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In May, following the Big Stick election, Lowther had
complained to Nicolson that ‘that fool Talaat is responsible for the Albanian
recrudescences. His mania for sweeping the country in elections has carried him
too far and he might just as well have allowed some twenty members to be elected
for Albania and Macedonia without hurting the Committee. He is unfortunately the
idol of that Jacobin party and has done them a lot of harm.’
To this charge, Talaat could justifiably have answered:
The
Balkans are obsessed by various and divergent Great Ideas. Russia wants
Constantinople; and Austria, Salonika. Leaving them aside, we have to reckon
with Greater Servia, Greater Montenegro, Greater Bulgaria, Greater Greece. None
of these Ideas can be accomplished without the disruption of my country, so our
neighbours are all anxious to prove that Turkey is unfit to exist.
Indeed, the events in Albania and Macedonia, just across their border,
could not be looked upon with equanimity by Serbia and Bulgaria; the fillip
required by these reluctant bedfellows to convert thought into action was
provided by the outbreak of the Turco-Italian war. One of the first actions of
that war had been the one-sided Adriatic naval encounter which, nevertheless,
threw enough of a scare into the Austrians for them to deliver a protest to
their purported allies lest the Italians had any plans afoot for an Albanian
adventure. The naval action also alerted the neighbouring states that the time
to fulfil their aspirations was impending — before the Austrians had a chance
to send troops to Albania to pre-empt the Italians or before the revolt, fanned
by the Italians, got out of hand while Turkey was otherwise distracted.
The prospect in Macedonia was no less encouraging. Under the auspices of
the Russian Government, the Serbs and Bulgarians had commenced bilateral
discussions in October 1911 soon after the Italians declared war. Although
ostensibly secret the negotiations soon became known to Bax-Ironside, the
British Minister in Sofia, who kept Nicolson informed via a series of private
letters. In hotel rooms and trains, the discussions continued: the large expanse
of Macedonia stretched invitingly on the map before the participants —
territory that Bulgaria, in particular, had coveted for over thirty years. By
accommodating Bulgarian desires, the Serbs hoped in return for Bulgarian support
in the struggle against Austria, but were, of course, also not averse to a chunk
of Macedonia in addition to that part of Albania they, themselves, coveted.
Initially, perhaps anticipating the problems that might arise from a carve up,
the Bulgarian Prime Minister, Gueshov, pushed for an autonomous Macedonia, the
whole of which, presumably, would then be open to Bulgarian infiltration; but
the Serbs would not nibble at that particular bait. Instead, the pencils came
out, and lines were drawn on the map. Eventually, Serbia recognized the right of
Bulgaria to purloin the territory east of the Rhodope Mountains and River
Strouma, while Serbia could keep the territory north and west of the Shar
Mountain. The area in between was to become simultaneously an autonomous
province and a useful buffer. If, for some reason, the locals were unhappy over
this largess and sought to cause trouble, the Tsar would act as referee and draw
his own line on the map.
The Treaty of Friendship and Alliance was signed in Sofia on 13 March
1912 by Gueshov for Bulgaria and Milovanovitch for Serbia. The precise details
of this rapacious agreement were spelled out in the customary secret annex and
later military convention. By article 1 of the annex any ‘troubles’ in
Turkey which endangered the interests of Bulgaria or Serbia, or any ‘internal
or external difficulties’ which threatened the maintenance of the Balkan status
quo would be sufficient pretext for concerted military action to be taken.
The day after the treaty was signed, Gueshov asked Bax-Ironside to call on him
at his private residence where he told the British Minister that it had only
been ‘after long and serious consideration’ that the new policy of
concluding a secret treaty with Serbia had been adopted, and that it had
required considerable persuasion to win over the King and ministerial colleagues
to his views. Gueshov was ‘most anxious’ that only Grey and Nicolson should
be cognisant of the treaty until the Russian Government had made arrangements to
disclose its contents; he hoped Grey would approve of the pact which was ‘in
his opinion, the most likely one to secure peace in the Balkans. Any Power
advancing into European Turkey would now be faced with solid hostility on the
part of Bulgaria and Servia, backed up by Russia and, he hoped, by the Triple
Entente if necessary.’
Suitably persuaded, Bax-Ironside’s initial reports that the Treaty was
defensive in character were misleading. Indeed, the vision of an invading force
meeting joint resistance would have appealed almost as much to Whitehall as to
Petersburg where Sazonov was heard to enthuse, ‘Well, this is perfect! Five
hundred thousand bayonets to guard the Balkans — this would bar the road
forever to German penetration, Austrian invasion.’
The treaty, however, also bound each country to come to the other’s aid
‘with their entire forces’ should one of them be attacked by a third party.
Given the state of unrest in the region this was an ominous condition, which
Nicolson learned of from the Russian Ambassador on 6 April, though it was only
the following week that he became aware, through French sources, of the designs
the two states had on Macedonia.
The realization that the treaty was offensive, not defensive, worried Nicolson
in particular as it was underwritten by Russia. At the end of April Lowther was
admitted into the small circle of those aware of the existence of the treaty –
this ‘most profound secret’. Lowther was informed that the treaty was
‘practically initiated and encouraged by Russia herself’, which was, to
Nicolson’s mind, ‘perhaps the most serious element connected with the
transactions, as it shows that Russia intends to take a very active part in
Balkan policy.’
Even so the Balkan states were doing all right for themselves. Before long
Greece was drawn into the orbit of the Balkan League when, on 29 May, a
defensive alliance was concluded between Bulgaria and Greece. This time there
was to be no proposed division of spoils, reflecting both the haste with which
the agreement was made and the fact that there just was not enough of Macedonia
to go around.
For this reason also, plus the fact that its newly self-appointed monarch, King
Nikita, possessed even fewer scruples than usual, Montenegro was only admitted
to the League later that summer.
If the Turks were momentarily blind to what was going on around them, the
Albanians were most certainly not. The ominous outbreak of friendly relations between their voracious neighbours could only
presage the inevitable moment when, again, the pencils and maps would come out.
Not wishing to be swallowed whole by their encircling predators, yet aware that
the Turks were now no longer in a position to protect them, the Albanian revolt
flared again throughout the summer, when it became a factor in the fall of the
Government in Constantinople in August.
At the same time the Macedonian problem had come to the fore again following the
explosion of a terrorist bomb in the Muslim market place of Kochana; the outrage
resulted in the usual reprisal against the Christian inhabitants which was
perhaps made more savage on this occasion because of the confusion reigning in
Constantinople. When it became clear that the reprisal had taken the form of a
massacre the Bulgarians could barely restrain themselves.
Into the breach stepped the Austrian Foreign Minister, Count Berchtold, who
first proposed, on 13 August, that the Powers ‘consider the advisability of
recommending to the Porte the adoption of the principle of
“decentralisation” in dealing with the question of the future of the
European provinces.’
However well meant, the Count’s approach was to have unfortunate consequences.
Despite a denial being issued at the end of the month that this was the prelude
to intervention, the impression sustained by the Balkan allies was precisely the
opposite. In addition, any pressure applied to Turkey to clean up its act in
Macedonia, as it was in the process of doing in Albania, would remove the
transparent excuse required by the Balkan allies to legitimize their actions.
The time to act would have to be sooner rather than later: before the Italians,
temporarily estranged from the Triple Alliance, could conclude their peace
talks, and while a weak, vacillating Government held power in Constantinople,
where the new War Minister, Nazim Pasha, was busy undoing his predecessor’s
work by removing Shevket’s appointees from the higher echelons of the Army.
Nazim first disbanded two large, seasoned armies that Shevket had formed
at the Dardanelles and Smyrna to repel an Italian attack and then, in September,
unwisely tried to bluff Bulgaria, whom he did not believe would attack, by
sending out for training in Thrace and Macedonia nine newly formed divisions.
The bluff fooled no-one and instead backfired spectacularly: using these
‘mythical manoeuvres’ as a pretext, Bulgaria and Serbia mobilized on 30
September 1912. The next day Greece and the latest adherent to the cause,
Montenegro, did likewise; the Turks were left with no option but to mobilize
themselves. It was all going to plan for, on 6 September, Serbia and Montenegro
had concluded an alliance whose political convention ruled that, as the present
situation in Turkey and general conditions in Europe were ‘very favourable for
action’, war should be declared on Turkey by 25 October at the latest, except
if one party was not yet ready, in which case there could be one postponement;
this was not required. In consultation with her partners (though there was a
rumour at the time that they had kicked off early so the King could make a
killing as he had ‘sold a bear of Balkan securities on the Vienna Stock
Exchange’)
the Montenegrins declared war on Turkey on 8 October. At long last it had
happened: ‘the Balkan States are about to declare war’, noted Lord
Stamfordham, the King’s Private Secretary, ‘and Heaven knows where it may
end.’
Bulgaria and Greece rapidly concluded a military convention on 16 October
by which the Greeks pledged to throw 120,000 men into the contest and the
Bulgarians 300,000; the following day – in what must have been a bitter blow
to the Turkish negotiators in Lausanne about to conclude the peace with Italy
– Greece, Bulgaria and Serbia declared war on Turkey. The Turcophile Wilfred
Blunt was at least consoled, for ‘though it may be the beginning of the end
for Turkey in Europe it will be better for Islam that the Empire should die
sword in hand than that it should be cheated out of existence by our diplomacy.
War gives at least a chance. Not that I have much hope of a victorious
ending…’
And yet, had not General von der Goltz built a chain of forts between Adrianople
and Kirk Kilisse which he guaranteed to withstand a siege of three months? And
behind this line of fortifications there stood an army of 150,000 ready to turn
aside the invaders and ‘smash their way through to Nish, Sofia and
Belgrade.’
Who could foretell the outcome of such a contest as more soldiers moved into
position to commence battle than ever before in the squalid history of warfare.
For those who thought as Wilfred Blunt there were others who, awed by the
methods they supposed had been imbued by the German Military Mission, were ready
to predict, and anxious at the consequences of, a Turkish victory. However,
Nazim’s baleful influence was immediately felt by the hapless Turks. The
standing Turkish war plan (to concentrate far back from the frontiers) was
dismissed by Nazim whose political position was not strong enough to allow him
to be seen to abandon large tracts of land. Instead, the unseasoned Turkish
troops moved up to face the onslaught; 12,000 soldiers a day, resigned yet
fearful, flooded into Adrianople.
The Greek fleet took over from Italy, holding command of the Aegean,
occupying a few islands for good measure, and, crucially, making it impossible
for the Turks to shift reinforcements from the southern part of the empire
through the Aegean to the threatened garrisons in the European rump. Meanwhile,
the Bulgarian army could not take the chance of marching directly into Macedonia
for fear of a flank attack by the Ottoman force marching out from
Constantinople; rather, they would have to take the Turks head on. On 21 October
Nazim ordered Abdulla Pasha to take the offensive against the Bulgarians: the
Turkish troops moved up but, during the night of 23/24 October after a confused
clash with the advancing Bulgarians, the troops panicked and retreated in
disarray although it took the Bulgarians some time to realize this. A new battle
line was formed and combat was renewed on Tuesday, 29 October in the now
forgotten battle of Lule Burgas which lasted four days and resulted in an
overwhelming Turkish defeat.
The
Turkish regular troops fought with courage, in spite of their hunger, but the
reservists, ill-led, ill-fed, ill-shod, undisciplined, shivering at the change
from sunny Asia to the bleak plains of Thrace, were not inclined to face the
bayonets of the Bulgarians. By Wednesday night the left of their position was in
retreat. The right still held, and a terrific counter-attack developed, which
might have altered the issue of the day and perhaps the whole course of the war
had the Turks been in better heart, for the Bulgarians would have been in an
awkward position in case of defeat, with the garrison of Adrianople in their
rear. But heroism was not enough: the Bulgarians were also brave. They massed
their artillery on their threatened left flank, and on October the 30th they
subjected the Turks (now cartridge-less and living on raw maize picked from the
fields) to a bombardment severer than any which human nerves had yet
endured…The Turkish reservists again began to give way: their officers fired
on them, but failed to hold them. At three o’clock in the morning a torrential
downpour burst above the battle. When the sun rose on a flooded countryside on
November the 2nd, the Turkish right flank yielded. The centre had already
retreated and the cavalry on the left flank had been able to oppose only their
small German carbines to the rifles of the opposing infantry and the shrapnel of
the victorious guns…
On
3 November the order was given for the broken remnants of the Turkish army to
retire and reform behind the Tchatalja lines, the last line of defence for
Constantinople. Nazim himself left the capital to command the army from the
front.
Although again disorderly, the Turkish retirement had not been unduly
hampered by the Bulgarians, whose own army was beginning to show signs of
tiring. The other allies had had an easier time of it: the Serbs quickly
occupied most of northern Macedonia then linked up with the Montenegrins to move
into Albania; the Greeks marched into southern Macedonia, taking the great prize
of Salonica on 8 November just before the advancing Bulgarians could arrive,
while other Greek forces pushed into southern Albania, investing Janina. Other
than the similarly besieged Scutari (in northern Albania) and Adrianople,
virtually the whole of Turkey in Europe had been overrun, with the Turks
clinging by their fingertips to the narrow spit of land behind the Tchatalja
lines.
At sea the Greek fleet had taken over the strategic position occupied by
the Italians, leading to renewed fears that the Turks would close the Straits.
Grey, who had been furious at the provocative Italian action that had resulted
in closure before, in any case, did not like the Greeks. When it was calculated
that it would take at least two weeks to clear the huge quantities of grain
which remained lying in readiness for shipment from the Black Sea ports through
the Straits, Grey was prepared to make a ‘strong representation’ at Athens
– if the Greeks carried out their threat to institute a blockade – to the
effect that neutral merchant ships at least should be permitted egress. However,
events moved too quickly to necessitate this action being carried out.
The defensive bastion of Tchatalja, only forty miles from Constantinople, was
subjected to renewed Bulgarian pressure so that, by the first week of November,
the fall of the capital was being predicted as inevitable. ‘I do not think’,
Lowther confessed on 7 November,
that
the Turks yet realise the hopelessness of their defeat and they listen to German
and Austrian advice to hang on at Tchatalja which to my mind is a great mistake
on their part for if the Bulgarians have a severe battle at the lines and win as
they presumably must they will insist on coming in. Unfortunately the Committee
people are also, as they did in the Italian war, urging that the fight should be
continued to the end. This may only be to pose afterwards as patriots but it is
a dangerous game...
Lowther
also speculated on the reasons for the Turkish débâcle, which he put down to
the absence of good officers as constitutional government had brought with it
political intrigue with the result that both parties were guilty of eliminating
‘unsympathetic’ officers, however attuned to the art of warfare they may
have been.
One early casualty of the war had been Ghazi Mukhtar who resigned
(perhaps gratefully) on 29 October and was replaced, to no-one’s surprise, by
Kiamil Pasha. Old Kiamil’s function was twofold: as a bitter opponent of the
C.U.P. it was hoped he could stop them utilizing the situation to make a grab
for power and, second, he could use his reputed influence with the Entente
Powers (particularly Britain) to appeal to them to intervene. But Grey shunned
this latest advance after the Cabinet had agreed that all they could do would be
to approach the Bulgarians to ascertain whether they would accept mediation and,
if so, upon what terms.
Kiamil had inadvertently highlighted the unpleasant fact that the British
position was delicate: support Turkey and risk offending Russia, further
straining an entente which was already in difficulty in Persia; or co-operate
with Russia and her client states only to raise the old canard of upsetting
Britain’s Muslim subjects. The constancy of the latter fear, though, was eased
by a report from Hardinge which indicated that, come what may in Macedonia and
Albania, he could control his subjects.
Nicolson explained the situation to Lowther:
I
am sorry that Sir Edward was unable to send a more sympathetic telegram in reply
to Kiamil’s appeal. Our position is an exceedingly difficult and embarrassing
one. We are anxious naturally to maintain the concert of Europe and especially
to work as far as it is possible, in conjunction with Russia, and were we to
adopt Kiamil’s proposals we should practically separate ourselves from the
other Powers and place ourselves almost in direct opposition to Russian policy.
It is quite true that we are a great mussulman Power and cannot well leave out
of account the feelings of our mussulmans in India and elsewhere. At the same
time it is of paramount importance to us to preserve unimpaired our
understanding with Russia and with France…Moreover, public opinion here,
rightly or wrongly, is strongly in favour of the Balkan States, and no
Government could possibly take up an attitude which was in any way contrary to
the general feeling in this country...
Nicolson
need not have worried; indeed, Lowther felt obliged to apologize for forwarding
‘poor Kiamil’s appeals’ which, he knew, would be in vain; the Grand Vizier
had been much encouraged in certain quarters (but not, Lowther hastened to add,
by himself) to look for help from England.
The imminent fall of Constantinople also induced panic in Sazonov who
wired his Ambassador in London on 31 October that Constantinople must remain
under the actual sovereignty of the Sultan, upon which there could be no
compromise. Then, a week later, he requested that Isvolsky warn the French Prime
Minister that, should Constantinople be occupied – even temporarily – by
Balkan troops, the entire Russian Black Sea fleet would appear simultaneously
off the capital!
In an attempt to exert a calming influence on his excitable colleague Grey
suggested instead that Constantinople be ‘neutralized’ and made into a free
port; he communicated this suggestion secretly (or so he thought) to Sazonov
through Buchanan, his Ambassador in St Petersburg, but news leaked out the
following day.
Nicolson was appalled – not at the leaking of information as such, for it was
a subterfuge he had resorted to himself – but, he informed Hardinge, at the
very idea,
which
I am sorry to say was actually put before the Russian Government…that
Constantinople should be internationalised. I deprecated this proposal very
strongly and I do not think its authors were quite aware of the impracticability
of such a scheme…I was very glad when Sazonow objected strongly to it. I trust
that it has now been buried and that it will not be resuscitated. To my mind it
is perfectly clear that either the Turk or the Russian must be in possession of
Constantinople.
Yet,
to confound Nicolson, by the middle of November it seemed increasingly as if the
Bulgarians would soon be in possession. Lowther reported on the 14th that the
C.U.P. had lost much of its influence, and not incidentally, a few of its more
prominent members who had ‘already bolted into Europe’. It was true some
‘desperadoes’ remained but Lowther thought the Cabinet had matters under
control and that this situation would last until the Turkish troops were
defeated at Tchatalja which was, in his opinion, a foregone conclusion.
Any hope entertained by Kiamil that his erstwhile friends would help was
dashed when Asquith rose to his feet at the Guildhall to publicly withdraw the
earlier pronouncement of the Powers that, whatever the result of the war might
be, the territorial status quo would
be maintained. The victors, now, would not be denied their spoils.
All that remained was for the Bulgarians to break through. The long awaited
assault on the Turkish defensive positions began on 17 November. The line held.
Although this occasioned surprise, it should not have done so. The Turks had
narrowed their front, had had time to regroup and replenish behind a strong
defensive line and, as a further incentive to morale, had the capital almost at
their backs. When General Sir Henry Wilson inspected the fortifications a year
later he declared that he had never seen a stronger position than Tchatalja.
It was evident by the 18th that the attack had failed; the Bulgarians’
discomfiture was completed by an outbreak of cholera amongst the ranks. Despite
this setback, as, except for the three invested garrisons and the capital
itself, the Balkan allies had obtained all they went to war for, they were
agreeable to the Turkish offer of an armistice which Bulgaria and Serbia duly
accepted on 3 December.
In a telling portent of what was to come, the Greeks and Bulgarians in Salonica
had already fallen out with each other and were quarrelling over their rival
claims to the city.
On 16 December the delegates of Turkey and the Balkan allies gathered in
London at St James’s Palace to discuss peace terms. The following afternoon at
half-past three a conference of Ambassadors was convened at the Foreign Office
under the chairmanship of Sir Edward Grey. Minutes would be kept but the
negotiations were to be regarded as confidential: only those resolutions
actually passed would be committed to paper.
Although Grey would have preferred that these informal discussions were held in
Paris, no-one was anxious to have the Russian Ambassador, Isvolsky, dipping his
oar in. Additionally, the attitude of the Quai d’Orsay towards the Balkan
States caused intense irritation in London.
The initial item on the agenda was the future of Albania, which was resolved at
the first meeting in favour of autonomy, notwithstanding that arguments as to
the precise location of the boundary would rumble on interminably.
Grey’s skilful diplomacy produced other tangible results: Serbia’s demand
for an Adriatic port was successfully opposed after that obstreperous country
succumbed to an appeal from Sazonov, acting under Anglo-French pressure.
Instead, it was unanimously adopted that she have access to a free and neutral
Albanian harbour served by an international railway under the protection of an
international military force.
All this on the first day, with only the question of the Aegean Islands
which had been occupied by Greece remaining from Grey’s primary agenda! As the
Foreign Secretary set off for his Christmas break after the conference adjourned
on 20 December he could look back over the year at some positive achievements,
perhaps foremost of which was the close working co-operation he had established
during the Balkan crisis with his German counterpart, Kiderlen. During the
summer months, in furtherance of the ideal of an Anglo-German rapprochement,
the celebrated if infamous German Ambassador in Constantinople, wily old
Marschall, had been transferred to London after fifteen years at the Porte.
Marschall, who had suggested an Anglo-German alliance as early as 1890, did not
live long enough to accomplish his aim, dying in September 1912, to be replaced
by the amiable but lightweight Prince Lichnowsky while, more seriously, on 30
December, Kiderlen collapsed and died suddenly.
In this review of 1912 it had become clear that Grey was, consistently,
more optimistic than his colleagues in placing faith in the Turks both to
institute the reforms promised and to resist autocratic, despotic government. To
him each new coup was a welcome sign of this and the incoming administration
deserved at least a chance to succeed. Despite the baggage Nicolson brought to
his office from his years in St Petersburg, he had at first also developed a
more conciliatory line, in sharp contrast to the hectoring tone of Hardinge;
however, not being a born optimist, as expectations went unfulfilled Nicolson
moved into the Turcophobe camp. Lowther continued to be a great disappointment,
bemoaning the fact one minute that he was required to send vain appeals from the
Turks to the Entente for help, then complaining that, due to lack of a positive
response, ‘we have successfully thrown Turkey into the arms of the Triple
Alliance.’ The transfer of Marschall and his replacement by the German
Minister at Athens, Baron von Wangenheim, was seen as but a temporary
interruption to the unfailing growth of German influence. In addition, little
headway had been made in the protracted Baghdad Railway negotiations: it was
only in April that a Turkish reply had been given to the British proposal of
July the previous year for five equal shares. This was rejected by the Porte who
suggested instead four equal shares for Britain, France, Germany and Turkey, but
excluding Russia. The British counter-proposals of July 1912 offered to rescind
the five Power plan though only on the acceptance of certain conditions aimed at
ensuring British primacy on the Baghdad-Basra sector and, especially, beyond
Basra, past which no lines could be built without British consent.
With the upheavals in Constantinople from summer onwards there was little
likelihood of further progress being made and the talks dragged on into 1913.
The St James’s Conference was due to resume on 2 January 1913. Before
it got under way Lichnowsky was visited by the Turkish delegate, Osman Nisami
Pasha, who informed the German Ambassador that the Turks had come to an
understanding on all points save one — Adrianople. Lichnowsky promptly
reported that:
To
give way on this point was for Turkey an absolute impossibility, not only on
military grounds, which make it urgently necessary to keep this fortress which
was less than two hundred miles from Constantinople, and not have the frontier
pushed even closer. Adrianople was for the Turks much the same as Moscow was for
the Russians, he said. It was the former residence of the monarch, a city with
numerous sacred relics and mosques, and no Government could risk sacrificing it.
His Majesty the Sultan, too, who did not otherwise meddle in the details of the
negotiations, was inexorable on this point. Turkey wishes after peace has been
signed to live on good terms with Bulgaria, but this would be impossible if
Adrianople fell into Bulgarian hands, as the wish to reconquer it would lead to
new wars.
If
pressure were not brought to bear on the Bulgarians Osman warned that the result
would be the failure of the London negotiations and a definite resumption of
hostilities. Lichnowsky could but counsel moderation.
Yet, as early as 21 November 1912, Grey had believed that the two
belligerents would sort out between themselves their conflicting claims over
Adrianople and Constantinople, by which he meant, presumably, a straight trade:
the Bulgarians could keep Adrianople with a promise not to take the capital.
Lowther also believed the Turks and Bulgarians could have settled the question
of Adrianople between them ‘but Russia would have none of it and has
unfortunately upset the apple-cart.’
As the conference drew to a close on the afternoon of the 5 January Grey
revealed that the Turkish delegates had offered further concessions in the
vilayet of Adrianople but that the city itself must remain in Turkish hands. To
break the deadlock it was agreed by the Ambassadors on the 6th that a collective
note should be presented at the Porte regarding the cession of Adrianople and
regulation by the Powers on the question of deciding the destiny of certain
islands. The French suggestion that the note should be backed up by a naval
demonstration was not widely welcomed — Germany, in particular, did not want
to be seen forcibly to coerce the Turks while Nicolson also believed such a
demonstration would serve no worthwhile purpose. Nevertheless it was agreed at
the Conference on 9 January that, just in case, the Powers should dispatch
warships to Besika Bay; with no option but to fall into line Britain proposed to
send two battleships, but made sure that they were expendable.
Lowther was scathing when the decision became known to him: a
demonstration at Besika, he argued, would have no effect and would ‘hardly be
known’ in Constantinople. Besides he did not ‘believe for a moment that all
the Powers will agree to it.’
His prescience was confirmed when Lichnowsky entered the Conference Room on the
13th clutching a telegram from Berlin which baldly stated that ‘technical
difficulties’ made it impossible for Germany to take part in any naval
demonstration.
The Italian Govern-ment’s favoured way out of the impasse was to put forward
the brazen suggestion that, in exchange for handing over Adrianople, Turkey
should be allowed to keep the four islands off the Dardanelles which the Greeks
had seized, together with Mitylene and Chios. Italian impudence apparently
recognized no bounds! However Grey would not countenance the use of force to put
the Turks back into possession of these islands — in any case, the inevitable
result would be to give a hostage to fortune by virtue of the certain agitation
that would follow as the populations were all Greek in sympathy and would rebel
against their new Turkish masters. When discussing the Italian proposal the
Cabinet agreed that the islands should go to Greece subject to ‘stringent
conditions to prevent their being made use of for naval or military purpose, or
being ceded to any other Power.’ The real reason behind Italy’s supposedly
disinterested overture was not hard to discern, and it was further agreed, so
Asquith informed the King, ‘that a friendly intimation should be conveyed to
Italy that any proposal on her part to retain Rhodes would not only receive no
support from us, but was to be strongly deprecated as opening the door for
claims to compensation by other Powers.’
When, on 17 January, the collective note to the Turkish Government was
eventually sent Lowther believed that, despite protestations in both Berlin and
London that they were ‘playing the game’, the German representative at the
Porte had secretly advised the Turks to ignore the note.
‘I am sorry this question of Adrianople is giving so much trouble’, Lowther
commiserated with Nicolson, adding,
Wonders
never cease, but I cannot see how any Government can give up Adrianople now
without some corresponding advantage, which is difficult to find, as the
[Balkan] Allies ask for everything. The best hope is that Adrianople should
fall…The feeling here against the Entente is growing stronger every day, and
of course the advice of Germany and Austria re cession of Adrianople has been
mild…The Turks cannot be in a worse posture than they are now and as far as I
can see they could never find a Government to take the responsibility of ceding
Adrianople if it has not fallen. They would probably lose their heads, which
they don’t like…
In
fact, ceding Adrianople was just what the Grand Vizier had in mind.
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