So England, it seems, is anxiously inviting other Powers to a Conference on Egypt. Of all anxieties that anxiety is most incomprehensible. Russia has had her experience of the result of summoning all the diplomatic cooks of the Continent to spoil a dish that is best left in the hands of a single chef. With the memories of the Berlin Congress fresh in our minds, we can hardly appreciate the burning desire of her Majesty’s advisers to submit the question of Egypt to a European Conference. Perhaps they think that the meddlesome intervention of half-a-dozen busybodies will be as useful in the valley of the Nile as it was mischievous in the valley of the Danube. Great is their faith; and I heartily wish that your success may be as marvellous as your belief. But the days of miracles are passed, I fear, notwithstanding the marvels of my celebrated countrywoman, Mdme. Blavatsky; and England is likely to learn in Egypt what Russia has already learned by bitter experience in the Balkans—that to summon a Conference is to invite intervention, in which the last thing thought of will be the good of the local population, and the first thing, the actual entrée en matiere—the injury of the Power most interested. I have been reminded of these melancholy characteristics of the Berlin Congress by a visit that has just been paid me by the able and enthusiastic delegates from Southern Bulgaria, who are now in this country. These victims of European intervention are just now making a tour of Europe in order to draw attention to the intolerable inconveniences of the position into which they have been forced by European diplomacy, and to protest against the continued partition of Bulgaria.

Now, if I had any official position, it would be, no doubt, most dangerous to say quite frankly how much I sympathize both with these Bulgarians of the south of Bulgaria and the still more unhappy Macedonians. The latter case I hope will be taken up some day by abler hands than mine. M. Emile de Laveleye, who has visited those parts of the world a short time ago, is one of those who can describe their condition with the best authority.

Yes, it is a good thing to be exclusively one’s own agent, to speak out one’s own mind, whatever it may amount to. Well, I repeat I have no official position: I am not an ambassador, not even a little chargé d’affaires (and Heaven only knows how little that can be!). I can say without reserve only what I and some millions of the best Russians—unofficial as myself—think and feel about the matter. Of course it would be very injudicious to raise just at this moment any agitation for the reunion of Bulgaria. I do not suppose that either M. Guéchoff, or M. Christoff, or any of the unionists of Southern Bulgaria (which Europe in its wisdom nicknamed Eastern Roumelia) has any desire to initiate any such agitation. We Slavs know very well, in Prince Bismarck’s great phrase, “the psychological moment” has not yet arrived for reviving that question. Russia, especially, has no wish to raise the Bulgarian question just now. The policy of our Emperor is devotedly pacific, although, of course, so good a representative of his people as Alexander III. could never accept so immoral a doctrine as that of peace-at-any-price. Russia will always fight rather than sacrifice her national honour; but, thank God, our national honour is not attacked, and the maintenance of the status quo is not opposed to our duty. The reopening of the Eastern question could hardly ever have been less opportune than at this moment. This is so obvious, so well understood, even by people generally slow of understanding, that there can be no danger in frankly confessing my abhorrence of Conferences since the mutilation of Bulgaria, that crowning achievement of the Congress of Berlin.

Bulgaria, united and free, from the Danube to the Ægean; Bulgaria, as defined by the Treaty of San Stefano, is and always will be the ideal of the Russian people. Bulgaria “sawn asunder alive” into three bleeding fragments is the handiwork of European diplomacy; the Berlin Treaty is the sarcophagus which some day or other will have to be opened at the voice of justice. Bulgaria north of the Balkans alone has national life. Bulgaria south of the Balkans is half free in Eastern Roumelia, and entirely enslaved in Macedonia. Unfortunate Macedonia! She has to live on idle promises of autonomous institutions, and those who inflicted the wrong insist upon ignoring the existence of her sufferings. England, from motives of economy, even abstains from sending there a Consul to hear the groans of the people she has betrayed. The clause of the Berlin Treaty providing for their good government—what has Europe done to enforce it? England will be fortunate indeed if she does not discover in Egypt, as we have done in Macedonia, that Europe, potent for mischief, is impotent for good.

But let us return to Eastern Roumelia, and the grievances which have led MM. Guéchoff and Christoff to come to the West to lay their memorial before the Governments of Europe. It is a pilgrimage of despair, no doubt; but a protest is sometimes useful, although for the moment no one listens. Personally I am glad that two such intelligent representatives of Southern Bulgaria should be in London at this time. They say openly and frankly that Russia has rendered them a real service in getting rid of Aleko Pasha. That governor, they say, did good only at the beginning of his term of office, as long as he was entirely guided by his present successor, M. Christovitch. The man whom Russia supported, and who is now appointed as Governor, is M. Christovitch, a Bulgarian of administrative experience and ability. He can hardly fail to be better than Aleko Pasha, and if he ventures to be true to himself, to be courageous, he may be a great deal better. But the chief reason why I am delighted to see these delegates in London is because of the conclusive testimony which they afford to the absurdity of the change which Europe made in their position by the Berlin Treaty, and the wisdom of the Russian scheme for the settlement of Bulgaria. What do these delegates ask? All that they pray is that the work of that Congress may be undone so far as they and their brethren are concerned. And it is quite natural. Their position is a very painful one, no doubt. Instead of being their own masters, as are their brethren north of the Balkans, they cannot even make the least important law without the Sultan’s leave. As the Sultan on principle never sanctions any law without great delay, and refuses altogether to sanction any important laws, matters are at a deadlock. Really, if half of what the “Eastern Roumelians” say is correct, the obstruction in your House of Commons is nothing to that of the Sublime Porte. They are in constant dread lest the Sultan’s troops may be sent to garrison their Balkan passes. Although they have no defensible frontier, the advance of the Turks would be resisted to the death—a pleasant prospect for a tiny province. Of course, this would be good for us, if our only object was to keep Eastern Roumelia devoted to Russia. Every Bulgarian knows—no matter where he lives—that the only real protection against the Turkish scimitar is the Russian sword. The nearer you bring the scimitar to the Bulgarian throat, the more absolutely will he be at our disposal, and to that extent, no doubt, the Congress, with its customary shortsightedness, played into our hands. The only effect of raising a bulwark against Russia has been to create in Eastern Roumelia a population more devoted to us than any in the Balkans, except the Montenegrins. That, however, never was, nor can be, our object. What we wanted to do is known to the world and will be inscribed on the pages of history. The Bulgarians of Eastern Roumelia have other grievances. They object to be severed from their brethren in race, religion, and language. The law of gravitation, the principle of nationality, the instinct of brotherhood, all cry out against the artificial barriers of selfish and shortsighted diplomacy. If Eastern Roumelia were united to Bulgaria the Principality would gain a much-needed addition to the ranks of its educated classes, men trained for administration; and the united Principality would be able to prepare in good earnest for the liberation of Macedonia when the good time comes when Europe will give a mandate to Bulgaria to occupy the rest of her country.

Even from the prosaic material point of view the present arrangement is bad. Taxes are higher in Eastern Roumelia than in Bulgaria; the whole apparatus of a State Government has to be maintained for a population of 750,000. Nor is this all. By a most ingenious arrangement the poor province has to pay a costly tribute to the bondholders of Turkey of £180,000—equal to a poll-tax, according to population, in England of a tribute of £8,000,000 per annum; and Eastern Roumelia is much poorer than England. Of course this arrangement is convenient to the bondholders, but not for the Bulgarians. Can we be surprised, then, that these wretched victims of European diplomacy seek every opportunity of demanding the restoration of their national unity, the realization of their Bulgarian independence? Europe forbids it. Europe having decreed their position, refuses to repent. This was largely England’s doing. Take care, lest at the Conference which you have summoned Nemesis does not overtake you in the Egyptian Delta.

O.K.