerning which could write the most antagonistic articles against Italy. He reckoned that the most popular papers were ‘those that demonstrate Italy as hostile and Turkey as victorious.’²⁵ Nevertheless he liaised with the Egyptian Khedival government (effectively Lord Kitchener) on the subject, reporting on 19 November that he had communicated the ‘conditions imposed by Italy to accept the change.’ These were essentially minor, and related to adjustments in favour of Italy, or at least Cyrenaica, further inland that would be agreed in detail at a later date. The British Foreign Office issued a statement on the same day, stating that the Ottoman government had been informed in November 1904 that the line of the Egyptian frontier ran some 15 kilometres to the west of Sollum. This statement was also communicated to the Italian Government.

There was an Ottoman garrison at Sollum, a fact that Grimani in a telegraph communication of 6 December considered an ‘embarrassment’ to Lord Kitchener given that Sollum was claimed by Egypt. However, the British government, to the intense annoyance of Italy, did not move to occupy Sollum until after it had negotiated the matter with the Ottoman government. Indeed, it was not until 15 December that the Ottoman Sultan announced that he had ceded the area to Egypt. Only then did an Anglo-Egyptian force relieve the Ottoman garrison, and on 9 January 1912 the cruiser HMS Suffolk anchored in the bay.²⁶

Officially, the Italian government underplayed the matter, preferring to remain on as friendly terms with Britain as possible. This was a wise move as one of the reasons given for the British/Egyptian occupation was the suppression of cross-border smuggling. This was successful to an extent, but resulted in the smuggled goods being routed further south. Indeed, shortly after the takeover a caravan of some 175 camels was able to cross into Cyrenaica carrying a large amount of contraband. Bennett records however that the Italian newspapers were ‘full of frenzied indignation’ at what they saw as British perfidy. He quoted one of the many outraged missives contributed to the press, which ‘came from the pen’ of Benedetto Cirmeni, a well-known journalist and parliamentary deputy:

As Sollum is a part of Cyrenaica, over which Italy has proclaimed her full and complete sovereignty, how can Egypt and England accept it as a gift from the Sultan? What is the meaning of this incessant alteration of the Egyptian frontier to the detriment of Cyrenaica during the progress of the Turco-Italian War?

First of all, England made the successful demand that the blockade by our warships, which extended up to the Egyptian frontier, as marked on all the maps, should be withdrawn, because, forsooth, we had blockaded that part of Tripolitan territory upon which Egypt had seen fit to encroach. And now, to-day, by a gracious concession from the Sultan, who has no longer any right to dispose of a single yard of territory in the vilayet he has lost, the Egyptian frontier has been advanced so as to include the port of Sollum. Why should England derive such vast profit from the war between ourselves and Turkey?27

Britain was not the only state to indulge in a spot of boundary revision. In the far south-west of Fezzan France took the opportunity of occupying the Oasis of Djanet (Ganat). This was an area that had long been in contention; France claimed that it was in Algeria, whilst the Ottoman government argued that it was a part of Tripoli. Situated in an incredibly remote area some 2300 kilometres south of the Mediterranean coast, the Oasis of Djanet derived its importance from its being situated on an important trade route that ran from the Fezzan to the western Sahara. This trade, it was believed, included slaves kidnapped from the eastern regions of Morocco and it was in an attempt to stop this that France had occupied the area in 1905. The following year both France and the Ottoman Empire had reached an understanding that neither would place military forces in the region prior to reaching a final settlement of the matter. However, France claimed that this agreement had been broken in 1908 and 1910 when Ottoman troops were found to have been deployed in the area.²⁸ These forces were recalled to the north when Italy invaded, but to prevent ‘insecurity’ a small column of Algerian troops and cavalry under the command of Captain Edouard Charlet was despatched. The oasis was occupied on 27 November 1911 and a small fort constructed to defend it. Djanet was renamed Fort Charlet in 1916 in memory of the captain who was killed on the Western Front in 1915.²⁹ France also quietly moved small forces based in Chad into the areas that were to become the Borkou, Ennedi, and Tibesti regions of that colony, itself a part of French Equatorial Africa. The border between Ottoman and French territory was amorphous and disputed, and an attempt at settling it was to have taken place in late 1911. Small Ottoman garrisons had been established at oases such as Bardaï, Tibesti, Aïn Galakka and Borkou, but they were steadily withdrawn following the Italian invasion. The news of these manoeuvres took months to reach Rome.³⁰

If Italy had a bone of contention with France over these areas there was some consolation in the fact that they were located in little known places that were thousands of kilometres away from areas of Italian occupation. Any disputes could then be resolved out of the public eye. This was not to be the case however with what the British ambassador to Rome, Sir James Rennell Rodd, was to term ‘an unfortunate incident’ that occurred in January 1912. It was actually the first of a series, and occurred at 06:30 hours on the morning of 16 January in the open sea some 27 kilometres off the coast of Sardinia. The French mail steamer Carthage, of the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique, was on its regular voyage between Marseilles and Tunis when it was intercepted and stopped by the protected cruiser Agordat. Aboard the French vessel was an aeroplane and an aviator named Emile Duval, who had received his pilot’s licence in 1910.31 Italian agents at Marseilles had notified their masters that Duval and his cargo were aboard the vessel, and it was believed that both man and machine were heading to Tripoli for service with the Ottoman forces. The captain of Agordat informed his opposite number on the mail ship that the aeroplane was contraband of war, and that the Carthage was therefore to proceed under escort to Cagliari, the capital of Sardinia. Once berthed, the Italian authorities ordered the aeroplane to be offloaded. The captain refused to comply with this order and thereupon the Italians declared the ship had been sequestered and proceeded to seal up the hatches.

This news, telegraphed from the French vice-consul at Cagliari, landed on the desk of Raymond Poincaré, who had become head of the French Government and Foreign Minister on 13 January. In the latter capacity he immediately telegraphed the French Ambassador in Rome, the Italophile Camille Barrère, instructing him to demand the release of the ship and Duval. The next day Poincaré summoned the Italian Ambassador, who explained that his government’s attitude was based on the belief that Duval had signed a contract to serve with the Ottoman forces. The ship would be allowed to leave and to proceed to Tunis after the aeroplane had been offloaded.

Negotiations between Barrère, who counselled caution throughout the affair, and the Italian government were proceeding when at 08:00 hours on 18 January the Agordat intercepted another French ship off Sardinia. Aboard this vessel, the Marseilles-Tunis mail steamer Manouba of the Compagnie de Navigation Mixte, were twenty-nine citizens of the Ottoman Empire. Having ascertained this fact, the commander of the Italian warship escorted the Manouba to Cagliari. Upon arrival the Italian authorities requested the French captain to deliver the Ottoman passengers to them, and upon his refusal to do so the Manouba was seized. The French vice-consul at Cagliari again became involved and, following instructions from his embassy in Rome, he ordered the Captain to disembark the passengers. The embassy had been assured by the Italian authorities that they carried weapons and were soldiers, so the next day they were taken into Italian custody. The Manouba was then allowed to proceed, leaving Cagliari at 19:20 hours on 19 January.

The Carthage was released the next day with Duval and his aeroplane aboard, the Italians having been satisfied that it was not intended for the Ottoman forces in Tripoli.³² If they really believed this then they were mistaken, though the publicity ensured that Duval never got to fly against the Italians. However, the Ottoman War Ministry made at least two further attempts to get aeroplanes and mercenary pilots into the vilayet. These efforts included recruiting the noted French aviators, Jules Vedrines and Marc Bonnier, and procuring two Deperdussin aircraft. This particular attempt came to nothing when, according to Ottoman sources, the pilots got cold feet and flew to Algeria where their machines were impounded. Quite what might have been achieved had any of these attempts been successful is another matter, but it seems likely that another aviation first, that of air-to-air combat, might not have had to wait until the German-Japanese confrontation over eastern China in late 1914.33

There remained the question of the Manouba passengers, of whom France also demanded the release. Their passage had been negotiated by the Ottoman and French governments on 5 January. They were not combatants, but members of the Ottoman Red Crescent Society, a humanitarian organisation equivalent to the Red Cross Society that had been formed in 1867 and formally recognised ten years later. The Italian ambassador to Paris had been informed of this and had telegraphed his government explaining their status. This message had seemingly miscarried or been delayed, and in any event the French Foreign Office, urged by the Ottoman Ambassador, made pressing representations for their release and demanded compensation for the detention of both ships. They also demanded that the Italian navy cease the interception of French vessels. Italy replied to the effect that the right of search for contraband of war would not be renounced.

Poincaré made his first significant speech on foreign affairs to the French parliament on 22 January relating the incidents. He argued that it was for the French authorities, and not the Italian, to establish the status of passengers aboard its ships, and that the aeroplane was not an instrument of war. His language throughout was moderate; he described the incidents as painful though argued that they would not change the friendly relations between the two countries.³⁴ That same morning, Prime Minister Giolitti had in the absence of Barrère discussed the matter with Albert Legrand, the First Secretary of the French Embassy at Rome. According to Giolitti’s memoirs he, Giolitti, then proposed that the matter would best be resolved by referring it to the adjudication of the Permanent Court of Arbitration at The Hague. Legrand asked if he might telegraph this proposed referral to his government, and Giolitti asked that it be done immediately. Accordingly the telegram was sent at 13:00 hours. Poincaré made his speech at 15:00 hours, and the Italian Prime Minister was unprepared for what he termed the ‘rather harsh and almost threatening’ content, in which the arbitration proposal was not mentioned.³⁵ According to Rennell Rodd, Poincaré’s words ‘aroused strong resentment in Italy, and the cordial relations which had prevailed since the outbreak of the war, were inevitably compromised.’³⁶ On the other hand, if it aroused the ire of some Italians, the address was acclaimed by many in France. As one ‘Veteran Diplomat’ wrote:

[…] Poincaré has by his prompt action […] imbued his fellow countrymen with confidence in his ability and determination to conduct the foreign relations of France with a greater degree of vigour and dignity than his predecessors in office. […] The Caillaux administration was turned out of office the other day in the most ignominious manner conceivable, on account of its foreign policy, which was held by Frenchman of every party to have impaired the self respect of the nation and its dignity abroad.³⁷

Italian sensibilities were further outraged by the reception given to the two mail ships when they arrived at Tunis. Large crowds and military bands were on the quayside as if welcoming them home from some great victory. Newspapers reported that sections of the crowd chanted ‘down with Italy’ and ‘long live Turkey,’ as well as ‘viva le aeroplane.’ Nevertheless, and despite the frothing of the press in both countries, San Guiliano and Barrère managed to defuse the situation at governmental level by finding a formula whereby the matter was referred to the Permanent Court of Arbitration. This was arrived at despite San Guiliano taking the position that the French insistence on handing over what the Italian’s considered prisoners of war amounted to a surrender of Italian rights and was a blow to their prestige. The agreement was published as a note commune on 26 January 1912 and amongst its provisions the Ottoman passengers were to be delivered to the French consul in Cagliari. Under his care and responsibility they would then be sent back to Marseilles. France also agreed to verify their identity as Red Crescent personnel and take all necessary measures to prevent any Ottoman military personnel from entering Tunisia.38

In retrospect it seems surprising that the note was published at all. On 25 January the Italian destroyer Fulmine accompanied by the torpedo-boat Canopo seized another Compagnie de Navigation Mixte vessel, the Tavignano, some 14 kilometres to the east of Zarzis, Tunisia. Based at Tunis, the Tavignano was a coaster used for carrying mail between its home port and other Tunisian towns. In proximity to the steamer at the time were two Tunisian mahones, large sailing vessels approximating to galleasses, that the Italians believed were preparing to carry material to shore. These vessels, the Camouna and Gaulois, were fired on by the Canopo, though not seemingly damaged, and driven off. The Tavignano was then escorted to Tripoli under suspicion of containing contraband of war, though this suspicion was proven unfounded after a search and she was released the next day.

When news of the incidents, particularly the detention of the Tavignano, reached the French Government, Poincaré fired off a ‘stiff telegram’ to Barrère demanding that he seek an ‘immediate’ resolution of the matter. The reply came on 26 January stating that the ship had been searched and released, which earned Barrère a ‘stinging rebuke’ from Poincaré:

I ask myself how you could accept the suspicions of the Italian Government. I also ask myself why you did not protest against the clear violation of the Franco-Italian Convention of 1875, the Tavignano being a mail-boat. You seem entirely to misconceive the state of French opinion. If these incidents recur, we cannot guarantee order at Marseilles or in Tunis. It appears, moreover, that the Tavignano was stopped in territorial waters. Finally it is strange that she was taken to Tripoli, which Europe has not yet recognised as an Italian port and where there is no Prize Court. For all these reasons I beg you to make to the Italian Government the most express reserves on the consequences of this new and annoying incident.³⁹

Poincaré’s mention of the ship being a mail-boat under the 1875 Convention had some political significance. According to the terms of the Convention a mail-boat enjoyed the same honours and privileges as a national ship, which was considered to be a part of the territory of the state to which it belonged. In other words, the taking of the Tavignano could be considered an assault on a portion of French sovereign territory, which was an act of war. Poincaré hardly wanted conflict, but he was concerned at the pro-Italian slant that he perceived Barrère had with regards to Franco-Italian relations. This he wished to discourage, for the reason that, in adopting it, he perceived that Barrère was formulating his own foreign policy and attempting to extract Italy from the Triple Alliance.⁴⁰ This was not Poincaré’s policy; he later claimed his ‘philosophy’ on the matter was that of Sir Edward Grey, who put it thus in his memoirs: ‘If we intrigued to break up the Triple Alliance, our contention that the Entente was defensive and was not directed against Germany would cease to be true.’⁴¹

Public opinion in Italy, which Barrère reported as viewing ‘the surrender of the [Manouba] Turks as a national humiliation,’ continued to be outraged at the apparent disregard of Italy’s ‘greatness.’ The same could be said about Tunisia, and such was the anger directed at Italian residents that a large number were forced to leave the country.42 High politics trumped the low version, and once again, the matter was defused. The French Government’s claim for indemnity, on the grounds that the vessels when encountered were within Tunisian territorial waters and were not thus liable to be attacked or captured, was, like the Carthage and Manouba incidents, referred to the Permanent Court of Arbitration.

The affair of the mail-boats coincided with a visit to Rome of the German Foreign Minister, Alfred von Kiderlen, who arrived on Friday, 20 January. Rumours abounded among the diplomatic community that the visit was arranged so that the Triple Alliance could be renewed a year early. The British Ambassador believed, as did a wide section of the press, that the rift that had occurred in the formerly cordial Franco-Italian relationship would encourage Kiderlen, with Austro-Hungarian approval, to press for an early renewal. It was not to be. According to Rennell Rodd:

Giolitti, while expressing his cordial appreciation of the offer, insisted that recognition of the annexation of Libya must be a condition of signature. As Germany and Austria had proclaimed their neutrality on the outbreak of the war, they could not, while it was still in progress, recognize as already determined the very issue which stood in the way of peace.⁴³

Childs points out that Italy refused all attempts to discuss specifics relating to the renewal of the alliance, wanting to wait until after the war had been decided, from the Italian point of view, satisfactorily.⁴⁴ Kiderlen-Waechter did however propose to San Guiliano that the only reasonable basis for negotiations leading to a settlement of the conflict was to split the vilayet. The Ottoman Empire would retain Cyrenaica whilst Italy would take Tripolitania. San Guiliano replied that the only basis for settlement was the annexation decree of the previous November.⁴⁵

Italy’s refusal to compromise meant that a negotiated peace was unobtainable. Therefore, in an attempt to impose terms upon the Ottoman Empire, Italy was left with no choice but to broaden the war. It became a cardinal belief amongst the Italian leadership that once the Ottomans had been removed from the scene, then peace could be achieved in Tripoli. If the resistance there had no outside source upon which it could rely for support, then it would come to terms. This thinking was encapsulated by Irace:

The opposition of the Turks and Arabs to the Italian occupation of Tripoli would speedily be at an end if the trade in contraband of war were effectually stopped on the Tunisian and Egyptian frontiers, by means of which our enemies receive fresh supplies of arms, ammunition, and provisions.⁴⁶

The difficulties of identifying and attempting to interdict contraband travelling via Tunisia have been seen. That which travelled via Egypt was discouraged by the authorities there, but given the nature of the terrain and the sympathies of many of the Egyptians it was impossible to stop completely whilst the Ottoman Empire remained in the war.

This was the crux of the Italian problem. Since the forces in Tripoli could not be defeated, or at least not quickly, then an attack had to be made at some other point. The problem was where? Any attack on Ottoman European possessions, or in Anatolia (Asia Minor), would incur horrendous international complications. It would also involve large scale warfare with the Ottoman Army in strength. Thus, attacks in these places were not realistic prospects. There remained only those places that were vulnerable to naval attack and were not in particularly sensitive areas. There were few locations that fell within such parameters, and these obviously had the disadvantage of not being areas the loss of, or damage to, which would compel the Ottoman government to sue for peace. Nevertheless one such had already been earmarked by Italy, and it was announced that, from 22 January, a blockade would be established off Yemen on the Ottoman Red Sea coast.