In Constantinople the receipt of the Italian note and its uncompromising
nature reduced the Cabinet to panic; the position of the Grand Vizier, Hakki
Pasha, who prided himself on good relations with the Italians, was left
untenable and he resigned. The 79-year-old Kiamil Pasha, who had been ousted in
the aftermath of the suppression of the 1909 counter-revolution, was first
approached but wisely refused to consider the invitation unless given an
assurance of non-interference from the C.U.P. In the rapidly deteriorating
situation even the Committee was not the force it once was; opposition to its
policies had become increasingly vocal, while the crisis which had resulted from
sections of the party splintering to form new groups such as the Progress Party
and the New Party further weakened its power base. Ever the opportunist, Shevket
turned on the C.U.P., blaming the débâcle in Tripoli on the party’s
intervention in the army! This, at least, was a novel change from the usual
complaint of army interference in the party. Also, the C.U.P. suffered as a
result of its visible association with Germany – Italy’s ally – so that,
in a repeat of 1908, pro-British sentiment rocketed. In desperation the
73-year-old Said Pasha, long associated with Abdul Hamid, and whose previous
term of office in the wake of the Young Turk uprising of 1908 had lasted but a
fortnight, was appointed Grand Vizier on 30 September to preside over a
cobbled-together coalition.
One of Said’s first acts was to appeal again, unsuccessfully, for British
intervention.
The opening shots of the war were fired on the day of Said’s accession;
they were directed by the Italians towards two Turkish torpedo craft off the
Albanian coast, and succeeded in driving one ashore and setting it ablaze and
causing the other to retreat to the port of Preveza where she was later sunk.
More of these small Turkish boats, principally anti-smuggling weapons,
were summarily dealt with as the Italian plan of attack revealed itself: one
division of the fleet to clear the Adriatic; a second to sweep east through the
Aegean to guard the flank against the main body of the Turkish fleet; while a
third division blockaded the Tripolitaine coast.
A minor diplomatic problem emerged immediately with the first part of the plan
after a furious Austrian protest — the Italians could have their little war,
but they must keep it to themselves. The British found themselves in a similar
position, unwilling to help the Turks but not wanting to alienate the Italians
so that, when the British vice-consul in Tripoli requested a British warship be
sent to that port as a precaution, the Foreign Office categorically refused.
On 1 October the Italian Admiral Faravelli approached the town of Tripoli
with his squadron and demanded its surrender. The Governor refused to capitulate
but requested that time be allowed to evacuate foreign nationals; Faravelli
assented. Admiral Poë was notified the same day of an Italian blockade of all
ports in Tripoli. On the morning of 3 October Faravelli’s ships prepared to
bombard the forts and eventually commenced firing at 3.15 p.m., the honour of
the opening shot going to the Admiral’s flagship, Benedetto Brin. Firing was broken off at sunset when all the forts,
bar one, blazed against the darkening sky. The following morning, as an Italian
torpedo boat warily nudged into harbour, it was fired upon from Fort Hamidieh,
not yet completely out of action. This was the signal for the guns of the fleet
to renew their attack and the lone defenders of Tripoli quickly succumbed. On 5
October the first landings of 500 marines were made; the previous day a
similarly sized detachment had landed at Tobruk. The Ottoman Empire was
beginning to crumble, the demolition job being started, against all odds, by the
Italians. In Constantinople the only action available to the populace was to
subscribe their names to a vow not to eat macaroni!
The bulk of the Ottoman fleet retired to the safety of the Straits.
‘Turkey has not even an armed dinghy outside the Dardanelles’, declared
Fisher.
In London the storm of press criticism over the Italian action continued
unabated forcing Grey into a public posture of withdrawing his sympathy from the
Italians, delivering a stiff protest to Imperiali, and following a more
even-handed policy (if never actively resorting to a pro-Turkish line). If
Grey’s private position did genuinely shift in disgust at Italy his principal
Foreign Office officials nevertheless maintained their pro-Italian orientation.
In Nicolson’s judgment, it was ‘exceed-ingly foolish that we should
displease a country with whom we have always been on the most friendly terms and
whose friendship to us is of very great value, in order to keep well with
Turkey, who has been a source of great annoyance to us and whose Government is
one of the worst that can well be imagined.’
Louis Mallet – a protégé of Hardinge’s – whose position as head of the
Eastern Department commanded some weight, also adopted a strident anti-Turkish
line, ironically in the circumstances, as Mallet would go out to Constantinople
in 1913 as Lowther’s replacement, charged with the mission of attempting to
improve relations! A more conciliatory tone was adopted by Hardinge himself, in
India, and Kitchener in Egypt though here the motive was not hard to discern –
the ever present fear of Muslim agitation – and could not be ascribed to a
positive pro-Turkish bias. Even this argument did not impress the forthright
Mallet, who professed ‘not [to] believe in the bugbear of Moslem resentment
against us and [to] consider that Italy is doing us a service in her attack on
the Turkish Empire.’
The most notable convert to the Turkish cause was Churchill, who had now altered
his position of September, particularly so in late October when he took over
from McKenna at the Admiralty and so came under the direct influence (albeit, at
his own invitation) of Fisher.
A proclamation of British neutrality was issued on 3 October; the
following day Grey was visited by the nervous Greek minister who passed on
information obtained by his Government that Turkey, thwarted and humiliated in
Tripoli, was planning an attack on Greece and, further, that the British
Government was well aware of this intention. Gennadius pleaded for protection in
such an eventuality. Grey did all he could do in the circumstances: deny any
knowledge of a planned Turkish attack, point to the declaration of neutrality,
and underline the British position of awaiting events rather than anticipating
them.
The fear that the war would spread, especially to Europe, was (Greek rumours to
the contrary) the result of Italian actions and not Turkish intentions. With the
relentless press campaign against the Italians continuing, it did not take much
imagination to perceive, in the Italian naval actions off the Albanian coast,
the necessary steps preparatory to landings there. Before long, precisely this
was reported as fact forcing the Italian Embassy in London to issue a
categorical public denial that any landings were planned in any parts of the
Ottoman Empire other than Tripolitania and Cyrenaica, a denial prompted also by
Austrian protests at the Italian action.
By 12 October four Turkish appeals for intervention, ‘one more vague
than the other’, had been directed to the Foreign Office. The gist of these
was that the Turks would, perhaps, be ready to recognize the Italian occupation
as a fait accompli, although this applied only to the ‘more reasonable Turks,
as the situation will probably be altered if the hotheads of the Committee were
to obtain predominance.’ Nicolson reported privately to Hardinge that the only
definite Turkish proposal, emanating ‘very privately and confidentially’
from the new Grand Vizier Said Pasha, and which Nicolson had not communicated to
the other Powers, was for Tripolitania to become an autonomous province under
the governor-generalship of the Khedive of Egypt, with the Italians being
evacuated. Although the Turkish Ambassador, in forwarding the proposal,
evidently thought ‘that the bait offered was an exceedingly tempting one’
for Britain, Nicolson was dismissive, if not contemptuous. The Italians, he
insisted, would not consider such a proposal for a minute: ‘I think it shows
the perplexity of the Turkish Government’, he informed Hardinge, ‘as it is
difficult to conceive a more childish proposal.’
Hardinge wanted to know, ‘Were we squared by Italy? because I do not otherwise
understand how Italy could dare to move in Mediterranean as her communications
are entirely at the mercy of our Fleet.’
This aspect was also not lost on Mallet who argued that the possession of
Tripoli would actually weaken Italy so long as Britain maintained naval
supremacy. Yet proposals would soon be debated in the Admiralty to evacuate the
Mediterranean and cede control to the French.
Sir Arthur Nicolson positively exuded an air of studied resignation, as
if life was a trial to be borne rather than an experience to be enjoyed; keeping
thus in character, by the middle of October he was wearily reconciled to the war
dragging on ‘for a considerable period’.
On this occasion however this pessimistic view was generally accepted throughout
the foreign ministries in Europe as typified by Aehrenthal in Vienna who
predicted, accurately, ‘a long continuance of the war, if not in a very acute
form of it, at least in the form of a kind of passive resistance on the part of
Turkey, a state of things which would increase the unrest in the Balkans, and
cause much trouble and worry to the Powers.’
Meanwhile, the Turks, accepting the loss of the coastal towns, were busy
conducting an effective guerrilla campaign in the barren interior of Tripoli,
led by Enver and Kemal who were forced to co-operate for the common cause
despite their personal antipathy and who had successfully enlisted the aid of
the Senusi tribesmen. By December the Italians had been compelled to commit
76,000 troops to the campaign;
long before this, fears had been aroused that the lack of progress in compelling
the Turks to the peace table would result in the Italians seeking to undertake
more decisive action directed elsewhere, where it was felt it would do more harm
— at the heart of the Ottoman Empire. The Turkish attempt to win friends,
combined with Russian fears that an Italian attack on the Dardanelles would
result in the closure of the Straits, focused attention on Constantinople during
the last week of October 1911. Although it appeared that the first loser would
be the German Ambassador, Marschall, who was tainted by Germany’s alliance
with Italy, yet he himself did not see things this way. ‘Though our position
here is difficult’, he reported to Berlin, ‘I can win the day, but only on
one condition — that Italy does not fall upon us in the rear…We have been
faithful allies to Italy and we might well expect her to observe the moderation
towards the Turks which our position in Turkey urgently requires.’
This was precisely the moment when the Entente Powers could have
benefited from a firm display of unity to capitalize on Marschall’s temporary
discomfiture. Instead they played into the wily German’s hands. Lowther had
indeed been in close touch with his French and Russian colleagues (Bompard and
Tcharykov) to begin with but, by 18 October, chinks were beginning to show in
the united front as Lowther became aware that the Russian Ambassador, variously
described as a ‘vain and ambitious busybody’ and having ‘too much
imagination’, had approached some Turkish ministers in an attempt to come to
‘an understanding with Turkey on all their questions.’
This approach coincided with a demand by Isvolsky in Paris that the French agree
to support Russia in seeking to revise the Straits’ rule at a time when
Sazonov, who was ill, was isolated while recuperating in Switzerland. Precisely
what game Tcharykov was playing Nicolson could not entirely fathom, though some
clues reached him secretly via Cambon, the French Ambassador to London.
Tcharykov had had a private audience with Said Pasha and had left a letter with
the Grand Vizier, a copy of which the Russian had impetuously shown to Bompard.
The horrified Frenchman reported immediately to Paris from where his telegram
was relayed to Cambon in London and, through him, to Nicolson. The Permanent
Under-Secretary was similarly alarmed: Tcharykov, so Nicolson informed Hardinge,
appears
to have written Said Pasha a private letter expressing, as he says, his own
personal views, in which he offered to Turkey a guarantee by Russia of the
Straits and the adjoining territories, and also an assurance that Russia would
see that the Balkan States remain tranquil and would not in future be a cause of
disquietude to the Turks. In return for this Russia requested that her vessels
should have free passage through the Straits, and he also held out the hope of
concessions in regard to increased customs dues and certain railway connections
between the Anatolian and Caucasian railways. If he had limited himself to
speaking solely in the name of Russia – though I am quite sure he went very
far beyond any instructions which he might have received – we might have
viewed the matter with equanimity, but he told his French colleague that he had
also added that this arrangement had received the approval of the British and
French Governments, and that it would be a great advantage to Turkey to be sure
of the decisive support of the British navy and of the financial aid of France
which is a most extraordinary statement to have made, as we were perfectly
ignorant that he was taking any steps at all.
Nicolson
thought that to leave in the hands of the Grand Vizier ‘a document practically
stating that he could count on the naval support of England and the financial
aid of France without either country having been consulted on the subject, is
about the strongest measure which I have ever heard of’ and he suspected that,
when the position of Said’s fragile coalition had been hanging in the balance
during the secret session of the Turkish Chamber, the Grand Vizier had utilized
the document to secure a vote of confidence. Yet, despite being given a
‘strong hint’ by Nicolson to find out exactly what was going on, Lowther had
been fobbed off easily by the Russian.
Instead Tcharykov was partly disowned by his own side — by Neratov, who was
standing in as Foreign Minister for the convalescing Sazonov. Though the
Russians were inclined to use the opportunity presented by the war to raise the
question of the Straits, it was not until Sazonov left Switzerland early in
December that he discovered just how far the Ambassador had gone — at which
point, as will be seen, the axe was quickly lowered.
During this time Lowther had also remained in contact with the ex-Grand
Vizier, Kiamil Pasha, to whom he indiscreetly reported his discussions with
Said. Just as indiscreetly Kiamil kept a written record of these meetings with
the British Ambassador which then came into the possession of Marschall. He, in
turn, was able to report to Berlin on 31 October the ‘certain information’
that Said had suggested a British-French-Turkish entente on the Tripoli question
which had been ruled out by London and Paris. Kiamil then accused Said,
separately, of working towards a Balkan Confederation which would mean, of
necessity, an entente with Germany and Austria whereas, Kiamil reasoned, the
current Mediterranean crisis called for an entente with Britain and France.
Said, certainly, was deeply suspicious of the Russian proposal and on the same
day that Marschall’s cable was dispatched to Berlin another, sent by the
Turkish Government to its Ambassador in London, emanated from Constantinople.
The Turks now desired to enter into an alliance with Britain alone (initially)
but which would eventually come ‘within the orbit of the Triple Entente’.
They also proposed, in an attempt to break the deadlock on the field of battle,
to modify their previous offer regarding Tripoli by creating instead an
autonomous vassal state under an Arab dynasty but, this time, with a nod to the
Italians who would be able to participate in the administration in an advisory
capacity.
Nicolson was again convinced that Italy would never accept such a
solution, while the more important question of the alliance was put to the
Cabinet the following day, 1 November, when Grey casually reported on ‘a
rather naif communication from the Ottoman Government’ received through the
medium of Ambassador Tewfik. In the circumstances, it was agreed that the
proposals could not be entertained while the war continued and Britain remained
neutral but that, when peace was restored, ‘we shall be prepared to do all in
our power to reciprocate the Turkish wish for a solid and friendly
understanding.’
Privately, although the idea of an alliance or intervention on Turkey’s behalf
was out of the question, it was not thought ‘wise to slam the door in their
faces or to adopt too reserved an attitude.’ The one dissentient was
Churchill. On the morning of the Cabinet the new First Lord of the Admiralty had
been visited by the Russian Naval Attaché who mentioned, in passing, that the
Russian Government was hoping to bring about ‘very much more friendly
relations with Turkey’ culminating in a regrouping in which Turkey would be
cordially associated with the Triple Entente. ‘Don’t you think’, Churchill
inquired of Grey, ‘that this aspect should be considered before the rather
summary reply is given to the precipitate Turkish proposal for an alliance?’
Churchill’s modest inquiry came only days after he had been holed up
with Fisher at Reigate Priory in Surrey.
The ‘reluctant’ Admiral had been recalled from semi-retirement in Lucerne
and was enjoying immensely his new-found status as Winston’s guiding light.
In the course of this intensive briefing of the new First Lord by the old First
Sea Lord it would be difficult to imagine that Fisher did not make his views on
Turkey known to Churchill; certainly, the Turco-Italian war was discussed.
The war had given Fisher a renewed opportunity to voice his preferred option,
‘from a sailor’s point of view for fighting purposes’, of a ‘quadruple
alliance’: Russia, Britain, France and Turkey.
Fisher’s views were well known: that Lord Salisbury had been a ‘d—d
fool’ for insulting the Muslim world when he declared that, in Turkey, Britain
had backed the wrong horse; that Britain was the greatest Mohammedan Power on
earth yet if Islam held up its little finger there was at once unrest in the
Egypt, Persia and India; and so on. Marschall, ‘the greatest German the world
has known’ in Fisher’s opinion, was the real ruler of Germany’s world
policy: the Kaiser was his ‘facile dupe’, the Chancellor his ‘servile
copyist’ and the Foreign Minister his ‘tool’! It all added up to the
Admiral’s continuing lament: ‘The Mohammedans hold the key of the world and
we send any d—d fool that passes by…to try to snatch it out of the iron hand
of Marschall’.
Following the Cabinet on 1 November Churchill refused to let go of the
Turkish proposal but put off any action — until he received a letter from
Djavid Bey, which had been written personally to Churchill to coincide with the
Turkish appeal for an alliance. Addressing Churchill as a sincere friend of
Turkey and of the Young Turks, Djavid begged him to use his ‘important and
influential position’ to advance the cause of Anglo-Turkish friendship. ‘Has
the time arrived for a permanent alliance between the two countries?’ Djavid
earnestly inquired.
The entreaty soon produced an effect as, after first complaining to Grey that
their Cabinet colleagues ‘were rather inclined to treat a little too lightly
the crude overture which the Turkish Government have made’, Churchill then
delivered to the Foreign Secretary a lecture which could have been written by
Fisher and which contained most of the Admiral’s maxims: ‘we must not forget
that we are the greatest Mahometan power in the world’; ‘I wish you had a
good man at Constantinople’; ‘Turkey is the greatest land weapon which the
Germans could use against us’. Churchill was clearly moved by the news that
had filtered through of the Italian massacres perpetrated against the local Arab
population – ‘Italy has behaved atrociously’ – but, to complete the
reversal, he now also believed there was ‘more to gain from Turkish friendship
than from Italian policy’ and he therefore recommended a sympathetic and
respectful consideration of the Turkish appeal.
Grey admitted that he had not meant the response to Turkey ‘to be brusque like
my thumb nail sketch of it to the Cabinet’ and promised Churchill that a reply
of ‘Sugar and spice and all that’s nice’ had now been drafted, adding
‘you will I am sure never have read anything more mellifluous.’
Indeed Churchill himself was guilty of over-reaction for, while not altogether
enamoured of Tcharykov’s machinations, which in fact had caused intense
irritation, Grey would certainly have welcomed a better Russo-Turkish
understanding and, to facilitate this, was prepared to adopt a more conciliatory
line in favour of the Turks than Nicolson.
In furtherance of this aim, Grey informed the Russian Ambassador,
Benckendorff, of Tewfik’s approach but apparently forgot to let his own man in
Constantinople know as Lowther lamented a fortnight later: ‘I heard from
Bompard who got it from Tcharykov who got it from Petersburgh that Sir E Grey
had told Benckendorff of a proposal made by Tewfik’.
In any case, it is doubtful if public opinion in Britain would have allowed Grey
to move towards an accommodation with Italy, more particularly after 6 November
when Imperiali announced that Italy had annexed Tripoli — a decision that
caught Grey by surprise and which condemned the war to be a drawn out affair
with, always, the lingering possibility that it might spread elsewhere as the
Italians continued to make little headway in the unforgiving arena of north
Africa.
Indeed, the Foreign Office had become aware of German apprehensions that Italy
contemplated some action at Salonica, where a boycott of Italian goods had been
in force since 1 October, though Nicolson remained doubtful of this or any
attempt to capture ‘an island or two’ as, despite the prior debates in the
C.I.D., he failed to see what impression this would produce at Constantinople.
Additionally, he could not imagine ‘that [Italy] contemplates for one moment
an attempt to force the Dardanelles, as this would be a most dangerous and
probably disastrous proceeding.’
The Admiralty also was not unduly concerned by the prospect of the war
spreading; on 20 November Battenberg nonchalantly advocated the withdrawal of
the six pre-dreadnought battleships comprising the British Mediterranean Fleet
as they were serving no useful purpose.
On the other hand, illustrating the fragmented British approach, Marschall
reported to Berlin that Lowther had informed the Porte on 13 November that
Britain would oppose an Italian attack on Beirut, Smyrna, Salonica or the
Dardanelles in deference to the importance of her maritime trade.
As the forgotten little war lingered on, the latest news from
Constantinople concerned a hint dropped by the Grand Vizier to the French
Ambassador that, if the Powers recognised the Italian annexation, the Turks
would consider they had violated all treaties respecting the integrity of the
Ottoman Empire and would press for a conference to be convened to decide on the
compensation they should receive.
‘I don’t know’, Lowther reported resignedly to Nicolson, ‘that there is
very much use in my sending on the various fantastic and sometimes childish
proposals towards an arrangement that Said emits.’
Lowther was not being very helpful: Nicolson’s fear that, in event of an
Italian attack or blockade, the Turks would ‘take defensive measures, which
would practically block the Straits’ was improbably laid to rest by Lowther.
The Ambassador casually noted that, although the Admiralty would probably have
definite views, ‘as far as I can make out, the possibility of blocking by
sinking ships is quite out of the question. It would take about five, one on top
of the other, and the Turks could never get them to fit. Moreover there would
have to be a line of about six of these.’ Apparently, the art of mine warfare
was felt to be beyond the capabilities of the Turks, British Naval Mission or
not!
Tcharykov, aware that time was running out to achieve his ambition of a
revision of the Straits treaty, and anticipating that the bigger the fait accompli Sazonov was presented with the harder it would be to
disown, flew his kite a little higher. The first intimation of this was received
in London when Tewfik saw Grey on 1 December to tell him ‘that the Russian
Ambassador in Constantinople had made certain proposals to the Turkish
Government amounting to an alliance with Turkey.’ Disinclined to accept this
report at face value, Grey believed that these new proposals amounted to no more
than those put by Tcharykov to Said Pasha in October, but now placed on an
official basis — as such, he requested from Tewfik an aide-memoire to confirm the proposition that, in return for the free
passage of the Straits to the exclusion of the warships of all other Powers,
Russia
would engage to defend the Straits in conjunction with Turkey in the event of
their being attacked by…a foreign Power, to assure Turkey of her co-operation
in the execution of railway projects in Asia Minor, and to act as an
intermediary for the realisation of an entente with the Balkan States.
The
intended reply was to have been along the lines that Russia could make any
proposal she cared to Turkey to aid in the direct defence of the Straits and
there would be no British opposition, but that any alteration to the rules
governing the passage of the Straits could only be made with the consent of all
the parties to the international treaties. Britain would not oppose the question
being raised, although Nicolson hinted that the position adopted would be the
same as in 1908: free passage of the Straits for all.
Marschall, who soon became aware of the Tcharykov proposal, confided to
Lowther that, although the Turks were ‘somewhat exercised over the war with
Italy, it was nothing compared to their anxiety over the question of the Straits
which the Russians had put forward.’ Indeed, if the Turks took up the
proposal, Marschall maintained that it would be the beginning of the end for
Constantinople so that, eventually, the Ambassadors would be replaced by
vice-consuls, convinced as he was that Russia ‘had determined to abandon the
Baltic and would establish a large arsenal in the Black Sea and thus already
counted on the privilege of passage being secured.’
Marschall was equally adamant that Germany should in no way connive with Russia
over the Straits and insisted, under threat of resignation, upon German support
for Turkey.
In Berlin the most ardent Turcophile was the Emperor himself; on the other hand,
the Foreign Minister, who officially sided with Italy, could nevertheless look
on with a certain degree of equanimity as the Great Power interests most
threatened by the actions of Italy were those of Britain and France. A clash
with either or both would result in the Italians hurriedly seeking to strengthen
the ties of the Triple Alliance.
Kiderlen was, therefore, not unduly perturbed by Marschall’s threat, believing
that Turkey would get all the support she needed from Britain and France, though
when he fished for an answer from the British Ambassador, Goschen ‘abstained
from rising’ to the fly. Goschen instead reported that, according to his
Serbian colleague, a compact between Turkey and Russia would be regarded in the
Balkans as a sign of Turkish weakness and would further increase her
difficulties in that region. Possibly aware of this themselves, the Turks had
cried off claiming ‘the moment was not opportune for discussing such an
important question.’
In any event Nicolson was now convinced that the Turks were not in the least
inclined to fall in with the Russian proposals, which he thought emanated solely
from the active brain of the ‘great busybody’ Tcharykov, who was ‘very
anxious to make a name for himself.’
By 6 December Sazonov had finally reached Paris, learned the full extent
of the Isvolsky/Tcharykov intrigues, and immediately set about repudiating them.
Within a week the storm had passed and Nicolson was able to inform Lowther on 11
December that it was now being denied
in the papers that Russia had made any move at Constantinople; he presumed the
matter would now be dropped.
Just in case, Grey saw Tewfik the following day to repeat the British position
that opening the Straits to Russian warships could not be sanctioned if it
resulted from unilateral action. When he became aware of this Lowther reported
gleefully that Tcharykov had either made a fool of himself or had been made a
fool of by his Government; however his satisfaction stopped just short of being
total as he quickly realized that the general impression in Constantinople,
promoted especially by the Germans, was that the Russians would never have
forwarded the proposal without previously obtaining British consent!
Sazonov complained that Tcharykov ‘had been making a mess of things for some
time past and had persisted in disregarding what he knew to be the views of his
own Government.’ Characterizing the views of Tcharykov as ‘ultra Turcophil’,
Sazonov claimed he had no objection to his Ambassadors holding beliefs of their
own but that they should never work directly against their own Government: in
disregard of this cardinal precept, when Tcharykov had first approached Said
‘he had received the most categorical instructions to keep within certain
clearly defined limits yet he had jumped over all the barriers.’
Sazonov’s remarks regarding Ambassadorial independence could equally well have
been directed at Isvolsky: with Ambassadors such as these, there was a distinct
danger of the Russian tail wagging the dog. Tcharykov at least had climbed too
far out on a limb and Sazonov had wielded the saw — he was recalled in March
1912 and was not appointed to the Council of the Empire as was customary for
returning Ambassadors. The failure of Tcharykov’s gamble, following
Isvolsky’s abortive attempt to raise the question of the Straits, signalled
the end of diplomatic attempts to resolve the issue and handed the initiative to
the Russian Admiralty.
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