CHAPTER XI THE ARMENIAN QUESTION

A Fatal Treaty—Gladstone's Opinion—The Concert of Europe—The Unspeakable Turk and His Methods—England's Responsibility—Mr. Gladstone's Energetic Action—Lord Rosebery Resigns—Gladstone's Astounding Letter—"I Shall Keep Myself to Myself"—"Abdul the Damned"—"A Man whose every Impulse is Good"—The Convention of Cyprus—Russia and England


There is an old and cynical saying that no lawyer draws up an agreement or contract without an eye to the future. If ever a document left trouble for the future it was the Berlin Treaty. The clause referring to Armenia was tantamount to handing over the wretched Armenians to the Turks; for the Concert of Europe, that misbegotten child of the Treaty of Paris, has failed consistently in its futile endeavours.

The contention of Russia has never been better expressed than by Gladstone in a letter to me dated January 2, 1877, in which he wrote: "A guarantee dependent on the Turk for its execution becomes thereby no guarantee at all." Again, on February 6, he wrote: "The real issue, so far as I can see, will arise when the question shall assume this form: Is Russia to be left alone to execute the will and work of Europe?" This is exactly what Russia did in 1876, unless it be contended that the "will of Europe" sanctioned the wholesale massacre of {148} harmless citizens by the very power ordained to protect them—the Ruling Power.

The Sublime Porte has been as consistent as the Concert of Europe in evading its responsibilities, and it is needless to say that it as carefully refrained from carrying out its undertaking with regard to Armenia as the Powers on their part did from insisting on the reforms. Possibly the argument of the Concert was that, as there were no "ameliorations and reforms" on the part of the Sublime Porte, there was no opportunity for them to "superintend their application."

None of us who knew the Turk had any doubts as to the truth of the atrocities at Sassoun. These things were too common. The scale differed, the crime was always the same. And what was it?

The crime was the establishment—or the re-establishment—of Turkish Mussulman authority over a Christian race. If that were the crime, who were the criminals? On that point I should like to be allowed to say some plain truths, hoping that my English friends will tolerate the candour in others which they never hesitate to practise themselves. The real criminals who were responsible for the atrocities which horrified the civilised world were not the Kurds—who at first got all the blame. The criminals who perpetrated the massacre were Turkish regular troops, commanded by Turkish officers acting in direct obedience to explicit orders from the Turkish Government.

But although the direct complicity of the "Sublime" Porte in these hideous crimes was not disputed even by the Pashas of Stamboul, it was {149} not with them that the responsibility of these horrors originally lay.

The crime at Sassoun lay primarily at the door of Disraeli. It was one of the many disastrous results of that "peace with honour" which Mr. Gladstone had the courage to describe as a peace that was no peace, with the honour that prevailed among thieves.

That may seem to be a hard saying to those who do not know the facts. To those who do it will be a mere truism.

Why was it that the Armenians at Sassoun were left as sheep before the butcher? Why was it that the Sultan and his Pashas felt themselves perfectly free to issue what order they pleased for the massacre of the poor Armenians? The answer is, unfortunately, only too simple. It was because England at the Berlin Congress, and England alone—for none of the other Powers took any interest in the matter—destroyed the security which Russia had extorted from the Turkish Government at San Stéfano, and substituted for the sterling guarantee of Russia the worthless paper-money of Ottoman promises. Was it not, then, England's doing that these poor wretches were outraged and murdered by the rulers, to whose tender mercies England insisted upon consigning them?

Let me prove my case: In the treaty of San Stéfano, the Turkish Government entered into a direct and explicit obligation to Russia to guarantee the security of the Armenians.

Article 16 of the Treaty of San Stéfano runs thus:

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"As the evacuation by the Russian troops of the territory which they occupy in Armenia, and which is to be restored to Turkey, might give rise to conflicts and complications detrimental to the maintenance of good relations between the two countries, the Sublime Porte engages to carry into effect without further delay the improvements and reforms demanded by local requirements in the provinces inhabited by Armenians, and to guarantee their security from Kurds and Circassians."

Now, it is obvious that this clause imposed clear and precise obligations not only upon Turkey, but also upon Russia. If the reforms were not carried out, if the security of the Armenians were not guaranteed, Russia would have been bound to interfere, and would have interfered, to compel the Turks to carry out their treaty obligations.

This article seemed to the British plenipotentiaries to give Russia a virtual protectorate over Armenia, and therefore they insisted upon striking it out. The poor Armenians were forbidden to look for their protection to the strong arm of the Tsar. The Turks were delivered from their express obligation to guarantee the security of their Armenian subjects, and it was calmly decreed that the Armenians should be content with Article 61 of the Berlin Treaty. That clause ran as follows:

"The Sublime Porte engages to realise without delay those ameliorations and reforms which local needs require in the provinces inhabited by the Armenians, and to guarantee their security against the Circassians and the Kurds. It undertakes to make known, from time to time, the measures taken {151} with this object to the Powers, who will watch over their application."

Mark the difference. In place of a positive obligation entered into with the only Power near enough and strong enough to enforce the fulfilment of treaty engagements, there was substituted this engagement, over the execution of which the Powers, in their beneficence, promised to watch: as the execution has never begun, the Powers were not overburdened with much "watching." "Waiting" rather expresses what they did—waiting for the Turks to begin the fulfilment of the promises which they made to collective Europe years and years ago. They are waiting still. Meanwhile the Armenians were massacred, as, for example, at Sassoun, and not there only. But even this did not exhaust the criminal responsibility of Lord Beaconsfield. He had taken Cyprus as a material pledge for the execution of reforms in Asiatic Turkey. But there were no reforms in Asiatic Turkey. The only effect of the Anglo-Turkish Convention was to increase the confidence of the Sultan that he could do as he pleased in Armenia, Article 61 of the Berlin Treaty notwithstanding.

England, therefore, was responsible in three ways. She destroyed the Russian guarantee exacted by the Treaty of San Stéfano. She framed the worthless "watching" clause of the Berlin Treaty, and then, to preclude all possibility of effective pressure upon the Turk, she concluded the Cyprus Convention, which established an illegal British protectorate over the Asiatic dominions of the Sultan.

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At Sassoun was seen the result of that policy. No amount of dispatch-writing, friendly advice, or admonition would improve the condition of the Armenians. Remonstrances were idle. What was wanted was action. But who could act? No Power could occupy and administer Armenia but Russia. Unfortunately, she had no wish and no obligation now to undertake so arduous and so thankless a task. But who else was to do it?

No one did it; for Russia had once played St. George and Europe had thrown back the maiden to the dragon.

When I heard of the Armenian massacres in 1894, I was more horrified than surprised. When the full confirmation of the horrible news arrived, it made my heart sick. What was even worse, if that were possible, was the fact that the relations between England and Russia were strained. All Mr. Gladstone's energies were concentrated upon urging on Lord Salisbury's Ministry the coercion of the Sultan, single-handed if need be. The result was Lord Rosebery's resignation as Leader of the Liberal Party in the Lords, as a protest against a policy that in his opinion could not fail to plunge Europe into war.

Prince Lobanoff, who was responsible for Russia's policy of opposition to armed intervention against Turkey, aroused Mr. Gladstone's indignation, and I came in for a share of his wrath by virtue of my defence of Prince Lobanoff. At that time Mr. Gladstone wrote to me:


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HAWARDEN CASTLE,
    October 18th, 1895.

It is most kind of you to waste powder on an outcast like me; an outcast first from active life; secondly I feel—from your scheme of opinion I cannot read your articles—not because I deal so little with newspaper print, but because I am afraid of disagreeing with you, and in this case I prefer ignorance to strife. I am, you see, possessed with an idea as to the truer mode of dealing with the Sultan and his accursed system, founded upon my experience in the year 1880—when we received most valuable and effective aid from your good and great Emperor Alexander II.

Now I have no power and little knowledge—and my imagined knowledge may be all wrong. It is to this effect:


(1) That Lord Salisbury is not up to the mark in all points, but that he is the best of those who have the matter in their hands. The best there is at the moment to do the work.

(2) That he is held back by others—not to act, say, according to rumour, most by Russia.


If this is so it is most painful, for this Armenian case is the very worst of all that has yet happened, and if the Powers are beaten by the Sultan, whom every one of them can crush with the little finger, they will be deservedly covered with indelible disgrace.

There is plain speaking for you.


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It was; but I replied soothingly, trying to put to him Russia's case. His reply electrified Europe. It ran:


October 22nd, 1895.

MY DEAR MADAME NOVIKOFF,

In these sad circumstances I am so far comforted as to believe that there is no occasion for controversy between you and me. We have in some critical circumstances heartily co-operated, and I think we have the same sentiments as to Armenia.

I shall carefully and for many reasons keep myself to myself.

I see in The Times that the wretched Sultan, whom God has given as a curse to mankind, waving his flag of triumph, and the adversaries at his feet are Russia, France and England.

As to the division of the shame amongst them, I care little. Except that I hope that my own country, and for its good, be made conscious and be exhibited to the world for its own full share—whatever that may be.

May God in His mercy send a speedy end to the grinning Turk and all his doings. So I said when I could say, and could even sometimes do, so I say in my political decrepitude and even death.

Always yours sincerely,
    W. E. GLADSTONE.


This letter was the sensation of the hour. Here are some of the English press comments upon it: "An extraordinary letter," "the sensation of the hour," "startling vehemence," "now famous letter," {155} "essentially Gladstonian," "silly and wicked balderdash," "ring of life and strength," "shameful letter," "Tory papers are terribly shocked," "has startled the civilised world."

When I returned from Russia to England in 1896, one of the first things I saw on reaching London was "Plain words to the Assassin," in large letters on the newspaper posters, staring down upon me from the hoardings, and I found people still telling each other what a dreadful fellow the Turk really was!

Plain words, strong words, fierce words was the diet presented to the Sultan in varied diplomatic sauces; but the dish was always the same, and his response was quite as monotonous. To empty words, plain or flavoured, he replied by massacres, and this seemed likely to go on for ever. For us this passe-temps was monotony. To the poor Armenian, alas, it is death!

I rejoiced to see that the English nation was weary of the vaticinations of diplomatists, and was urgently demanding not words, but deeds. It reminded me of 1876, that great year when so many brave attempts were made to change its traditional policy—attempts which, unfortunately, met with but partial success. And above all I rejoiced to hear once more sounding deep and loud, like the great bell of our grand Kremlin, above the general hubbub, the commanding note of Mr. Gladstone's voice—that voice through which the heart and conscience of nations has so often found utterance.

But although in some respects like 1876, there was this difference, which, as a Russian, I felt more keenly than any one. In 1876 Russia led, and {156} though no other Power followed, we fought, we suffered, we triumphed! In the Armenian question the initiative of chivalrous action was no longer ours, and bitterly I regretted it. It did not seem, however, to have passed into any other hands. But that made things worse. Why was it that Russia was not as in 1876? The answer was easy. Because of the Treaty of 1878.

Mr. Gladstone lamented and condemned the policy of Prince Lobanoff. With the lament I concurred. From the condemnation I dissented. Prince Lobanoff's policy in Turkey was inevitable. The responsibility for that departure from our traditional policy rested with England, and it was for England to say how long it should continue.

The vividness with which England's Armenian agitation brought 1876 back to my mind also recalled not less vividly, the hideous disillusionment of 1878; and I had reason. For through these years of trial and of triumph I did my utmost to persuade my countrymen that England was Mr. Gladstone and not Lord Beaconsfield. The generous enthusiasm of St. James's Hall made me wrongly suppose that it was equivalent to a resolute reversal of England's traditional policy. But when we had made our sacrifices and settling day came, we found, alas! to our cost, that England was Lord Beaconsfield after all, and not Mr. Gladstone. Imagine the reproaches that were addressed to me! No one can ever realise the reproaches I addressed to myself.

We were not likely to make that mistake again. We were no more to be deluded with words than the {157} Sultan was to be coerced with adjectives. We looked at facts—hard, disagreeable, ugly though they were—and adjusted our policy accordingly.

The first fact was the Sultan. In 1896 England called him "the Assassin" and the "accursed." Mr. William Watson even went to the length of referring to him as "Abdul the Damned." But England, alas! saved him in 1878, and she gloried in the deed. When Lord Salisbury reported from Berlin the net result of English diplomacy at the Congress, he boasted that it had "restored, with due security for good government (!), a very large territory to the Government of the Sultan," and that the alterations made in our Treaty of San Stéfano tended "powerfully to secure from external assault the stability and independence of his Empire."

It is difficult to repress a bitter smile when recalling the positive assurances which were given to Europe by Lord Beaconsfield as to the "angelic" character of Abdul Hamid, who was then England's protégé, England's ally, England's favourite.

Russia maintained that no Sultan could be trusted to protect Christian subjects, and Mr. Gladstone concurred. Everywhere there must be a guarantee. Either the populations must be freed entirely from his rule or an outside Power must superintend and enforce the execution of reforms. England met this with a flat refusal. She made it the first object of her policy to restore the direct uncontrolled authority of the Sultan over as wide a territory as possible, and Lord Beaconsfield exulted in the fatal success of that policy for many reasons, but especially for one, which most of my English {158} friends seem to have forgotten, but which Russians, being the sufferers, do not forget so easily.

Lord Beaconsfield was sure he had done right because the Sultan was such "a good man." On his return from Berlin, in his speech at the Mansion House (July 27, 1898) he gave the following testimonial to Abdul Hamid—the hero of to-day:

"I look to the individual character of that human being as of vast importance. He is a man whose every impulse is good. However great may be the difficulties he has to encounter, however various may be the influences that may ultimately control him, his impulses are always good. He is not a tyrant, he is not dissolute. He is not a bigot. He is not corrupt."

The comments of the Young Turks on this pronouncement would be interesting.

England had her way. Abdul Hamid, "whose every impulse was good," reigned by virtue of his action in 1878 over regions from which Russia had driven him out. But that was not all. England deliberately spoiled, as may be seen by reference to the protocols of the Congress, every stipulation made to compel the Sultan to keep his word. His "impulses were so good" it would be cruel to make provision for the proper execution of his treaty obligations! He must be left unhampered and uncontrolled. England rejected Russian proposals to impose upon all contracting parties the mutual duty of controlling the stipulations of the treaty because the Porte objected to allow within its own limits the control of other States. That was not to be thought of. The Sultan must be left free and {159} uncontrolled to obey those "good impulses" of which Lord Beaconsfield was so well assured. Thus it is that Europe was paralysed over the Armenian massacres.

In face of such a situation which had thus been created, and in the midst of an impotence which was prepared in advance at the Berlin Congress, Russia was overwhelmed with denunciations because she did not remain true to the crusading policy of 1876. This hardly seemed to me to be what in England you call "fair play."

But that was not all. If we had merely to do with the Berlin Treaty, we might have endeavoured to make the best use of the worthless weapons which it contains. Unfortunately, the responsibility of England for the inaction of Russia was far more direct, far more deadly, than this.

For Lord Beaconsfield, and the English people applauded him, with the evil prescience of hatred, foresaw the Armenian massacres, and provided in advance for the paralysing of Russia's generous initiative. He even fixed a date when events would compel Russia to face the necessity of resorting to force to coerce the Sultan, and, as he publicly explained in the heart of the City of London, he regarded it as the crowning achievement of his policy to prevent such action on our part by the solemn public pledge of immediate war by England in that case.

Lord Beaconsfield said:

"Suppose the settlement of Europe had been limited to the mere Treaty of Berlin. What are the probable consequences which would then have {160} occurred? In ten, fifteen, it might be twenty years [it has been exactly eighteen!] the power of Russia being revived, her resources having again resumed their general strength, some quarrel would again have occurred, Bulgarian or otherwise [Armenian this time], between Turkey and Russia, and in all probability the armies of Russia would have assaulted the Ottoman dominions both in Europe and Asia, enveloping with her armies the city of Constantinople and the powerful position which it occupies. Well, what would have been the probable conduct under these circumstances of the Government of this country?"

This was the vital question for Prince Lobanoff, and the answer to it has shaped the whole policy of Russia.

Lord Beaconsfield continued:

"Whoever might have been the Minister and whatever the party in power, the position of the Government would have been this. There must have been hesitation for a time, there must have been a want of decision and firmness, but no one could doubt that ultimately England would have said: 'This will never do; we must prevent the conquest of Asia Minor and must interfere in this matter to assist because of Russia.' No one, I am sure, in this country who merely considers this question can for a moment doubt that that must have been the ultimate policy of this country."

Therefore, he went on to explain (I summarise the points of a long speech), in order to remove any possible doubt on the subject, the voice of England should be clearly, firmly, and decidedly expressed {161} in advance, and this he claimed he had effected by the conclusion of the Cyprus Convention. There has to be no more hesitating, doubting and considering "contingencies." England was, once for all, definitely committed to defend the Asiatic frontier of the Ottoman Empire against any advances of the Russian army in any quarrel, "Bulgarian or otherwise."

This, he declared, was "the ultimate policy" of England, and he embodied it for all men to see in the Cyprus Convention. Lord Salisbury had previously described that convention as an undertaking given "fully and unreservedly" to prevent any further encroachments by Russia upon Turkish territory in Asia.

That was plain speaking. The Convention of Cyprus, therefore, was a document prepared to prevent our taking any action for the protection of the Armenians. It meant war—war by England, by sea and land all round the world, against Russia if she advanced a single company of armed police into the valleys of Armenia. With this Convention still in force, who could blame Russia for not joining in operations against Abdul?

Of course I was told—even by Mr. Gladstone himself—that the Cyprus Treaty contained no obligation to protect the Assassin in Armenia except on condition of reforms, and that the Sultan had been informed long ago that the covenant fell to the ground by his breach of faith in not giving the reforms.

This, I confess, was news to me, and in Russia we knew nothing of any such abandonment of the Convention by the English Government.

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In those years the Russian people did not move, although they undoubtedly followed with intense interest all the eloquent speeches delivered in England on behalf of the unhappy Armenians, for Russia certainly can never be indifferent to the Christian cause in Turkey. All her policy in the East had that permanent basis. But this time the lead was taken by Great Britain, who was credited with some definite plan of her own. Russia's help was never asked in the only way which could be fruitful, and her Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Lobanoff, unhesitatingly expressed his dissent from the half-measures which were proposed, and which would only irritate the Sultan and further injure the cause of the unhappy Armenians—bad enough already.

Thank God, their losses did not amount to the 250,000 lives stated in the English Press; but even the tenth part is a terrible, terrible slaughter. The poor Armenians would never have risen in rebellion had they not expected from Great Britain the help that the Slavs received from Russia. I suppose our crime is that we did not do Great Britain's work. But really this cannot constitute Russia's duty!

It was at the beginning of 1878, when the long agony of the War of Emancipation in the Balkans and in Armenia was drawing to a close, that I published Is Russia Wrong? It was a protest and an appeal against the fatal superstition that our two countries were natural enemies. The appeal was for the re-establishment of the Russo-English alliance, which seemed to me essential for the best interests of both countries. It was venturesome, {163} perhaps even audacious, to issue such an appeal when all your arsenals were ringing with preparations for war with Russia, and when Lord Beaconsfield was even completing his arrangements for forcing your fleet up to the gates of Constantinople.

In those days there were few who listened to Russian protests; among these few, however, were the flower of English intellect. My great friend, Mr. J. A. Froude, in an eloquent preface, commended my appeal to the attention of his countrymen. Mr. Carlyle honoured it with his emphatic assurances of support. In fact, it was he who was the first in urging me to republish in book form all my letters on the Anglo-Russian relations. Four years later, when I re-issued the appeal with other matter in my Russia and England, M. Emile de Laveleye reviewed it in the Fortnightly, but so great was the popular prejudice against Russians, that Mr. Morley would not allow him even to name the author of the book whose proposals were under review. I shall never forget De Laveleye's indignation at having been so roughly treated by the editor. "It is pure despotism," exclaimed he. "People talk of freedom of opinion, and they will not allow you, at the same time, to express that which you most strongly hold! It is despotism and deceit combined. Of all kinds of despotism—the worst," concluded he. I did not contradict my friend, as he was expressing exactly my own views.

Fortunately for me, Mr. Gladstone was not handcuffed in the same way by the editor of the Nineteenth Century. He reviewed the book not only at length, but warmly supported my humble plea for {164} a cordial and good understanding between the two great Empires which dominate Asia. "Every Englishman," said he, with his wonderful outspokenness, "must read this book." His advice may have been followed by some of his party, but I certainly ignominiously failed to convince the Jingoes.

But all this is very long ago and a new era has since opened for Russia and England. I have written this chapter to show what apparently insurmountable obstacles have been overcome to allow Russia and England to join forces in 1914 with the common object of freeing Europe from an intolerable tyranny. In the meantime, poor Armenia suffers as even she has not suffered before, and once more Russia is carrying hope to the hearts of unfortunate Christians ground beneath the Turkish heel.