Read Ebook: An Observer in the Near East by Le Queux William

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Ebook has 1195 lines and 114433 words, and 24 pages

MONTENEGRO

PAGE

Why I went to the Balkans--The road to Montenegro--Cettinje and its petroleum tins--About the blood-feud--England and Montenegro--Warned not to attempt to go to Albania--My guide a marked man--The story of Tef--A woman's fickleness, and its sequel 19

The Palace at Cettinje--A cigarette with the Prince--The policy of Montenegro--A confidential chat--His Royal Highness's admiration for England--His views upon Macedonia--He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania, but I persuade him to help me--His Highness's kindness--Souvenirs 29

NORTHERN ALBANIA

Wildest Albania--Warnings not to attempt to travel there--I decide to go, and take Palok--Prince Nicholas of Montenegro bids us farewell--On the Lake of Scutari--Arrival at Skodra--Passports, rabble, and backsheesh--Photographing the fortress in secret--Treading dangerous ground--Albania the Unknown 41

My friend Pietro--Visit to his house--His wife and sister-in-law unveil and are photographed--Scutarine hospitality--Forbidden newspapers--I get one in secret--The Turkish post office--I want to visit the Accursed Mountains--Difficulties and fears--The Feast of the Madonna--Christians and Mohammedans--My first meeting with the dreaded Skreli--Shots in the night 58

The Skreli a lawless tribe--No man's life safe unless the chief gives his word--Vatt prophesies a rising against the Turks--Our walks and talks--Our meeting with our neighbours the Kastrati, and with D?d Presci their chief--A girl who avenged her husband's death--The significant story of Kol--Manners and customs of the wild tribes--Farewell to my good friend D?d--An incident a fortnight later 81

BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA

Through Dalmatia to Herzegovina--Over the Balkan watershed--Bosnia and Sarayevo--A half-Turkish, half-Servian town--Austrian persecution of the Christians--Some astounding facts--A land of spies and scandals--The police as murderers--A disgrace to European civilisation 95

How spies work in Bosnia--Secret agents dog the stranger's footsteps--My own experience--Fighting the spy with his own weapons--To "nobble" the foreigner--How an unfavourable book was purchased by the Austrian Government--Bribery of Press correspondents--A country worse than Russia--Some suggested reforms--The secret policy of Austria in the Balkans 108

SERVIA

The diplomatic circle in Belgrade--Studying both sides of the Servian question--Austrian intrigue--113 known foreign spies in Belgrade!--An illustration of the work of secret agents--Quaint Servian customs--Pauperism unknown--Servia to-day and to-morrow 119

At the New Konak--I sign His Majesty's birthday-book--The audience-chamber--King Peter greets me, and we chat over cigarettes--My private audience--His Majesty and English capitalists--Great openings for British enterprise--The King gives me some instances of paying concerns, and tells me many interesting facts--His Majesty invites me to return 130

Audiences of M. Pachitch, the Premier and "strong man" of Servia, and of M. Stoyanovitch, Minister of Commerce--My friend, Dr. Milenko Vesnitch, Minister of Justice--The Servian case as I found it--Austria Servia's arch-enemy--Dr. Vesnitch a smart up-to-date politician--Undeniable prosperity of the country under King Peter's rule 136

Servia and the Macedonian question--A sound Cabinet--England and Servia--Appointment of Mr. Beethom Whitehead as British Minister very gratifying to the Servians--King Peter ever solicitous for the welfare of the people--What the Prime Minister told me concerning the future--The new railway to the Adriatic 146

A retrospect--A sitting of the Skupshtina--Peasants as deputies--Servia as an open field for British enterprise--Enormous mineral wealth--Mr. Finney, a mining engineer who has prospected in Servia for seventeen years, tells me some interesting facts regarding rich mines awaiting development--No adventurers need apply 157

BULGARIA

At the Bulgarian frontier--A chat with M. Etienne, French ex-Minister of War--Evening in Sofia--A city of rapid progress--Engaging peasants for Earl's Court Exhibition--Amusing episodes--Social life in Sofia--The diplomats' club--The Bulgarian Government grant me special facilities for investigation 181

Audiences of members of the Bulgarian Cabinet--Dr. Dimitri Stancioff, Minister for Foreign Affairs, the coming man of Bulgaria--His policy--Facts about the mineral wealth and mining laws--Advice to traders and capitalists by the British Vice-Consul in Sofia--Our methods as compared with those of other nations 191

A sitting of the Sobranje--Declarations by the late Prime Minister Petkoff and Dr. Stancioff--The new Minister of Foreign Affairs--A sound progressive government--Strong army and firm policy--Will the deplorable state of Macedonia still be tolerated?--Ominous words 197

A difficult and little-understood problem--Bulgaria the "dark horse" of the Peninsula--An explanation of the question between Bulgaria and Turkey--The Bulgarian Church and the Imperial Firman--The present position of the Exarchate--Europe should listen to the Bulgarian demand--Chats with Macedonian orphans--Their terrible stories 206

Tobacco growing in Bulgaria--The otto-of-rose industry--About adulteration--Difficulties of obtaining the pure extract--Corrupting the peasant--What Monsieur Shipkoff told me--Some tests to discover adulteration--Interesting facts about roses 217

Bulgaria's future greatness--Her firm policy in Macedonia--An audience of Dr. Stancioff, Minister of Foreign Affairs--A chat with the Prime Minister--Turkey the enemy of Bulgaria--Balkan "news" in the London papers--How it is manufactured--Turkish dominion doomed 226

ROUMANIA

My friend the spy--How I was watched through the Balkans--An exciting half-hour--The Paris of the Near East--Gaiety, extravagance, and pretty women--Forty years of progress--The paradise of the idler--Husbands wanted! 235

Monsieur Take Jonesco, Minister of Finance--The smartest man in Roumania--An interview with General Lahovary, Minister of Foreign Affairs--Secret aims of Roumania--A better frontier wanted--Germany's insincerity--Some plain truths--The question of a Balkan Federation--Oil wells waiting to be exploited by British capital 244

The royal drawing-room--Her Majesty's greeting--Her kind words of welcome--Roumania not in the Balkan States--We talk politics--The name of "Carmen Sylva"--The Queen's deep interest in the blind--She shows me some photographs--Public interest in the new institution--I visit it next day 253

TURKEY

The Orient Express again--On the Black Sea to Constantinople--A disenchantment--My dragoman--How to bribe the Customs officers--Mud and dogs--A city of spies--Feebleness of British policy at the Porte--Turkish adoration of Germany--The basis of my confidential inquiries 265

His Excellency Noury Pasha--A quiet chat at his home--Turkish view of European criticism--The Turk misunderstood--The massacres in Macedonia--My visit to the Sublime Porte--His Excellency Tewfik Pasha tells me the truth--A great diplomatist--The fashion to denounce Turkey--The attitude of the Porte towards Bulgaria--Significant words 274

MACEDONIA

War imminent between Bulgaria and Turkey--My secret inquiries--Atrocities by the Greek bands--Chats with the leaders of the insurrection--The truth about the intrigues in Macedonia--I visit the scene of the massacres--Stories told to me--Horrifying facts--Germany behind the assassins--A disgraceful truth 285

Summary of my confidential information--War this year--The attitude of Greece, Bulgaria, Roumania, and Turkey--Procrastination, promises, and perfect politeness--A matter more serious than Macedonia--Warning to British statesmen and the public--The real truth exposed--Germany and India 299

MONTENEGRO

Why I went to the Balkans--The road to Montenegro--Cettinje and its petroleum tins--About the blood-feud--England and Montenegro--Warned not to attempt to go to Albania--My guide a marked man--The story of Tef--A woman's fickleness, and its sequel.

I entered the Balkans by the back door. The luxuries of the Orient Express had no attraction for me. I wanted to see the Balkans as they really are, those great, wild, mountainous countries, so full of race hatreds, of political bickerings, of fierce blood-feuds, of feverish propagandas--those nations with their interesting monarchs and their many mysteries.

The "Orient" runs direct from Paris to the Balkan capitals, it is true, but if one goes to study a people the capital is not the only place in which to discover the truth. One must go into the country, move among the peasantry, hear their grievances and investigate their wrongs. Therefore I decided to enter the East by Montenegro, and also visit the wild and little-known regions of Northern Albania.

At times the wild scenery, especially in the Bocche di Cattaro, reminds the traveller of the Norwegian fiords, and at others the coast is an almost exact reproduction of the French Riviera.

The object of my journey was, however, not in order to write a mere description of men and places. There have been other travellers in the Balkans who have related their story, therefore my mission was to make careful inquiry into the present unsettled state of affairs, try and discover the grievances of both sides, and endeavour to obtain from the rulers and statesmen of the various nations their aspirations for the future. This I succeeded in doing, for the various monarchs of the Balkans graciously gave me audience; and from their Ministers, from the middle classes, and from the peasants, I was enabled at last to form some conclusion as to the real situation--political, economical, social, and financial.

The writer who attempts to place the various Balkan questions impartially and clearly before the public will at once find himself utterly confused, and wallowing wildly in a morass of misstatement and misrepresentation. The Balkans are torn by race hatreds, party strife, and the intrigues of the Powers. The Turk hates the Bulgar, the Serb hates the Austrian, the Roumanian hates the Greek, the Albanian hates the Montenegrin, the Bosnian hates the Turk, while the Macedonian hates everybody all round. What is told to one authoritatively one hour, is flatly contradicted the next; therefore it is not in the least surprising that in the European Press there have been so many misstatements about the various Balkan questions, the real truth being so very difficult to obtain.

I have, however, endeavoured to obtain it, and at risk of being injudicious, to place before the reader the facts as they are, without any political bias, or any seeking to gloss over the many glaring defects of administration of which I have myself been witness.

To describe the beauties of the Bocche di Cattaro, that series of winding channels where the high grey mountains rise sheer from the water, would be only to traverse old ground. Suffice it to say that I landed at Cattaro on a bright, sunny noon, and found upon the quay a tall, lean mountaineer who had been sent to meet me.

To the traveller fresh from the West the Montenegrin costume of both women and men is very attractive, but a few days in the Balkans soon accustoms the eye to a perfect phantasmagoria of colour and of costume. Pero was my driver's name, and I noticed that around his waist was a revolver belt, but minus the weapon. I inquired where it was, and with a grin he informed me that Cattaro, being in Dalmatia, the Austrians would not allow Montenegrins to bring arms into their country; so they were compelled to leave them on the other side of the frontier, ten kilometres distant.

My bags packed upon the three-horse travelling carriage and secured with many strings, and Pero equipped with a plentiful stock of cigarettes, he mounted upon the box, whipped up his long-tailed ponies, and we started on our eight-hour ascent of that great wall of mountain that hides Montenegro from the sea.

As we ascended through the little village of Skaljari we entered upon a magnificent road, said to be one of the greatest engineering feats of modern times, and steadily ascended, until at the striped black-and-yellow Austrian boundary post we crossed the frontier, and were in the "Land of the Black Mountain"--Montenegro. Across the road, at an acute angle, a row of paving-stones marks the frontier, and soon afterwards we found ourselves in the wildest and most desolate mountain region. At a lonely roadside hut Pero obtained his big, serviceable-looking revolver, and I, of course, wore mine in my belt; for in Montenegro or Albania arms make the man. A man unarmed is looked upon as an effeminate coward. Indeed, by order of Prince Nicholas every Montenegrin must wear the national dress, both men and women, and every man must carry his revolver when out of doors.

Four hours from Cattaro we were in a lonely mountain fastness, a wild, desolate, treeless region of huge limestone rocks of peculiar volcanic formation, which gave them the appearance of a boiling sea. The views over the Adriatic as we turned back were so superb that, despite photographing being strictly forbidden on account of the fortresses in the vicinity, I could not resist the temptation to take one or two surreptitiously. On, through a bleak, uninhabited country, we at last reached the guard-house of Kerstac, and then half an hour later found ourselves upon a plateau where, in the centre, stood the small clean village of Nyegush, the ancestral home of the reigning family, and the scene of most of the Montenegrin wars of independence. Here we halted for half an hour at the post-house, and before we left, the big, lumbering post-diligence, with its armed guard, came up behind us.

Before we moved off again it had grown dark, the moon shone, and for four hours longer we alternately climbed and descended through that wild region of silence and desolation, until at last we saw, deep below, the lights of Cettinje, the little capital, and an hour later brought us to the unpretending "Grand" Hotel.

Hardly had I entered my room when there came a loud knock at my door, and a tall, scarlet-coated Montenegrin warrior, armed to the teeth, entered and saluted. For a moment I looked up at him aghast, but the mystery was solved when, next second, he handed me with great ceremony a telegram from a dear friend in England wishing me Godspeed. I had taken him to be, at least, one of the Prince's bodyguard, and he was only a plain telegraph messenger!

This was but one of many surprises in store for me in Montenegro. Next morning I went out to look round the clean little capital, when, on passing the Prince's palace, I saw a number of soldiers drawn up, and as I went by, the band suddenly struck up the British National Anthem! I raised my hat, halted, and stood puzzled. Surely they were not honouring me! Another moment, however, and I recognised the reason. In a carriage, accompanied by the Grand Marechal of the Court, there drove up my friend Mr. Charles des Graz, the newly-appointed British Charg? d'Affaires to Montenegro, who was about to present his credentials to His Royal Highness the Prince.

Montenegro is perhaps the most interesting country in all the Balkans. Cettinje, a small, clean town of broad streets and one-storeyed, whitewashed houses, is a little city in the sky, lying as it does in a cup-shaped depression at the summit of a high, bare mountain. Its long, straight, main street reminds one very much of a small country town in England, if it were not that everyone is, by law, compelled to wear the national dress, and every man has in his belt his big, long-barrelled revolver, without which he must never go out of doors.

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