Chapter 81: A Global War
  • Chapter 81: A Global War

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    The British Baltic Fleet off the Coast of Finland
    In many ways, 1855 would be the high-water mark for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland in the Great Eurasian War as it brought the full might of its Empire to bare against the Russians. As the main theater of the war, the bulk of Britain’s resources would go towards the Ottoman Empire as the British Expeditionary Force - originally consisting of the 1st Infantry Division and the Regiment of Royal Horse Guards - was reinforced substantially with the arrival of the 2nd and 3rd Infantry Divisions, and the remainder of the Cavalry Division over the Winter and Spring. The 4th Infantry Division and the Light Division would also be mustered later that Spring, joining their comrades by the end of the Summer. All told the number of British soldiers in the Balkans would rise fourfold from 18,000 men in the Fall of 1854 to over 78,000 men by the middle of August 1855, making it the single largest concentration of British soldiers since the Napoleonic Wars.

    In addition to this, the British Empire formed two Naval Brigades (comprised of Royal Marines and sailors from the Royal Navy's Mediterranean Fleet) stationed in Thrace and Northern Anatolia. They would be tasked with raiding Russian possessions along the Black Sea coast, harassing their lines of supply, and cutting their lines of communication to the front. They would also attempt to open lines of supply and communication with their nominal allies, the Circassian Confederation and the Caucasian Imamate through their capture of Fort Navaginsky in the Summer of 1854, flooding the Kuban with weapons, munitions, food, clothing, and coin. While this buildup of military assets in the Balkans and Anatolia was certainly a welcome development for the Ottoman Empire, Britain’s main objective in 1855 would be to expand the war away from the lands of the Sublime Porte and into those of the Russian Empire itself.

    The British had begun to do just this in the August of 1854 as the Royal Navy’s Baltic Squadron entered the Baltic Sea unopposed, scared the Russian Baltic Fleet into hiding, and blockaded Russian ports across the region. They would even survey the fortresses of Sveaborg and Kronstadt for any weaknesses, but would ultimately withdrawal to Spithead, Hampshire before the sea froze over in early October. Despite the brevity of the 1854 Baltic campaign, the results were rather impressive, as many thousands of Russian soldiers slated for deployment along the Danube were instead ordered North to guard the Gulf of Finland against potential British incursions. Moreover, the damage to the Russian economy was immense as the great entrepots of Riga, Reval, and St. Petersburg were blockaded by the Royal Navy, effectively silencing Russian commerce in the Baltic.

    Encouraged by the prior year’s successes, the British would double down on the Baltic Front in 1855 as the Admiralty allocated a monstrous flotilla of 93 warships to the Baltic Squadron and tasked it with liberating the Åland Islands and the coast of Finland if possible. This fleet sent to the Baltic in 1855 would also represent the most advanced flotilla of the Royal Navy, sporting newly developed 32-pounder cannons, 68-pounder Lancaster guns, and 24 steamships, including the imposing 131-gun HMS Windsor Castle. They would even assign their most experienced Admiral to command it, Sir Charles Napier, signifying the great importance that this mission had in the eyes of Westminster.

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    Sir Charles Napier, Commander of the British Baltic Fleet
    While some would preface the British campaign in the Baltic as a necessary step towards a future coup de main against St. Petersburg - which it theoretically was, the real objective behind Britain’s Baltic thrust in 1855 was to attract allies to its side in its war against Russia. Many within Westminster believed that a strong British presence in the Baltic Sea and the capture of a few islands would be enough to entice the Kingdom of Prussia and the United Kingdom of Sweden and Norway into the war against Russia as British allies. With its professional and relatively large army, Prussia would be a great boon to the Anti-Russian Coalition, while Sweden’s support was particularly important as St. Petersburg could not be truly threatened without Stockholm’s support, nor could Britain hold any captured Baltic territory to entice Prussia without Swedish assistance.

    There was also strong consideration given to instigating another revolt among the Polish, Lithuanian, Estonian and Latvian peoples of the Russian Empire, which the British could support through a campaign in the Baltic. The Poles were certainly receptive to the idea as their hatred for Russian rule was well knowned across Europe, however, Britain’s failure to adequately support the last Polish Rebellion in 1848 had significantly weakened support for Britain among the Polish community. More than that though, many Poles had been killed or exiled in the last war and their ability to assemble and legally own armaments had been greatly reduced following the suppression of the recent revolt. Simply put, although the Poles likely had the will to rebel against the Russians, they lacked the means and ability to do so on the same scale as the 1848 Rebellion.

    Such an overture to the Poles also ran the risk of antagonizing the Austrians and Prussians who were both formally allies of Russia, yet presently neutral in the current war. Were Britain to overtly support another Polish uprising, they risked provoking Austrian and/or Prussian intervention against Britain, thus dooming their current . Ultimately, the idea of instigating another Polish revolt was shelved. Therefore, the British Baltic Strategy in 1855 would largely be limited to raiding, blockading, and bombarding Russia’s Baltic coast from Courland to Oulu and everything in between. Once the ice had finally begun to melt in late April, the Admiralty ordered the greatly strengthened Baltic Fleet to set out for the Baltic.[1]

    Their first target would be the Åland Archipelago located between Sweden and Finland, with the fortress of Bomarsund being their primary objective of this first assault. The main structure of the fortress was an imposing building with its curved granite cyclopean walls and its 162 casemates (most of which faced towards the sea). The fortress would have also featured 14 roundel guard towers surrounding Bomarsund proper, but by the time the British arrived in Lumparn Bay on the 8th of May only three had been finished, while a fourth was in the midst of construction. The fortress was also located on the flatlands near the shore rather than the nearby hills, which combined with the rather poor range of its guns made it a good target for a concentrated naval bombardment.

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    Bomarsund Fortress

    Taking this into account, Admiral Napier would immediately open fire on the citadel as soon as his ships came into firing range, striking the walls of Bomarsund with nearly 20,000 shells in less than two short hours. Despite this impressive show of force and material might, the scattershot bombardment had done remarkably little damage to the fortress’ stout walls which steadfastly withstood the British attack. Unwilling to needlessly endanger his ships by advancing any closer, Napier instead ordered the fleet to pull back while they pursued other avenues of reducing Bomarsund.

    In the ensuing days, Napier’s main contingent of ships would establish a tight blockade of Fasta Åland, preventing the Russian garrison from being resupplied or reinforced, while his deputies seized the neighboring islands in the archipelago. This blockade would hurt the Russians mightily as their food supplies soon began to run out. Faced with starvation, many resorted to eating their horses, dogs and cats, and even rodents found within the fortresses’ walls to sate their increasing hunger. Their stores of gunpowder and munitions were also running low, but when Napier pressed them to surrender after two weeks of blockade, the Russians boldly refused, firing all their seaward guns at once in defiance.

    This standoff would continue for nearly four weeks until a largely undefended inlet leading behind the main fortress was discovered. From this shallow inlet, the British could safely fire upon the rear of the fortress which was not as well protected as the seaward side - its only defense being a single roundel called Notvik Tower.[2] Upon learning of this, Admiral Napier immediately ordered his shallower draft steamships to traverse through the narrow inlet, while the remaining ships would remain in front of the fortress, continuing the barrage from afar. Simultaneously, a third group of sailors and marines would land far to the West of Bomarsund, near the fishing hovel of Estvik and drag several 32 pounders and howitzers into position on the heights above the fortress.

    Once in position, Napier signaled his steamships to open fire on the granite walls of Bomarsund from the near, releasing a withering enfilade upon the Russian defenders in Notvik tower, which was reduced to rubble within mere moments. The bombardment on the main fortress commenced soon after as the mighty ships of the line opened fire on Bomarsund. Like before, the damage inflicted on the fort was rather minimal, but with the British attacking from two separate directions the Russians’ already meager resources were divided in two. The Russians’ position soon became worse as the British sailors and marines would finally finish hauling their guns into position above the fortress by midday and immediately opened fire on Brännklint Tower which was quickly destroyed much like its counterpart, Notvik Tower. Soon after the Naval Brigade would set their sights upon Bomarsund itself, raining cannonballs down into the fortress’ interior.

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    The Bombardment of Bomarsund

    The bombardment that followed was relatively brief, lasting only a few short hours as 1261 guns of the British Baltic Squadron pounded the Fortress’s defenses into dust. The blistering cannonade blew holes out of the walls of Bomarsund and successfully silenced all but 11 of the fortresses’ 162 casemates, many of which couldn’t retaliate given the oblong shape of the fortress. With his losses mounting, his defenses crumbling, and his ability to resist quickly diminishing, the Russian commandant, Colonel Yakov Badisko ordered his garrison to strike their colors and surrender to the British bringing an end to the battle.

    The fall of Bomarsund would spell the end of Russian resistance in the Åland Archipelago as the few remaining holdouts either surrendered to the British or fled to nearby Finland in the following days. Overall, the battle of Bomarsund was a minor victory for Great Britain in the grand scheme of things as it would do little to convince the Swedes to join the war on its own. However, it would help kick start negotiations with Sweden which had been stalled for the better part of the past year. Sweden had initially refused to involve itself in the war when first approached by Britain in early 1854, having long since written off their claims to Finland and not wishing to antagonize Russia. Yet, when they learned of the supposedly indomitable Bomarsund’s capitulation, the Swedish Government began changing its tune in favor of intervention especially as public sentiment was widely in favor of Scandinavism.

    Although Scandinavism was nothing new, it had been greatly strengthened by the success of their counterparts in Germany and Italy in the 1848 Revolutions, prompting Swedish and Norwegian nationalists to begin stirring for a stronger union between their two countries. They called for the abolition of trade barriers between their two states, the amendment of the Acts of Union, the abolition of the office of Viceroy for the Kingdom of Norway, the creation of a permanent Union Legislature, and ultimately, the reform of the two states into one new state, Scandinavia.

    The conservative Swedish Government would initially oppose these demands, as it would effectively end their admittedly nominal dominance over Norway, but as pressure continued to build against them, they gradually gave way, abolishing their internal trade barriers with Norway in 1849, dissolving the hated Viceroyalty of Norway in 1851, and establishing a shared Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 1854. The Norwegian Government was similarly pressured into a tighter union following these concessions by Sweden, leading to the ending of their own trade barriers and a minor revision to the Acts of Union in 1855 resulting in closer cooperation with the Swedish Government. Despite the fervor of the Scandinavian nationalists, and these initial concessions by the Swedish and Norwegian governments, it would take more time before their aspirations came to reality.

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    The New Flag of Sweden and Norway​

    Although much of this debate was centered on Sweden and Norway, there was also considerable thought given to including the Kingdom of Denmark in this burgeoning Scandinavian Union. Acting on feelings of kinship, Sweden-Norway would side in favor of Denmark during the 1848-1849 Schleswig War, sending a contingent of Swedish and Norwegian troops to aid the Danes during the closing months of the conflict, however their involvement was strictly limited to Danish territory and were not sent to the disputed Duchy of Holstein. Sweden would also play a prominent role in mediating the Peace talks between the German rebels and the Danish Government ending the conflict. Following the war, the two states would sign a series of trade deals and agree to a defensive pact with one another, they would also dispatch a pair of cultural missions to each other’s country all in the name of fraternity and Scandinavism.

    With Denmark and Sweden-Norway becoming closer after 1848, some Scandinavian Nationalists believed Union was inevitable and began considering the expansion of Scandinavia to include Iceland, Greenland and Finland as well (Nordism). But given Russia’s great strength, the latter was deemed impossible and tabled for the time being. However, when war between Russia and Britain erupted in mid-1854, many within Sweden-Norway considered this as a golden opportunity to win Finland’s liberation from barbarian occupation. Further successes by Britain in the Baltic in 1855 capturing Bomarsund and the Åland Archipelago in May, followed by the neighboring Åboland Islands and reducing the defenses of Hanko and Turnu in the following weeks would only heighten these feelings further resulting in public demonstrations in favor of war with Russia.

    Ultimately, by the end of September 1855, King Oskar and his representatives finally presented a tangible list of demands to British Ambassador Sir Arthur Magenis for Sweden-Norway’s entrance into the war against Russia. Among other things, Sweden called for the immediate annexation of the Åland Archipelago (currently under British occupation), the Grand Duchy of Finland, a guarantee of British protection against Russian aggression in the future, a loan of 10,000,000 Sovereigns (paid out in three installments over the next three years), and the deployment of nearly 40,000 British troops to the Baltic during the present conflict.[3] Perhaps most crucially, however, the Swedish Government stated that it would only join the war alongside Britain if Prussia could be brought on board as part of a broader coalition against the Russians.

    Although Palmerston was agreeable towards Sweden’s territorial claims as part of his greater effort to dismantle the Russian Empire and drive it to the fringes of Europe, he was less so of their other demands. The loan, while certainly large, was not a problem in and of itself, but when combined with Britain’s considerable financial commitments to the Ottoman Empire and their other allies, it would be an increasing strain on the British Empire’s coffers. The guarantee of Sweden’s independence was more contested, however, as it would create a lasting entanglement with a continental power that Britain had historically avoided in the past. Most of all, despite Palmerston’s boastings of a Pan-European front against Russia, Lord Clarendon and the Foreign Office were quite pessimistic of gaining Prussian support against Russia. A considerable amount of coin had already been spent in Berlin and Vienna to buy their favor, but it would take time before these efforts would bare any fruit. Unable or unwilling to fulfill these terms at present, the negotiations between Britain and Sweden came to a halt, for now.


    The Barbarian Menace Marches West; Europe Rises to Meet it!
    -British Propaganda depicting Russia as a harbinger of death and barbarism.

    Undeterred by the slow progress with Sweden-Norway, Lord Clarendon and the Foreign Office would work wonders elsewhere on behalf of the Empire in 1855. As mentioned before, the British would narrowly avoid war with the Kingdom of Greece when it traded the Ionian Islands -along with several provinces of the Ottoman Empire – for its continued neutrality and logistical support. While they had succeeded in averting one crisis, they very nearly sparked another as the Sublime Porte was none too pleased with Britain’s diplomacy. To smooth over the ruffled feathers in Kostantîniyye, Britain would open its lines of credit to the Ottoman Government, along with a sizeable loan of ten million Sovereigns up front and another 5 million in 1856 to support the Turkish war effort.[4]

    The Foreign Office would also approach the Second French Empire to help arm the Ottomans Nizamis with their new rifles, the high quality Minié Rifle. Although France was formally neutral in the conflict between Russia and Britain, Emperor Napoleon was partial to the British having spent several years living in the country. He was also deeply concerned by Russian advances into the Balkans and Anatolia, advances which he considered a threat to French interests in the Eastern Mediterranean.

    With his rule secured and his country at peace, the transfer of several thousand excess rifles and cannons to the Ottomans was of little consequence for the French Emperor who readily agreed to Clarendon's request. Together with his Minister of War, Marshal Bernard Pierre Magnan, and his Minister of Finance, Jean-Martial Bineau they would scrounge together nearly 46,000 Minié rifles and roughly half a million Minié balls which would be shipped to the Ottoman Empire for a “reasonable” fee. They would also provide the Turks with 40 newly developed Canon de L' Aigle field guns in order to gauge their potency in combat against the Russians.

    Beyond this, they would meet with some moderate success recruiting allies from among the Germans and Italians, with several thousand volunteering to assist the British and Ottomans in their fight against Russia. However, their efforts to construct a coalition of concerned powers to combat the “Barbarian Menace” was thwarted by indifference and fear. Aside from Sweden, the British would attempt to woo France, Prussia and Austria to little or no effect with the latter two barred from doing so by treaty and France by politics. Moving on, they would look to the countries of the Italian Confederation and the German Empire, which while supportive of Britain’s aspirations, lacked the means to truly aid them in their efforts. Lombardia-Piedmont would however, dispatch a token force to assist the British and Ottomans, but it would be primarily concentrated in the Balkans where it generally played a supporting role. Looking further afield, Clarendon and the Foreign Office would approach the nascent Kingdom of Hungary in an attempt to bring it into the Anti-Russian Coalition.

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    George Villiers, 4th Earl of Clarendon and British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

    Hungary was no stranger to hostilities with the Russians, having fought against them in the Hungarian War of Independence just five years prior. Many hundreds and thousands of Hungarians had died fighting Russian encroachment into Galicia-Lodomeria and many more had died protecting the Hungarian homeland in the Carpathian Mountains. Similarly, Russia held a great contempt for Hungary which had defiantly supported and defended the Poles in 1849 and 1850. In retaliation, the Tsar refused to acknowledge Hungarian Independence, recalling the Russian consuls from Buda, and ordering that all maps in Russia continue to depict Hungary as a province of the Austrian Empire.

    For their part, Hungarian King Louis III (Count Lajos Batthyány), Prime Minister Lajos Kossuth, and the Hungarian Government would prove to be quite receptive to the idea of war, as Russia’s encroachment into the Balkans was an existential threat to the young state. Although not its intention – at least initially, Russia’s provocations of Pan-Slavic revolts across the Balkans had proven quite unsettling for the Kingdom of Hungary which lorded over several million Slavs (Serbs, Slovaks, and Croats) itself. Protests had emerged in Transylvania and Banat, forcing the beleaguered Hungarian Army to pacify these borderlands at great cost. Were Russia to win in its present conflict against the Turks, then th “liberation” of Hungary’s oppressed Slavic peoples would almost certainly be the next target of Russian aggression, bringing the Hungarian state to an untimely demise. Even if Russia were not to attack them directly, Russia’s occupation of the Danubian Principalities would be still be a great disaster for Hungary’s economy.

    With Croatia surrendered to Austria as the price of its freedom, the Danube River was Hungary’s only remaining link to the sea and thus the global market. Naturally, this made the continued neutrality of the Danubian Principalities an issue of great concern for the Kingdom of Hungary especially in light of the current conflict between Russia and the Ottoman Empire. A Russian victory in the war would almost certainly entail the annexation, or at the very least political, diplomatic, and economic subjugation of the Wallachian and Moldavian Principalities, giving St. Petersburg incredible influence over the Lower Danube from the Iron Gates to the Black Sea. Were this to happen, Buda’s only artery to the outside world would be put in jeopardy, forcing Hungary to kowtow to St. Petersburg’s demands lest its finances be ruined, and its people impoverished.

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    Map of the Danube (circa 1800)

    In spite of these concerns of Russian encroachment, many within Hungary were opposed to antagonizing the Russians any further and wished to remain neutral in the current conflict as they had still not fully recovered from the Hungarian War of Independence. Although nearly five years had passed, the devastation of the War for Independence still lingered across much of the country. Thousands had been slain in battle against the Austrians and Russians, thousands more had been maimed, and an untold number had been left destitute in the fight for Hungarian liberty. Hungary’s standing army was also rather small, at only 62,000 men – with another 120,000 in reserve. Many of these soldiers were preoccupied chasing partisans throughout the hills and mountains of Transylvania and Banat whose populaces would almost certainly rebel against Buda if Hungary went to war against Russia. More than that though, attacking Russia would run the risk of inviting Austrian intervention against them.

    Although Vienna had been badly bloodied and battered during the Revolutions of 1848 (losing both Lombardy and Hungary to Revolutionaries and making considerable concessions to the Croats and Czechs), it still remained a considerable power deserving of respect and consideration. Without a guarantee of Austrian neutrality, Hungary could not in good confidence march to war against Russia with a hostile power at its back. Nevertheless, the Hungarian Government remained open to joining the war against Russia if, and only if Austrian neutrality could be confirmed. To London’s and Buda’s aggravation, however, Vienna remained conveniently aloof, as it avoided making a firm decision in favor of either Britain or Russia. Unable to guarantee Austrian neutrality, the negotiations in Buda sadly came to a halt in the Summer of 1855.

    While the British could not get the Hungarians to fight alongside them at present, the British envoy to Buda, Lord John Russell would still manage to achieve a similar result without their actual involvement. Contending that the very presence of the Hungarian Honvéd Army on the border with Russian occupied Galicia-Lodomeria and Wallachia would be enough to satisfy Britain’s requests and spit in the eye of Russia at the same time; Prime Minister Kossuth agreed to mobilize the Hungarian Army in late July. Under the pretext of policing their eastern and southern borders against brigands and seditionists, Buda raised some 120,000 Hungarian soldiers to send eastward, conveniently stationing them right on the frontier with Russia.

    The sudden presence of the Hungarian Army on their Northern flank would set off alarm bells in the headquarters of Count Ivan Paskevich at the Princely Palace of Bucharest. Ever a cautious man, Paskevich would react swiftly to counter this apparent threat with overwhelming force, dispatching four divisions from the front along the Danube to counter this new threat, while another four would be sent to guard Russia's border with Hungary in Galicia-Lodomeria.[5] After a month of posturing and sabre rattling, the Hungarian Army would stand down, its job finished as the Russian offensive on Silistra had stalled once again (its reserves having been sent north to guard the border with Hungary).

    Britain’s last diplomatic success in Europe during 1855 would be the formation of the Polish Legion, a large brigade sized unit of Polish exiles living in Hungary and prisoners of war captured during the fighting in Bulgaria. Many had no love for Russia and willingly signed up with the British and Ottomans as soon as the offer was made. Some, particularly the few Polish officers in Russian service, captured in the fighting around Silistra, required a little more persuasion however, usually in the form of bribes or threats before they would join with the British. To avoid arousing suspicion with Austria and Prussia that this was an Army of Polish Liberation, the unit would officially be christened the Sultan’s Cossack Brigade and fight under the banners of the Sublime Porte.

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    Members of the Polish Legion

    The Ottoman Empire would not be idle in the search for additional allies either as in early February 1855, the Mufti of Constantinople at the urging of the Sublime Porte issued a Fatwa against the Russian Empire, calling on all Muslim faithful to wage war with the heathen Russians. Heeding the call were tens of thousands of Muslims from across the Middle East who flocked to the Ottoman Empire, joining arms with the Turks in their fight against the Russian infidels. Although their quality was dubious, their numbers were greatly appreciated by the beleaguered Turks with nearly 30,000 Moroccans, Algerians, Tunisians, Libyans, Egyptians, Arabs, Syrians and Kurds making the journey to the Ottoman Empire in 1855 alone.

    While their numbers were certainly appreciated, they were generally undisciplined and rather poor soldiers, more interested in plunder and glory than discipline and cohesion. More often than not, they would been found plundering Christian villages in the Balkans and Eastern Anatolia, killing the men, raping the women and carting the children away to sell into slavery. They were Ghazis more than soldiers, but in desperate need of more men to throw against the Russians, the Sublime Porte looked the other way much to the chagrin of their Christian subjects. The zeal of holy war would also spread to the Caucasus as Imam Shamil and his followers took the fight to the Christian communities of Ciscaucasia, massacring entire towns in retaliation for Russian transgressions against them.

    More important than this, however, was the Porte’s decision to dispatch Mussad Giray, last scion of the Crimean Khanate’s House of Giray to the Crimean Peninsula in the Spring of 1855. With the aid of the British Royal Navy, Giray and his compatriots landed at the relatively undefended Kalamita Bay and set to work organizing a general uprising by the Crimean Tatars against Russian rule. In the span of a few short weeks, Giray would successfully mobilize between 30,000 to 40,000 fighters who were dedicated to driving the Russians from their lands. Their ferocity and animosity were unmatched as they ruthlessly butchered Russian men, women and children by the hundreds. The Greeks and Armenians of the Crimea were not spared either, resulting in a number of deaths at Tatar hands.

    Attempts by the Russians to quell the Crimean Tatar revolt were hampered by the Royal Navy and Ottoman Black Sea’s Fleet which frequently raided the Crimean coast with impunity. British and Turkish marines and sailors would seize the initiative on several occasions, swiftly occuppying and destroying the ports of Yevpatoria, Feodosia, and Balaclava before retreating in the face of approaching Russian reinforcements. Combined with the Tatars, the British and Ottoman raids on the Crimean Peninsula ingrained in the Russians a looming sense of invasion by Allies causing Russian civilians to flee in droves. If they had the men to spare, perhaps the British and Ottomans would have attempted such a course of action, but instead their resources were focused elsewhere. Nevertheless, the fear of such an act paralyzed three Russian Divisions which were forced to remain in the Crimea for the remainder of the year.

    London and Kostantîniyye would also find great success in Central Asia as the Emirate of Bukhara, and the Khanates of Khiva and Kokand would declare war on the Russian Empire in May of 1855. London and Kostantîniyye had been courting the tribes of Central Asia since the beginning of the War the previous year, but in truth they needed little encouragement as the annexation of the Kazakh Khanate and the subjugation of Khiva in recent years had alarmed them greatly. Fearful of further Russian encroachment into their lands and under the mediation of British and Ottoman diplomats; many of the Uzbeks, Kazakhs, Kyrgis, Tajiks, and Turkmen of Central Asia agreed to temporarily set their differences aside and align with London and Constantinople against the Russian threat.

    To aid them in their struggle, Britain would funnel several thousand excess, and largely obsolete, Brown Bess and Baker Rifles to Central Asia, along with a loan of one million Sovereigns to each of the local rulers to help buoy their resolve. Armed with British weapons and flush with British cash, Khiva, Kokand, and Bukhara would muster around 22,000 horsemen and another 20,000 footmen for the Anti-Russian Coalition and swiftly crossed the border into Russian occupied Kazakhstan in the Spring of 1855. Upon crossing the border, they would pillage the steppe far and wide, from the border of Qing China to the shores of the Caspian Sea. In their wake, they left scorched earth, slaughtered flocks, and ruined settlements mirroring the Mongol invasions of the Middle Ages.

    Their greatest success, however, would be the capture and destruction of Novopetrovskoe and Guriev. In the case of the latter, the garrison of Guriev was caught completely unprepared by such an audacious attack and were quickly overwhelmed by the Central Asian horsemen and quickly fled to the western half of the city across the Ural River, destroying the city’s bridges in their wake. Those Russian soldiers and settlers unfortunate enough to be left in the eastern half of Guriev were slaughtered by the Central Asian horsemen who left the cobblestone streets awash in blood and bodies. After a day of looting and wanton destruction the riders withdrew as fast as they had arrived. Overall, the damage from the attack on Guriev was quite minimal, only 850 Russian soldiers and civilians would lose their lives in the raid, while a few buildings were burnt to the ground and unmeasured booty was carted off by the attackers.[6] Nevertheless, the boldness of the assault on Guriev, combined with the lacking Russian response encouraged several thousand Kazakhs to rise in revolt across the region, adding their forces to those of the invaders.

    For the Russians, the events in Central were a nuisance, a distraction from the main events taking place to the West. As such, minimal resources were allocated to the defense of the region initially. Only after the raid on Guriev and the revolt of the Kazakhs soon after would the Tsarist Government take matters there more seriously, dispatching a Division of Infantry under the command of General Alexander Andreevich Katenin to reinforce the overstretched Separate Orenburg Corps, of which he would assume control in late August. The arrival of the 16th Infantry Division under General Katenin would stabilize the situation, but little else as the Russians continued to prioritize their other fronts in the Caucasus, the Balkans, and the Baltic over Central Asia.

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    Battle between Russian Soldiers and Kokand Horsemen

    If Central Asia received minor interest from St. Petersburg, then their possessions on the Pacific Coast received little to none as the region was effectively written off by the Tsarist Government in the opening days of the war. That is not to say that the Russian Government did not care for this front (they almost certainly did), but given the extreme distances involved, the rather undeveloped nature of the region, and Britain’s unquestioned naval supremacy; they had little recourse against British activities in the Pacific. Operating out of Valparaiso, Chile initially and then Honolulu, Hawaii, the British Royal Navy’s Pacific Station would quickly arrive off the coast of the Kamchatka Peninsula in early May 1855, effectively daring the Russian Okhotsk Military Flotilla to come out and fight them. Believing they had an advantage over the British, the Russians would oblige them.

    The British fleet the Russians faced was rather small, numbering only five ships; the frigates President (52 Guns), Trincomalee (46 guns), Amphitrite (46 guns), and Pique (36 guns), and the paddle sloop Virago (6 guns). The Russians in contrast had more ships and more guns with three frigates; the Diana (54 guns), the Pallada (52 guns) and the Aurora (44 guns), the corvette Olivutsa (20 guns), and four converted transport ships, the Dwina (16 guns), the Sitka (14 guns), the Irtysh (10 guns), and Baikal (6 guns). Despite their advantage in numbers and firepower, the Russian fleet was quickly scattered by the Royal Navy in the Battle of Kamchatka on the 11 of May 1855, with most retreating to the safety of Okhotsk where they would remain for the remainder of the war.

    However, two Russian ships, the frigate Pallada and the corvette Olivutsa would escape from the battle relatively unscathed and made a beeline for Novo Arkhangelsk, from where they would harass British commerce up and down the Pacific coast of North America. A third ship, the Russian Frigate Aurora would attempt to join them, but as it made its trek east across the sea towards the Aleutian Islands, it would find its path blocked by HMS President and HMS Virago which had actually been chasing Pallada and Olivutsa, only to encounter Aurora by random chance. Deeming his previous goal of reaching Novo Arkhangelsk now compromised, the captain of the Aurora, Lieutenant Commander Ivan Izilmetyev would abrubtly change course, choosing to retreat back to Okhotsk.

    The ensuing chase would encompass the better part of the next week as the British and Russian ships traded shots with one another, to relatively little effect. The fifth day of fighting would be different, however, as the Aurora would take a cannonball below the waterline causing it to begin taking on water, while a lucky strike on Virago’s rudder would force it to temporarily abandon the pursuit while they made repairs. HMS President would take a series of blows to its hull and suffer extensive damage to its rigging, but in spite of this it would continue to chase the wounded Russian warship southwest right until it reached the island of Sakhalin. With his ship taking on water and his escape route to the open sea repeatedly blocked, Commander Izilmetyev would make one last attempt to escape his pursuers by traversing the narrow, and largely unknown Strait of Tartary.

    Unaware of the strait's existence (they believed it was a bay), HMS President, soon rejoined by HMS Virago, waited for the Aurora to attempt its escape from the mouth of the bay, only for that escape to never come. Having successfully eluded the British ships, Izilmetyev would attempt to make repairs to his ship and set anchor off the coast of Sakhalin, however, his jubilation quickly turned to horror as his ship was soon overcome by Japanese soldiers. The Aurora had unwittingly landed on the Japanese half of the island.

    Having only recently started opening itself up to the outside world, Japan was a foreign land for most Europeans as it fiercely guarded its neutrality and isolationism. By landing on the southern half of Sakhalin, the Aurora had -unwittingly - violated Japan’s neutrality for its own gain. While had succeeded in escaping the British, representatives of the Tokogawa Shogunate would soon order the Aurora impounded and its crew detained for the remainder of the war as a penalty for violating their neutrality. Not wishing to spark a diplomatic crisis, HMS President and Virago would patrol the waters off Sakhalin for the better part of two weeks before abandoning their watch and rejoining the main contingent at Petropavlovsk.

    As this was taking place, the Royal Navy ships HMS Trincomalee, Amphitrite, and Pique would be joined by Rear Admiral Sir Fairfax Moresby aboard his flagship the Fourth Rate HMS Portland (60 guns) and the sixth rate HMS Imogen (28 guns) significantly bolstering their capabilities. After the Battle of Kamchatka, the fleet would sail to the port of Petropavlovsk located near the southern tip of the peninsula, Russia’s primary port on the Pacific. Moving quickly the British would strike against the town, which had been largely abandoned by the Russian Okhotsk Flotilla after the recent naval battle.

    A few townsfolk and sailors from the schooner Andray and transport Bot would attempt to hold off the British attack and even constructed rudimentary gun batteries and redoubts with a half dozen guns that had been hauled off their ships, but under heavy cannon fire from the British fleet they could do little to resist. When sailors and marines from the British fleet landed north of the city, they faced meager resistance from the town’s defenders, ultimately culminating in Petropavlovsk’s surrender on the 28th of May.[7] The capture of Petropavlovsk would be a minor strategic victory for the British as it had largely been evacuated before the British arrived, but it would serve to isolate the Russian Pacific Fleet to the Bay of Okhotsk.

    The fighting in the Pacific would also indirectly result in the end of Russian Alaska which would be targeted by the Royal Navy in the aftermath of Petropavlovsk. As the Russian Frigate Pallada and Corvette Olivutsa had escaped to Novo Arkhangelsk, the once forgotten Russian colony soon became a high priority for the British Pacific Station which now moved to subdue it. Together with troops from Fort Victoria, the British fleet would successfully capture Novo Arkhangelsk (Sitka) and Kad’yak (Kodiak) before year’s end, resulting in the capitulation of Russian America. The real objective of this assault, the sinking of the Pallada and Olivutsa in late October would mark the end of major hostilities in the Pacific, as the last remaining threats to Britain in the Pacific– the remaining ships of the Russian Okhotsk Military Flotilla - were blockaded at Okhotsk. Despite the successes London had found on these fronts, their real focus would remain on the Balkans and the Caucasus, whose great battles and campaigns far outweighed these pin prick strikes on Russia’s periphery.

    Next Time: Mire of Misery
    [1] The British Government seriously considered attacking Russian possessions in the Baltic as a means of gaining Sweden’s support IOTL. However, France was largely dismissive of the endeavor and refused to commit significant resources to the front, beyond a token naval detachment to blockade Russian ports alongside the British Baltic Fleet. Without France ITTL and in desperate need for additional allies, Britain is more willing to pursue this course of action here.

    [2] When designing the fortress in the 1820’s and 1830’s, the Russians didn’t anticipate that ships would eventually be able to traverse the shallow waters surrounding Bomarsund, hence the lack of defenses behind it.

    [3] This is comparable to the subsidy provided to Sweden during the Napoleonic Wars which was 1 million Sovereigns in 1813.

    [4] During the Napoleonic Wars, Britain provided its allies around 22 million Pounds in subsidies in 1813. Adjusted for inflation it comes out to around 14.1 million Pounds in 1855 in OTL. Here Britain would be asked to provide the Ottoman Empire 10,000,000 Pounds Sterling per year and if Sweden were to join the war it would be another 5,000,000 Pounds Sterling per year. While this would be more than Britain provided all of its Coalition Allies at the height of the Napoleonic Wars in 1813, its important to note that the British Economy is much larger and stronger in 1855 than it was in 1813. It will definitely hurt Britain, but it can manage it for a time.

    [5] In OTL, Paskevich believed that an attack across the Danube would provoke an Austrian intervention against Russia, resulting in his half-hearted attempts to besiege Silistra in OTL. The collapse of the Austrian Empire ITTL mitigates these fears, resulting in his more determined attack into Ottoman Bulgaria, but he still remains cautious of his Northern flank and moves to secure it when it is threatened.

    [6] Guriev was primarily populated by Kazakhs and Tatars throughout most of its history, although by the 19th Century there would be a moderate Russian population, they were primarily located on the Western side of the River in Samara Guriev.

    [7] Given its remote location, the city of Petropavlovsk was considered indefensible by the Russians IOTL, who promptly evacuated it in May 1855. Here the final result is more or less the same, except the British take it through force of arms, thus presenting it as this great strategic victory, when in truth its really a minor event.
     
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    Chapter 82: Mire of Misery
  • Chapter 82: Mire of Misery
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    The Siege of Silistra

    The campaigning season in 1855 would begin rather early as General Nikolay Muravyov departed from his winter quarters in late February, hoping to catch the Ottomans off guard. Advancing from their encampment outside Horasan with the 5th, 18th, and 21st Infantry Divisions, the Caucasian Grenadier Division, 2 regiments of cavalry (His Majesty’s Nizhny Novgorod Regiment of Dragoons and His Majesty’s Tver Regiment of Cuirassiers), 24 cannon batteries, and a contingent of Armenian and Georgian volunteers; his target would be the city of Erzurum which had narrowly eluded him only a few months prior. The trek westward would be incredibly difficult for the Russians as they battled both Kurdish partisans and Ottoman sentries, but their worst adversary would be the terrain, as the snow-covered trails and dirt paths of Eastern Anatolia were a mess of ice and mud making them a poor avenue for an army over 90,000 strong. Nevertheless, they continued in spite of it all, driven onward by the indominable will of General Muravyov.

    His efforts would be for naught however, as Abdi Pasha would discover Muravyov’s lumbering advance well before the Russians reached Erzurum and began preparing for their arrival. Arraying his well-rested army before the walls of Erzurum, Abdi Pasha hoped to repeat the successful defense of the previous December, by making the Russians bleed themselves white against his stout fortifications. Muravyov would not disappoint, as he launched an immediate assault on the Ottoman fieldworks outside Erzurum in what was quickly becoming a trend for the aggressive Russian general. Waves of men charged towards the Ottoman lines with muskets raised and bayonets fixed. The Turks, numbering around 53,000 men were greatly outnumbered, but with their strong defensive works, they hoped to hold firm against the Russians for some time. Even still, the Turks were hard pressed all along the line in the face of such an overwhelming attack.

    With his line becoming increasingly thin, Abdi Pasha elected to fall back to a secondary line of defenses nearer the city, but in the din of the battle, this information would not be properly relayed to all his troops. Seeing many of their compatriots leaving the battlefield, several Turkish irregulars presumed they had been abandoned and predictably panicked, choosing to flee rather than stand and fight. Naturally, this left a noticeable hole in the Ottoman line, a hole that Muravyov quickly found and broke through with relative ease. With that, the battle of Erzurum was well and truly lost for the Ottomans. That defeat very quickly became a disaster as the victorious Russians surged forward, capturing or killing nearly one third of the Ottoman Army including the unfortunate Abdi Pasha who died whilst attempting to rally his men.

    Around a quarter of the Ottoman army would escape behind the walls of Erzurum where they would choose to make their stand. Most, however, would flee to the South under the direction of Abdülkerim Nadir Pasha where they would later rendezvous with Selim Pasha’s Army of 24,000. Together, Abdülkerim Pasha hoped that their united front could counter Muravyov’s host, trapping it between the walls of Erzurum and their army. For this plan to work, however, they would need to act fast, unite their forces, and attack the Russians before they took the city. To their credit, they would meet six days later near the ancient castle of Hasan Kale and began quickly marching their combined army to relieve Erzurum. However, to their dismay, Erzurum had fallen in less than ten days despite the valor of its defenders and the strength of their defenses as General Muravyov launched assault after assault on the city until it fell. Although a few hundred men remained holed up within the city’s citadel, the fall of Erzurum was now all but assured.

    375px-%D0%A0%D0%B8%D1%81%D1%83%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%BA_%D0%BA_%D1%81%D1%82%D0%B0%D1%82%D1%8C%D0%B5_%C2%AB%D0%9A%D0%B0%D1%80%D1%81%C2%BB._%D0%92%D0%BE%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%BD%D0%B0%D1%8F_%D1%8D%D0%BD%D1%86%D0%B8%D0%BA%D0%BB%D0%BE%D0%BF%D0%B5%D0%B4%D0%B8%D1%8F_%D0%A1%D1%8B%D1%82%D0%B8%D0%BD%D0%B0_%28%D0%A1%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%BA%D1%82-%D0%9F%D0%B5%D1%82%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%B1%D1%83%D1%80%D0%B3%2C_1911-1915%29.jpg

    The Assault on Erzurum

    Worse still, Muravyov’s scouts would soon learn of the Ottoman army marching against them, prompting the Russian General to ready his army for battle, while he left behind a small screening force to continue besieging Erzurum’s citadel. Demoralized and exhausted after twelve days of hard marching, Abdülkerim Pasha’s and Selim Pasha’s army would be brushed aside with relative ease. But in a surprising moment of restraint and caution, Muravyov refrained from pursuing the defeated Turks, choosing instead to return to the siege of Erzurum’s citadel. With their only hope of salvation now dashed, the remaining Ottoman defenders within Erzurum’s keep finally surrendered to Muravyov’s men, opening the gateway to the Anatolian heartland.

    Emboldened by his success, General Muravyov would opt to plunge deeper into the Ottoman countryside, after giving his men a day to rest and recuperate. Departing Erzurum on the 14th of March, Muravyov’s advance towards Erzincan would be made harder by the poor condition of the roads and growing opposition from the local Turkish and Kurdish partisans who resist him with increasing fanaticism. The weather also continued to turn against the Russians as much of the snow had now begun to melt, turning the dirt roads of Eastern Anatolia into bogs of mud, slowing Muravyov’s already glacial pace considerably. Worse still, many of Muravyov’s carriages and wagons became lodged in this muck, including most of his heavy artillery, forcing further delays. For a man who built his reputation on aggressive charges and forced marches, this snail’s pace was incredibly infuriating for the brash Russian commander.

    After three days of limited progress - having only moved two and a half miles, the old General had had enough and simply pushed on ahead without his baggage and artillery trains, leaving several hundred irregulars behind to aid in their recovery, while he and the main contingent continued marching westward. With his wagons and carts now unhitched, Muravyov’s pace improved, as the Russians would reach the outskirts of Erzincan after another nine days of hard marching. Unlike Erzurum, however, the Ottomans defending the town, had elected not to face off against the Russians in a field battle. Instead, they would choose to remain holed up behind their walls.

    Taking the initiative, General Muravyov ordered an assault on the town, but this time things were different as the Russian soldiers had been worn ragged by a month of forced marches and constant fighting across difficult terrain. Moreover, Erzincan’s defenders were in good spirits and in a strong position to repel the Russian attack, albeit at a considerable cost. Another attempt to storm Erzincan the following day would see some progress, but was ultimately driven back when the city’s garrison - aided by several hundred civilians - counterattacked in force. When he pressed his deputies to make another assault the following day, Muravyov’s subordinates threatened to mutiny. Faced with no other option, the old general rescinded his previous orders and began establishing proper siegeworks.[1] Complicating matters for Muravyov, however, was his lack of artillery, most of which was still stuck on the road between Erzincan and Erzurum. Unable to take the city by storm or bombard it into submission, Muravyov was forced to starve it into surrendering instead, a process that would take far longer than he ever expected.

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    General Nikolay Muravyov, circa 1854

    Contrasting greatly with General Muravyov’s aggressive campaigning in Eastern Anatolia, Count Paskevich would take a far more cautious approach in the Balkans having learned the hard way where reckless attacks and foolhardy valor led the previous year. In preparation for this year’s offensive, his newly vaunted “Army of the Danube” had been significantly augmented over the Winter to well over 246,000 men, most of whom were divided between Prince Mikhail Dimitrievich Gorchakov’s Army of Wallachia and Count Alexander von Lüders’ Army of Moldavia. Comprised of 12 Infantry Divisions (including 2 Grenadier Divisions), 4 Cavalry Divisions (three Light Cavalry and one Cuirassier Divisions), 4 Artillery Divisions (equipped with 56 artillery batteries), and an unspecified number of Wallachian, Moldavian and Bulgarian “volunteers”, properly supplying such a massive force was simply beyond Russia’s means, even during times of peace.

    To minimize the material shortages and quality deficiencies of his troops, Count Paskevich would construct a series of supply depots over the Winter, and stocked them with as much powder, cannonballs, musket balls, food, and uniforms that he could find. He would also build a series of new roads from Bucharest and Iasi to the Danube, in an attempt to ease the movement of munitions and foodstuffs to the front. To protect these depots against British naval raids, the Namiestnik would erect a series of forts and outposts near the Black Sea’s coast and large portions of the Danube Delta to ward off British ships. It was far from a perfect solution as supply shortages would continue to plague the Russians for the remainder of the war, but Paskevich’s efforts would help minimize some of these issues to a degree.[2]

    Paskevich’s efforts to improve his army’s logistic network would do little to address some of the more pressing problems of the Russian Army, namely the sordid camp life many of his soldiers endured, nor did he improve the medical treatment his troops received. Like most military encampments prior to the modern day, little attention was given to a camp’s cleanliness. Contamination of water supplies was a common issue for most pre-modern bivouacs due to poorly positioned privies upstream of the camps. Little concern was given to removing trash and human waste from the campgrounds, making them prime breeding grounds for disease carrying rodents and insects.

    Added to this was the poor personal hygiene many soldiers of the day exhibited and the inadequate rations most received, all of which made them incredibly susceptible to ailments and illness. Cholera was particularly prevalent at Silistra, targeting Russian, Ottoman, and Briton alike without prejudice. The rather crude medical practices of the time which still relied heavily on bloodletting and pseudoscience rather than proven medicines or tested techniques would only make matters worse. Many sick and wounded would become invalidated or die after receiving this misguided “treatment”, when they could have recovered completely or survived with better medical care. Before the fighting in 1855 even began, the effective fighting strength of the Russian Army of the Danube had been sapped by nearly a quarter from an official total of 246,523 men to an actual strength around 184,000 soldiers for much of the campaigning season.[3]


    The Russians at Silistra

    Standing against Paskevich’s still considerable host was the Ottoman “Army of Rumelia”, led by the old Serbian exile, Omar Pasha Latas. Like its Russian counterpart, the Ottoman Army had been reinforced from 97,000 soldiers in November 1854 to a little over 131,0000 by March 1855. However, unlike the Russians, these reinforcements represented the last veteran reservists available to the Porte who would now be forced to call upon fresh conscripts and irregulars for additional manpower. Moreover, many of these soldiers were forced to guard a large stretch of the Danube from Silistra to Turnu in order to fend off Russian crossings further upstream. Many were also stationed far from the front in Serbia, Thessaly, Epirus, and Macedonia keeping the peace in these rowdy provinces and contending with the multiple revolts which had erupted since the war began.

    Fortunately for the Ottomans, they were supplemented by the British Army’s “Balkan Expeditionary Force” led by Field Marshal Fitzroy Somerset, 1st Baron Raglan. Lord Raglan was a veteran officer of the Napoleonic Wars who had served with distinction on the Duke of Wellington’s staff during the Peninsular War and the Hundred Days. Although he had seen very little combat since the Battle of Waterloo, Raglan remained one of Great Britain’s most experienced commanders, if a rather cautious and indecisive one. Like its Turkish counterpart, the British Army had been bolstered from around 18,000 men to just under 52,000 with the arrival of the 2nd and 3rd Infantry Divisions and the remainder of the Cavalry Division over the Winter. A further two Infantry Divisions (the 4th and Light Divisions) were scheduled to muster later that Spring and would arrive in theater by mid-Summer. There were also several thousand volunteers from across Europe, North Africa and the Levant assisting the Ottomans, with the Poles, Germans, Italians, and Tunisians forming the largest contingents. Even still, the Allied Army in the Balkans barely stood at 200,000 men in the Spring of 1855, many of whom were invalidated by disease or garrisoned in provinces far from the front.

    Despite their inferiority in numbers, both Omar Pasha and Lord Raglan favored fighting a field battle against the Russians as they believed that the superior discipline and firepower of their troops would more than make up for their numerical short comings. This belief was vested in the fact that their more advanced weaponry, specifically the Pattern 1852 Enfield Rifle and the 1848 Minié Rifle, would outperform their Russian counterparts. By the Spring of 1855, around 70% of the British Army in the Balkans was equipped with the new Enfield Rifle, whilst more than 30% of the Ottoman Army of Rumelia was touting the Enfield or French made Minié Rifle. In comparison, only 5% of the Russian soldiers possessed rifles and many of these men were in Guard units stationed far away from the front in Bulgaria. Field testing over the previous year had shown that the Enfield rifle had a maximum viable range of nearly 1250 yards and could hit targets with great accuracy from as far away as 900 yards when wielded by a skilled marksman. Similarly, the Minié Rifle used by nearly a third of Omar Pasha’s Army, could hit targets as far out as 1200 yards and could reliably hit a target under 600 paces. In contrast, the Russian M1845 Infantry Musket-Rifle only had a maximum range of 600 paces and was highly inaccurate beyond 300 meters, thus explaining their penchant for bayonet charges.[4]

    The British could also outpace their Russian rivals in rate of fire, reliably shooting 4 rounds per minute on average with their Enfields and in some rare instances, firing as many as 5 or even 6 rounds after extensive practice and drilling. The Russians could only manage 2 to 3 rounds per minute on average with their older guns, while the Ottomans could generally shoot between 3 or 4 rounds in a minute with their newer weapons. The ammunition used by the British and Ottomans was also superior to the Russians as they utilized the new Minié ball which held far more destructive potential than the spherical musket ball still used by the Russians. The bullet could rend flesh and shatter bones with ease and still possess enough potency to wound another man on the opposite side. Finally, the British and Ottomans had a moderate advantage in cannons, especially heavier caliber siege guns thanks to such cannons as the rifled Dundas and Lancaster 68-Pounder Guns, and the formidable Millar and Dickson 32-Pounder guns. Although their accuracy was dissapointing, their destructive firepower was capable of terrifying even the most hardened veteran.

    The British and Ottoman commanders need not wait long to test their theories as on the 15th of March, Count Paskevich ordered his army out of its winter quarters and into action. Like the previous year, his main objective for this campaigning season would be the fortress city of Silistra, whose capture would open the route south into the Balkans. Their first opponent would be the Danube, however, as Prince Gorchakov’s Army of Wallachia needed to cross the river to join Count Lüders’ Army of Moldavia which had wintered on the left bank of the Danube. This would prove more difficult than expected, as Omar Pasha had razed all the nearby bridges still under his control over the winter (and even some of the bridges held by the Russians). Similarly, the various fords in the region had been fortified by Omar Pasha, depriving Gorchakov of an easy route across the Danube.

    Undeterred, Prince Gorchakov ordered the construction of several pontoon bridges across the river, beginning in early March, but once again, Omar Pasha proved his mettle by dispatching several hundred soldiers aboard rowboats to harass the Russian engineers as they were built their bridges. In response, Gorchakov was forced to send out his own boats to counter the Turkish raiders. Their efforts were further hindered by the British heavy siege guns outside Silistra, which peppered the Russian engineers on an hourly basis. Although they missed more shots than they hit, their massive size and power struck fear into the average Russian soldier causing the construction to slow to a crawl.

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    Fighting on the Danube between Russian and Ottoman Troops

    To take pressure off Gorchakov, Count Lüders stirred his Army of Moldavia from its camp outside Cernavodă and began marching on Silistra several days later on the 24th of March. To his surprise, however, he would find the British Balkan Expeditionary Force and half of the Ottoman Army of Rumelia arrayed against him near the town of Oltina as if inviting an attack. Believing that the British were only good at fighting the savages in their colonies and that the Turks were cowards who would break before the fighting even started, many Russian officers were confident in their looming victory and pressed Lüders to attack the Anglo-Ottoman Army.[5] Lüders complied and order his men to advance.

    The Allied position was also quite strong, however, anchored on the left by the Danube and on the right by Lake Oltina, thus mitigating the Russian’s advantage in cavalry. Moreover, this would be one of the few instances in the Great Eurasian War where the Russians would be outnumbered, only fielding 101,398 men and 168 cannons against 51,873 British soldiers and 64,711 Ottoman troops with 234 guns between the two. The British would position themselves on the left side of the road with the 1st and 2nd Infantry Divisions positioned next to each other in the front, while the 3rd Infantry and Cavalry Divisions were held in reserve in the rear. The Ottomans and their Arab allies would form themselves up on their right, with Ahmed Pasha arranging his divisions in three rows of infantry, with their cavalry protecting their flank, and their artillery in the rear alongside the British guns. Opposite them, Count Lüders massed his force in two large columns; 3rd Corps which was standing against the Ottomans and 5th Corps which was counter to the British.

    Leading the charge against the British would be the Russian 14th Division which boisterously advanced on the scarlet line of the Guards, Grenadiers and Fusiliers. Once in range of their Enfield Rifles, the Royal Scots Fusiliers, Coldstream Guards, and Royal Grenadiers unleashed a withering volley of leaded death on the charging Russians who fell in heaps upon the ground. They would fire off four volleys before the Russians even made it into range of their antiquated muskets at which point, only getting a single volley off upon their oppressors, who promptly stepped back in the face of the Russian advance. In their place emerged, the mighty men of the Highland Brigade who charged through the Guard’s ranks; bayonets fixed and battle cry raised. Their vicious onslaught broke the wavering Russian line who soon fled the field in a panic.

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    The Coldstream Guard at the Battle of Oltina

    Further down the line the Russian 15th Infantry Division was fairing better against the British 2nd Division, successfully firing off three volleys upon their tormentors, but here too the British proved their superiority, shooting off a blistering 23 rounds in five minutes. The commander of the 2nd, British General George de Evans Lacy had tenaciously drilled his division into an excellent instrument of war, capable of waylaying the Russians as they charged across the field of Oltina. In the face of such a withering cacophony of smoke and lead, the Russians of the 15th Division would begin to crumble and then ultimately break. On the other side of the battlefield, the Ottomans were having more trouble as their outdated guns generally proved inferior to the British Enfields, but those few soldiers with Minié Rifles would manage much better, inflicting a butcher’s bill upon the approaching Russians. Nevertheless, it was apparent that the Russian hammer had fallen the hardest upon the Ottomans.

    With his right being driven back in disarray and his left blunted, Count Lüders saw that victory was slipping through his grasp, but still hoping to force a favorable outcome he readied his reserves for battle. Unfortunately for Lüders, the British would make their move first as the Highland Brigade - continuing their earlier charge, followed soon after by the Guards Brigade and 2nd Division - advanced upon the Russians position, guns blazing, cannons blasting, and men roaring. The Russian 9th Infantry Division’s attempt to halt their advance would see it crack in the face of the British rifles. Recognizing that he had lost the initiative, Lüders ordered his remaining troops to break off their attack and withdraw. The Battle of Oltina was over, with upwards of 13,000 casualties for the Russian army, at a cost of only 5,500 dead and wounded for the British and Ottomans.

    While Oltina was certainly a solid victory for the Allies, it could have been a much greater triumph as Raglan would make a critical mistake during the battle’s last moments, by refusing to unleash the Light Brigade cavalry on the retreating Russians. Many of his subordinates would later criticize Lord Raglan for this decision, but according to his own report, the British Field Marshal claimed to have seen the similarly unbloodied Russian Cavalry amassed on the far side of the battlefield, ready to ambush the Light Brigade if they made such an attack. Reports by Raglan's deputies refute this however, portraying the Field Marshal as a doddering fool. Regardless of his rationale, Raglan’s decision not to release the Light Brigade on the fleeing Russians enabled them to retreat in good order, turning what could have been a major rout into a moderate defeat at best. Still, had he followed up this victory with an aggressive campaign against Lüders beaten army, Raglan could have inflicted further defeats upon them, likely driving the Russians from Rumelia entirely.

    Instead, Lord Raglan delayed pursuing Lüders Army of Moldavia for the better part of a week while he allowed his men time to rest and time for his scouts to recon the Russian position. By the sixth day, Raglan finally decided to advance against Lüders Army encamped west of Cernavodă, but when they arrived on the 3rd of April, he would find that the Russians had been reinforced with an extra division from Paskevich making good all their losses from Oltina and then some. Worse still, while he had been dithering, the Russians under Prince Gorchakov had finally finished the first of their bridges across the Danube, reaching the isle of Păcuiul lui Soare and were now in the process of reducing the isle’s Byzantine fortress to rubble. Despite his best efforts, Omar Pasha’s men were being pushed back, necessitating Raglan's and Ahmed Pasha's withdrawal back to Silistra to aid in its defense. By the 6th of April, the islands northeast of Silistra had fallen to the Russians and the following day, Russian troops began streaming across the Danube en masse; the Second Siege of Silistra had officially begun.

    Unlike the First Siege in 1854, the defenses surrounding Silistra had been strengthened immensely over the previous months, with the construction of multiple lines of fieldworks before the city. The first of these lines was the Omar Line, 11 detached forts running in a narrow channel around the city of Silistra, the keystone of which was the impressive Mejidi Tabia, a polygonal fortress in the Prussian style which generally proved itself impervious to all but the heaviest artillery fire. In front of this were several other lines of increasing length and stoutness, the last of which was the Burgoyne line running from the banks of the Danube to the village of Akkadınlar over 20 miles to the south. The left flank of the Allied lines was anchored on the Danube as Omar Pasha’s fleet of river boats impeded any efforts by the Russians to outflank their defenses from the north. The Right end of the Allied line was protected by the British whose position was centered on the twin redoubts Victoria and Wellington.

    Perhaps most important to the Allied defense was a rudimentary railroad running southward out of Silistra to the city of Shumen, before jutting eastward to the port of Varna.[6] This single track of rail would be the most significant supply route into and out of the City for the duration of the second siege. Although it was dangerously exposed to Russian raids (hence the considerable effort by the British to defend it), this track would provide an immense boon to the Allied defense of Silistra as it constantly transported men and munitions to the city over the coming months.

    Because of this, the battle for Silistra would begin as a war of maneuver as the Russians attempted to turn the Allied flank, pushing further south to in a bid to cut this artery into the city. Efforts by the Russians to turn the Allied flank in the south would meet with resistance, however, as the British troops took up position on the right, guarding their railroad with the utmost ferocity and determination. After a week of continuous cannon bombardment, the Russians would launch an all-out assault on Silistra’s outworks all along the Burgoyne line. Their goal was not to take these positions, however, but to pin down Allied resources in their forts, thus preventing them from aiding the British in the South, where the Russian attack would fall the hardest as the 9th, 14th, 15th, 16th, and 17th Infantry Divisions would be concentrated against the British.

    Redoubt Victoria was an impressive sight, however, as it boasted 52 cannons, including all of the British 64-Pounders, and the entirety of the British 2nd Division under the capable command of General George de Lacy Evans. The Russian 14th Division was given the honor of leading the attack, with General Moller personally leading the charge. However, the General’s courage would soon fail him as a British bullet quickly stuck his horse, sending him to the ground in a huff. His wits now lost, Moller requisitioned an aide’s horse and promptly fled to the rear, where he would remain for the remainder of the battle; he would be summarily stripped of his command and removed from active duty the following day. The loss of the Russian commander would not delay the Russian attack, but merely disorganize it as the Russian wave became separated in places, resulting in a piecemeal attack upon the British, who repelled them with relative ease. Not all went well for the British as Lord Raglan would be incapacitated rather early in the battle.

    Despite the inherent dangers, Raglan and his aides had perched themselves above the redoubt to get a better view of the battle unfolding before them. [7] The battle very quickly came to him however, as a squadron of Russian Cossacks spotted Raglan's company and charged the careless British Commander. Were it not for the quick action of his guards and aides who intervened to save him, it is likely he would have been captured or killed that day, irreparably harming the British war effort in the Balkans. Instead, he would only suffer a superficial wound that would quickly heal on its own, but would later withdraw to Constantinople for further medical treatment on orders from Whitehall. He would not return to the field again. While he would technically remain in overall command of all British forces in theater, field command was temporarily shifted to Raglan’s Chief of Staff, Sir John Fox Burgoyne before shifting permanently to General George Brown, commander of the Light Division once he arrived in early July.


    The Three Commanders of the British Balkan Expeditionary Force - Lord Raglan (Left), Sir John Fox Burgoyne (Center), and Sir George Brown (Right)​

    The Russian attack in the North would meet with more success, as they would succeed in punching through portions of the Burgoyne line. The defenders, after having driven off three prior attacks, were running low on ammunition and were simply exhausted following hours of constant fighting. When the fourth attack came, they bravely held their ground for as long as they possibly could, but gradually gave ground in the face of the overwhelming Russian numbers. Ultimately, with their allies unable to come to their aid and the Russians continuing to pour in, they broke and streamed out of their trenches towards the city of Silistra seeking safety.

    The Russian attack in the North would only be halted due to their own poor planning. As the lion's share of their resources had been dedicated further south against the British, they had few if any reserves with which to throw into this unexpected opening in the North. Unable to fully exploit this opportunity, the Russians were soon forced out when the Ottomans and British redirected their reserves to plug this gap in their lines. The Russians of the 10th and 11th Divisions would retreat from the Burgoyne line, carting off the captured cannons, rifles and any captives they had found within.

    A second assault two weeks later would yield a similar result, with the Russians making good initial gains, only to be thrown back with heavy casualties. Although these two assaults had failed, Paskevich would determine that Silistra could still be taken by force, but it would likely be done at a high cost in blood and lives. Not wishing to pay such a price at this time, Paskevich and his deputies considered alternatives to this stratagem. Speaking first, Count Lüders proposed bypassing Silistra altogether and advancing on Dobrich from their bases in Dobruja. This proposal would be shot down almost immediately, however, as their supply lines would be jeopardized by an Ottoman controlled Silistra and British naval dominance in the Black Sea. Moreover, Dobrich was a formidable fortress in its own right; implying that an attack against Dobrich would essentially be a repeat of their current situation, but in a far less favorable position. Most importantly though, the Emperor, Tsar Nicholas had explicitly ordered them to take Silistra no matter the cost. Their objective was clear, Silistra must fall.

    Gorchakov would then suggest expanding the front to the west of Silistra, thus drawing defenders away from the city. This would work to Russia’s strength of numerical superiority, an advantage that was currently being wasted with their concentration on Silistra, but to do so, they would first need to secure a crossing further upstream. Unfortunately, Omar Pasha had destroyed all the bridges between Călărași and Turnu still under his control, and even a few under Russian occupation were destroyed as well. Similarly, the Ottomans and their allies had gone to great lengths to fortify all the known fords along their stretch of the Danube. For the Russians to cross the Danube upstream of Silistra, they would need to fight their way across, a prospect many did not find appealing, or construct another set of pontoon bridges as they had done in the east. Given the great resistance they had encountered back in March and April spanning Călărași and Păcuiul lui Soare, this strategy was met with skepticism by Paskevich and his staff officers. But, when a third assault on Silistra failed the following week, Paskevich ultimately gave Gorchakov his approval.

    Moving decisively, Prince Gorchakov ordered 4th Corps under General Dannenberg to attempt a crossing opposite the city of Oltenița on the 3rd of June. Once in position, they would then advance upon Silistra from the West, whilst the remainder of the Russian Army would attack from the East and North. Faced with an attack from multiple directions, the Allied Army would be destroyed, Silistra would be captured, and the road to the Balkan Mountains would be opened, thus putting Constantinople at great risk. Of course, not everything would go according to plan as Dannenberg’s advance would be slowed by early Summer storms which roiled the Danube, greatly delaying his efforts to cross the river. When they finally began crossing in late June, they would be quickly discovered by local Turkish herders who quickly relayed this information to Omar Pasha and General Burgoyne at Silistra.

    Despite this potential disaster, they would be saved by British overconfidence as General Burgoyne dismissed the report out of hand, as there had been several such rumors of a Russian crossing further upstream, all of which had turned out to be false or little more than Cossack raids that were easily repulsed. Omar Pasha would prove more diligent than his British counterpart, however, and dispatched two newly raised brigades to determine the accuracy of this report. Two days later, they would encounter elements of the Russian vanguard west of the village of Popina. Despite their inferior numbers, the Ottomans bravely held their ground and repelled the Russian advance until dusk, at which time Dannenberg arrived with the remainder of his Corps.

    Instead of immediately pushing his advantage, however, Dannenberg would delay and dither, choosing to let his own troops rest after their long march and arduous crossing, rather than immediately attack the beleaguered and outnumbered Turks. His caution was worsened by erroneous reports from his scouts that greatly overestimated the size of the Turkish contingent to nearly twice their actual numbers, prompting the General to delay the following day’s attack until mid-day, whilst he formulated a grand battle plan to overcome the supposedly stout Ottoman army opposing him.This delay would enable the Turks to dig in and send word to Omar Pasha requesting reinforcements.

    When General Dannenberg finally made his move late in the afternoon of the following day, he would find the Ottoman position bolstered by the arrival of the newly arrived British Light Division which had forced marched through the night to arrive in time for the battle. Despite this, the Russians still greatly outnumbered the British and Ottomans by nearly three to one. Confident in his superior numbers and the elan of his men, Dannenberg readied his soldiers for an attack on the Allied position at mid-day. Dannenberg’s efforts would be for naught however, as the commander of the 10th Infantry Division, Lt. General Soimonov disagreed with Dannenberg's orders and would instead implement his own by attempting a wide flank around the Ottoman position. Yet, in the midst of this maneuver, two of Soimonov's brigades would become lost and march past the battlefield entirely, while the remaining brigade wouldn’t arrive until well after the battle had begun.

    This error in judgement was compound by his decision not to inform his counterparts General Pavlov of the 11th Division, and General Liprandi of 12th Division that he was diverging from Dannenberg’s prepared stratagem. With one of their three divisions missing in action for most of the battle, the balance of power between the two forces was evened greatly. Nevertheless, the fight was hard fought on both sides, with the Russians slowly, but steadily advancing and the British and Ottoman soldiers gradually giving ground. The turning point in the battle would come late in the day when a stray bullet struck General Liprandi in the shoulder. In spite of pleas from his lieutenants to withdraw from the front and receive medical attention for his wound, the Russian General continued to lead his men from the front, inspiring them with his bravery and valiance. Moments later, another shot would find its way into his skull, killing him instantly.

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    Russian Soldiers attacking at Popina

    With General Liprandi’s death, command of 12th Division would pass to his deputy General Alexander Friedrichs, but at this time he was several miles from the battlefield and would not arrive on scene until well after nightfall. During this period of time, the 12th was effectively leaderless, and command devolved to its constituent regiment commanders who failed to fill the role of their late leader as they constantly bickered with one another. With their losses continuing to mount and their Generals proving indecisive, the demoralized men of the 12th would ultimately elect to retreat, leaving the 11th to face the Allied Army by itself. Faced with this setback, General Dannenberg ordered General Pavlov to withdrawal his division and promptly dispatched his cavalry to fend off an Allied pursuit. At this late hour, General Soimonov’s men would finally arrive at the battle, but as they were now alone on the battlefield, they were easily cut to pieces by the British and Ottoman sharpshooters, destroying whatever cohesion the unit still had.

    Despite the Allied victory at Popina, their position was steadily deteriorating as they simply lacked the men to drive the defeated Russians from their new beachhead. Although initially disappointed at Dannenberg’s setback, Gorchakov’s stratagem had proven its worth and he would soon receive permission to dispatch 2nd Corps to reinforce Dannenberg’s thrust. However, news from the north would disrupt this when elements of the Hungarian Honved Army appeared along the border with Wallachia, as if threatening to attack. Concerned that the Hungarians would intervene against them, Count Paskevich recalled 2nd Corps and redirected it northward to the Carpathian Mountains where it would remain for the better part of the next three months. Now short one Corps, Gorchakov's western offensive came to an untimely end.

    With the campaigning season more than half way over and pressure from St. Petersburg building, Count Paskevich turned to Count Lüders’ Army of Moldavia and grimly ordered it to prepare for an advance against Silistra. Lüders stoically accepted his orders and readied his men as best he could for their glum task. Over the next two weeks, the Russian artillery used its entire stockpile of cannonballs upon the Allied lines, firing nearly 320,000 shells to admittedly little effect as many fell short, while others overshot their targets by a mile. The British and Turkish guns in contrast, found their marks more often than not, and would actually outpace their Russian adversaries in number of cannonballs fired at over 40,000 a day. Despite this inauspicious start, the Russian attack would commence at dusk on the 18th of July as Count Lüders ordered his men to advance against the Allied lines and continue their advance until Silistra fell or they perished. Before departing their trenches, many Russian soldiers knelt down to pray and confess their sins to the priests passing through their lines, and in return they received promises of paradise for their service in this holy war. With that, the Russian Army leapt from their holes and marched forward until victory or death.

    Aided by the night, the Russians emerged from the darkness unexpectedly and fell upon the helpless British and Ottoman soldiers forcing them into a violent melee. Drunk like demons, they attacked their adversaries. Driven on by their priests and excited by their ardent liquors, the Russian troops rushed forward, beating, bayoneting, bashing, and brutalizing all they found in their path. Some had their heads taken off at the neck, as if they had been removed with an axe. Others were missing their legs or their arms. A few were even hit in the chest or stomach by the British 18 pounders at point blank range, blasting their bodies to bits as if they had been smashed by a machine. In one instance, 5 Russian grenadiers were all killed by one round shot as they charged their enemy. On their faces were a myriad of emotions ranging from anger and rage to sadness and pain. On the fields of Silistra were mountains of dead and dying men, some as old as 50 and others as young as 14.

    An hour into the attack, the Russians would finally succeed in taking several parts of the Burgoyne Line, forcing the British and Ottomans to scrape together their invalids and arm them with whatever weapons they could find, before rushing them into battle. This desperate measure would succeed in blunting the Russian assault as exhaustion, illness, and most crucially, a lack of munitions wore down the Russian juggernaut. Even still, they very nearly broke through and by all accounts it is a miracle that the Allied Line held as long as it did.

    If the Russians had any more men to throw at the Allies they very likely could have taken Silistra that day, yet Paskevich did not have more men, having sent a quarter of his Army northward to guard against the Hungarians. With the Allied Line holding, albeit barely, and the toll in lives continuing to mount, the Russian soldiers gradually began to lose heart. As dawn broke over Silistra, some exhausted men simply gave up the fight and left the battlefield, followed soon after by more and more of their compatriots. By dawn, the Russian attack evaporated, their soldiers leaving the field in a huff, their officers powerless to stop them.

    The battle was over, the Allies had won, but the bloodshed would continue for several more hours as the Turks and their Arab cohorts brutally slaughtered any Russian that they had come across, before looting the dead of all their valuables. The British response would differ only slightly, in that they looted the Russian wounded before leaving them to die at the hands of angry Ottomans or exposure to the elements. Some more charitable Britons would initially offer water and first aid to their wounded adversaries. Yet this philanthropy would not last long as rumors quickly circulated that the Russians were murdering these good men when they went to offer aid. Angered by this, they too would resort to butchering the Russian wounded just like their Turkish counterparts. When the Russians learned of these massacres, they would respond in kind killing the few Ottoman captives they had taken completing the atrocity.

    When Paskevich learned of the heavy toll in Russian blood he had paid for a few meters of dirt, he became visibly sick and weak. In the coming days, his condition continued to worsen to the point where he asked the Tsar to relieve him of his post and let him die in peace. The Tsar would initially refuse Paskevich’s request, but on the council of his Chief of Staff Prince Menshikov, he would later reverse his decision, permitting Paskevich to retire with full honors. As this debate was taking place between Count Paskevich and Tsar Nicholas, the fighting in the Balkans slowed to a halt as Paskevich had neither the will nor the fortitude to continue the battle and simply left the matter to his successor. When Paskevich was finally permitted to resign his post on the 13th of October, he handed command of the Army of the Danube over to Prince Gorchakov and retired to his estates in Gomel; he would be dead by the end of the year, likely of some camp sickness he had caught while on campaign. By this late hour, little could be done by Gorchakov before the onset of Winter, but unlike the previous year, the Russian Army would Winter outside Silistra, continuing the siege (albeit sporadically) over the coming months.

    330px-Mikhail_Gorchakov_%281793-1861%29%2C_by_Jan_Ksawery_Kaniewski_%281805-1867%29.jpg

    Prince Mikhail Dmitievich Gorchakov, 2nd Commander in Chief of the Army of the Danube

    Back in the East, however, the fighting was still ongoing as General Muravyov’s siege of Erzincan had met with some success after more than four months. Unable to take the city by storm, Muravyov had been forced to put the city under siege, but as he had abandoned most of his cannons to the muddy roads of Eastern Anatolia, he was forced to blockade the city and starve its defenders into submission. Unfortunately, the city had been well stocked with food and munitions prior to the Russians arrival giving them the strength to resist for some time. Yet, by early September, the defenders’ will to fight was nearly exhausted as help was nowhere to be seen and their supplies were running out. Some even considered surrendering the city to the Russians if help did not come soon.

    Conditions in the Russian camp were not good either as their numerical advantage soon became a hindrance for the Russian Army as its lines of supply were quite long and dangerously exposed to raids by Ottoman irregulars hiding in the surrounding hills and valleys. Muravyov’s attempts to counter these attacks met with little success as the raiders simply retreated into the surrounding mountains when the Russians approached en masse, then returned to harass the Russian stragglers when the Army turned away. By September, Muravyov’s army was starved of bullets and gunpowder, while Food was fast becoming an issue as the surrounding countryside had been desolated after four months of scavenging and looting.

    The arrival of Mehmed Rushdi Pasha and an Ottoman 46,000 strong on the 22nd would complicate matters for the beleaguered Russians as it bolstered the resolve of Erzincan's defenders and concerned Muravyov's exhausted men. However, this show of force by Rushdi Pasha was little more than an illusion. His host was not an army of veteran soldiers, but a mob of greybeards and fresh faced youths, irregulars and bandits. A few had rifles, most had antiquated muskets, while some didn't even have that, often wielding pikes or swords. Most of the Ottoman troops had very little if any formal military training and their discipline was nonexistent. Rushdi Pasha knew all this and thus refrained from picking a fight with Muravyov, instead erecting fieldworks and hoping to attrite the Russians into withdrawing. Muravyov would have none of it, however, and readied his men to fight.

    The Battle of Erzincan would be surprisingly evenly fought engagement despite the differences in troop quality as the exhausted Russian soldiers flung themselves at the relatively fresh recruits of the Ottoman Army. The end result was never in doubt, however, as the Russians slowly and methodically pushed the Turks back until finally they broke and fled the field. With the defeat of Rushdi Pasha's relief army, the city of Erzincan lost its last remaining hope of rescue and surrendered to the Russians the following morning, thus removing the last Ottoman bastion in the Erzurum valley.

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    Battle of Erzincan

    With Erzincan now under his control, General Muravyov moved to solidify his gains in the region before the end of the campaigning season. As such, the coming days and weeks would be spent occupying remote hilltop villages and securing the roads across the Erzurum Valley which fell almost entirely under Russian control. The Fall of Erzurum, followed by the fall of Erzincan was a disaster for the Sublime Porte, who was now forced to recall its troops from Georgia and Armenia. Mehmed Pasha's army was forced to abandon its gains in Abkhazia and Mingrelia, before retreating to the Eyalet of Trabzon, which now came under threat from both the East and the South. Similarly, Ali Pasha's army was recalled from Akhaltsike and positioned between Mehmed Pasha and Rushdi Pasha's armies. Finally, the remnants of Selim Pasha's host were ordered to defend Northern Mesopotamia. Overall, the Ottoman Army had less than 80,000 men stationed across the Pontic Mountains to Sivas and from Sivas to Lake Van.

    Muravyov's attempts to push westward and secure the mountain passes to Sivas in late October would be repulsed however, as Rushdi Pasha had reformed his green force and entrenched itself near the village of Refahiye in the easterly foothills of the Anatolian Plateau. While the Russian Army could have likely taken theses passes on a second assault, the strength of the Russian army had been thoroughly sapped after eight months of constant fighting and hard marching. Nearly a third of its number lost to disease, desertion, and battle, while many thousands more were stuck garrisoning the newly conquered cities and towns across Eastern Anatolia. Moreover, Muravyov's supply lines were at their limits as munitions and food were increasingly scarce. With winter only a few weeks away, General Muravyov had no choice but to halt his offensive; this was as far as he would advance this year.

    By all accounts, 1855 had not been a good year for the Russian Empire as they suffered great losses and terrible setbacks on almost every front, whilst the one front they did achieve success on was greatly dimmed by the cost in men and material needed to attain it. Neither was it the great triumph that the British and Ottomans needed, as they had failed to attract powerful allies to their side in the fight against Russia. Nor had they followed up on their battlefield successes with offensives of their own, which might have forced Russia onto the defensive. Instead, they had allowed Russia time to recover and regroup, and when the campaigning season in 1856 arrived the Russian Bear would be poised to get its revenge.

    Next Time: Desperate Measures
    [1] A similar incident happened in OTL, during the Russian siege of Kars.

    [2] The more I look into it, the more I discover just how bad the supply situation for the Russian Army in the OTL Crimean War really was. Of the 1.2 million troops listed on the rolls of the Imperial Russian Army, only around 5% had rifles, most of which were prescribed to members of the Life Guards. In contrast, more than 50% of the British troops possessed rifles during the OTL Crimean War. ITTL, I would probably say its even higher for the British owing to the extra year of preparation by the British, putting it somewhere around 60 to 70%. Worse still, according to the official stocks of the Imperial Russian Army, they only had enough guns for around half their listed troops when the war started in 1853. These shortages weren’t limited to rifles as carbines and pistols were also in short supply. There also appears to have been a rationing of ammunition prior to the war, with the average soldier only receiving 10 rounds per year for training. I would assume it would be higher during the war, but I haven’t found anything definitive on this. That being said, the Tsarist Government would likely prioritize their units in the Balkans, the Baltic, and the Caucasus over those in Central Asia and the Far East, alleviating their shortages somewhat. Even still, they fall incredibly short of the British material advantage who could fire close to 100,000 cannonballs with regularity during the final stages of the OTL Siege of Sevastopol.

    [3] The Ottomans and British were also affected to a lesser degree, with roughly 1 in 10 suffering from one disease or another.

    [4] I’m pretty sure the Russian weapon used during the Crimean War was a muzzle loading musket, but the Russian sources I’m using refer to it as a rifle.

    [5] Ironically, British propaganda depicted the Russians as savages. So, if anything, this would be a backhanded compliment for the British.

    [6] Interesting, the British had constructed a similar railroad from Balaclava to their camp overlooking Sevastopol in the OTL Crimean War to improve their supply situation, which this railroad achieves as well. Obviously, this railroad is much longer than the OTL one, but I’m handwaving this thanks to it being built in friendly territory and Britain having to pick up the slack that France held in OTL, which largely takes the form of engineers and technicians. I’m also giving the British more time to build it, about 4-5 months as opposed to the 7 weeks it took them to build the dual track railroad in OTL.

    [7] A similar incident very nearly happened in OTL during the battle of Alma. There, Raglan rode ahead of the Army to scout out the battle, but in doing so very nearly came under fire from Russian gunners.
     
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    Chapter 83: Desperate Measures
  • Chapter 83: Desperate Measures

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    The Hospital of Scutari

    The end of the 1855 campaigning season would be met with a sigh of relief in London, but also some concern as the war against Russia was far from what they had originally envisioned. Thus far, Great Britain itself had been spared the worst effects of the war thanks to its distance from the battlefronts and vaunted Royal Navy, but the same could not be said for their ally, the Ottoman Empire who was in dire straits with the collapse of the Anatolian front earlier that year. Defeat after defeat by the Ottomans in the East had seen them pushed from Abkhazia and Erivan in the Spring to Trabzon and Erzincan by the Fall. At the end of the year, the Russians were on the doorstep of the Anatolian Plateau, threatening the very heartland of the Ottoman Empire. The situation in the West was not looking good either as their gallant defense of Rumelia had left their armies there depleted and exhausted, whilst the Russian losses were made good with the arrival of fresh conscripts later that Winter.

    By December 1855, a small minority within the Ottoman Government were openly calling for peace with the Russians. They argued that the Sublime Porte had been strong armed into this disastrous war by the British, only to bare the brunt of the fighting and the majority of the cost. Moreover, their supposed ally would coerce them into ceding their own territory to Greece, a non-belligerent who actively aided the Russians with their seditionism. Therefore, it was only right and just that London contribute more to the war effort, either in men, material, or money, preferably all three. If they did not, then they saw no reason to continue paying the price for “Britain’s war”. Whilst the British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, Sir Stanford Canning would report that this opinion was only a minor one in 1855, he would remark that it was growing at an alarming rate and recommended immediate action to alleviate Ottoman concerns.

    Unfortunately for Canning, Britain was already providing a substantial amount in aid to the Turks, already providing millions of pounds in loans to the Ottoman Government. They were also supplying the Ottoman Army with dozens of cannons, thousands of rifles, and tens of thousands of Minié balls, cannon balls, and other such munitions. More than that, around 90,000 British soldiers and sailors were deployed in the Ottoman Empire, aiding in its defense, while another 20,000 sailors and marines were fighting in the Baltic and 4,000 more were in the Pacific. Yet this considerable commitment was not enough to overcome Russia, nor was it enough to satisfy the Sublime Porte and with the Turks recent defeats in the East, London was hesitant to offer more.

    The declaration of war by the Qajari Empire, followed soon after by the revolt of the Sepoys in India would only complicate matters for Westminster. Now pulled in two different directions, Great Britain simply did not have the manpower to fight and win both the war against Russia and the Revolt in India at the same time.[1] It would have to choose which to give up and which to fight for if it wanted to salvage a rapidly deteriorating situation. Naturally, India would win out over the Ottomans as it was the crown jewel of the British Empire, but neither did they want to abandon all their investments in the Ottoman Empire to the Russian barbarians. In the end, Palmerston and Parliament resolved not to draw down their forces in Rumelia or Anatolia. Instead, they would draw upon new units to reinforce their soldiers in India and hope that they could satisfy the disgruntled Turks with additional coin and weapons.

    There was only one problem with this, Britain itself was running out of trained soldiers to call upon. Of the prewar Army of 160,000 soldiers, around two thirds were almost always in the colonies enforcing Westminster’s will across the globe. Several regiments had been recalled to Europe prior to the war with Russia, but a dozen regiments were still in the UK at the outbreak of the Sepoy Mutiny, while nearly a third remained overseas. Firstly, those regiments still in the United Kingdom would be mobilized and immediately sent to India. Next, orders were dispatched to the colonial garrisons of British North America and British Australia. These units would be pared down to the absolute minimum in the Spring of 1856, with local militias assuming control over local defense and policing. Similarly, the garrison in the Cape Colony would also be reduced, albeit not to the same degree as the Canadian and the Australian colonies given the recent unrest by the Xhosa people. The garrisons of New Zealand, West Africa, the Caribbean, and China, however, were explicitly left intact given their high importance and general restlessness at the time.

    There was also significant consideration given to mobilizing the British volunteer guards; the Militia, the Yeomanry Cavalry, the Royal Veteran Battalions, and the Fencibles. However, as their deployment would leave the Home Isles virtually defenseless, their deployment was not seriously considered. Nevertheless, Whitehall and Westminster would permit volunteers from these units to serve overseas in the Balkans or India. Overall, the British Government would succeed in organizing another 2 divisions worth of men from their colonial garrisons and home units, yet this massive mobilization of Britain’s entire standing army for two separate conflicts would stretch their manpower dangerously thin.

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    Members of the Yeomanry Cavalry
    To combat this, Parliament would enact a number of “War Acts”, providing lucrative enlistment bonuses and shorter enlistment contracts in an effort to entice new recruits.[2] These initiatives would find some success among the Scots and Welsh, but overall they gained few English or Irish volunteers. Typically, members of the military generally came from the poorer strata of society with little chance for upward economic or social advancement as it provided a steady wage and opportunity for adventure that couldn’t otherwise be earned on a homestead or in a mine. On the whole, the English were wealthier than their Scottish, Irish, and Welsh neighbors thanks to the bustling industry and trade of their lands. Moreover, army life was looked down upon by most Englishmen as a crude and unpleasant existence, prompting many respectable men to shy away from the service. The Irish in contrast, were generally the poorest of the British peoples, and often subject to intense discrimination by their English landlords, making Army life a good option for many. Yet in this instance, they refrained where they had normally would have jumped at the opportunity.

    The reasoning for this was largely political as the Irish Independence organization, Young Ireland compelled the Irish people not to heed Westminster’s Blood Tax. Young Ireland had gained an immense following on the Emerald Isle after it openly challenged Parliament’s botched handling of the recent Potato Famine, a tragedy that had killed over half a million people and prompted another half million to emigrate abroad. Even in 1856, eight years after the onset of the Great Famine, many Irishmen were still suffering from its lingering affects; orphaned girls resorted to prostitution to survive, while orphaned boys often turned to lives of brigandry. Entire villages were wiped out by the famine, cities were depopulated and the countryside was emptied. Thousands continued to leave Ireland every year since, owing to poor prospects at home and better opportunities abroad.

    Beyond the economic and demographic repercussions of the Famine, there were also the political ramifications to consider within Ireland as the poor management of the crisis by Parliament sparked a national reawakening among the Irish people. They no longer wished to be treated as second rate citizens or indentured servants by the English, they wanted equality and representation, and if they couldn’t get that within the United Kingdom then many suggested that Ireland move towards independence. The message to Parliament was clear, if they wanted more Irish sons to fight its wars, then they wanted something in return and what they wanted was autonomy.

    Not wanting to give in to seditionists and partisans, Westminster initially refused to make concessions to the Irish and the matter was shelved for several weeks until ominous reports from India prompted Parliament to reconsider their stubborn position. Desperately short of manpower and being pressed hard on multiple fronts, Prime Minister Palmerston had little choice but to made peace with the Irish if it hoped to gain their support. However, many within Parliament, particularly Palmerston's own Tories supporters were apoplectic, believing such a measure would mark the end of the British Empire as other groups would be encouraged to seek their own autonomy. Some, however, specifically those in the Irish Brigade (Irish MPs) and the Whigs considered this to be a defining moment for the Empire to reform itself. Lastly there was the Duke of Wellington’s deathbed plea to Parliament in 1849, calling upon them to preserve the Union between Ireland and Great Britain.

    Ultimately, the Irish Dominion Act of 1856 would pass, endowing upon Ireland the legal authority to form its own local legislature. This legislature would be empowered to enact legislation and regulations over local matters, paving the way for land reform, ecclesiastical reform, and more in the years to come. The Irish Parliament would remain subordinate to the Parliament in Westminster, but for now the Irish Nationalists were largely appeased, and with mild trepidation, they gave their blessing to Irish men lending their lives to the British war effort. By year’s end, around 23,000 Irish men and boys would enlist, providing a sizeable boost to the beleaguered British Army. Most would be used to reinforce the depleted regiments in the Balkans, but enough would be formed together into a sixth Division of Infantry under the command of Major General George Bell, which would be sent to India later in the year. However, the raising of this “Irish Division” would completely exhaust Britain’s native manpower. Short of conscription, there was no one else willing to serve.

    Conscription was an immensely unpopular proposal in Britain and had been vehemently opposed by the public in the Summer of 1855, when a bill legalizing conscription was floated in the Commons. Fears of public unrest became quite serious, forcing Parliament to table the measure less than a fortnight after it first emerged. Attempts to revive the conscription issue in early 1856 would meet a similar fate, forcing Parliament to look the Continent for more men. The idea of a Foreign Legion was not a new one in Britain as the Empire had fielded a German Legion during the Napoleonic Wars to great effect. Despite its potency, public opposition to foreigners in the army and sharp reductions in military spending would to lead to its dissolution shortly after the final defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo.

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    Members of the King’s German Legion
    Here too, the proposal of establishing a new Foreign Legion was met with opposition by members of the British public and Members of Parliament, who had come to view continentals with suspicion and contempt for their inaction against the Russian Barbarians. British wartime propaganda would be particularly harsh towards the Germans, specifically the Prussians and Austrians for their overt friendliness towards St. Petersburg. But with the Spring campaigning season fast approaching and the situation in India worsening, Parliament pushed ahead in spite of public resistance passing the Foreign Enlistment Act into law in early March 1856.[3]

    Over the next month, Britain would dispatch nearly 500 recruiting agents across the continent, accepting volunteers from Germany, Italy, Switzerland, Hungary, Poland, Spain, Portugal, Sweden-Norway, Denmark, France, and the Netherlands. Despite initial pessimism on the part of Westminster and Whitehall, they would find many more volunteers than they originally bargained for. All told they would successfully raise another five brigades of line infantry, three brigades of light infantry, a brigade of cavalry, and a brigade of artillery for military service for a grand total of over 24,000 men. Around a third of these recruits were of German origin, most of whom were former fighters of some defeated cause from the Revolutions of 1848, making for an odd grouping of liberals and conservatives. There were also several thousand Swiss, Swedes, Italians, Spaniards, Hungarians and Danes rounding out the formation. However, nearly half of the Legion's men were Poles.

    Having suffered persecution and humiliations at the hands of the Russians for many years, most recently in 1850, the Poles were quite eager to fight against the Russians, if for no other reason than spite and revenge. The added benefit of British gold certainly helped too. In the end, the British would enlist nearly twelve thousand Polish volunteers between March and June, to the point they had to turn many willing recruits away. Most of these men were veterans of the recent Polish Revolution and were quite talented fighters who had experience fighting against the Russians.

    These men of the British Foreign Legion would be paid a generous enlistment bonus of 20 Pounds Sterling upon signing a contract of military service. After which, they would receive free passage to Britain to begin their training. At the end of the war they would be allowed to return to their countries of origin at the expense of the British Government, or if they so desired, they could remain in British military service. The contingents of this British Foreign Legion would be organized by nationality and led by their own officers - provided they could speak passable English, resulting in the formation of 12 regiments of Poles, 8 regiments of Germans, 4 regiments of Italians, 2 regiments of Swiss, a regiment of Swedes, and a mixed regiment of the other nationalities. Once they were sworn into the service, they would be issued their uniforms and rifles, receive a month of intensive military training, and then be shipped off to fight against Russia in the Ottoman Empire.

    The arrival of the Foreign Legion in the Balkans in mid-July would free up the depleted 3rd Infantry Division to withdrawal to Constantinople for two weeks of rest and recuperation, before shipping out for India later that Summer. Of particular note, the men of the 3rd Division would be among the first to travel through the now mostly completed Suez Canal. After receiving permission from the Khedivate Government, the 3rd Division would sail more than three quarters of the way down the unfinished canal, before marching overland for the remaining 29 miles of the journey. They would arrive in Bombay before the end of August. However, the raising of all these new soldiers, not to mention the cost of their uniforms, weapons, and continued upkeep would create a massive new expenditure for the already encumbered British Treasury.

    As of January 1856, Britain had spent over 100 million Pounds Sterling financing the war effort against Russia between the payment of wages for its military personnel, the payment of enlistment bonuses, the purchasing and production of munitions, the maintenance of the Royal Navy, the loans to the Ottomans, and the bribes to key Austrian and Prussian politicians to keep their states neutral in this fight. Even before this rapid expansion of the Army, the Government’s debt was expanding at a rapid rate. The British Government had attempted to overcome this problem by encouraging the public to buy war bonds, and this had met to moderate success when public enthusiasm for the war was at its height and victory seemed possible. Now in the Spring of 1856, the public had begun to sour on the war; victory seemed unlikely at best and impossible at worst. Worse still, deficit spending was increasing at a such a rate that the UK could only continue its current spending for another year or two at most before it would run out of money and be forced to make peace.

    To cover the increased costs of the war, Parliament would enact Sir Robert Peel’s proposal of a progressive tax on income for all households making more than 100 Pounds Sterling a year. The tax rate would increase depending on the income of the household in question. Those at the bottom of the scale would pay approximately 5 pence whereas those nearer the top would pay considerably more. Although it wouldn’t completely solve Britain’s money shortfalls, it would buy them precious time to end this war. Unfortunately, the measure was also incredibly unpopular among the British people who did not appreciate another added cost for the war with Russia. The people would ultimately accept the measure, albeit begrudgingly, when Palmerston and his government declared that it would only be a temporary measure that will be repealed at the end of the current conflict and that reforms would come after the war's end.

    The final obstacle facing the British Empire during the opening months of 1856 was the abhorrent medical and logistical systems utilized by the Army in the Balkans, which sapped the fighting strength of the Balkan Expeditionary Force. Many thousands of British troops had succumbed to battle wounds or illness, costing the Army immensely. Tragically, most of these deaths and maimings could have been prevented with better treatment or better conditions in the Allied camp. However, many deaths were also the result of criminal negligence and incompetency on the part of British leadership in Whitehall and Westminster who had originally envisioned a short war that would see the backwards Russians beaten by Christmas. When this failed to happen, the rank and file were left to suffer the consequences of their leader’s overconfidence.

    Winter coats, hats, gloves, and boots were in short supply despite the great quantity of weapons and munitions in the British camp. Similarly, bread and meat were quite plentiful, but cooks were a rarity in besieged Silistra, forcing many soldiers to cook for themselves. While this was generally not an issue for those who had grown up in the British countryside, those from the cities of England and Scotland were woefully unprepared, leading many to grow weak and become increasingly vulnerable to sickness. Doctors were also few and far between as many of the civilian physicians had fled the area at the onset of the war, while those that remained were worked to the bone. Army doctors collapsing from exhaustion was a common occurrence and in one instance, a surgeon would even die from over exertion. As a result, many sick and wounded would be sent to Scutari for further medical treatment.

    Unfortunately, the conditions at the hospital at Scutari were just as deplorable; the floors were awash in blood and dirt, while the air was stagnant with the stench of death. News of this travesty would quickly make its way to the British Isles over the Winter, prompting a great public outcry condemning the Government for its failings and called for immediate action to save the lives of British soldiers. Caught off guard, the British Government would make a few half-hearted reforms to improve the conditions for the Army and sending whatever winter uniforms, coal, and stoves it had on hand to the Balkans – most of which wouldn’t arrive until the middle of Spring. Beyond that, however, little else was done by Parliament as it simply lacked the wherewithal to act upon such a crisis. With the Government proving incapable of lending proper aid in a timely fashion, many women, young and old would volunteer their services as nurses and cooks for the Army in its stead, often traveling to the Ottoman Empire at their own expense to aid in the war effort. Over the Spring, several hundred women, often times the mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives of soldiers made the long journey from all across the Empire to aid their men.

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    Several Nurses who served in the Balkans
    There was also considerable diplomatic pressure applied to the nearby Kingdom of Greece to offer medical and logistical support to the British Army. Per the terms of the Treaty of Corfu, signed between British Prime Minister Lord Palmerston and Greek Deputy Prime Minister Panos Kolokotronis, the Greek State was inclined to offer its support to the British war effort, short of providing war materials. In return, the British Government would invest several hundred thousand Pounds Sterling into the modernization and expansion of Greek infrastructure, an act which also benefited the British as the Greeks were providing the Royal Navy with unrestricted access to their ports.

    Athens would have to walk a fine line, however, as providing too much aid to the British could risk alienating St. Petersburg, whereas providing too little could endanger their relationship with London. They would manage to work around this problem somewhat, by transporting supplies to the Allies via their merchant marine, while a few Greek smugglers would slip past the Allied blockade, delivering goods into and out of Russia’s Black Seas ports. It was a dangerous game that could backfire terribly if any Greek smugglers were caught, but these men were capable seamen who knew how to handle themselves on the sea and had little difficulty evading the sluggish warships of the British and Ottomans with their agile sloops and cutters.

    The current health crisis in the Allied Camp would provide Greece with another opportunity to fulfill its end of the bargain with Britain. Under the guise of providing humanitarian aid, the Dean of the Kapodistrian School of Medicine at the University of Athens, Dr. Konstantinos Karatheodori proposed sending several of his professors and students to help improve the flagging health of the British Army at Silistra in order to test their skills and learn invaluable lessons. The Greek Government and British Ambassador would agree to Karatheodori’s proposal and began preparing a mission for the front. The leader of this medical mission would be Dr. Konstantinos Vousakis, a professor at the University of Athens' Kapodistrian School of Medicine, and the nephew of former Greek Prime Minister Ioannis Kolettis.

    Overall, around 30 Greek doctors and medical students would make the journey from Athens to Scutari where they would be immediately put to work fixing the abhorrent environment many of the sick and wounded found themselves in. Together with the newly arrived nurses from Great Britain, the Greek Doctors and medical students would improve hospital in-processing, bedding, ventilation, and overall cleanliness. By the end of the war, the deaths from illness and disease would drop by a third while deaths by battle wounds dropped by over 50%. Nevertheless, many thousands would still die as the intensity of the 1856 campaigning season increased. One group that did not benefit much from greater Greek involvement in the war were the Ottomans, as tensions between the Greeks and Turks sadly precluded any attempts at cooperation.

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    One of the Wards in the British Hospital at Scutari

    To appease the Sublime Porte, London provided another loan of 10 million Pounds to the Ottoman Government at the beginning of 1856 and promised to deliver another loan every year until the end of the conflict. Britain also made assurances to the Porte that Hungary and Sweden would join the war soon – an ambitious assumption at best and an outright lie at worst. Britain would also appeal to France for further material aid, purchasing another 37,000 Minié rifles, 460,000 Minié balls, and 42 cannons which would be delivered to the Turks before the end of May.

    The Sultan's Polish Legion would also see its numbers increased with the arrival of nearly 7,400 Polish patriots from Hungary aiding the Ottomans and British in their fight against the Russians. Many of these men were veterans of the Revolt of 1848, who had extensive experience fighting the Russians and when equipped with modern British Rifles, they would make for an incredibly deadly force, killing scores of Russian infantrymen. The Porte would receive another 8,600 volunteers from North Africa and the Levant over the Winter of 1856, with another 3,200 arriving in the Spring. Although this number was far smaller than the 28,000 men they received the year prior, the extra manpower was certainly welcome in Constantinople, which was in desperate need for more men.

    The Porte would receive further good news in late March, when they learned that Ibrahim Pasha, Khedive of Egypt had suddenly died, plunging Egypt into a bitter succession crisis, thus removing a great threat from their southern provinces. The matter of Ibrahim’s succession had not been resolved prior to his untimely demise, leaving his supporters to rally between two very different candidates for the throne. The first and most obvious candidate was Ibrahim’s eldest surviving son, Isma’il Pasha who found great support among the Army, the liberals, and the French as he vowed to continue his father's and grandfather's policies of modernization and westernization. However, under Ottoman law, Isma’il Pasha was not entitled to inherit the Eyalet of Egypt on his father’s death bringing him into conflict with the legalists in Egypt. Moreover, claims of Ibrahim Pasha’s own illegitimacy threw Ismail’s claim into doubt among the conservative elements of Egyptian society.

    These caveats allowed his cousin Abbas Pasha, son of Ibrahim’s younger brother Ahmed Tusun Pasha, to make a rival claim for the Egyptian throne owing to his pristine legitimacy and his seniority – he was 43, whereas Ismail was only 25. Abbas had boisterously opposed his grandfather’s and uncle’s economic, political, and societal reforms, and instead favored a return to the traditional values and customs of Egypt. This included a reduction in the Egyptian military, the abolition of Egypt’s monopolies, and perhaps most crucially, better relations with the Caliph (Sultan Abdulmejid) and the Sublime Porte which served him. He was also distrustful of the French who had essentially abandoned Egypt to the mercy of the Turks in 1841. Moreover, he opposed what was clearly becoming more of a master and servant dynamic as opposed to a relationship of two equals that had existed under his illustrious grandfather.

    This Francophobia would earn him the support of the British Government which sought to replace French influence in Egypt. To earn the support of Constantinople, Abbas Pasha also promised to return Palestine and Hejaz to the Sultan's direct control, although how truthful these promises were, none can truly say. Despite these bold promises, the Porte would refrain from supporting either candidate at this time, owing in large part to the ongoing conflict with Russia which occupied most of their energies. Moreover, Ismail Pasha was incredibly popular among the Egyptian people, and more importantly, the Egyptian Army would likely revolt if they attempted to force Abbas upon them. More than this, however, the Porte was content to let the dispute resolve itself. If push came to shove and the two scions of the house of Kavalali bled each other white in civil war, then so much the better as it would only aid the Porte in reconsolidating their grip on Egypt once the current war with Russia ended.

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    The contenders for the Egyptian throne: Isma'il Pasha (Left) and Abbas Pasha (Right)​

    If nothing else, this dispute in Egypt enabled the Porte to shift several regiments northward from Syria and into Eastern Anatolia. Although it was a dangerous gambit given Egypt's past behavior, it was deemed a necessary risk in light of the current crisis. Similarly, the recent treaty with Greece would enable the Ottoman Government to recall their garrisons from the Dodecanese Islands, Thessaly and Epirus, freeing them up for service along the Danube. Finally, an agreement would be reached with the Prince of Serbia, Milos Obrenovic to remove the Ottoman troops from Serbia in return for increased Serbian autonomy, effectively making it independent in all but name. Although it was a hard decision to make, and an incredibly unpopular one at that, it would free up several thousand soldiers while also ensuring continued Serbian neutrality. Overall, the measures enacted by the British and Ottomans over the Fall of 1855 and Winter of 1856 would help, but they merely slowed the rate of bleeding, as the Russians made moves of their own in preparation for this upcoming campaigning season.

    Unlike the Allies, the situation for the Russians was not quite as dire, at least from a military standpoint. Over 100,000 soldiers had been lost to sickness, injury, or desertion in 1855 alone, but these losses would be easily replaced. The Army of the Danube would actually see its number increased by another 64,000 with the arrival of four reserve divisions, raising its nominal strength to 312,000 men. Similarly, the Army of the Caucasus would be reinforced back to its original strength of 100,000 soldiers with the arrival of two new reserve divisions. Still, at their current rate of casualties, the Russians could sustain another two to three years of fighting before their losses began to truly impact their fighting ability.

    There was also the matter of supplying their army as valuable weapons and munitions had been lost on campaign in 1855, weapons which could not be replaced easily. Many soldiers carried antiquated muskets, which were greatly outmatched by the rifles of the British and Ottomans and ammunition was also becoming an increasing problem for the Russian Army, as the average soldier only had a handful of bullets. Even if they possessed rifles and the bullets to fire them, it likely would have made little difference as most of these soldiers wouldn’t be able to fire them owing to the nature of the Russian Army. Their officers had little respect for the serfs serving under them, viewing them as cheap fodder that could be easily expended for victory on the battlefield. This belief was reinforced by Russian military doctrine which favored the bayonet charge over fire fights, essentially pinning the outcome of a battle on the elan of their soldiers. While this strategy was effective at times, it was also extremely costly in lives lost resulting in untold numbers of dead and wounded.

    The biggest issue facing the Russian Empire at the start of 1856, however, was the utter collapse of its economy. With its major Black Sea, Baltic Sea, and Pacific ports blockaded by Allied ships, the Russian export market had all but evaporated. While some products would continue to make their way out of Russia via Greek smugglers or across the land border with Prussia or Austria, their economy effectively imploded as they were product rich and cash poor. To pay for the increasingly costly war - over 600 million rubles had been spent thus far - the Russian Government resorted to printing unsecured bank notes. Naturally, this caused the value of the Ruble to depreciate at an astounding pace, loosing nearly half its value by January 1856. At this rate, the Russian Empire would run out of money far sooner than it would run out of men.

    To get around this issue, taxes on the serfs were increased, but this alone was not enough to balance the Russian Government, forcing the Tsar's ministers to look for other solutions. Several alternatives were proposed such as levying taxes on the nobility or raising the tax on government monoplies, but each was rejected in kind, until finally, the Governor-General of occupied Galicia-Lodomeria, Count Fyodor Ridiger suggested taxing the occupied province.

    Officially, the Kingdom of Galicia-Lodomeria remained a province of the Austrian Empire on paper, but in truth they exercised little authority in the region, effectively leaving its governance to the Russians in all but name. This situation had suited both parties well enough over the last few years, but following Austria’s refusal to join the Great Eurasian War as per the terms of their alliance with Russia, relations between the two states gradually worsened. The Austrians would attempt to excuse their neutrality with claims of a ruined economy and an exhausted army, but the Russian ambassador in Vienna would report that British diplomats had bribed certain members of the Emperor Franz Joseph’s cabinet to ensure their neutrality in the present conflict. Regardless of the truth behind these allegations, the Russian Government would not look favorably upon this Austrian duplicity and in a fit of rage, Tsar Nicholas agreed to the measure taxing Galicia-Lodomeria as if it were any other province of the Russian Empire. While it would not resolve their money problem completely, it would give them enough time for one final push.

    Next Time: Breaking Point

    [1] ITTL Westminster was planning on using the Sepoys in their fight against Russia, prompting the East India Company to enact the General Service Act which would have allowed Sepoys to serve overseas, which contributed somewhat to their later revolt. Obviously, this won’t be happening now as it would only worsen the situation in India, which is already quite strained.

    [2] Parliament enacted similar policies during the Napoleonic Wars only to repeal them in 1829, so if they really needed to they could have done something like this if they needed to increase recruitment without resorting to conscription.

    [3] There was in fact a British German Legion that was raised during the OTL Crimean War, but owing to public opposition and the fact that they were winning the war, there was less of a necessity to recruit a large number of them. Nevertheless, they still raised around 6,000 men, but by the time they were ready to fight, the war was over. Most would return to their homelands after the Crimean War, but around 2,000 would remain in the British Empire, settling in the Cape Colony and then later helping to put down the Sepoy Mutiny in 1857.
     
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    Chapter 84: Breaking Point
  • Chapter 84: Breaking Point


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    Russian Cavalrymen Pursue Fleeing Ottoman Soldiers

    The start of the 1856 campaigning season would begin a little later than the previous year. Having already fulfilled most of his objectives, and much more, General Nikolay Muravyov would instead allow his exhausted soldiers time to rest and recuperate after a year and a half of almost constant fighting and marching in extremely difficult terrain and weather. Beyond this, however, his dreadfully long supply lines simply made it impossible to keep pushing westward at the rate he had in 1855. Instead, the Russian Army of the Caucasus would be refocused outwards once Spring arrived in Anatolia, expanding its narrow salient to both the North and the South.

    In the south, a portion of the Russian Army under Prince Vasily Osipovich Bebutov would successfully reduce the Beyazit salient by the end of May. Resistance in the area had been rather sporadic as the Ottomans had largely evacuated their remaining troops from the region over the Winter. After Beyazit’s fall on the 15th of April, Bebutov was instructed to begin pushing southwards toward Lake Van and then onward to the cities of Mush and Van if possible. However, his offensive here would run into increasing trouble, more so from the rugged terrain and local Kurdish bandits than any official Ottoman resistance. Prince Bebutov’s detachment would eventually reach the northeastern corner of Lake Van by the end of June, near the submerged town of Ercis.[1] However, rather than press onward as originally instructed, Bebutov would receive new orders from St. Petersburg to halt his advance in place and began digging in.

    Another Russian detachment under Prince Ivan Andronikashvili would press against Reshid Pasha’s forces stationed in the hills west of Erzincan. His efforts were largely focused on tying down Turkish forces in the region, rather than making a concerted push in any particular direction. Despite this, the general weakness of the Ottoman defenders enabled relatively modest gains for the Russians along this front. Their largest drawbacks were constant supply shortages, which gave the Ottomans a slight advantage in firepower, but overall, the Russians still maintained the edge here. By the end of June, Prince Andronikashvili had managed to reach the outskirts of Gercanis, roughly 18 miles West from where he first started his campaign in April. Even still, he had succeeded in his primary objective, as Reshid Pasha and Selim Pasha were unable to send any significant reinforcements to assist in the defense of the Lazistan or the Van Eyalets.

    The main Russian objective of the Anatolian front in 1856 was the Pontic coast, however, with the port of Trabzon being of particular importance to St. Petersburg given its status as a prominent commercial hub. As the Porte’s premier Black Seas port, it would provide Russia with great wealth and influence over all trade in the region if captured. The Ottoman commanders in the region recognized Russia’s interest in the port and had used the extended lull in the fighting to fortify the passes through the Pontic Mountains against the coming Russian offensive. But with their shattered armies and dreadful morale, there was little the beleaguered Ottomans could do in the face of the impending Russian juggernaut.


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    The Port City of Trabzon

    Beginning on the 10th of April, General Muravyov took 54,000 men northward and began his assault on the Pontic Coast. Despite significant support from the British Royal Navy and the Ottoman Black Seas Fleet, the port of Batumi would fall within a month’s time. The nearby town of Rize would also come under considerable pressure soon after. Like Batumi before it, Rize would surrender to the Russians after a month-long siege at the end of May. Muravyov’s attempts to take Trabzon, however, would encounter more resistance as the last battered remnants of Mehmed Pasha’s Army along with various British marines and sailors, and a number of Circassian, Crimean, Dagestani, and Lazi irregulars stood against them.

    Moreover, the British Royal Navy and Ottoman Black Seas Fleet would position several ships off the coast of Trabzon. Despite the risk from Russian guns on land, the allied ships frequently bombarded the approaching Russian Army, effectively deterring any concentrated attempts to take the city by storm. Similarly, a constant stream of supply ships into and out of Trabzon’s harbor ensured that the city was well provisioned, mitigating the risk of it falling to starvation. Nevertheless, Muravyov was a tenacious general and continued the siege, steadily moving his lines forward, inch by inch over the course of several weeks. By mid-June, the threat to Trabzon was real enough that the British dispatched several regiments from the Balkans to help defend the city despite the perilous situation in Rumelia.

    The arrival of these British soldiers in Trabzon would ironically coincide with a decisive shift in priorities by the Russian Government away from the Caucasus and Anatolia. Men and resources previously allocated to the Caucasus Front were now being drawn off to fight in other areas, with entire divisions now being recalled for service in the Balkans, the Baltic and Central Asia. Even General Muravyov was ordered northward to lead the upcoming Fall campaign against the Caucasian Imamate and the Circassian Confederacy. His departing address to his soldiers was brief and blunt, but still a highly emotional event for his soldiers who had come to respect and admire the Old Bear, General Muravyov.

    Despite the great success for the Russians on the Anatolian front, it came to a quiet end in early July 1856. Barring Trabzon, all of Russia’s pre-war objectives for this front had been fulfilled and then some after two years of bitter fighting. As such few, if any, in St. Petersburg had the will or the interest to continue investing desperately needed resources into this theater, beyond what was necessary to hold their new gains. Tsar Nicholas was personally against a continued offensive into the increasingly Muslim countryside of Central Anatolia especially when more vital fronts like the Balkans needed further support. In truth, this decision had been made over the Winter; the continued success by Muravyov’s men in the Spring and Summer only quickened this process.

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    The Anatolian Front in the Summer of 1856
    As a result of this, Prince Mikhail Dmitrievich Gorchakov’s Army of the Danube would receive the bulk of Russia’s remaining resources in 1856. Reinforced with four newly raised Reserve Divisions, Gorchakov’s army was boosted well above three hundred thousand soldiers by the start of Spring Campaigning season. It would also receive priority over the other field armies for munitions and equipment, helping to sure up their lacking stockpiles of musket balls, cannon balls, powder, food, clothing, shoes and other commodities. A few of its units would even receive the newly minted Model 1856 Six Line Rifle-Muskets which had been rushed out of development to counter the British Enfields. Finally, Gorchakov was given free rein to expand the front to the entire stretch of the Danube from Silistra to the Iron Gates. With his army reinforced, resupplied, and redirected, Prince Gorchakov readied his men for the fight of their lives in late mid-April.

    This year’s offensive in the Balkans would begin with another Russian assault on Silistra’s defenses by Count Alexander von Lüders’ Army of Moldavia, supported by General Karl Schilder’s extensive Corps of Artillery. Boasting over 400 cannons (mostly smaller calibers and older vintage guns), the Russian bombardment peppered the Allied lines with fire and iron in preparation for the Russian offensive. The ensuing attack on the 24th of April would be directed against the entirety of the Anglo-Ottoman line, probing it for vulnerabilities and searching for any openings. However, unlike the foolhardy attacks of the year prior, this onslaught would be a meticulous campaign meant to wear down the resolve and the strength of the Allied defenders over time. Although it would cost them a tremendous amount in blood, the Russians had blood enough to spare.

    They need not try too hard, however, as the British rank and file were in dismal spirits by the start of 1856. Many of their comrades had died of cholera and typhus over the last year, while many more were sent to Scutari to recuperate or invalidated home before being unceremoniously discharged from the service. Several leading officers would abandon the Army under the guise of illness or injury, while others like the Duke of Cambridge were recalled for political reasons further weakening British morale and discipline.[2] The continuous skirmishing with the Russians over the Winter didn’t help either. Were it not for the stalwart leadership of General Brown, many of his men would have likely mutinied or deserted in the face of the looming Russian attack.


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    British Soldiers “Celebrating” Another Year in Silistra

    Defeatism was also quite rampant in the Turkish ranks as the continuous stream of bad news from Eastern Anatolia poured in over the Fall and Winter, destroying the already fragile Ottoman morale. Similarly, relations with London had soured immensely after they had coerced the Sublime Porte into ceding territory to the Kingdom of Greece. Although, the influx of additional British coin and weapons into the Ottoman Empire would help soothe the ruffled feathers in Constantinople, many of the Ottoman troops along the Danube were now distrustful of their British allies, whom they considered fair weather friends and opportunists. Despite this, many troops in the Ottoman Army remained committed to the war effort if for no other reason to defend their homes and their families. Some were motivated purely by spite, with the Poles largely fighting to injure the Russians after decades of oppression and persecution.

    Fortunately, the Allies would receive a desperately needed boost in late April/early May with the arrival of the British 6th Infantry Division - the “Irish Division” - and the British Foreign Legions which would help restore the British Army’s flagging morale and strength. The British Army in the Balkans would in fact top 100,000 soldiers briefly before attrition and redeployments to India reduced it to around 68,000 men. Most of the British reinforcements would be stationed along the Danube front, with most being allocated to the defense of Silistra. A handful of regiments were sent to fortify the ports of Varna and Burgas, and the fortress of Shumen, while a brigade was sent to help defend the river crossings further west. The collapse of the Anatolian front the year prior, would also force General Brown to dispatch a few brigades of the British Foreign Legion eastwards to aid in the defense of Trabzon.

    The Ottomans would also call up the garrisons of Thessaly, Epirus, and Serbia for field duty after the recent treaties with Serbia and Greece. Unfortunately, while these men were trained fighters, they were generally second-rate troops who had been relegated to guard duty and police work. They would also receive another 11,000 volunteers from Albania, Bosnia, North Africa, and the Levant, but nearly two thirds were directed to the Anatolian front, providing little assistance to Omar Pasha. Moreover, these men were Bashi-bazouks, undisciplined mobs more interested in plunder and personal glory than victory or strategic gains. Despite their rowdiness, the Porte could not turn these men away when it desperately needed bodies to hold the line against Russia.

    Through some miracle, the Anglo-Ottoman lines outside Silistra held against Count Lüders’ attack as they rushed these new arrivals into the fray. In doing so, however, they had fallen for Prince Gorchakov’s trap as Lüders’ offensive was merely the anvil to Gorchakov’s hammer. As this offensive was taking place, Prince Gorchakov dispatched the Russian Army of Wallachia under General Fyodor Sergeevich Panyutin to force additional crossings upriver. General Dannenberg and the Russian 4th Corps would resume their offensive from last year, marching on Silistra from the village of Tutrakan. Simultaneously, the 2nd Reserve Division under General Alexander Adlberberg and the 3rd Reserve Division under General General Wilhelm Bussau would move against the cities of Vidin and Oryakhana respectively. However, General Panyutin’s true hammer blow would fall on the fortress city of Ruse.[3]

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    The City of Ruse in the early 19th Century

    The city of Ruse was a major port along the Danube river, serving as both a prominent trade hub in the region and a crossroads for all traffic going up and down and across the Danube. Most importantly it sat on the road between Bucharest and Constantinople, giving it incredible value to both sides. As a result of its strategic location; Romans/Byzantines, Bulgarians, and Ottomans alike would all invest much into securing this region against any northern aggressors. Under the Ottomans, Ruse developed a thriving shipbuilding industry and quickly became their chief administrative center along the lower stretch of the Danube.

    Like Silistra, Varna and Shumen, it had been heavily fortified during the 1830’s and early 1840’s seeing the construction of several polygonal fortresses outside the city’s medieval walls, which were themselves updated and expanded as well. It also boasted a sizeable garrison prior to the war, with two regiments of infantry and a regiment of artillery for a total of 8,000 soldiers. However, the War would see the infantry regiments drawn away to aid in the defense of Silistra, reducing Ruse’s garrison by more than two thirds. Fortunately, the garrison would be reinforced with the arrival of troopers from Thessaly and Serbia along with volunteers from Macedonia and Albania boosting their number well above 5,000 just in time for Russian General Stepan Khrulev’s attack on the 1st of May.

    The attack by General Khrulev’s Russian 2nd Corps would meet with some moderate success initially as the Russians quickly reclaimed the Wallachian island of Ciobanu which had been had captured by Omar Pasha at the very start of this War. However, their efforts to reach the walls of Ruse would be repelled after a fierce firefight as the Ottoman garrison released a small fleet of boats and barges to disrupt the Russian crossing here. Eventually, the Russians would cross the river, but here they fell into an Ottoman trap as Ruse's riverside defenses were especially strong, with dozens of cannons and carefully prepared kill-zones which cut the Russian vanguard to ribbons. Unable to make much progress against Ruse, General Khrulev dispatched the 1st Infantry and 2nd Grenadier Divisions to force another crossing further West near the port of Sistova (Svishtov).

    Unlike at Ruse, the Russian crossing at Sistova would meet with much more success as the town was only protected by a company of Turkish soldiers stationed at old Tsarnevets castle. As was the case in 1810 and 1829, the Russian soldiers quickly stormed the castle’s medieval walls, brushing aside the undermanned and unprepared Ottoman garrison with relative ease. With a firm beachhead across the Danube now secured, Khrulev released the 1st Uhlan Division to fan out across the countryside, searching for any Turkish pickets on the road to Ruse. When they returned with no such news, Khrulev ordered his Corps across the Danube, leaving the 4th Division behind to screen Ruse from the North. Seven days later on the 15th of May, Khrulev’s Corps would reconverge outside the southern outskirts of Ruse, effectively surrounding it from all sides.

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    Russian Soldiers crossing the Danube near Ruse

    Whilst Ruse’s defenses were quite robust, aided as they were by the swift Danube currents and months of preparation; the city’s garrison was still quite undermanned, numbering only 5,671 men at this point, compared to the nearly 68,000 Russians gathered outside their walls. In spite of these tremendous odds, the Ottoman garrison was able to resist the Russian onslaught for several days. Moreover, Khrulev’s siege lines were not air tight during the first few days of the siege, enabling Ottoman messengers to escape to Silistra.

    Word about Ruse’s plight would soon reach the ears of Omar Pasha and General Brown, but given their own dire situation at Silistra, there was little the Allied Commanders could do. They simply lacked the resources to counteract Lüders’ ongoing offensive from the East, Dannenberg’s continued push from the West, and now this maneuver by Khrulev against Ruse. Nevertheless, they endeavored to send whatever help they could to Ruse, but their effort would come too late. With Ruse surrounded, Khrulev steadily chipped away at the Ottoman defenses, until finally, on the 5th of June he released his entire Corps upon the city of Ruse. The defenders fought desperately, but eventually succumbed to the insatiable tide of the Russians, leading to their surrender.

    With Ruse’s fall, the Russians had gained a major junction across the Danube, albeit one that was further West than they would have preferred. Nevertheless, its capture provided an alternative to Silistra, enabling the Russians to ferry over large quantities of men and munitions unhindered. It also forced the already beleaguered British and Ottomans to stretch their forces even further to defend their now dangerously exposed western flank, lest Panyutin's Army march on Constantinople unopposed. After a week’s pause to rest his forces, General Khrulev directed his cavalry southward towards Tarnovo and westward against Pleven, inciting the local Bulgarians to revolt as they went.

    Several days later, General Panyutin would send word to Khrulev instructing him to travel eastward with his Corps and link up with General Dannenberg’s 4th Corps. Thereafter, they would converge on Silistra from both the West and South, cut its supply lines, and finally surround the city. Unfortunately for Panyutin, a deserter from the Russian camp, believed to be a Polish officer, leaked much of this battleplan to Omar Pasha and General Brown. Although the exact extent of the Russian operation was unknown to them, they recognized that they would be doomed if Panyutin’s Army was allowed to reach Silistra uncontested. Despite the risk, they knew that this was their last chance to force the Russians back. Pinning everything on this next campaign, both Omar Pasha and General Brown opted to march out of Silistra and face the Russians head on.


    Distribution_of_the_Medjidie%2C_After_the_Battle_of_Citate.jpg

    Ottoman Soldiers Receive their New Orders

    The Ottoman Army of Rumelia, under Omar Pasha would sally out against Count Lüders’ Host, holding it in place whilst General Brown’s Balkan Expeditionary Force would march against General Dannenberg’s 4th Corps - which was dangerously exposed - and destroy it before it could rejoin with the rest of Panyutin’s army. Setting out on the 9th of June, Brown’s Army would catch Dannenberg by surprise outside the village of Vitren. In the ensuing battle, the Russian 4th Corps would be thoroughly defeated by the British, but in spite of its extensive losses - losing over a quarter of its men to death, desertion, or capture – Dannenberg’s Corps would manage to retreat in relatively good order. Opting to pursue it, General Brown and the British Army would chase the fleeing 4th Corps for the next four days, fighting a series of skirmishes and minor engagements with the Russian rearguard before finally catching them near the hamlet of Ryakhovo located on the banks of the Danube.

    With Dannenberg’s men now trapped between the British Army and the Danube, General Brown hoped to smash them to pieces and then turn his attention to Khrulev’s 2nd Corps. Unfortunately, much of his own army had become strung out across the countryside over the last few days, leaving him with three divisions (1st, 4th, and 6th) to fight against four weakened Russian divisions. Whilst he initially contemplated waiting for the rest of his army to catch up, time was now against him as his scouts reported that Panyutin’s Army of Wallachia had left Ruse and was now marching to Dannenberg’s aid. Spurred on to crush Dannenberg’s weakened Corps before the rest of the Russian Army arrived, General Brown ordered an immediate attack on the Russian position.

    Despite their dire predicament, the Russians were in relatively good spirits, and held their ground against the advancing British for several hours. As the day progressed, the fighting grew more desperate as the veteran Highlander Brigade smashed through the thin Russian line in multiple places. While it seemed as if the battle was lost for the Russians, a steady stream of reinforcements began arriving on scene, jumping straight into the battle to aid their embattled comrades. After force marching for eight hours straight, General Panyutin and the vanguard of the Army of Wallachia had arrived at Ryakhovo.

    By this time, most of the British Army had also converged on Ryakhovo, bringing the two forces to a rough parity once again as much of the Russian 2nd Corps was still absent from the battlefield. With the half of the Russian Army still away from the battlefield, General Brown remained committed to the fight and pressed his men to keep pushing as dusk began to settle over the bloody plain. The fighting would only end as the thick darkness of night descended on the battlefield, resulting in several incidents of friendly fire on both sides. Although total victory had eluded Brown, the possibility still remained for the British to inflict a great blow upon the Russians and drive them from Rumelia.

    When dawn broke the following morning, it was Brown and the British who took the offensive yet again, hoping to break through the Russian line before their reinforcements arrived. The battle that followed would be relatively even for much of the day, with a slight edge given to the British owing to their superior rifles and cannons. However, once again Russian reinforcements continued to arrive as the day wore on, turning the tide against the British. No matter their personal valor, nor their great weapons of war, the British were simply being overwhelmed by the sheer number of Russian soldiers facing off against them. No matter how many men they shot down, another would eventually emerge to take their place. Eventually, the unending waves of Russian men began to exhaust the thin red line. As dusk began to fall over the battlefield, General Brown recalled his men and made preparations for a third day of fighting.


    Sergeant_Luke_O%27Connor_Winning_the_Victoria_Cross_at_the_Battle_of_Alma.png

    The British Advance against the Russians at Ryakhovo

    By the end of the second day of Ryakhovo, almost all of the Russian Army of Wallachia had assembled opposite the British, bringing their total strength to nearly 142,000 soldiers. All told, Brown’s Army of 64,000 men was outnumbered by more than 2 to 1. With his opportunity of victory lost, Brown elected to take the defensive on the third day at Ryakhovo; his men would make the Russians pay for every inch of dirt they took. General Panyutin was more than willing to oblige him, ordering a dawn offensive against the weakening British.

    As the Russian soldiers approached the British line, the British artillery released a cannonade of grapeshot upon the advancing Russians, ripping their advance echelons to shreds. Entire units were wiped out, while regiments were decimated as mounds of bodies began to litter the battlefield. Within a few brief moments, over 4,000 Russians had fallen to the British artillery and rifle fire. It wasn’t enough as the Russians kept advancing. Eventually, the Russian infantry reached the thin British line and began to inflict their revenge upon their oppressors. The vicious melee that followed would see both sides suffer extensively, but outnumbered as they were, the British were gradually losing ground. At around noon, after five hours of bitter fighting, the Russians finally punched through the British center, forcing General Brown to order a retreat.

    General Panyutin was not inclined to let the British flee unmolested, however, and immediately ordered his cavalry to pursue them. As the 1st Uhlan Division and a division of Don Cossacks came into sight, all remaining discipline within the British Army collapsed, leading to a general rout. The Russian horsemen gazed upon the terrified Britons with devilish delight and whipped their ponies into a hellish frenzy. Cutting down stragglers and foolhardy heroes as they went, their trot quickly turned into an all-out charge as they chased the fleeing British soldiers. Desperate to escape the coming cavalry, many Englishmen threw themselves into the Danube, choosing a watery grave to a Cossack's torture.

    They are only spared from total annihilation by the sacrifice of the British Heavy Brigade which counter charged the approaching Russian cavalry with a thunderous roar, blunting its attack with a great and awesome fury. For the better part of an hour, the Heavy Brigade fought a bitter war of attrition with the Russian horsemen. Aided by their thick wool coats, their large chargers, and the rather dull weapons and small ponies of their Russian adversaries, the British cavalrymen suffered relatively few casualties initially, while they in turn inflicted gruesome losses on their opponents. It was only when General Panyutin ordered his infantry into the fray that the British cavalry were decimated. With bayonets fixed, the Russian soldiers speared the poor British horses, killing them from underneath their riders and without their steeds, the men of the Heavy Brigade were quickly cut down, bringing an end to the Battle of Ryakhovo.


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    Charge of the Heavy Brigade

    Overall, the battle of Ryakhovo was a decisive Russian victory as the British Army was effectively broken as a threat, losing over a third of its men in the battle with most of their losses coming on the third day of battle. However, this victory had only been won at an enormous cost for the Russians. Over the three days of fighting, nearly 17,800 Russians lay dead or dying, another 41,300 were wounded, and nearly 11,000 were captured or missing. Moreover, the Army of Wallachia’s Cavalry contingent was utterly gutted after their prolonged fight with the British Heavy Brigade, losing more than half their number in the scuffle. Nevertheless, with the British Army finally defeated, the road to Silistra was thrown open and after two days of rest, Panyutin’s Army set out in pursuit late on the 19th of June.

    Back in Silistra, the Ottomans met with some moderate success, holding their ground against Count Luder’s Army of Moldavia and even driving it back in some places. However, with the defeat of the British at Ryakhovo, the situation in Silistra was now untenable. Racing ahead of his army, General Brown would meet with Omar Pasha, informing him of his defeat and advising him to immediately abandon Silistra before the Russians surrounded them. Despite his great reluctance to do so, Omar Pasha agreed with the merits of Brown’s suggestion and ordered the evacuation of Silistra. Anything of value in the city was to be destroyed, buried, or carted off by the retreating Anglo-Ottoman Army; they would leave nothing of value to the Russians.

    When the British Army finally arrives at Silistra later that evening, they are immediately ordered to destroy their precious railroad, spike their heavier siege guns, and set out for the Balkan Mountains as fast as they were able, from where they would establish a new defensive front. For the next few hours, a great dread hovers over Silistra as the Anglo-Ottoman Army desperately scrambled to vacate the city before the Russians arrived. Fortunately for the Allies, news of Panyutin’s victory over the British at Ryakhovo would prompt excessive celebration within Lüders’ camp. Soldiers and officers alike ate, drank, and sang well into the night, reveling in their comrades’ great victory. They would only awaken late in the morning of the 21st, by which time most of the Allied host had already evacuated Silistra. When the Russian Army finally stirred from its trenches and began moving into Silistra around mid-afternoon, it would discover an abandoned city.

    The Fall of Silistra and Ruse would mark the effective end to any remaining Ottoman interest in this terrible war. In their eyes, the war was now completely lost. Their northern and eastern defenses had been captured and their armies had been smashed to pieces. Further resistance at this point would only result in further losses now and further concessions in the ensuing peace treaty. Despite British pleas to continue fighting, no amount of British coin or shipments of British weapons would convince them otherwise. On the 13th of July, Ottoman envoys arrived in the Russian camp outside Silistra requesting a ceasefire, but to their horror, they would learn from Prince Gorchakov that his eminence, Tsar Nicholas was not yet interested in peace. The war would continue.

    Next Time: Coalition

    [1] The old city of Ercis was steadily submerged by the rising waters of Lake Van over the course of the 18th Century, until it was completely submerged by the middle of the 19th Century.
    [2] In OTL, nearly all the original British Division commanders and many of their deputies left the army for home. Some were genuinely sick or wounded like Sir George de Lacy Evans and the Duke of Cambridge, but many simply made-up excuses to leave the Crimea.
    [3] The city of Ruse formed a part of the Ottoman Quadrangle, a series of fortress cities comprised of Ruse, Silistra, Shumen and Varna. These fortifications were made at the suggestion of Helmuth von Moltke in OTL and were largely built by local Bulgarians laborers. They were incredibly strong fortifications that even managed to repel the Russians in 1877 for several months, despite being severely outdated by that time.
     
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    Chapter 85: Coalition
  • How much money has Greece made by the British buying supplies for the war? Also how big is the Greek national debt right now? Are you also going to show the process of integrating Greece new territories. Will land reforms happen there?
    1.we don't know as of yet. 2. Down to 2 million pounds from around 5 to 6 million pounds. 3 and 4 yes the author Said that after the war he will turn his focus back to greece and land reforms should be the government's top priority
    I don't have an exact figure in mind, but I'd say somewhere between 1 million to 1.5 million Pounds Sterling (£). The reasoning for this relatively low figure is that the British are still shipping the majority of their supplies from the Home Islands and they can still service their ships at Malta (or any number of Ottoman ports if they really wanted). Basically, they've been making an effort not to spend money if they don't have to. That said, they are still buying Greek products in abundance, particularly foodstuffs, wines and oils which the British officers are consuming at an increasing rate. The upgrades to Greece's ports are relatively minor, with the larger ports of Piraeus, Patras, Chios, and Heraklion receiving the bulk of Britain's attention and resources. They are also not funding the renewed construction of the Corinth Canal, they're only providing technical support and oversight for the canal.

    Emperor Joe is correct, the Greek National debt is hovering around 2 million Pounds after several adjustments by the British over the past few decades.

    Yes. Once this current War is over (I only have two updates left on it, technically three if I include the post war update on India), I'll have several updates in a row going over Greece and the integration of these new territories, which will include land reform among many other things.

    How large is Leopold fortune? And does Jewish people have rights in Greece?

    Leopold is a very wealthy man.

    Prior to becoming King of Greece, Leopold was the third son of a minor German duke, with few prospects in his native Saxe-Coburg. The invasion of France in 1807 would force him from his homeland and he would then spend the next 8 years of his life serving in the Imperial Russian Army as a cavalry officer, earning him a decent salary. In 1816, he would marry Princess Charlotte of Great Britain, which entitled him to a very generous allowance of 60,000 Pounds Sterling per year. This continued even after her untimely death in 1817 all the way to 1830 ITTL, when he had to forsake it as part of the deal for the Greek Crown.

    As King of Greece, he initially received a stipend of around 400,000 Drachma/Phoenixes (~£15,000) in 1830, which increased gradually to 1 million Drachma (~£36,000) by 1854. However, a sizeable chunk of this is used to finance the Crown's affairs namely the payment of courtiers and the royal household staff, the maintenance on the Royal Palace and Royal yacht, and providing allowances to his children among other things. Generally, Leopold has been very careful with his money and has shrewdly invested his money into Greece's nascent industrialization which is now paying significant dividends for him. He has also patronized several Greek artists, writers, and sculptors over the course of his now 26 year reign. Overall, I'd estimate his personal net worth to be around £2.5 million to £3 million by 1855, making him one of the wealthiest men in Greece at this time.

    The Jews do indeed have rights in Greece. According to the Greek Constitution of 1831, the Romaniote Jews were given full Greek citizenship and equal protection under Greek law.

    Chapter 85: Coalition

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    The Northern Colossus; A Caricature of Tsar Nicholas of Russia

    The Russian Government’s decision to continue the war with the Ottoman Empire and United Kingdom in early July 1856, was met with great concern across the European continent. The Anglo-Ottoman Alliance had been clearly defeated both in the East and in the West permitting Russia to make gains at their adversaries’ expense in any peace deal between them. Yet for some reason, the war continued, a decision that would only lead to more suffering and more death in the days that would follow. Many came to believe that it was the vile Russian Emperor, Tsar Nicholas who ordered the continuation of the war against his beaten foes. Perhaps they did so out of a desire for vengeance, seeking justice for years of abuse and past indignities by the Turks. Or perhaps it was some ploy meant to better their standing at the ensuing peace conference against Britain who remained largely unharmed by the war’s events. Ironically, many Russians were equally confused by the decision to continue the war, with the Tsar’s Cabinet splitting itself in twain over the issue in the days and weeks following the capture of Silistra.

    Count Karl von Nesselrode and his supporters, the so-called German Party – a reference to Nesselrode’s German heritage and his pro German diplomatic leanings, supported ending the war with the Ottomans and the British as they had achieved the most of their pre-war goals. In the East, they had repelled the Ottoman invasion of Russian Caucasia and had occupied much of Eastern Anatolia in retaliation, marching up to the walls of Trabzon and the foothills of the Anatolian Plateau. In the West, they ousted the Turks from the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, and they had secured the southern shore of the Danube River from Sistova to the Black Sea. The British had been decisively defeated at Ryakhovo and the Ottomans were at their complete mercy after the loss of their great strongholds.

    Moreover, with their fleets unable to overcome the Royal Navy in the Baltic or the Black Sea, the war had reached its logical conclusion. The Russian Empire was triumphant on land, whilst the British were undefeated on water. Their attempts to counter this paradigm had all failed, the Baltic Fleet was blockaded in their ports, the Black Seas Fleet had been thoroughly defeated, and the Pacific Fleet (the Okhotsk Station Flotilla) had been completely annihilated. Without naval superiority, Russia could not carry the war over to the British Isles or their many colonies, and with Ottoman resistance effectively broken – as evident by their recent truce proposal - there remained little reason to continue the war.

    The Russian Minister of Finance, Pyotr Fedorovich Brock also stressed the need to make peace now as the continued blockades of their Black and Baltic Sea ports by the British and Turks was causing untold damage to the Russian economy. The Government was deeply in debt and many of their soldiers were in arrears. Unable to pay their bills, they had resorted to taking out loans and printing more banknotes to make ends meet. However, this in turn led to a rampant rise in inflation, which would see the cost of bread increase fivefold between the Spring of 1854 and the Autumn of 1855. Because of this, bread riots became an increasingly common occurrence across the countryside in late 1855. Not willing to risk internal unrest while at war with a rival power, the Russian Government quickly reversed course, ending its inflationary policy in early 1856. Now forced to look elsewhere, the Government began embezzling tax and tariff revenue from occupied Galicia-Lodomeria. This would help lessen the Russian Government’s growing deficit, but in doing so they were playing a dangerous game with Vienna as their duplicity could not be hidden forever. Rumors of this were already circulating throughout Schönbrunn Palace, indicating that Austria was conscious of Russia's deception.

    Even without this looming diplomatic catastrophe, pressure to end the war was already building across Europe. The Emperor of the French, Napoleon II Bonaparte was leading the effort to end the war, offering “amicable terms” for all involved. Beneath his honeyed words, Nesselrode would report subtle undertones of hostility in the French Emperor’s words, although he personally doubted that the French would declare war at this late hour. The Kingdoms of Hungary and Sweden-Norway were more vocal in their demands for peace and would go so far as to threaten war against Russia if they continued their present course against the Turk. Even their nominal ally Prussia was quietly suggesting that Russia come to terms with the defeated Ottomans. Most of all, the Turks themselves wanted peace and the reports from Tsargrad indicated they were willing to give quite a lot for it.[1]

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    Count Karl von Nesselrode, Russian Chancellor and Foreign Minister

    However, rather than push them towards peace, the Ottoman truce proposal in earl July only emboldened the Russian war hawks even more. Led by the boisterous Commander in Chief, Prince Alexander Menshikov, and the Chairman of the Cabinet and State Council, Prince Alexander Chernyshyov; the Orthodox Party – called so for their overly religious rhetoric - demanded the war continue until the Turkish Empire was finally removed as a threat to the Russian state. With their adversaries on the run, the Balkans ripe for the taking, and the road to Tsargrad more vulnerable than it had ever been before, this was the moment they had had been waiting all their lives. If they made peace now, they would lose out on this golden opportunity to reclaim the City of Cities for Christendom, an opportunity they may never get again. Most of all, they had a moral obligation to destroy their ancient enemy, so that future generations would be spared from conflict with the Turk.

    They would argue that the decimation of the Russian economy - while certainly a tragic loss for the peasants and the serfs - was not a mortal wound from which they could not recover. Enough product was still being exported via Greek smugglers and land routes that the economy could limp along for a few months more, albeit in a greatly reduced state. Similarly, the naval blockades and coastal raids by the British were mere pinpricks, that caused little lasting damage to the Empire. If anything, these acts had only served to anger the Russian people and heighten their passions for revenge against the Britons. Much more so than the Ottomans, the British were the leading instigators of this terrible conflict. Their vile machinations had convinced their Turkish stooges into starting this awful war. They had stirred unrest in the Baltic, in the Caucasus, and among the Poles. They had armed the Turkmen hordes of the Steppe and they lined the purses of the German and Italian mercenaries who now fought against them. Their insidious actions had killed countless Russian sons, ruined countless Russian lives, and ravaged Russian land. No, there could be no peace with the perfidious Britons until they had been made to suffer as the Russians had.

    Menshikov would be especially vitriolic in his diatribe against Nesselrode, whom he disparaged as a coward and a criminal who had colluded in secret with the traitorous Germans (Austria and Prussia) to undermine Holy Russia. Under the terms of their Alliance; Austria and Prussia had pledged to lend their aid to Russia in times of war. Yet in this current War of Turkish Aggression, when Russia needed them, Austria and Prussia did nothing of the sort. Their concerns of Russian expansion should not then concern Russia, for they were craven liars and oathbreakers. Little concern was also given to the bluster of Hungary and Sweden-Norway for they were weaklings against the might of glorious Russia. Lastly, they would also dismiss France’s interjection into the peace process as well.

    Although their strength warranted increased respect and concern in St. Petersburg, many senior officers in their company proudly recalled the Patriotic War of 1812. The Corsican Devil had marched against Russia with a host far greater than France could boast of today, with men of greater stature and talent than those of today. If the French had joined with the British and the Turks in making war in 1854, things might have been very different for Russia. Instead, they had done nothing and now Emperor Napoleon II had the gall to play peacemaker. If he followed up on his threats and made war now, then he was a fool. The Son would share the same fate as the Father, and the Armies of Holy Russia would march through the streets of Paris once more.

    Finally, a flurry of good news had arrived in early June, lending its support to the War Hawk’s cause as General Alexander Baryatinsky reclaimed Fort Navaginsky from the British in late May. With its capture the Allied supply lines to the Circassian Confederacy and Caucasian Imamate were finally and completely cut. Although the fight with the Caucasus Muslims would continue for some time; the loss of their last major lifeline had all but doomed them to destruction. More good news would arrive from their nominal ally, the Qajari Empire who had joined the war at the behest of St. Petersburg in late 1855. The Qajaris had provoked a war with Britain when they invaded the Emirate of Afghanistan and within a month’s time, the entire country had fallen to Persian arms. The British in neighboring India would attempt to respond to this transgression and would ready an army to liberate the country just as they had in 1848. However, in doing so they inadvertently sparked an uprising of the Indian Sepoys who feared they were instead being sent to fight against Russia – one complaint among many others. With all these events going in Russia’s favor, Menshikov and Chernyshyov saw little reason to stop the war now whilst they were ahead. Ultimately, the decision lay with Tsar Nicholas himself.

    Despite his penchant for militarism and his increasing support for Pan-Slavism, the conflict’s rising toll in blood and treasure ravaged his old heart and threw him into a deep depression. On many occasions, he would become quite bellicose, violently thrashing out at the nearest attendant for even the slightest offense. Other times, he would be rather somber and barely stir from his private chambers, only doing so to attend weekly mass. Coinciding with this marked decline in his mental faculties was an equally upsetting collapse of his physical health. Over the course of the conflict Nicholas would lose a tremendous amount of weight, becoming rather gaunt in appearance. Moreover, he would also suffer from frequent lightheadedness, routine chills, and the occasional coughing fit. This was made worse by his vehement refusal to seek proper medical attention, instead demanding that his physicians attend to his beloved soldiers.

    Although he was still far from death’s door, the Tsar’s declining health forced him to begin delegating his responsibilities to his son and heir, Tsarevich Alexander Nikolayevich who fell firmly on the side of Menshikov and Chernyshyov. Despite his “liberal” political views, Tsarevich Alexander was a devout Christian and a stout Pan-Slavic Nationalist who supported the continuation of the war to the gates of Tsargrad, which he would liberate for Christendom in the name of his father. Most of all, the Tsarevich firmly believed this is what his father would have wanted.[2] With the Cabinet reaching a decision, albeit a decision that was far from unanimous, orders were dispatched to Prince Gorchakov. He would march on Constantinople.

    Alexander_II_by_E.Botman_%281856%2C_Russian_museum%29.jpg

    Tsarevich Alexander Nikolayevich circa 1856

    By the time Prince Mikhail Gorchakov received the order to advance in mid-July, he would find that much of the Allied Army had escaped to the Balkan Mountains. Desperate to stop the Russian advance, the Sublime Porte declared a state of emergency and ordered Omar Pasha to hold the line no matter the cost. Short term conscription was enacted across the Empire and all men with military experience were recalled to the service no matter how old or infirm. The delay by the Russians would give Omar Pasha precious time to build up a series of defensive works in the passes of the Balkan Mountains. The surrounding countryside was despoiled, trenches were dug, stockades were hastily erected and roads were blocked with fallen trees and rocks. In spite of all these preparations, the situation in the Balkans still favored the Russians greatly.

    At worst, Prince Gorchakov still held a two to one advantage in numbers over the Anglo-Ottoman Army and unlike the Allied host now fleeing before him, his army still possessed its entire artillery corps. Defeatism was also rampant among the Allied ranks after their recent defeats and a deep divide had formed between the British and Ottomans after the latter's peace attempts. Nevertheless, Gorchakov still took a rather cautious approach southward, choosing to keep his two armies rather close to one another so that the Allies could not separate them or single one out as they had attempted previously. General Panyutin’s Army of Wallachia was ordered to march upon the fortress city of Shumen, whilst Count Lüders Army of Moldavia would proceed towards the port of Varna.

    Departing on the 18th of July, Panyutin’s march southward would take the better part of a week to reach the city of Shumen. The reasoning for his slow advance was twofold. First, the Russian Army of Wallachia had suffered extensive casualties over the last three months of fighting, losing close to 46,000 soldiers between battle, disease, or desertion. Another 65,000 were suffering from various injuries or ailments, of which roughly half were invalids. The arrival of 18th Division from the Anatolian Front in late June would help replace these losses boosting his total to around 73,000 men, but overall, Panyutin’s force was only slightly larger than the British Army he had just decimated a month prior.

    Another issue plaguing Panyutin’s Army were its increasingly long supply lines. With the sea still firmly in Allied hands and the countryside now increasingly hostile, Russian logistics were stretched to their limits.[3] It is also important to note that sizeable contingents of the Ottoman and British Armies still remained north of the Balkan Mountains and continually harassed the Russian columns. The Ottoman irregulars, the Bashi-Bazouks had performed quite poorly in the trenches and forts surrounding Silistra, but out in the hills and forests of Rumelia, they were free to run wild. They would frequently target the Russian baggage trains and supply lines before slipping away into the wilderness time and time again. Despite their slow progress, Panyutin’s Army would reach the outskirts of Shumen by the 24th of July and immediately placed the city under siege.

    Opposing the Russians once again was the Ottoman Commander, Omar Pasha who had elected to remain north of the Balkan Mountains and would personally lead the defense of Shumen as a bulwark against the Russian tide. Like Silistra and Ruse; Shumen was a part of the Ottoman Quadrangle Fortress system that guarded Northeastern Rumelia. Because of its strategic location along the main road from Silistra to Constantinople, the Sublime Porte had erected several polygonal fortresses around the city in the years leading up to the war. It would see additional fortification during the war as Omar Pasha would use the lull in fighting between the Fall of Silistra and the Siege of Shumen to dig connecting trenches around Shumen and would even make moderate repairs to the old citadel which he used as a temporary headquarters.

    Unfortunately, by the Summer of 1856, the Porte simply lacked the men to properly garrison Shumen. By the time Omar Pasha arrived in late June he found scarcely 3,400 soldiers and 1,700 swiftly organized militiamen ready to defend the city against the approaching Russians. Although the odds were stacked against them at nearly 15 to 1, Omar Pasha and his men remained in good spirits. Victorious Shumen had withstood three previous attacks by the Russians in 1774, 1810, and 1829. So long as Omar Pasha had a say in it, Shumen would not fall to them here either. Moreover, Shumen had become a safe haven for Muslim refugees fleeing Russian oppression and Christian reprisals. As such, many of his men were fighting to defend their own families, so they would not surrender without a fight.

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    Muslim Refugees fleeing to Shumen

    As this was taking place, Count Lüders’ Army of Moldavia began its own advance towards the Black Sea coast, occupying the city of Hacıoğlu Pazarcık (modern Dobrich) on the 19th, before reaching the environs of Varna four days later on the 23rd. Unlike Panyutin’s Army of Wallachia, the Russian Army of Moldavia had fared much better despite enduring four months of almost continuous fighting, only losing around 32,000 men and suffering an equal number of wounded, giving him a fighting strength of well over 90,000 men. His adversary was more than up to the task of opposing him, however, as British General George Brown had sent General George de Lacy Evans and his 2nd Division to defend the port of Varna.

    Although General Brown’s Army had been thoroughly gutted in the Battle of Ryakhovo, losing nearly 23,000 men and almost all of its cavalry, the British 2nd Division had escaped the battle relatively intact thanks to the skilled leadership of General de Lacy Evans. In the heat of the battle, the “Fighting Second” had kept their discipline and formed Infantry squares to fend off the approaching Cossacks, before retreating in good order under the cover of the Heavy Brigade’s counter charge. As it was one of the only British units still in fighting shape, General Brown felt it pertinent to dispatch them to Varna, where the Royal Navy had made its base the past two years. Many British warships were still in port at Varna, receiving repairs or routine maintenance and could not be evacuated before the Russians would arrive. Fortunately, Varna was a formidable fortress in its own right, as it made up the last quarter of the Ottoman Quadrangle. With its strong landward fortifications and its back to the sea – seas still controlled by the British and Ottoman Navies – it was an ideal redoubt against the approaching Russian hordes.

    This did not deter Count Lüders, who immediately ordered an assault on Varna’s outer works. Four time's Lüders men would attack Varna's defenses and four times they would be driven back. A fifth attempt would finally succeed in securing one of the outer redoubts surrounding Varna, but a timely counterattack by the soldiers of 95th Derbyshire Regiment would drive them from the fort. Despite their nearly six to one advantage in numbers, the Russians would ultimately be forced back by the British defenders after several hours of bitter fighting. A second assault the following day would meet with much less success as the Russian soldiers conducted three attacks on Varna before returning to their camp, disgusted and disgruntled at the continuing war. Their homes were safe, the honor of their beloved Motherland had been upheld, their adversaries had been punished, and yet, for some unknown reason they continued to fight and suffer and die. Although they were loyal to the Tsar and hated the Turk, many were simply tired of the war and wanted nothing more than to go home. A third assault scheduled for the 28th of July was cancelled when it became known that their soldiers threatened to mutiny if ordered to do so. With the British able to resupply Varna by sea, the siege effectively came to an end as Lüders could neither assault the city’s defenses nor starve out its defenders.

    Outside Shumen, General Panyutin would be much less aggressive in pushing his exhausted soldiers. His once powerful army had been whittled down after months of campaigning and his men were simply spent after two years of hard fighting and campaigning. Nevertheless, the opposition facing him was far too weak to pose much of a challenge to his substantially larger force. As such, his army made progress merely by momentum. Over the course of two and a half weeks, Panyutin’s soldiers quickly surrounded the city, before beginning to reduce the Ottoman outer works one by one as they simply lacked the men necessary to guard every approach at once. By the middle of August, it was clear to all that Shumen would eventually fall to the Russians despite the great heroism of its defenders; it was only a matter of time. Unfortunately, time was not on the Russians’ side as a few days later, news arrived from Vienna that would upend everything.

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    Russian Soldiers storm an Ottoman redoubt outside Shumen

    In early January 1856, new Austrian Finance Minister, Baron Karl Ludwig von Bruck ordered a cursory review of the Empire’s taxation system. Austrian tax collection had never been a very efficient process as money would often change hands between the taxpayer and the Government’s treasury – up to 27 times in extreme cases - making the Austrian Empire’s tax collection system a bureaucratic nightmare. Because of this, it would actually cost more to collect the taxes, than not in some rare instances. Having only assumed the office a few months prior, Bruck was immediately struck at the inefficiency of it all and began looking for remedies to the antiquated and highly corrupt system; hence the review. The results of this review were within the expected norms; corruption and inefficiency were rampant across the board, but one outlier that stood out was Galicia-Lodomeria.

    Austrian Guldens had continued to flow out of Galicia-Lodomeria throughout the Winter as it normally had over the past five years of Russian occupation, only to slow dramatically in late February before stopping entirely by early April. A second audit of Galicia-Lodomeria’s records conducted in May would return the same results. Were it simply a matter of a few hundred or even a few thousand missing Guldens, Baron Bruck might have written it off as a simple clerical error or a corrupt tax collector pocketing a few coins. In this case, however, it was on the scale of several million Guldens, a figure that could not be ignored so easily.[4] Moreover, the entire earnings of Galicia were missing, not just a single city or county.

    An investigation on Bruck’s part would reveal that the Russians had collected the missing revenue in Galicia as they had done for the last five years on Austria’s behalf, only for it to disappear somewhere on the road to Vienna. Unsure how to proceed, Bruck would report the matter to Austrian Chancellor, Prince Felix of Schwarzenberg and Foreign Minister, Count Karl Ferdinand von Buol who in turn submitted an inquiry with Russian Ambassador Prince Alexander Gorchakov about the issue.[5] Having spent the better part of the last two years fending off British machinations in Vienna, Gorchakov had only the slightest inkling of his government’s activities in Galicia. Nevertheless, he did his part to not incriminate his government and offered the full support of the Russian Government in this matter and sent word to his superiors in St. Petersburg.

    Upon receiving Gorchakov’s missive, Count Nesselrode would promptly travel to Vienna to meet with his Austrian colleagues in person. Arriving in mid-June, Nesselrode would lay the blame squarely at the feet of Polish Partisans. Polish brigands were known to hide out in the forests and mountains of Galicia-Lodomeria, from which they routinely raided Russian outposts. Given the war with the Turks and the British, Nesselrode claimed that troops stationed in Galicia were now being ordered elsewhere, emboldening the Poles to greater acts of resistance. As such, the Russian Governor General of Galicia, Count Fyodor Ridiger had chosen to withhold the money so as not to risk its loss to brigands and thieves.

    Although they were rather annoyed that the Russians had not informed them of this earlier, Schwarzenberg and Buol accepted Nesselrode’s account at face value. However, they requested that the Russians dispatch the funds as soon as they were able. Nesselrode agreed to their request and promised to send word to Count Ridiger, ordering him to dispatch the coins at once. For a brief moment in time, it would have appeared that the issue was at an end. Nesselrode had bought his government invaluable time to settle their affairs before Venna learned the truth of Russia’s deception. But for the whimsy of a British diplomat, Lord John Russell this could have been true.

    John_Russell%2C_1st_Earl_Russell_by_Sir_Francis_Grant_detail.jpg

    Lord John Russell, British Plenipotentiary to the Austrian Empire

    Seeking to stir up tensions between Austria and Russia, Lord Russell began paying off several low-level figures in Schönbrunn Palace to spread salacious rumors of Russian infidelity. Through his contacts within the Austrian Government, Russell had learned of Vienna’s missing money and sought to add fuel to the dying fire by insinuating that St. Petersburg was the true culprit. Although he thought nothing of it at the time, he had unwittingly struck upon the truth. Soon the entirety of Schönbrunn was abuzz in rumors of Russian treachery, a logical conclusion for most given that Russian agents were the last seen actors with Vienna’s missing money. Making matters worse, a month had passed since Nesselrode's promise of action and yet no word had arrived from Galicia-Lodomeria regarding the delivery of Austria’s Guldens lending further credence to the rumors.

    Hoping to dispel these allegations and to hasten the delivery process, Austrian Foreign Minister Buol would travel to St. Petersburg in early July, hoping to meet with Count Nesselrode once more. Unfortunately, Nesselrode was away in Berlin at the time and would not return to St. Petersburg for several weeks. Instead, Count Buol would meet with Chairman Alexaner Chernyshyov. However, aside from a promise to send word to Count Ridiger, little was accomplished in their first meeting. A second meeting between the two was scheduled three weeks later on the 24th of July, but Chernyshyov would suffer a convenient stroke and would die soon afterwards, leaving Buol to meet with his deputy Prince Menshikov instead.

    Menshikov was no wordsmith and he was certainly no diplomat as he would essentially regurgitate Nesselrode’s earlier account only in a less articulate and flattering manner. Menshikov would also repeat Chernyshyov’s earlier promise to dispatch Austria’s money as soon as Count Ridiger was able. However, when Buol attempted to draw more decisive action from Menshikov, the latter abruptly adjourned their meeting and left without so much as an explanation, leaving the Austrian delegation thoroughly confused. Seeking answers, Buol would turn to Tsar Nicholas in the hopes he might do more to resolve the issue. However, the Tsar was suffering from another of his melancholic fits at this time and rejected Buol’s request out of hand. A second attempt to meet with the Tsar would instead result in a meeting with Tsarevich Alexander. The pair would exchange some pleasantries with one another, but otherwise their meeting only agitated the Austrian Foreign Minister even more. With the Austrians increasingly agitated by Russian misdirection and continued rumors of Russian fraud, Buol’s delegation naturally began to suspect the worst.

    A second meeting with Menshikov would all but confirm Buol’s suspicions. As he attempted to repeat the Russian Government’s account of events, Menshikov erred and stated that Polish brigands had in fact stolen the Austrian’s missing money. When pressed to redress this inconsistency, Menshikov would attempt to reverse course and repeat Nesselrode and Chernyshyov’s account that they had withheld to protect it against Polish partisans. Unconvinced, Buol pressed further. At which point, Menshikov became hostile to the Austrian Foreign Minister, blaming corrupt Austrian bureaucrats for their missing money.[6] He would then berate the Austrians as ungrateful oath breakers who betrayed their ally Russia in their time of need. Incensed, Buol erupted into a similar diatribe against Menshikov and the Russian Government. Insults were thrown between the two men and fists would have too if not for the intervention of their aides. The meeting would end with one final insult from Menshikov all but confirming Russia’s robbery of Galicia. Thoroughly convinced of Russian treachery, Count Buol departed St. Petersburg in early August having all but confirmed Russia’s criminality.

    %D0%A4%D1%80%D0%B0%D0%BD%D1%86_%D0%9A%D1%80%D1%8E%D0%B3%D0%B5%D1%80_-_%D0%BF%D0%BE%D1%80%D1%82%D1%80%D0%B5%D1%82_%D0%BA%D0%BD%D1%8F%D0%B7%D1%8F_%D0%90._%D0%A1._%D0%9C%D0%B5%D0%BD%D1%88%D0%B8%D0%BA%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%B0.jpg

    Prince Alexander Sergeyevich Menshikov, Commander in Chief of the Russian Military and acting Chairman of the Cabinet and State Council.

    As this was all taking place, rumors and reports from Galicia-Lodomeria continued to arrive in Vienna, providing further evidence of Russian malfeasance. Despite the ongoing war with the Turks, Austrian agents in Galicia would report that the Russian garrison in the region had not been reduced as Russia had claimed, but rather increase to slightly over 340,000 soldiers by the Summer of 1856. Moreover, they would also remark that the unrest in the region had been on the decline over the past four years, a process that accelerated once the War with the Turks began as many partisans would leave Galicia to fight against Russia in the employ of the Ottomans and the British. The final piece of evidence would come in late July as the nominal Austrian Governor of Galicia-Lodomeria, Count Agenor Gołuchowski reported that carriage traffic to and from the Russian Empire had increased dramatically over the past few months, carriages laden down with numerous chests under guard by the Russian Army. When Count Buol returned to Vienna in mid-August, the Austrian Government could no longer ignore the reality that was staring them in the face; Russia was embezzling their taxes and tariffs from Galicia-Lodomeria.

    Events began to move quickly in Vienna as Chancellor Schwarzenberg met privately with Russian Ambassador Alexander Gorchakov on the 20th of August and demanded an explanation for their duplicity. When he could not provide one, Schwarzenberg gave him an ultimatum: return every single Gulden that Russia stolen from them or the Austrian Landwehr would march on St. Petersburg. They had three months to comply. It was an impossible demand. Even if Russia wanted to, they simply lacked the time to scrounge up all the coin in question – much of which had already been spent on the ongoing war effort.

    Several weeks later in early September, the venerable Count Nesselrode journeyed to Vienna in a desperate attempt to soothe the Austrian Government’s ruffled feathers. Sadly, his efforts were in vain as Prince Schwarzenberg refused to see him and Count Buol repeated the same demands that they had made of Ambassador Gorchakov. With it now apparent that war with Austria was inevitable, Count Nesselrode sent word to St. Petersburg imploring them to make peace with the Ottomans and recall the Army of the Danube before it was too late. Unfortunately, the Tsar, or rather Prince Menshikov and his supporters simply refused to budge on the issue. Hoping to avoid a disaster, Nesselrode would go around him and sent word to Silistra, warning Prince Mikhail Gorchakov of Austria’s intentions to declare war. For General Gorchakov, this development was an unmitigated disaster.

    No matter Russia’s decision, it appeared as if Austria would be at war with Russia within a few weeks’ time. While they would normally be little threat to Gorchakov on their own, his armies were dangerously overextended in the Summer of 1856 with barely a quarter million men scattered between the Carpathian and Balkan Mountains. Moreover, many of these soldiers were exhausted, they were severely undersupplied and reports from Count Lüders army reported that the troops were increasingly restless and disobedient. Fortunately, Gorchakov still had the better part of two months to prepare and immediately requested permission from Menshikov to recall his armies to a more defensible position. Menshikov refused, however, declaring that the Austrian ultimatum was merely a bluff and the Gorchakov needed to continue his push on Constantinople at once.

    The situation would be made much worse for Russia in late September as Count Ridiger - acting under orders from Menshikov - closed the border with Austria. He would then place his Austrian counterpart, Count Gołuchowski under house arrest effectively ending any remaining notion of Austrian authority in Galicia-Lodomeria, annexing the province to the Russian Empire in all but name. In response, the Austrian Government would reveal Russia’s criminal behavior to the world, eliciting a wave of condemnations and rebukes from across the European continent.

    The Emperor of the French, Emperor Napoleon II would denounce Russia as a barbarous country, with no respect for the laws or rights of men. In early October, he would travel in person to Vienna where he would meet with his cousin, Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph and promised his country’s aid in Austria’s pursuit of justice against Russia. The Hungarians and Swedes would take a more definitive approach, agreeing to formal military alliances with Britain on the 4th and 16th of October respectively and promised to join the war against Russia before the end of the year. The Italian and German states would also lend their voices to those condemning Russian thievery. Even Russia’s nominal allies, Prussia and Greece could no longer abide by Russian actions and began applying their diplomatic and economic pressure upon them.

    With events reaching a fever pitch, Prince Gorchakov once again wrote to Menshikov urgently requesting, no begging him to recall his soldiers to a more defensible position along the Danube River. Once again, Menshikov refused to budge on the issue, accusing Gorchakov of cowardice and defeatism. With the situation to his North rapidly deteriorating and his superior proving obstinate, Gorchakov would unilaterally order General Panyutin and Count Lüders northward to the Danube. When Menshikov learned of this, he immediately reprimanded Gorchakov and sent orders for his arrest, only to be reprimanded in turn by Tsar Nicholas who finally emerged from his self imposed isolation. Having seen the damage wrought by his absence, the Tsar would rebuke Menshikov’s belligerency and order his resignation, which the latter reluctantly agreed to. After which, Nicholas would instruct Count Nesselrode to reach out to the British; Russia was finally ready for peace.

    Next Time: The New Order


    [1] The Russian/Slavic term for Constantinople.
    [2] In the OTL Crimean War, Alexander pushed his diplomats to reject the Anglo-French peace terms, despite the very real threat of Austrian and even Prussian intervention against him. With Russia clearly winning this war ITTL, I don't think he would be very inclined to make peace as he has a golden opportunity to finally end the Ottoman Empire as a real threat to Russia. Moreover, Alexander was a very religious man and was quite supportive of the Pan-Slavic cause in his youth.
    [3] A large plurality of the population in Eastern Bulgaria at this time was Muslim, particularly the region between Silistra and Shumen.
    [4] Sadly, I don’t find any mid-19th Century Austrian tax records to look through, so I had to resort to GDP instead. According to the Contours of the World Economy, Galicia-Lodomeria would have had a GDP somewhere in the ballpark of 7 billion dollars or about one fifth of Triune Austria’s total economy. Given there was a rebellion there recently and a brutal subjugation by the Russians, along with an exodus of several thousand people I'd estimate its around 5 billion dollars as of 1856 ITTL, which would still result in annual tax of several million Guldens per year.
    [5] A distant cousin of the Russian General, Prince Mikhail Gorchakov.
    [6] Prince Menshikov was not the best diplomat, as evident by his OTL diplomatic mission to Constantinople in 1853 where he essentially provoked the Ottomans into starting the Crimean War.
     
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    Chapter 86: The New Order
  • Sorry for the extended delay between this part and the last. I actually had this chapter ready a couple weeks ago, but I wasn't really happy with the final product and essentially rewrote the entire chapter from scratch. My main issues were what to do with Bulgaria and Galicia. Originally, I intended on making Galicia a part of Russia, but later decided against that given the great backlash against Russia. Bulgaria was a bit more difficult to decide upon as Russia effectively controlled all the territory in question, barring the Mountains in the South, and the Bulgarians were active participants in the war (at least at the beginning). Ultimately, with Russian making great gains elsewhere and the building coalition against Russia, I don't think they would have been able to get everything they wanted here. Hopefully, what I settled upon in this chapter is reasonable for you all.

    Chapter 86: The New Order

    Treaty_of_Paris_1856_-_1.jpg

    Scene from the Paris Peace Conference of 1857

    Having become entirely convinced of their own wartime propaganda of Russian depravity and barbarity, the sudden arrival of a Russian peace overture at the end of October 1856 would catch the Palmerston Government completely off guard. Some, particularly British Prime Minister Henry Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston suggested rejecting the Russian proposal outright as the “Rape of Galicia” had galvanized the whole of Europe against Russia. Austria was readying its Armies, whilst France was moving to support them and other countries such as the Netherlands, Bavaria, and Denmark were offering financial and material aid. The Kingdom of Hungary would signed a military alliance with Britain on the 4th of October, followed shortly thereafter by the United Kingdom Sweden-Norway on the 17th, with both promising to join the war by year’s end. Against such a coalition of Powers, Russia would be destroyed.

    However, the Earl of Clarendon, Lord George Villiers and the Earl of Aberdeen, Lord George Gordon supported accepting Russia’s offer for peace. Britain was exhausted after two and a half years of war, while the Ottomans were a completely spent power incapable of providing even the meagerest resistance to the advancing Russians. Even with the added strength of Hungary and Sweden to their cause, and the potential intervention of Austria and France, the odds would only be balanced in theory as the Russians still had a million men under arms. Moreover, the Russians would be supported by an untold number of Armenian, Bulgarian, Cossack, Georgian, Greek, Moldavian, Serbian, and Wallachian auxiliaries. While Clarendon and Aberdeen did not doubt the skill and bravery of their own soldiers, nor their capacity to suffer and die for their country; the Russians would be equally prepared to fight and die in the defense of their Motherland.

    The British people were also tired of this dreadful war, a war that had seen them make tremendous sacrifices for little apparent gain. Britain had suffered more than 60,000 casualties in two years of fighting, with 9,627 dying on the battlefield or from battlefield related injuries, whilst another 16,251 dying from illness and disease. 35,476 British soldiers would suffer from various injuries, many of whom were maimed losing arms or legs, hands and feet, eyes and ears. Others suffered from unseen injuries to the heart, the mind, and the soul, becoming little more than husks of their former selves.

    Many Britons back home had also contributed to the war effort, donating money, clothing, or foodstuffs with little expectation of recompense or restitution at the end of the war. Taxes had been increased and war time bonds had been issued by the British Government to raise revenue for the war effort. By late 1856, many Britons simply had nothing left to give to their government. In their eyes, continuing the war would only worsen their suffering and their sacrifices, and for what? A small chance to dismantle the Russian Empire, to liberate Poland and Finland and the Muslims of the Caucasus and Central Asia. Their independence would not help the Yorkshire farmers or the London merchants, nor would their freedom appease the grieving mothers and wives whose menfolk had died to liberate them.

    Finally, there was the matter of India. For the past eight months, the Indian Subcontinent had been embroiled in revolt by mutinous Sepoys and traitorous Nawabs. India was the Jewel of Britain’s burgeoning Empire – generating tens of millions in revenue via Company loan repayments and priceless trading commodities such as opium, tea, spice, silk, gold, and much, much more. If the reports of this past Summer were true, however, then the situation in the Subcontinent was becoming incredibly dire. The forces on the ground loyal to London and the East India Company (EIC) were outnumbered more than three to one and were in desperate need of reinforcements. If help did not arrive soon, then those few remaining Princely states still loyal to Britain might then rethink their loyalties to London and join with the rebels.

    It was clear to Palmerston and his supporters that they could not pursue both the War against Russia and the Subjugation of the Indian Rebels at the same time. They had tried and they had failed. If they continued to pursue the war with Russia, they could likely succeed - with further costs in blood and treasure, but in the process, they would likely lose everything in India. Ultimately, Palmerston would agree to make peace with Russia with the hope that foreign pressure would limit Russian gains.

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    British Prime Minister - Lord Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston

    Initial armistice talks would take place in the city of Berlin on the 15th of November. In attendance were the ambassadors from the War's primary belligerents; Baron Bloomfield (Britain), Count Brunnow (Russia), Yusuf Kamil Pasha (the Ottoman Empire), as well as representatives from Austria, Count Friedrich von Thun und Hohenstein, and France, Auguste de Tallenay. Before the proceeding officially began, Russian diplomat Count Philipp von Brunnow would offer a formal apology to the Austrian Government on behalf of the Russian government, laying the blame for the entire Galician Incident squarely at the feet of Prince Alexander Menshikov and the deceased Prince Alexander Chernyshyov.

    Nesselrode hoped to avert war between Austria and Russia by scapegoating the dead Chernyshyov and the disgraced Menshikov, who had been swiftly cashiered and forced into an early retirement by Tsar Nicholas. The Russian Government also offered restitution for the wayward province of Galicia, even going so far as to suggest purchasing the state outright. Austrian pride compelled von Thun to reject the offer out of hand, however, he did promise to relay the offer to his superiors for further consideration. This would certainly not erase the irrevocable damage that had been inflicted, nor did it completely alleviate the threat of war between them, but it was a necessary step towards reconciliation between their two states. With that awkward exchange out of the way, the Armistice talks officially began.

    These hearings would cover a wide range of topics from an official armistice date - set for the 24th of December – ceasing all hostilities between belligerent states, and a return of all prisoners taken on both sides over the course of the conflict. Britain would also agree to immediately vacate the Kamchatka Peninsula and end its naval blockades in the Baltic Sea – minor concessions given the fast approach of the Winter sea ice. In return, all Russian troops outside Varna, Shumen, and Trebizond would break their siege works and withdrawal 10 miles from the cities’ walls – movements that were already well underway in the Balkans. However, Britain would not vacate the Åland islands nor end its blockade of Russia’s Black Sea ports, which would remain in place until the start of the Armistice to incentivize Russian compliance. Similarly, the Russians kept their troops on the southern bank of the Danube and scattered across Eastern Anatolia -albeit scaled down considerably - in the event Britain attempted to back out of the peace talks or the Austrians invaded. Lastly, both sides would agree to attend a formal peace conference in three months-time.

    However, the debate over the location of where exactly this Peace Conference would take place was perhaps the most contentious as neither side wished to have a hostile power host such an important event. For that reason, cities within the Russian Empire, the Ottoman Empire, and Great Britain were rejected almost immediately. Similarly, the Kingdom of Greece’s candidacy was opposed due to strong Ottoman opposition, whilst Sweden-Norway and Hungary were naturally blocked by Russia for their own apparent hostility to St. Petersburg. Prussia would be strongly considered by both parties initially, but ultimately rejected as the British felt it was too friendly to the Russians over the course of the war and had only condemned Russia’s illegal actions in Galicia once the rest of Europe had already done so. The cities of Spain and Portugal were considered too far, and the Italian and German states were considered too insignificant.

    Ultimately, the choice came down to two cities: Vienna and Paris. With Austria still threatening war with Russia, however, the Russian delegation was hesitant to name Vienna as the site of the conference. Britain too did not fully trust the Austrians either, for while they were at odds with St. Petersburg now, their historical friendship and natural affinity might predispose them towards the Russians.[1] Moreover, Vienna as a city was on the decline in the years following the 1848 Revolutions. Many of the Hungarian elements of the city departed following the war and its separation from the rest of Germany only worsened this deterioration. The French diplomat Count Alexandre Colonna-Walewski would put it best, stating that Vienna was a city on the decline, a city of the past; whereas Paris was a city on the rise, a city of the future, with a booming population, great history, exquisite art, and a vibrant culture.

    Great Britain and the Ottoman Governments had no qualms with selection of Paris given their good relations with the French during the war. The Austrian ambassador, von Thun also gave his support for Paris after some persuasion from his French counterpart. However, the Russian ambassador, Count Brunnow was more distrustful of Napoleon II than his counterparts, as the French Emperor had used the distraction of this war to sure up France’s position across the globe. The Egyptian succession crisis was quickly resolved in his favor, with the ascension of Ismail Pasha to the Khedivate’s throne. He had also expanded French holdings in Algiers, whilst Algerian and Berber ghazis were ferried to the Balkans and Anatolia to fight against Russia on the Ottoman Porte’s behalf. France had similarly expanded its influence into Southeast Asia, establishing colonies in the South Pacific and forging commercial ties with the countries of Indochina.

    Moreover, French material support for the Anglo-Ottoman alliance during the war had resulted in thousands of additional Russian casualties and needlessly extended the war for many weeks and months. Finally, they had applied significant financial and diplomatic pressure on St. Petersburg during the latter stages of the war, refusing to provide loans for Russia and convinced several of its allies to do the same. However, France had not taken up arms against Russia directly, nor had it imposed extreme demands upon St. Petersburg even after the Galician Incident. There was also a degree of flexibility that could be found in the French Government towards Russia as opposed to the British or Turks. After careful consideration, Count Brunnow would accept Paris’ candidacy for the ensuing Peace Conference, bringing the armistice talks to an end.

    With the Armistice finally agreed to, the cursory skirmishing and raiding that had characterized the Balkan and Anatolian front lines over the last few months of the war gradually gave way. When the Armistice Day finally arrived, many Russian and British soldiers cheered for their trials and tribulations were now at an end. Former enemies would even congregate together, trading souvenirs, sharing drinks, and singing festive songs for their war was over and their reasons to fight were gone. Word would soon arrive in Tehran of Russia’s move towards peace, convincing the Qajari Government to dispatch their own emissaries to the British. Although they considered the Persians to be vile opportunists that had taken advantage of Britain’s momentary weakness, London had more pressing matters to attend to in India and quickly acquiesced to the Qajari request for peace. Nearly two months later in mid-February 1857, the representatives of Great Britain, Russia, the Ottoman Empire, the Qajari Empire, Austria, Hungary, Prussia, Sweden-Norway and Greece arrived in Paris to finalize the terms of the Peace between them.[2]

    Attendees of the Paris Peace Conference of 1857:

    Representing the Russian Empire –

    - Russian Foreign Minister, Count Karl von Nesselrode,

    - Russian Ambassador to France, Prince Alexey Orlov,

    Representing the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland –

    - British Foreign Minister, Lord George Villiers, 4th Earl of Clarendon

    - British Ambassador to France, Lord Henry Wellesley, 1st Earl Cowley.

    Representing the Ottoman Empire –

    - Ottoman Grand Vizier, Mehmed Emin Âli Pasha

    - Ottoman Ambassador to France, Mehmed Cemli Bey.

    Representing the Austrian Empire –

    - Austrian Foreign Minister, Count Karl Ferdinand von Buol

    - Austrian Ambassador to France, Count Joseph Hübner.

    Representing the Empire of France –

    - French Foreign Minister Édouard Drouyn de Lhuys,

    - French Minister of State, Count Alexandre Colonna-Walewski.

    Representing the Kingdom of Prussia –

    - Prussian Prime Minister, Otto von Manteuffel,

    - Prussian Ambassador to France, Count Maximilian von Hatzfeld.

    Representing the Qajari Empire –

    - Persian Deputy Chancellor, Mirza Aga Khan.

    Representing the Kingdom of Hungary –

    - Hungarian Foreign Minister, Count Kázmér Antal Ferenc Batthyány de Németújvár,

    - Hungarian Ambassador to France, Count László Teleki IV de Szék

    Representing the United Kingdom of Sweden-Norway –

    - Swedish Foreign Minister, Gustaf Algernon Stierneld,

    - Swedish Ambassador to France, Count Ludwig Manderström.

    Representing the Kingdom of Greece –

    - Greek Foreign Minister, Konstantinos Kolokotronis,

    - Greek Ambassador to France, Nikolaos Kanaris.

    Representing the German Empire –

    - Foreign Minister of the German Empire, August Giacomo Jochmus,

    - German envoy to France, Friedrich von Raumer.

    Representing the Italian Confederation –

    - Prime Minister of Lombardia-Piedmont, Camillo Benso, Count of Cavour,

    - Prime Minister of the Two Sicilies, Prince Carlo Filangieri,

    - Cardinal Secretary of State for the Papal States, Cardinal Giacomo Antonelli.

    Although the Congress would not officially start until the 10th of February, talks had continued throughout the Winter, resolving many of the lesser issues at hand. Britain’s blockade of Russia’s Black Sea ports was ended on the 1st of January and both sides agreed to cease all financial and material support for partisans within the other’s countries. Most importantly, free navigation of the Danube River and Turkish Straits for commercial vessels of all nations were agreed to by the Congress’ participants. By the time the Conference’s attendees arrived in early February, the only issues remaining were those regarding territorial claims and suzerainty.

    As the Great Eurasian War had technically been started by the Ottomans on behalf of the Caucasian Muslims, this debate would begin with the North Caucasus. Unfortunately, events in the region had conspired against the Circassian Confederacy and the Caucasian Imamate as both were prevented from attending the Paris Peace Conference. This was by design as the Russian Government had vehemently opposed their attendance. In their eyes, the Caucasian Muslims were uncivilized mountaineers and tribesmen living on sovereign Russian territory as agreed to under the 1829 Treaty of Adrianople and had no grounds for representation in Paris. The other Powers of Europe had little interest in the plight of the Caucasians, either out of disdain for the Muslims or a general disinterest in the region. Only Britain and the Ottomans showed any significant interest in their inclusion, but they were dealt an incredibly bad hand by late 1856.

    With the fall of Fort Navaginsky earlier in the Spring, the Circassian Confederacy and Caucasian Imamate were effectively surrounded on all sides by the Russians. Things would only get worse from there as the Caucasian Imamate’s leader, Imam Shamil and many of his chief lieutenants were captured by the Russians during a raid in late October. The ensuing power vacuum would result in defeat after defeat for the already overwhelmed and leaderless Imamate. Although a few Chechens and Dagestanis would continue to resist the Russians for months and years to come, the loss of Shamil effectively decapitated the Imamate’s leadership, depriving it of a charismatic figure for his people to rally around and one that foreign nations could recognize and support.

    The situation was equally dire for the Circassian Confederacy which had fractured in recent months. Several of its tribes advocated submission to the Russians in order to safeguard what was left of their peoples and homeland, while others continued to push for war against Russia and refused any call for peace. Such a split became irrevocable for the Circassian resistance as those that wished for peace broke with their brothers and surrendered wholesale once news of the armistice between Britain, the Ottomans, and Russia arrived on the 11th of January. Those that remained opposed to the Russians would continue to fight, but their fate was effectively sealed by London’s decision to make peace with St. Petersburg.

    Unable to reach the Ciscaucasian Muslims, nor decide upon a proper authority in the region, the Russians were ultimately able to prevent Britain and the Ottomans from seating any representatives from these troubled lands at the Paris Peace Conference. Without their direct involvement, the session regarding their fate would move swiftly, as the British quickly traded their support for the North Caucasus Muslims in return for Russian concessions in Eastern Anatolia. Namely, the Russians would abandon their claims to the port of Trabzon. So long as Trabzon remained outside of Russian hands, Britain’s economic interests in Anatolia could be safeguarded. The Ottomans would be more reluctant to abandon their nominal subjects to Russian indignities, but without British support there was little they could do. Ultimately, they would surrender their claims of suzerainty over the Caucasus Muslims in return for “guarantees of their rights to practice their faith and live according to their own customs”. Although it was magnanimous of the Russians to agree to this concession, in truth this was little more than lip service by the Russians, as they would promptly violate the terms of this agreement before the ink had even dried.[3]

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    Circassians Surrendering to the Russians

    With the North Caucasus largely settled, the discussion would turn southward to Eastern Anatolia/Western Armenia where Russia’s conquests were the most extensive. Utterly smashing the Ottoman frontier, the Russian Armies of General Muravyov had captured the fortress city of Erzurum and marched as far West as the Zara, and from the Black Sea coast to the shores of Lake Van. Outside of the port of Trabzon, however, Russia’s interests in Eastern Anatolia were rather mercurial given the poorness of the region and overly hostile demographics of its people. Their subsequent decision to abandon their claims to Trabzon came as a great surprise, but this was likely done out of pragmatism, trading Trabzon for peace in the Caucasus. So long as the Caucasus Muslims received foreign support, Russia could never truly pacify the region. Moreover, they did not hold Trabzon at War’s end, meaning any attempt to claim it would have required concessions elsewhere, which would have been steep given the great value both the British and the Ottomans held for the port city. Ultimately, Nesselrode and Orlov would agree to end their pursuit of Trabzon - for now.

    Instead, the Russian delegation would work towards consolidating their hold of the Armenian highland which Russia had occupied in its entirety during this war. By owning this region, Russia would strengthen their frontier with the Ottomans immeasurably, whilst denying the Turks many of the hills and valleys that had been their greatest defensive works in this last conflict. Moreover, it would leave the Ottoman provinces in Central Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and the Levant dangerously exposed to Russian attack, giving St. Petersburg tremendous influence over Ottoman policy. Finally, it would bring most of the Armenian peoples under Russian protection, leaving only a few far-flung communities outside its borders.

    These claims to the Armenian Highlands would not go unchallenged, however, as the Turks, the British, and the French all opposed Russia’s claims to the region. The Ottomans naturally opposed these demands, as accepting them would leave the Anatolian Plateau – the Ottoman heartland at great risk. It would also see Turkish lands and Turkish peoples fall under foreign occupation, a situation that would destroy the Porte’s legitimacy in the eyes of their people. The British opposed Russian expansion into Eastern Anatolia as doing so would render Russia’s earlier abandonment of Trabzon moot. With the Eastern Anatolian interior in Russian hands, they would control almost all the land routes to and from Trabzon – but for the western road, effectively making Trabzon a Russian port in all but name. Finally, the French opposed Russian expansion into the Armenian Highlands as it would leave Syria and Palestine under serious threat, potentially jeopardizing France’s influence in the region. Yet, even in the face of this staunch resistance, Russia could have forced the issue if they so desired, but in doing so, they would have had to forsake making gains elsewhere.

    Although they held some interest in the lands of Eastern Anatolia, this paled in comparison to the value they held for the Balkans. Eventually, the Russian delegation would agree to limit their gains in Eastern Anatolia to the border Sanjaks of Alashkerd, Ardahan, Ardanuç, Beyazit, Hanak, Lazistan, Mahjil, Oltu, Posof, the eastern half of the Erzurum Sanjak, and a small sliver of the Trabzon Sanjak.[4] Despite this marked reduction from their earlier demands, this still represented a massive loss for the Ottoman Empire, one which the Ottoman delegation was hesitant to accept. Yet, given the difficult battle spent reducing Russia’s demands even this much, the Ottoman Grand Vizier, Mehmed Emin Âli Pasha reluctantly agreed to sign away many of his nation’s eastern provinces. The delineation of the new border between the Ottomans and Russians in Anatolia would thus run westward from the frontier with the Qajari Empire near Mount Tendürük, across the hilltops of the Agri Par west of Agri, and through the Erzurum valley just west of Erzurum. From there, the border would travel north to the Pontic mountains and proceed down the Ophius river to the town of Ofis on the Pontic coast.

    The decision by the Western Powers to accept Russian gains in the East was likely done with the express purpose of limiting their gains in the Balkans as much as possible, given the greater wealth and importance of the region. Unlike Anatolia, St. Petersburg’s objectives for the Balkans were quite clear; above all else they desired the city of Constantinople for themselves. However, failing this, they wished to drive the Turks from the Danube, thus nullifying their defenses there and securing a future invasion route. Clarendon recognized this and together with his French and Ottoman Allies, he sought to form a cohesive block against the Russians, forcing them to give up their claims and end their aspirations in the Balkans. To their credit, Nesselrode and Orlov had expected this opposition and would refrain from claiming any territory in the Balkans for Russia directly. Instead, they would look towards expanding Russia’s influence across the Balkans, by establishing a series of satellite states in the region, beginning with the Danubian Principalities.

    In an impassioned speech, Prince Alexey Orlov would argue that the Ottoman Government had voided their rights to suzerainty over the Danubian Principalities with its illegal and unprovoked invasion of Wallachia and Moldavia in early May 1854. Through its actions, several thousand innocents had been slain, while an untold number were left destitute by Turkish raids. This was not the behavior of a benevolent overlord, but a vindictive aggressor. In contrast, the benevolent Russian Tsardom had defended its brothers in faith and beaten back their attackers in self-defense. Therefore, the Russian Empire should be considered the rightful protector and benefactor of the Danubian Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, not the Ottoman Turks.

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    Russian Ambassador to France, Count Alexey Fyodorovich Orlov​

    Despite the dubious authenticity of Orlov’s words (more Wallachians and Moldavians had actually died fighting for the Russians outside Silistra than in the entire Ottoman invasion), the Allied contingent to the Paris Peace Conference would concede this demand almost immediately. Even the Ottoman delegation recognized the Principalities were a lost cause and only offered a token resistance to the measure, if only to preserve their Government’s honor. Relatively speaking, it was a minor concession as the Porte’s authority over the two principalities had been thoroughly eroded in the years preceding the war; their inability to defeat Russia during this conflict only solidified this fact. Nevertheless, it was still a decisive development as the two Principalities were now nominally independent after nearly 400 years of Ottoman overlordship.[5]

    In truth, however, the two states would be little more than Russian protectorates, effectively trading an Ottoman suzerain for a Russian one. The loss of Wallachia and Moldavia to Russian rule was made easier for the Western Powers thanks to the protections given to commercial vessels on the River. Nevertheless, for countries such as Hungary and Austria, the “independence of Wallachia and Moldavia was an unwelcome development. With Wallachia and Moldavia secured, Russia turned its attention westward, across the Danube to the Principality of Serbia.

    Like the two Danubian Principalities to the East, Ottoman control over Serbia had gradually declined over the last 50 years following the outbreak of the Serbian Revolution and the establishment of the Principality of Serbia in 1815. In more recent years, the Prince of Serbia, Aleksandar Karađorđević had signed a treaty with the Porte, further reducing Ottoman influence within the country, thereby stripping their garrisons to the bare minimum. Although the Principality had remained neutral throughout the conflict, many of its citizens had journeyed abroad to fight alongside the Russians in their war against the Turks. Similarly, many Serbs within Ottoman territory would also rebel against the Sublime Porte. All told, nearly 31,000 Serbians would participate in the war, either as auxiliaries in the Russian Army or as brigands raiding Ottoman patrols.

    Despite this factor, Allied resistance to Serbian independence would be far stouter than it had been with Wallachia and Moldavia. Unlike the previous matter, Russia did not have a physical presence in Serbia, whilst the Ottomans still did, albeit to a limited extent. There was also the fear that an independent Serbia would encourage Serbian nationalists in both the Ottoman Empire and the Kingdom of Hungary to rebel against their overlords and join their lands with the Serbian state, a fact that greatly concerned Buda. Moreover, the reigning Prince of Serbia, Aleksandar Karađorđević was generally viewed as a Russophile by the British and French governments, one who would align his state with St. Petersburg if given the chance. Such a development would extend Russian influence into the Western Balkans and onto the Southern borders of Austria and Hungary, something which neither state could accept.

    However, according to reports from Belgrade, Prince Aleksandar was increasingly unpopular with members of the Serbian government over his increasing nepotism and flagrant disregard for the Legislature. Although he remained relatively popular with some elements of the Serbian people, his grip on power was still quite tenuous thanks in no small part to the machinations of his predecessor, Prince Milos Obrenovic. Prince Milos had been working tirelessly to reclaim his and his son Mihailo’s throne, using his connections and his vast wealth to spur unrest within Serbia against Prince Aleksandar. To further his own interests, Prince Milos and his son had journeyed to Vienna where they stayed for several years, before traveling to Switzerland in 1848, and then Paris in 1851 where he had spent the last few years petitioning the French Government for support.

    Following up on this lead, Lord Clarendon and his French counterpart, Edouard de Lhuys would meet in secret with Prince Milos during a brief recess in the Conference. Coming to terms with the exiled Serbian magnate, they reached a tentative agreement whereby the British and French governments would support a coup in Prince Milos’ favor in return for his alignment with the Western Powers of Europe, to which Prince Milos readily agreed. Clarendon and de Lhuys would then meet with the representatives of Austria and Hungary, gaining their support for Milos’ coup in return for promises to renounce Serbian claims on Hungarian or Austrian territory. With a secret arrangement established between Britain, France, Austria, and Hungary to support the deposition of Prince Aleksandar Karađorđević and the return of Milos Obrenovic, they eventually agreed to Russia’s demand for an independent Serbia. However, the process would be a gradual one, with the Ottomans slowly transitioning power to the Serbians over the course of the next three years, before finally gaining its full independence in January of 1860, time enough for their plot to take effect.

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    Prince Milos Obrenovic of Serbia

    The Plenum’s attention would then turn to the tiny Principality of Montenegro located southwest of Serbia. Ottoman control over the region had always been tenuous, owing to the mountainous terrain and warlike nature of its people – the poorness of the region did little to help matters. Recently, however, what little sway the Ottomans held over the region had been completely destroyed when a band of Montenegrins massacred an Ottoman regiment sent to police the region, near the town of Kolasin. Under normal circumstances, such an event would have warranted a major retaliation, but with the war with Russia raging to the East and revolts all across the Balkans, the Porte had few resources to divert to little, insignificant Montenegro. Effectively, the decision to now give Montenegro independence was merely a recognition of the reality that Montenegro was independent of Kostantîniyye’s control and had been for nearly two hundred years.

    The last major bone of contention in the Balkans were the lands of Bulgaria. Numerous Bulgarians had risen in revolt against the Ottomans, with nearly 47,000 volunteers joining the Russians in the early weeks of the war. Sadly, many of these partisans were ill equipped, and the Russians proved unable to support them given their early setbacks, leading to their brutal repression by the Ottoman authorities. Overall, some 18,000 Bulgarian men, women, and children would be slain in 1854 alone, many of whom having little to do with the revolt against the Porte, with many more falling in the years that followed. Such injustice could not stand in the eyes of St. Petersburg and they called on their counterparts to release Bulgaria from Turkish oppression. However, this was a step too far for the Western Powers.

    When combined with the independence of Serbia, Wallachia, and Moldavia; the liberation of Bulgaria would effectively make the Danube a Russian river in all but name. Such an outcome was simply unacceptable to Buda and Vienna whose economies were reliant upon free navigation of the Danube River for trade and commerce. There were also considerable concerns over the extent of an independent Bulgaria, with the Russian delegation proposing a Bulgarian state extending from the Danube to the Balkan Mountains and the Black Sea to the border with Serbia. Such a state would cause irrevocable damage to the territorial integrity of the Ottoman Empire in the Balkans, leaving its European territories incredibly vulnerable to invasion and insurrection. Most of all it would leave the Turkish Straits dangerously exposed to the Russians, something which the British, French, Austrians and Ottomans vehemently opposed.

    Tensions over Bulgarian independence rose quickly to the point where Lord Clarendon and Mehmed Pasha threatened to walk out of the Peace Conference and continue the war no matter the cost, forcing Nesselrode and Orlov to walk back their demands considerably. Perhaps if Russia had made peace in the Summer when their enemies were at their weakest, then they may have had a better chance at winning Bulgaria. Instead, in the face of a united opposition, they would abandon their ambitions of a Bulgarian satellite in favor of the demilitarization of Dobruja, the rights of the Bulgarians guaranteed by the Ottoman Government, and the codification of Russia’s role as the protector and benefactor of the Ottoman Christians. With the fate of Bulgaria settled – for now, there remained one final measure in the Balkans, that of Greece’s treaties with Great Britain and the Ottoman Empire.

    Signed in the Spring of 1855, the Treaty of Corfu and the Treaty of Constantinople would have the Kingdom of Greece annex the Ionian Islands and the Dodecanese Islands respectively. A separate clause in the latter treaty would also see Thessaly and Epirus ceded to Greece by the Ottoman Empire in return for its continued neutrality in the war, which the Hellenes had – mostly - abided by. However, what should have been a simple matter of acknowledging the two earlier treaties and confirming Greece’s new borders, quickly became complicated as the British delegation under Lord Clarendon called for an abrupt recess in the congress before quietly calling aside his Greek counterparts, Konstantinos Kolokotronis and Nikolaos Kanaris. What was said exactly during this private exchange is unknown, but the subtext of their exchange is abundantly clear; London had known about Greece’s continued duplicity throughout the War – both smuggling and sedition - and was clearly irritated by it.

    Greece’s illicit succor had buttressed the flagging Russian cause during the latter stages of the war, contributing in part to the Russian victory and increasing British casualties by an untold margin. Although it cannot be said that Greek support for the Russians resulted in a Anglo-Ottoman defeat in the war, it was seen as highly insulting to the British Government. London had gone to great lengths to convince the Greeks against going war with the Turks, instead offering them numerous bribes and concessions in the hope their honor would hold them to their agreement; they were wrong. This is unfair to say the least as the Greek Government did abide by the terms of the Palmerston-Kolokotronis Treaty, if not in spirit, then at least in letter. More than that though, it would set a dangerous precendant that the Government of a people is responsible for all their people's actions when beyond their borders.

    While Britain promised not to take any overt actions against the Greek Government out of respect for their mutual friendship and their desire to maintain a united front against Russia, they reiterated that any future sedition within the Ottoman Empire would be interpreted as an act of aggression by the Greeks, thereby nullifying Britain’s defensive pact with Greece. This is not to say that Britain would attack Greece, merely that they would not aid Greece if the Ottomans retaliated against them. Beyond this thinly veiled threat, the British Government would also request that they receive a 25% share in the Corinth Canal's revenue in return for their continued support of the canal’s construction. Finally, Clarendon asked that they pay a minor indemnity to the Ottoman Government for their new provinces, with a sum being established between the two at a later date. The British would chose to forgo an indemnity for the Ionian Islands, instead negotiating that their lease on the Port of Corfu be extended another 10 years, later negotiated down to 5 (now ending in 1870).

    Reluctantly, Konstantinos Kolokotronis accepted these terms on behalf of the Greek Government, viewing Britain's tacit support for Greece’s expansion into Thessaly and Epirus as more important than a few, relatively minor economic concessions to London and their Turkish lackies. However, this exchange would prompt a marked cooling off period in British-Greek relations for the next several years. Nevertheless, the British delegation quickly returned to the Conference Chamber and gave their consent to Greece’s annexation of Thessaly and Epirus, quickly followed by Russia, France, and all the other delegates in attendance. With the new borders in the Balkans established, the discussion moved northward to Galicia-Lodomeria.

    1858 Greece Timeline Map .png

    The Kingdom of Greece's borders post Paris Peace Conference

    Prior to the recent debacle over Russia’s illegal activities in the region, Galicia had been a de jure part of the rump Austrian Empire. In recent months, however, it was abundantly clear for all to see that Vienna’s authority in the province had waned considerably since 1848 as Polish rebels and poor infrastructure limited their ability to govern the far-flung country. Russia had a sizeable role in this as well, as they had moved their own officials into positions of power within Galicia, assuming roles previously held by their Austrian counterparts – tax collector being one of the most prominent. Despite their recent efforts to reinforce their position in Galicia, the Austrian Government simply had no power projection in the province by 1857 and could not realistically govern it as this recent scandal made apparent. For the good of all involved, it would have to be sundered from the Austrian crown and either made independent or subjected to Russia.

    The former option was deemed unacceptable by Russia and Prussia as a fully independent Polish state would only embolden their own Polish subjects to rebel. This was hardly an issue for Britain and France as they both supported an independent Poland, but the Russians - with considerable backing from the Prussians, would not budge on the issue. The Second option of Russian annexation was then considered with the earlier offer to purchase Galicia now given more credence. However, Austria was against the measure as doing so would effectively reward Russia for its infidelity. To mollify the Austrians and satiate the Russians, Galicia-Lodomeria would be established as a subject state of Russia, akin to the Danubian Principalities and under the rule of a Hapsburg Prince.

    This new country would be akin to the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, with the state being de jure independent, but financially, diplomatically, and militarily dependent upon Russia, making it a Russian province in all but name. The now detached Duchy of Bukovina would then be sold to the Principality of Moldavia for 2 million Pounds Sterling, paid for by their overlord Russia. St. Petersburg would also pay Vienna a grand total of 24 million Pounds Sterling for the province of Galicia-Lodomeria, effectively repaying Austria their missing funds for 1856 and much, much more.[6] However, for cash strapped Russia, this amount was far more than it could afford at present. To pay for this sum and to further appease the angered Austrians, Russia would be forced to make sales of their own, namely its lone colony in the New World, Alaska.

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    A Map of Russian Alaska (circa 1854)
    Located on the far side of the Bering Strait, Alaska had always been a backwater, even for Russia. The colony had received little interest from St. Petersburg over the years and was only inhabited by a few thousand native Inuits and several hundred Russian fishermen, hunters and fur traders – the last of which had started departing Alaska after the exhaustion of the local sea otter population. Nevertheless, it was a vast territory spanning nearly 1.7 million square kilometers with countless forests and untapped natural resources whatever those resources happened to be. It was also completely indefensible for Russia – as made abundantly clear by this recent war when the British swiftly occupied the colony in a matter of weeks. Given the great distance and geographic boundaries separating it from the Russian heartland, there was no feasible way for St. Petersburg to exercise its authority over the colony, nor could it properly defend it. With the value of the province now on the decline with the decline of the sea otter population and Russia in desperate need of money, the decision was ultimately reached to sell the colony to the highest bidder.

    That bidder would be Britain for a grand total of 7 million Pounds Sterling, however, Britain’s interest in the colony was rather low despite the high price paid for it. Apart from a few extra ports, fishing rights, and timber, the colony would add very little to the British Empire. Its size was certainly nice as it would solidify Britain’s position on the Pacific, but most of the territory was frozen wasteland that was largely uninhabited and poorly developed. Nevertheless, Britain would be compelled to buy the colony from Russia as “recompense” for Russian gains elsewhere - the fact that the money used to buy Alaska would ultimately go to Austria, rather than Russia also helped the British people stomach the purchase.

    When this was still not enough to cover the costs of Galicia, the Russians would also be compelled to sell the Åland Islands to the Kingdom of Sweden-Norway for the sum of 2.5 Million Pounds Sterling. The sale of the Åland Archipelago was a modest loss for the Russian Empire, as St. Petersburg had invested much into the islands over the last 48 years with the construction of Bomarsund Fortress and its outlying redoubts. However, the islands were overwhelmingly Swedish demographically, they were relatively poor economically, and generally indefensible against a dominant sea power like Britain – a fact that had been humiliatingly exposed in 1855. Thus, selling the islands to a middling power like Sweden was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things as Sweden-Norway was nothing compared to the might of Russia. To sweeten the deal in St. Petersburg’s favor, Nesselrode would also force the Swedish Foreign Minister, Gustaf Stierneld into demilitarizing the islands and a renouncing any further Swedish claims on Russian territory.

    The final area of major territorial changes would be Central Asia, particularly the region between British India, the Qajari Empire, and the Russian Empire. The Khanates, Emirates, and nomadic tribes that inhabited this land had largely aligned themselves with the British against the Russians during the war as they opposed Russian expansion into their lands. However, given the greater importance of the Baltic, Balkan, and Anatolian theaters of war, little attention had been given to Central Asia during the first two years of the conflict, forcing the overwhelmed local garrisons to fend off the rebel Turkmen on their own. Only in mid 1856 would St. Petersburg begin shifting forces Eastward to subdue Turkestan and by the end of the year, most of the Kazakh lands had been pacified. However, the Emirate of Bukhara, the Khivan Khanate, and the Kokand Khanate were still free of Russian occupation by the start of the Paris Peace Conference.

    Although Britain had little capability of supporting the Central Asian Turkmen, Clarendon did not wish to completely abandon them either as the United Kingdom had established considerable financial and diplomatic relations with the tribes in the region. Moreover, they wished to preserve a series of buffer states between British India and the Russian Empire, a role which these states had previously occupied before the war. As British opposition was stiffest here, whilst Russian interest in the region was relatively low; the two would eventually reach a compromise restoring the status quo antebellum in the region. Whilst this did see the lands of the Kazakhs reincorporated into the Russian Empire and formally recognized by the other Powers as sovereign Russian territory, it would also see the Khanates of Kokand and Khiva, and the Emirate of Bukhara retain their nominal independence, albeit as Russian tributaries. Nevertheless, this did fulfill Britain’s goals of maintaining a buffer between British India and the Russian Empire, while also preserving their ability to trade with the Central Asian states.

    Moving southward, Persia’s invasion of Afghanistan in late 1855 would expand the conflict to Afghanistan and Northern India, although the former was quickly conquered and pacified by the Qajaris. Britain had attempted to ready a punitive expedition againt the upstart Persians, but the revolt of the Sepoys and Nawabs of India in early 1856 would derail Britain’s plans. Despite this setback, the indomitable British Royal Navy rained destruction upon the Persian Gulf ports and caused immeasurable damage to the Qajari economy with their blockades and interdictions forcing the Qajaris to the table on relatively generous terms. The deal reached by British and Qajari Governments would effectively partition the Emirate of Afghanistan between them, with the Hindu Kush mountain range serving as the boundary of their realms.[7]

    Although Britain had gone to war with the Qajaris to maintain the independence of Afghanistan, London valued the strategic nature of Afghanistan more than the Emirate itself, as its territory spanned many of the main passes into and out of Northwestern India. With these routes securd under British control, the importance of the Emirate diminished substantially, hence the concession to the British by the Qajaris. The two states would also agree to split the Khanate of Kalat, located to the south of Afghanistan, with the Qajari Empire receiving the Ras Koh and Chagai Hills, while the remaining rump state would fall under British suzerainty thus securing India’s Western approaches as well. Overall, the arrangement favored Tehran more than it did London, but given the ongoing revolt in Bengal and their previous failure in conquering Afghanistan in 1839, the deal was more than enough to satisfy London.

    With all outstanding border changes resolved and confirmed by the Conference’s participants, the Conference proceeded to the last major topic of discussion, that of the Turkish Straits. Debate over free passage of trading ships through the straits had been quickly resolved before the Conference, with commercial vessels of all countries being permitted free access through the Straits. However, the issue of warships would be much more contested and extended into the Congress for debate. Russia desperately wanted to secure the Straits against a hostile power, thus safeguarding their soft southern underbelly against foreign adversaries. They also wanted to send their own warships through the Straits as a means of exerting its influence in the Mediterranean.

    Britain abhorred the thought, as did the French and Austrians who came to see a Russian presence in the Mediterranean as a threat to their own interests on the Mediterranean. After much debate, and several threats of renewed war, costs be damned; both sides would reach a compromise. The Ottoman Porte would be forced to refuse all foreign warships passage through the Dardanelles, whilst Russian warships would be similarly banned from passing through the Bosporus Straits. This arrangement satisfied neither party, but of the two, Russia came out better as they had effectively made the Black Sea a Russian lake in the process. The last days of debate would go rather quickly and uneventfully resolving the remaining issues one by one, until the 15th of March when the Conference’s participants gathered together for one last meeting, to sign the Treaty of Paris.

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    The Delegations sign the Treaty of Paris (1857)

    Ultimately, the Great Eurasian War, or War of Turkish Aggression as it is known in Russia, would go down as a great victory for Russian Emperor Tsar Nicholas. He had gained great territory in Anatolia and he had established several friendly satellites across the Balkans. He had also secured free shipping through the Straits and a denial of foreign warships from the Black Sea. Yet it was not as great as it could have been thanks to scandals and poor diplomacy in the last year of the war. Moreover, Russia had suffered over a half million casualties, its economy was crushed by blockades and embargoes, and it minorities in the Caucasus and Crimea had revolted, despoiling the countryside. In the end, Russia’s ascendancy, whilst slowed greatly by the war, would ultimately rebound in short order and continue to grow, faster than before thanks to their great gains in Anatolia, the Balkans and Galicia.

    For the Ottomans it was a solemn affair as their nation had suffered the worst out of all the war’s participants. Their armies were shattered, suffering well over a quarter million casualties. Their territories in the Balkans and Anatolia had been despoiled by war and revolt. Their economy was on the brink of ruin, driven deeply into debt by wartime expenditures. More annoyingly, they had been the only major belligerent in the war to lose territory (ignoring Russia's selling of Alaska and Aland), whilst their primary ally Great Britain had actually gained territory. They had also lost any remaining semblance of control in the Danubian Principalities, Serbia, and Montenegro, which only furthered unrest in their Balkan provinces. Their “victories” in the Paris Peace Conference had been relatively minor as well, having only secured the welfare of the Ciscaucasian Muslims - a provision that was quickly ignored by Russia in the following months, and the retention of Bulgaria, Erzincan, and Trabzon - regions thoroughly devastated by the war. Overall, there would be much for the Sublime Porte to contend with in the years ahead as they struggled to deal with their newfound anger and shame.

    For their part, the British would make out relatively well as they had made moderate gains in the war with their purchase of Alaska and their annexations in Afghanistan and Baluchistan. Their economy whilst exhausted from war, was largely intact and would recover in a few years’ time. Internally, the British Government would review their performance in the War poorly, resulting in a series of military reforms in the years ahead in the hopes of addressing many of their military’s shortcomings. Publicly, Westminster would lay the blame for their defeat at the feet of the Indian Rebels for distracting them and drawing away their resources. The soldiers and their families would be far harsher on their Government, however, blaming the Palmerston Government for their poor handling and poor preparations for the war, resulting in the Tories being ousted from Power in the 1857 elections. However, the Great Eurasian War was not over yet, not for Britain anyway as there remained one last theater of war for it to contend with.

    Greece Timeline World Map 1860.png

    The World in March 1857

    Next Time: The Devil's Wind

    [1] The British were quite guarded towards the Austrians in OTL and resisted efforts to name Vienna as the Peace Conference’s locale.

    [2] Also in attendance were various observers from Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands, Denmark, Serbia, Montenegro, Wallachia and Moldavia.

    [3] Although Russia is formally agreeing to protect the rights of its Muslim populations, there are no enforcement mechanisms on this, nor are there any states willing to intervene on their behalf. As such, the fate of the Circassians will generally be the same. However, the earlier surrender by several tribes and clans (brought about by the Allied defeat against Russia) should save lives and preserve more of their communities relative to OTL.

    [4] This essentially represents Russia’s claims in the OTL Treaty of San Stefano plus a little more.

    [5] Although Wallachia was technically a tributary of the Ottoman Empire beginning in 1417, it was generally sporadic as the Voivodes usually resisted paying tribute to the Ottomans, only to be summarily invaded and deposed by Ottoman backed rival claimants. After Vlad the Impaler’s death in 1476, Ottoman suzerainty over Wallachia was formalized and would remain largely intact for the next four hundred years, apart from the reign of Michael the Brave in the late 16th Century. Similarly, Moldavia briefly became an Ottoman tributary in the 1450’s, but this would largely stop during the reign of Stephen the Great. However, by the end of Stephen’s reign, he was forced to accept Ottoman suzerainty once more, a state of affairs that would continue intermittently until 1876 in OTL.

    [6] I’m using the Gadsen Purchase as a reference for this pricing as the size of the territories in question are roughly the same at around 77,000 km^2 for the Gadsen Purchase and 78,500 KM^2 for Galicia-Lodomeria. The timing of this exchange is also very close to the OTL Purchase which happened in 1853 so the valuations should be relatively similar. However, I’d wager that Galicia and Lodomeria would cost far more than the desert that America purchased from Mexico. Firstly, Austria is not a defeated state that can be pushed around like Mexico post Mexican-American War, although it is believed that the US vastly overpaid for the region in question. Secondly, Austria has most of Europe supporting them in this matter so Russia can’t shortchange Vienna here. Finally, there are several million people living in Galicia and Lodomeria, albeit most are poor peasants and farmers, whereas the area of the Gadsen Purchase was largely inhabited by a few thousand people.

    [7] Roughly corresponding to the territory Britain would seize from Afghanistan in the Second Anglo-Afghan War.
     
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    Chapter 87: The Devil's Wind - Part 1
  • So I know I said I would cover the entire Indian Rebellion in one chapter, but this part quickly ballooned into something much longer than I initially anticipated. As such I've decided to split it into two separate chapters, one which I'll be releasing today and the other which I'll be releasing later this week. After which, the narrative will finally return to Greece and we can see how things are developing there. Hope you all enjoy!

    Chapter 87: The Devil's Wind - Part 1

    630px-%22Attack_of_the_Mutineers_on_the_Redan_Battery_at_Lucknow%2C_July_30th%2C_1857%2C.jpg

    British soldiers fending off an Indian attack at the Battle of Badli-ki-Serai

    The end of the Russian War in the Spring of 1857 would not bring about the end of the British Empire’s troubles as one theater of conflict still remained: India. Following the Mutiny at Agra in early February 1856, the traitorous Sepoys initially hesitated for several days as they considered their options. Although tensions had been rising with the British in the years before the revolt, many did not think of themselves as patriots or freedom fighters. Many simply wanted their rights and customs to be respected, whilst many more wanted higher salaries and more opportunities for advancement in the Military. Any chance they may have had of attaining these goals had been quashed with their Mutiny at Agra.

    Passion had overcome their base desires and British blood had been shed by their hands. There was no going back for them now. If they tried, they would surely be enfettered by the vengeful Europeans and executed for their crimes against the East India Company and the British Crown. At this point, they could only go forward, forward to war, and forward to the liberation of India. With their resolve restored, the Mutineers departed Agra for the Imperial city of Delhi.

    The decision to go to Delhi was a simple one for the Mutineers. The Walled City had been the seat of the Mughal Empire for generations and though its grandeur had waned in recent years – owing in large part to British expansion in the Subcontinent, it still remained the formal residence of the Mughal Emperor. Now little more than a figurehead, Bahadur Shah Zafar II was still a well-respected figure in Indian society. Many of the Sepoys wished to liberate the Emperor from his British jailers and hoist him upon their shoulders as the Emperor of a free and united India, giving their people a leader to rally around.

    Adding fuel to this drive towards Delhi was the recent decision by the British Commander in Chief of India, Major General Major George Anson to begin moving European troops into the city. Officially, this decision had been to defend the City against Persian raids, but in the eyes of most Indians it was yet another act of encroachment on their freedom by the British. Marching like men possessed, the Mutineers would arrive outside Delhi eight days later on the 17th of February.

    Their fast pace would catch the British garrison completely off guard as they initially mistook them for reinforcements coming up from Calcutta. Although Anson had heard of the “protests” at Agra, he initially dismissed it as an isolated event that could be easily contained to the local area with the forces at hand, not a rapidly expanding revolt that had already reached his doorstep. Anson’s decision making was also undermined by a desperate need for more troops as Qajari raiders had struck deep into the Punjab recently, reaching as far as Faisalabad and Gujranwala before being turned back by British and Indian forces. Although he doubted future attacks could reach as far as Delhi, he still needed to ensure the city was safeguarded against any future Persian incursion.

    Nevertheless, by the time the Rebels arrived outside Delhi’s walls, the city’s garrison was still severely undermanned, numbering only 4 understrength regiments – 1 British (the 32nd Regiment of Foot) and 3 Indian (the 9th, 10th, and 12th Bengal Native Infantry Regiments).[1] For their part, the Rebel Regiments maintained their guise of loyalty until they passed through the city’s gates before swiftly turning on the unsuspecting British soldiers, killing several dozen before they had a chance to react. Despite the suddenness of the mutineers’ attack, the British would initially hold their ground against the rebels. For a brief moment, the 1856 Indian Rebellion looked as if it would be a minor footnote in history, that is until General Anson foolishly ordered the three Native Regiments under his command forward to crush the rebels. This was a deadly mistake.

    Not wishing to fire upon their countrymen, many instead opted to join with the Mutineers, turning the tide of the engagement decisively in the rebel’s favor. Emboldened by their actions, many citizens of Delhi would also take up arms alongside the mutineers and attacked any Briton in sight – be they British or German, soldier or civilian, man or woman, grown adult or young child. Innocent babes were ripped from their mothers’ arms and dashed upon the rocks, wailing British womenfolk were hacked to pieces like fresh meat in a butcher’s shop, all the while their husbands, fathers, and brothers were left to despair as their families were brutalized and victimized by the frenzied masses of Delhi before being torn limb from limb themselves. The Delhi mob would not spare their “traitorous countrymen” either as any Christian Indian convert was cruelly cut down by their neighbors and friends with gruesome ferocity. Even those who had committed no offense against their countrymen were cut down for the audacity of having grown wealthy and affluent under British rule.

    With the anarchy rapidly engulfing the entire city, Anson ordered his remaining men to steadily fall back to the Red Fort where they would secure the Emperor Bahadur II, his court, and the Imperial treasury against these “revolutionaries”. Officially this brazen order was made to protect the Indian Emperor and prevent his fall into mutineer hands, but in truth, Anson likely recognized the importance of the Emperor and the Palace which he could use against the mob. With Emperor Bahadur in his custody, Anson believed he could either force the Rebels into submission or facilitate his own escape from Delhi. With some amount of difficultly, the remaining men of the 32nd would fight their way to the Palace complex and gain possession of the Mughal Emperor, most of his extensive broad, and many of his courtiers.

    The Fort was thereafter inundated with refugees from the city; East India Company (EIC) bureaucrats and their families, loyal Sepoys and Christian Indians who all flocked to the fortress seeking safety from the Rebel Sepoys and the rioting populace of Delhi who hunted them throughout the city. Some soldiers and civilians would also flee to the nearby Flagstaff Tower on the edge of town, but by late-afternoon, the last pocket of organized resistance outside the Red Fort was quashed by the mutineers. Before they did, however, a young telegraph operator - whose name has sadly been lost to history - sent out a desperate message to Umballa and Meerut, and from there onto Calcutta and Bombay. The message reads as follows: “The Sepoys are in revolt. Delhi has fallen. Send help immediately.” This message would repeat three more times, before the young man was finally cut down by the Sepoys and people of Delhi.

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    The Walled City of Delhi in the days before the Rebellion

    With the remaining British troops trapped inside the Red Fort, the Sepoys declared victory and proclaimed the independence of India. News of Delhi’s fall to the Rebels soon spread like wildfire across all of India as Sepoy regiments of the Bengal Presidency revolted en masse against their British officers; slaying those that they could and driving off the rest. Of the 86 Bengali Native Regiments of Foot, all but 9 would join the Mutineers in their fight against the British, whilst all but one horse regiment would join with the rebels. The situation in the other Presidencies was less severe as only three regiments would rebel in the Bombay Army and only a single regiment of the Madras Army would mutiny. However, their loyalties were still thrown into doubt after the events at Agra and Delhi; and though they continued to profess their loyalty to the EIC and the British Government, there was no way of truly proving that. As such, they were largely relegated to garrison duty by the fearful British for the next few weeks whilst their true allegiances were determined.

    Making matters worse, the Princely States of Oudh, Rewari, Banda, Ferozepur Jhirka and a dozen more would side with the mutinous Sepoys and cast-off British hegemony. The timing could not have been worse for the British as two Bengal Regiments of Foot, the 32nd (British) and the 71st (Native) were already en route to Lucknow to detain the incompetent King of Oudh, Wajid Ali Shah, when the news arrived from Delhi of the Rebellion. Seizing upon the news, the 71st immediately turned on the British and were quickly joined by the people of Faizabad and local Oudh warriors. Despite a valiant effort, the soldiers of the 32nd were swiftly reduced one by one until little more than a third were left. Those that remained made a fighting retreat to the nearby town of Basti where they were quickly besieged by their former comrades.

    Added to this were the continued raids by the Qajaris into the Punjab and Baluchistan, tying down numerous units of the British Army in India that could have otherwise been sent against the rebels. The war with Russia did not help matters in India either as regiments originally destined for the Subcontinent were instead redirected to the Balkans and Anatolia to fend off the Russian offensive there. By the time of the rebellion, British troops in India were stretched recklessly thin, with a single European regiment covering the massive expanse from Calcutta to Dinapur. Help would not arrive in the region until late Summer when elements of the British 3rd and 6th Divisions finally began arriving in the Subcontinent after receiving a special dispensation from the Egyptian Governor to cross the Sinai. However, depleted as they were from the War with Russia and exhausted from their long journey, the 3rd Division wouldn’t see any meaningful action until late October at the earliest, whilst the 6th was a green unit that still needed extensive training. In the meantime, nearly all of Northern India, from the Punjab and Lahore to Bihar and Jharkhand was in open revolt against the British, with pockets of unrest emerging almost everywhere else.

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    British troops besieged near Basti
    All was not lost for the British however, as their leadership in theater was more than up to the task of containing the Rebellion. Then Governor-General of India, Lord James Broun-Ramsay, 1st Marquise of Dalhousie had learned of the events in Delhi mere hours after they had taken place, thanks to the installation of telegraph lines all across the Subcontinent.[2] Although the Sepoy Revolt can be blamed in large part on several of his ill-conceived policies, the Scotsman was an incredibly tenacious worker and a capable administrator who had weathered similar crises during his 7 long years as Governor. Once word of the rebellion at Delhi arrived, he acted swiftly, issuing orders to disarm any and all Native Regiments found to have sympathies with the Rebels.

    Sepoys of confirmed loyalty were provided with stipends and bonuses to their pay in recognition of their continued faithfulness, whilst other units of more moderate loyalty were dispatched to the border with Persia to distract them and relieve the British units garrisoned there. Dalhousie would also send word to London and the Governors of the Cape Colony, Australia, and New Zealand requesting immediate reinforcement be it men or material. In the meantime, he would use his authority as Governor-General to redirect a regiment of foot (the 45th) coming out from Australia and he called upon the marines of the Royal Navy stationed in India for service on the mainland.

    Dalhousie would also surround himself with a number of capable deputies, such as Lord John Lawrence, Chief Commissioner of the EIC, who was himself a talented diplomat and negotiator in the Company’s employ. Thanks to Lord Lawrence’s efforts, the British were able to quickly secure the support of the Gurkha Kingdom of Nepal, which promptly dispatched 18 Regiments of Gurkhas to relieve their embattled British allies. The Gurkha people were rugged mountain men, who had proven themselves to be especially fierce warriors during their wars against the British nearly forty years prior. By the 1850’s, however they had become staunch allies – their relationship improving greatly from the appointment of pro Anglo ministers within the Nepalese Government and a begrudging respect for the Gorkhas by Westminster and the EIC. Marching down from their mountains, the Gurkhas would quickly relieve the British forces trapped at Basti and begin fighting their way towards other besieged British regiments across the region.

    Several weeks later in early April, Lawrence would work wonders yet again, when he managed to pacify the Princely States of the Punjab, reminding them of Britain’s leniency and respect for their local autonomy. Ironically, the ongoing war with the Qajari Empire would also help the British in this regard as most Sikh Chieftains considered the British to be their benefactors and protectors against the Persian raiders. Finally, Lawrence played up the cultural and religious differences between the Sikhs and their Hindu and Muslim neighbors, who had been antagonizing them long before the rebellion began back in February. Thanks to Lawrence’s efforts, another dozen regiments would be raised to combat the Rebellion and with their assistance, the British would manage to mitigate the Revolutionaries’ appeal to the Ganges basin.

    The British also had a decisive advantage in weaponry, as the much-maligned Pattern 1852 Enfield Rifle was a tremendous force multiplier for the British, compared to the incredibly antiquated Brown Bess musket still used by many Sepoys.[3] With its improved accuracy and range of up to 900 meters, a trained soldier wielding the Enfield could normally kill or maim 2 to 3 adversaries before they even came into firing range of their enemies’ firearms. Although loyal men were in short supply, the Enfield was not as the Sepoys (both rebel and loyal) overwhelmingly shunned the weapon. Rumor was that the Enfield’s shot and powder cartridges were greased with beef tallow or pig fat – ingredients that were highly offensive to both Muslims and Hindus and liable to damn their souls. Whether this rumor was true or not – evidence would say that it was – the result was the same; the British were corrupting the morals of the Hindi people and leading them into eternal damnation.

    To rectify this and undermine Rebel propaganda, Dalhousie and his acting Commander in Chief – owing to the absence of General Anson - Major General Patrick Grant began working on an alternative cartridge greasing for the Enfield. After testing several alternatives, they would eventually settle upon a more acceptable ghee grease or vegetable oil. The opening of the cartridges would also be changed to better accommodate the Sepoys, with the user now tearing the cartridge open with their hands as opposed to their teeth. Overall, these changes would satisfy many of the regiments of the Bombay and Madras Armies, largely resolving their complaints with the weapon and bringing about their return to British service by early Summer. Most, however, would still be used in secondary roles garrisoning the South or protecting the Western Frontier to avoid any further defections. Nevertheless, a handful of Native Regiments would venture north alongside the now freed up British Regiments of the Bombay and Madras Presidencies by late Summer.

    330px-James_Ramsay%2C_1st_Marquess_of_Dalhousie_by_Sir_John_Watson-Gordon.jpg
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    Patrick_Grant.jpg

    Governor-General of India; Lord James Broun-Ramsay, 1st Marquise of Dalhousie (Left),
    Chief Commissioner of the East India Company; Lord John Lawrence (Center),
    and Acting Commander in Chief of India; Major General Sir Patrick Grant (Right)

    Finally, the British had a significant advantage in military leadership over the Rebels as many of their officers were veterans of numerous campaigns, with some boasting service records all the way back to the Napoleonic Wars. Although the Sepoys were incredibly potent fighters, they had often been limited to company grade positions within the EIC’s Armies with higher field and General staff ranks going to European officers exclusively. As such, the Rebel Sepoys usually had difficulty controlling any mass of men larger than a battalion in combat. Those that did rise to higher levels of commandd had often achieved their positions due to seniority and tenure, not merit or skill. Some veteran Sepoys like Bakht Khan and Ghosh Muhammad were capable leaders, but they were a rare exception.

    The Indian Nawabs were often worse as their rank and social status often inclined them to positions of military leadership despite lacking any formal experience in the modern art of war. They frequently disregarded the advice and stratagems of the more professional Sepoys, whom they derided as up-jumped peasants and cowardly traitors could not be fully trusted. More often than not, the Indian Nawabs would devolve into infighting amongst themselves as petty rivalries and disputes between opposing feudatories prevented any measure of cooperation or subordination on their part. The most striking case would be at the battle of Lucknow in mid 1857 when the craven King of Oudh abandoned the field of battle leaving the Zamindars of Hathwa, Jagdishpur, and Kalankar to face the British alone, resulting in their defeat and capture. This wasn’t entirely the norm, however, as the Maratha Peshwa Nana Saheb and his attendant Tantia Tope were renowned Indian commanders who would go on to defeat the British on various occasions with a good degree of tactical prowess and ingenuity. Sadly, they were the exception to the rule as most Nawabs relied upon their numerical superiority to overcome the British and even then, they would only do so at a great cost in lives.

    Worse than this, however, was the complete breakdown of discipline within the burgeoning Rebel Army. Prior to the revolt, discipline and esprit de corps had been almost exclusively maintained by British sergeants, men who were now either dead or under siege by their former compatriots. Naturally, order and cohesion within the ranks gradually dissipated without their influence – especially in the midst of battle, although some of the more veteran regiments would maintain their ranks better than the greener units.

    Making matters worse, the Sepoys were far outnumbered by the poorly equipped and poorly trained irregulars who had joined ranks with them. Those troops raised by the Indian Nobility were often arrogant, foolhardy and controlled by passion rather than sound thinking. They rarely cooperated with the more experienced Sepoys, often leading to piecemeal attacks spurred onward by boyish enthusiasm and manly bravado rather than tactical thinking and planning, only for their courage to be quickly dashed with a whiff of gunpowder and lead from the British Enfields. Unused to the rigors of a modern battlefield, panic would quickly consume these ad hoc brigades, cause them to break and flee for their lives, leaving the remainder greatly demoralized.

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    “These ruffians are more akin to a troupe of Brigands than a proper Army.”
    – British General Patrick Grant on the hosts of the Rebel Nawabs

    Despite the general expansion of the Rebellion into much of Northern India, the main focal point of the conflict would remain on the city of Delhi. The continued defiance of the British within the Red Fort would be mark of shame for the Rebels as little more than a thousand soldiers, bureaucrats and Christian Indians held off the better part of six thousand Sepoys and nearly forty thousand Delhi townsfolk for weeks on end. Initial attempts to storm the Fortress had failed miserably, forcing the Rebels to besiege the Palace complex. During this lull in the fighting, Anson would haul Emperor Bahadur out before the mob and provided him with a script calling on the rebels to throw down their arms and return to their homes peacefully. To hear their beloved Emperor parroting the words of the British was a disheartening blow for the Rebels as they saw him as their leader. Discouraged, many would desert the siege works around the Fort, leaving the lines thinned, but generally still intact.

    A week later on the 1st of March, Anson brought the Emperor out before the people of Delhi once more, declaring that they had been led astray by a few dastardly fiends within their ranks, and that they should end their violence against their British friends and allies. A few more civilians and Sepoys would depart, but the effect was noticeably weaker than before. Several days later, Anson would haul Bahadur out yet again for a third and final time. On this occasion, Bahadur’s speech was much more incendiary, calling on the people to turn against the Sepoys and surrender them to the British, calling them criminals, murderers, and traitors. Enraged at this display, the people of Delhi instead turned against their Emperor, believing him to be no more than a British puppet. They accused him of cowardice and treason against his own country and people, before pelting him and his British attendants with rocks until he was finally led away in disgrace. Anson’s gambit had failed miserably.

    As the siege continued deeper into March, the situation within the Red Fort became increasingly dire for those trapped within its walls. The once lavish food stores within the Palace were quickly running out – despite being designed to feed the Mughal Emperor and his massive family, they were unable to support nearly a thousand people for weeks on end even after strict rationing. Ammunition was also running low, the Red Fort had not been used as a military site in years, with most stores of powder and shot having fallen to the rebels at the beginning of the siege. Moreover, a handful of courtiers within the Emperor’s inner circle had been providing the Rebels with intelligence on British patrols within the fortress, their numbers, weaponry and organization. Worse still, on the 6th of March, the Emperor’s eldest living son, Mirza Mughal broke free from his British guards and leapt from the Red Fort’s walls into the Yamuna River.

    Despite the fast currents of the mighty river, the prince was plucked from the waters by the Rebels only to be promptly imprisoned by his supposed saviors. However, in an impassioned speech the Mughal Prince denounced the British as foreign interlopers who raped and plundered fair India and called on every man, woman and child to support him in driving the Europeans back into the sea. Buoyed by his words, the rebel sepoys and people of Delhi proclaimed him Emperor of India and struck against the Red Fort with renewed vigor. Time after time they would force their way onto the walls, only to be driven back time and time again by the British, but by the end of March, the British were down to half their original strength, food was scarce, and ammunition was even scarcer. Talk of surrender was now commonplace within the Red Fort and despite his better judgement, Anson began considering it as well. However, help would soon arrive from the West.

    Before the Red Fort had been completely surrounded by the Rebels back in February, General Anson dispatched a dozen riders to inform the rest of the Bengal Presidency of the burgeoning crisis and request immediate reinforcements. Most of these men would be captured and killed by the Rebels before they made it out of Delhi, but three would successfully escape, reaching Lahore, Peshawar and Multan where the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Bengal European Infantry Regiments had made their respective camps. Owing to the ongoing conflict with Qajari Persia, the 2nd and 3rd Regiments could not be immediately withdrawn from the border to relieve Delhi, but the 1st was not at such risk and was ordered to march within a fortnight.

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    The First Bengal (European) Fusiliers Regiment marches on Delhi
    Their advance on Delhi would not go unnoticed, however, as Indian resistance steadily increased as it approached Delhi. Chief among these would be the Nawab of Rewari, Rao Tularam Singh who immediately joined the Rebellion once news arrived from Delhi. Levying a force of 5400 warriors to oppose the British, Rao’s forces would meet the 1st Fusiliers near the village of Rohtak. Despite their superior discipline and weaponry, the British were outnumbered nearly 6 to 1, and were themselves besieged by the Rewaris at Rohtak. The battle of Rohtak would continue off and on for another two and a half weeks before help finally arrived in the form of the Sikh Regiments of Ferozepore and Ludhiana which had come to assist the British. With their combined power, the British and Sikhs pushed back the Rewaris and, after a week of rest and recuperation, they continued their advance on Delhi arriving outside its walls on the 27th of March.

    The arrival of these three - admittedly understrength - regiments would not intimidate the Indian Rebels as more and more Regiments of the Bengal Army journeyed to Delhi with each passing day. By the end of April, no less than 17 regiments of infantry and 10 regiments of cavalry had amassed within the Imperial capital, with another 34,000 Indian irregulars scattered across the region. However, the arrival of this small relief force would raise the flagging morale of the British garrison within the Red Fort as many of these Sepoys were now forced to guard the city’s outer walls instead of attacking the Palace’s walls, forcing their less capable comrades to pick up the slack. Two weeks later, the 2nd Regiment of Bengal European Infantry and another regiment of Sikh Infantry would arrive on scene with the 1st Bombay European Regiment reaching the British camp the following day, raising the total British strength outside Delhi to over 5,200 soldiers. Although Dalhousie and Grant had few troops to spare, they too recognized the great importance of Delhi and had concentrated all forces they could spare against it.

    With these forces in hand, General Grant would prove quite aggressive in fighting the Indians over the next month, forcing a crossing over the Hindon river, seizing the heights of Badli-ki-Serai west of Delhi and razing many of the outlying communities within sight of the Indian capital. Their most inflammatory act, however, would be the execution of any so-called seditionist his troopers found, with many being strapped to the ends of cannons and blown to pieces as the guns were fired. Others were put to the torch or hung from makeshift gallows in clear display of the Delhi garrison. Many hundreds of combatants and civilians were slain by the aggrieved British in revenge for the deaths of their countrymen, with their mutilated corpses being left upon the hills north of the city. Enraged by these acts, the people of Delhi demanded that Mirza Mughal sally forth to challenge the vile British and punish them for their crimes.

    However, the leading Sepoy commander, General Bakht Khan urged caution as the British had entrenched themselves atop the Badli-ki-Serai, a prominent ridge a mere 6 miles west of Delhi. This strong defensive position that was made stronger with the arrival of the 1st Brigade of Bombay Horse Artillery which had force marched from Gujarat only days before boosting the British ranks to roughly 6,000 men and providing them with a number of siege guns. Bakht and his subordinates were accused of cowardice by the Nawabs of Rewari and Banda and once more urged their Emperor to march against the British. As his legitimacy was solely dependent upon the will of the people – people who were demanding action, Mirza could not refuse them and thus he ordered his “armies” northward against the British. All told, Mirza Mughal would march forth from Delhi with 16 regiments of Sepoy Infantry, 8 regiments of Sepoy cavalry and around 20,000 auxilliaries to face off against General Grant’s army at Badli-ki-Serai, whilst the remainder maintained the siege on the Red Fort.

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    Sultan Muhammad Zahir Ud-din (Mirza Mughal),
    21st Mughal Emperor (disputed) and Nominal leader of the Indian Rebellion of 1856

    As the Indian army approached their position, the British busied themselves with the construction of various trenches, breastworks and caltrops to funnel their adversaries into a prepared kill zone. Although a veteran commander would have recognized this, Mirza Mughal was not a military man and overlooked the importance of scouting or maneuverability. Instead, he would order a frontal assault against the well-entrenched British and their Sikh allies, hoping that his superior numbers and the fervor of his men would overwhelm them. Despite their extensive preparations, the British were very nearly overrun by the Indians, who outnumbered them by more than 4 to 1. Yet it was here in the heat of battle that the veterancy and professionalism of the British troopers paid dividends as they held their ground in spite of the great mass of humanity before them. Firing volley after volley of rifle rounds into the charging Indian mob, cutting down hundreds if not thousands before they even reached the foothills of the ridge. As the bodies began to build at the bottom of the ridge, more and more fighters began to waver on the Indian side, with some even breaking entirely. A victory was within General Grant's grasp.

    Yet their moment of triumph was not to be as Bakht Khan then released his Sepoys upon the unsuspecting British, catching them in the flank and routing the green Sikh regiments within minutes. Contradicting Mirza Mighal’s orders of a frontal assault, General Bakht had instead led his soldiers around the British fortifications. While this would result in his late arrival on the battlefield, it would enable him to hit the British where they were most vulnerable. The British would fight on for another few moments before the order to retreat was issued at which point, they began a fighting withdrawal northward from the battlefield. By midafternoon the battle was over, the Rebels had won, but at a great cost. Of the roughly 31,000 soldiers and irregulars in the battle, nearly 11,000 were dead, wounded, missing or captured, with most falling upon the troops of Rao Tularam of Rewari and Ali Bahadur of Banda. In comparison, the British and their Sikh allies fared slightly better, only suffering around 3,800 casualties although this amounted to more than half their entire force.

    The Sepoys bore the fewest casualties given their limited involvement in the battle, but they would boast the greatest single loss, as their commander Bakht Khan had been shot through the heart whilst leading the decisive attack on the British flank. Although his death would galvanize his troops and bring about their victory that day, his loss would be felt in the weeks and months ahead. His deputy, General Ghosh Muhammad had been struck in the shoulder whilst chasing down the fleeing British, prompting his men to end their pursuit of the Britons and tend to their wounded commander. Despite the loss of their leader and their pivotal role in the battle of Badli-ki-Serai, the Sepoys were derided by their comrades for their tardiness and failure to pursue the British – completely disregarding that they had just been mauled by the British rearguard.

    In the aftermath of the Battle of Badli-ki-Serai, the remains of the British-Sikh Army would withdraw northward into the Punjab where they would regroup and await additional reinforcements. This decision would effectively doom General Anson and the few remaining British forces still in Delhi, who were effectively out of ammunition and desperately short on food. Hoping that the recent battle had sufficiently deterred the Indians, Anson offered to surrender the Red Fort to the Sepoys on the condition that all those within the fortress be allowed to leave the city in peace. Feeling magnanimous after his recent victory, Mirza Mughal acquiesced, however, he would demand that the British give up their weapons, that the civilians within the Fort take only the clothes on their backs, and that his father, the “former” Emperor Bahadur be delivered into his care. Although Anson did not trust the Rebels to keep their word, he had few options left and accepted Mirza Mughals terms on the 1st of May 1856.

    Anson was right to be suspicious. When the appointed time came, the British soldiers departed the fortress, followed by the officials of the EIC, their families. Last to depart were the Loyal Sepoys and Christian Indians who had sought shelter in the Red Fort. The sight of these “traitors” made the blood of every patriotic Indian in the growing crowd boil. They demanded retribution against these blackhearts who had sided with the foreign devils over their own countrymen. The crowd began hurling rocks, roof tiles, spoiled fruit and animal feces at the column. Emotions escalated and soon brawls had broken out in the streets of Delhi. When Anson attempted to protest this ill treatment to Mirza Mughal, he was summarily bludgeoned and beaten to death by the Emperor’s guards.

    Panic quickly set in among the British column as the mob soon turned their attention to them. Those at the front attempted to force their way out of the city, whilst those nearer the back attempted to fight their way back to the Red Fort. Most were simply slaughtered in cold blood by the people of Delhi. By nightfall, the carnage would finally subside. Of the 457 souls who had left the Red Fort that morning, only 62 remained. Most of these were servants or family members of Mirza Mughal, whilst only 17 Britons would escape alive to tell the tale of Mirza Mughal's betrayal. In a cruel sense of humor, Mirza Mughal would order the bodies of every slain British soldier and civilian thrown outside the walls of Delhi, thus fulfilling his agreement with the late General Anson.

    Seizing upon the news of these victories, the rebellion would expand further across the subcontinent. In Gwalior, the Anglophile Maharaja Jayajirao Scindia was deposed by his traitorous advisors, who promptly joined the rebellion against the British and declared their loyalty to the new Delhi Government. The Princely state of Jhansi would also join with the Rebels in late May as the young Maharaja, Damodar Rao was but a small child under the complete control of his treacherous retainers. The Princely States of Jaipur and Jodhpur would erupt into chaos as rival factions sided with the British and rebels respectively, whilst many more would be subject to violence and upheaval. The British would attempt to respond to these latest defections as best they could, but after the debacle at Badli-ki-Serai there was little they could do.

    Next Time: The Devil's Wind - Part 2

    [1] I should be point out that British regiments at this time were little more than bloated battalions, so these formations are roughly equivalent to 800 soldiers on average.
    [2] Dalhousie was a big proponent of the telegraph and had lines constructed across the subcontinent during his tenure as Governor-General of India.
    [3] Incidentally, many of the British units in India also used the Brown Bess at the time of the OTL Rebellion, although they were quickly phased out in favor of the Enfield as soon as it became available.
     
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    Chapter 88: The Devil's Wind - Part 2
  • Chapter 88: The Devil’s Wind – Part 2

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    Vengeance of the Lion
    No longer able to ignore the burgeoning crisis that was taking place in the Indian Subcontinent, the British Government would finally begin channeling its resources away from the Russian War and towards the Rebellion in India during the Summer of 1856. The first unit to be dispatched would be the veteran 3rd Division under the recently promoted Lieutenant General Richard England in early July. The 3rd was a battle-hardened unit that had fought against the Russians in Rumelia for the better part of two years when it was recalled to Constantinople and ordered to India. Thankfully, their long journey to the Indian Subcontinent was made much shorter thanks to the Egyptian Government of Ishmael Kavalali Pasha, which permitted the British to traverse the partially completed Suez Canal thus saving the 3rd Division well over a month of traveling.

    This arrangement between Alexandria and London also removed a thorny issue for both governments in the form of Abbas Pasha. In the months preceding this agreement, London had offered their support to Abbas Kavalali over his French aligned cousin, in the hopes he would win the throne and move Egypt into Britain’s sphere of influence. However, they quickly discovered that Abbas Pasha held little real popular support within Egypt – most of which came from the conservatives and the clergy who had been disaffected by Ibrahim Pasha’s modernizing rule. When it became abundantly clear to London that Abbas Pasha would never successfully claim the Khedivate throne, the British quickly withdrew their support and made amends with Alexandria in return for a few minor concessions from Ishmael Pasha’s government (the right to traverse the Suez being one of the most notable).

    Ishmael was quite happy to agree to the British request as it removed a potential threat to his rule, while also providing an opportunity to test his new canal which had just recently reached Lake Timsah, roughly corresponding to the halfway point for the project. From there, however, the British troops would be forced to march across the remainder of the Isthmus arriving at the port of Suez three days later. Finally, the soldiers of the 3rd Division would board new ships at Suez and arrive at the port town of Karachi before the end of July. Yet, after their rigorous journey across the Suez Isthmus and 19 months of constant campaigning in the Balkans; its troops were exhausted, and its ranks were depleted. As such, it would require several weeks to recuperate, re-arm and reinforce before they would be battle ready once again.

    The arrival of the 3rd Division would be followed several weeks later by the newly organized 6th (Irish) Division under Major General George Bell. Unlike the veteran 3rd Division which had seen extensive fighting in the Ottoman Empire, the 6th Division had been raised only months prior, mostly from Irishmen who had enthusiastically joined the Army following the passage of the Irish Dominion Act of 1856. As such it was a thoroughly green unit, one that would require weeks of drilling to reach a satisfactory fighting proficiency, while also giving them some time to help them acclimate to the hot Indian climate. Even still, their added numbers were a welcome sight for the beleaguered British forces in India. Most importantly, they were fully equipped with the Pattern 1852 Enfield Rifle providing them with an incredible advantage over their more experienced Indian adversaries.

    By mid-October, both the 3rd and 6th Divisions were ready to march and departed Sindh for the Punjab. The two divisions would travel up the Indus river for much of the next two months before finally arriving at the city of Ludhiana where they would meet with General Patrick Grants and his remaining East India Company forces in early December. Despite his station as acting Commander in Chief of India, Grant would immediately cede overall control of his “Army” to General England, owing to the latter’s seniority and superior rank as well as his exemplary service in Rumelia. Bell would similarly agree with Grant’s decision and submitted himself to the Canadian who was promptly placed in command of the three units, with the disparate East India Company (EIC) regiments being formed into an ad hoc Division under Grant (the 7th).[1] All told, the forces England commanded numbered around 42,000 men when it departed for Delhi in mid-December.

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    Lieutenant General Richard England, Commander in Chief of all British Forces in India
    Under the milder December sun, the British Army made good time marching eastward, reaching the important fortress of Kunjpura on the 21st of December and quickly put the rebel redoubt under siege. However, their approach had not gone unnoticed by the Rebel leaders in Delhi who had busied themselves establishing their authority across Northern India over the last few months. Proclaiming themselves to be the rightful Government of a free and united India, the Mughal Government in Delhi minted coins bearing the facade of Sultan Muhammad Zahir Ud-din (Mirza Mughal). Laws were being issued in his name, taxes and tariffs were being collected across his domains in the North Western Provinces, and his consuls were forging diplomatic relations with all the enemies of Westminster. Moreover, the Delhi Government had organized a massive army of former Bengal Sepoys, Nawab levies, and Mughal Ahadis numbering some 114,000 men under the command of Mirza Mughal’s younger brother, Prince Mirza Khizr Sultan which was now advancing on the British column.[2]

    Unlike his older brother, Mirza Khizr did have a talent for military command as he methodically drove the British and their Sikh allies back into the Punjab over the course of the Summer. Given this chance to finally destroy the British presence in the North, Mirza Khizr eagerly accepted this new task and attracted a great host to confront the foreign interlopers. Naturally, such a lumbering mass of men was quickly discovered by British scouts, however, who quickly informed General England of their approach. Undeterred, the British commander would elect to leave a regiment of Sikhs behind to screen the citadel of Kunjpura, whilst he took the remainder of his forces southward to prepare for the Mughal Prince’s arrival. Traveling a day’s march southward, he would eventually settle on a jagged plain located between the Yamuna river (specifically the Western Yamuna Canal) and the town of Panipat.

    The Indian Army of Mirza Khizr would arrive later that evening, forcing a tense standoff between the now entrenched British and the massive Mughal Army. For the better part a week, the two forces would jockey for position along the eastern edges of the historic town. Each day, the two forces would array themselves on the old battlefield, sending forth their skirmishers and cavalry to harass the other resulting in minor clashes between the two. Yet neither side committed fully to a decisive engagement. General England’s decision to delay was a sound one as his force was vastly outnumbered, with half his troops being little more than raw recruits untested in the rigors of battle. Although he trusted the superior training of his troops and the superior quality of their weaponry, he realized that an offensive against such a massive force was foolhardy given the circumstances. Instead, England hoped to provoke an attack by the Indians and thus took up a defensive stance between Panipat and the Yamuna River.

    For his part, Mirza Khizr was also reluctant to attack as he fully recognized the strong position of his British adversaries which was made stronger by a series of trenches and wooden stakes protecting their front. Moreover, his army, whilst incredibly large, was comprised mostly of poorly equipped Ahsam infantry or undisciplined levies loyal to their individual magnate. In effect, these men were little more than cannon fodder. The Sepoys he brought with him were certainly more potent fighters, but they comprised a minority of his force at Panipat. His artillery certainly outnumbered the British artillery corps, but the Indians had tended towards lighter field guns as opposed to the more powerful siege guns utilized by the British. Finally, his biggest advantage over the British was in cavalry, with the Mughal prince fielding nearly 20,000 horsemen; yet the British earthworks made them nigh unusable at Panipat. As such, an alternative course of action was needed if the Indians were to attack, however, after 5 days of this charade, cracks had begun to emerge within the Indian Army.

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    The 68-Pounder Lancaster Siege Gun
    Although Mirza Khizr was the nominal commander of the Indian Army, his authority was not universally accepted, nor was it unchallenged by those within his ranks. In the eyes of many Rajas, Nawabs, Zamindars, and Mansabdars; their Emperor, Mirza Mughal was simply a figure head, a puppet who served at their pleasure, nothing more. His brother, Mirza Khizr was no different in many of their eyes; they were the real leaders of the Army, or so they deluded themselves into believing. His hesitancy to attack the British at Panipat only confirmed their biases to the point they paid him little mind and would slowly begin defying him more and more as the days progressed.

    On the morning of December 28th, the two sides formed up as they had for the previous five days. The two sides unleashed their skirmishers to harry their adversaries as they had for the last week, all the while their artillery fired upon one another. Yet when the British withdrew back to their lines, several Mansabdars within the Indian Army broke ranks and gave chase. Soon more and more units began joining the impromptu attack seeking glory and riches from the outnumbered and, apparently, cowardly British. Riding to the fore, Mirza Khizr would attempt to dissuade his countrymen from making their foolhardy assault, only to be rebuffed by the haughty aristocrats and potentates he had surrounded himself with. Try as he might to reel in his disparate forces, Mirza Khizr could do nothing but watch as his Army advanced on the British line. With no other choice, the Mughal Prince ordered his remaining forces to join the assault; the Fourth Battle of Panipat had begun.

    What followed would be a complete disaster for the Indians as the massive scale of the disorganized attack only meant that there were more bodies for the British troopers to shoot at. Firing 4 rounds a minute from 900 yards, the Indians were heavily bloodied before they could even reach their own firing range. Meanwhile, the heavier caliber cannons of the British tore gaping holes in the thick Indian ranks, killing or maiming scores of men with a single shot. The carnage was so great that by midafternoon, the battlefield was already strewn with corpses, most of which were Indians, which their comrades had to climb over to reach the British line. Only when Mirza Khizr’s forces finally arrived to reinforce their cohorts, did the Indian attack begin making any discernable progress against the British line.

    Forcing their way to the front, the Mughal troopers and Sepoys would attempt to close the distance with the British and bring their strength in numbers to bare upon their adversary. Most failed to reach the British line owing to the faster firing rate and greater range of the Enfield, but as ammunition began to dwindle and exhaustion began to build more and more started reaching the thin Red line. It was here that the fighting became the most contested as the bloodied Indians threw themselves upon their tormentors ripping and tearing until their enemy was dead or they were themselves struck down. Faced with wave after wave of frenzied Indian infantry, the inexperienced Irish Division and Sikh Regiments began wavering under the sheer weight of Mirza Khizr’s attack.

    However, the Mughal Prince’s success would be short lived as General England ordered his crack 3rd Division forward against the surging Indians. The veteran British riflemen moved to the front - replacing the battered, but still unbroken front line, before unleashing one devastating volley after another upon the approaching Sepoys and Ahadis. Many were slain where they stood, whilst a few would charge this new British line and spark a bitter melee including Prince Mirza Khizr himself who had leapt from his horse and joined the attack in person to rally his flagging troops. However, in the midst of the fighting, the Mughal Princeling was shot through the side of his skull, killing him instantly.

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    The Last Stand of Mirza Khizr (Scene from the Battle of Panipat)
    With Mirza Khizr’s death, any remaining cohesion in the Indian Army was immediately lost as the Indians devolved into a mass of humanity without clear order or leadership. Seizing upon this moment, General England order his men forward, with Bayonets fixed, whilst his Sikh cavalrymen were unleashed to cut down any and all they found. At that, the morale of the Indians collapsed, panic set in, and a general rout ensued as men fled for their lives. The hitherto unused Indian cavalry simply deserted the field leaving the infantry to fend for themselves. Overall, nearly 23,000 Indian troops would be killed that day, with more than half being slain in the ensuing pursuit. Another 11,000 would be wounded and more than 6,000 would be captured. The British in contrast only suffered around 4,000 casualties with most coming from the Irish Division and EIC regiments. The Battle of Panipat was a huge success for the British, opening the road to Delhi and put a nice cap on an otherwise very dreadful year.

    Sadly, for Westminster, news of this victory and the events that followed would not reach Europe until well after the start of the Paris Peace Conference at which point little could be done to change that event’s proceedings. However, the British victory at Panipat would have massive ramifications in Delhi as the Indian leadership effectively collapsed into infighting after such a devastating defeat. The Nawabs and Zamindars of the Mughal court blamed the relatively unscathed Sepoys for the disaster at Panipat, whilst the Sepoy commanders lambasted the arrogant and foolhardy Mansabdars for forcing such an unfavorable battle in the first place. In the coming weeks, the feud between the two would only worsen as the Sepoys were abandoned or misguided by their “allies”, not only resulting in the high attrition of Sepoy veterans, but also a systematic breakdown in cooperation between the two co-belligerents. In retaliation, many Sepoy commanders refused to support the Nawabs in their own foolhardy attacks, nor would they help defend their lavish estates from British raiders. Even the Mughal Emperor, Sultan Muhammad Zahir Ud-din (Mirza Mughal) was not immune from this feuding.

    Although the Mughal Empeeror was still a highly respected man who could use his great influence to arbitrate disputes between his subjects, he was still just a man. A man who owed his crown to the landholders and aristocrats who had enabled his usurpation of the throne over his still very much alive father. As such, he often arbitrated in favor of the Nawabs, Rajas, and Zamindars who had put him on the throne. Naturally, this put him at increasing odds with the Sepoys and lay people of his “Indian Empire” who quickly became disenchanted with their new Emperor. Moreover, the Mirza Mughal’s efforts to move beyond his supposed puppet emperor status and establish his own government were also met with staunch resistance from both his aristocratic supporters and the common people of Northern India.

    The state of anarchy that had existed during the opening months of the Rebellion had gradually been replaced by a return to normalcy. Only, instead of the British East India Company, the Mughal Court in Delhi attempted to surmount the sprawling mess of Princedoms and Noble Estates that dotted the Subcontinent. Some complied and humbled themselves before the Mughal Emperor, but most only offered lip service to Delhi. Mirza Mughal’s efforts to enforce any sort of taxation or economic policies across his domain were also rife with controversy as the magnates who had supported his rise to power paid little if anything in the way of taxes to the Delhi Government, whilst the common people were burdened with incredibly high tax rates. Moreover, his continuance of many of the East India company’s administrative policies made it abundantly clear that little would change for the commoners of India should the Rebels win the war against Britain.

    Worse still, the Rebel forces in Delhi were plagued by a chronic shortage of munitions. Prior to the Rebellion, the British had supplied most of the weaponry, ammunition, and powder for the Sepoy Regiments, regiments who were now in opposition to their former suppliers. Their early victories against the British would manage to sate their need for more munitions as plundered stockpiles would restock their spent powder and ammunition for a few months. But with the British stopping their advance and now beginning to push it back, this state of affairs was no longer viable. By January 1857, many Indians began opening foundries and smithies to supply the Army, however, the rushed production of these weapons often meant that they were of lower quality than that of their British counterparts. Moreover, they could not match the power and range of the British weaponry, which easily outclassed anything the Indians produced.

    These issues would only benefit the British in the days and weeks to come as they rapidly advanced on Delhi in mid-January, subduing many of its environs and retaking the Badli-ki-Serai west of Delhi by the end of the month. Several days later, they would force their way atop the Northern Delhi ridge overlooking the city, coming within a scant 2 miles of Delhi’s walls. By the 19th of February, their mighty siege guns were implanted atop the heights surrounding Delhi and began pounding away at the city’s medieval walls with brutal force. To combat this, Mirza Mughal would order his last leading commander, General Ghosh Muhammad to move against the British with his army.

    Ghosh Muhammad complied, but in the ensuing Battle of Delhi he was undermined by the Nawab of Banda, Ali Bahadur who disregarded the veteran officer’s orders and foolishly launched his own, ill-advised assault upon the British position with his 4,200 troops. In doing so, he opened a great hole in the Indian line, an opening which was quickly exploited when the British blunted the impromptu Indian attack and launched their own counterattack. Overcome by the superior firepower and discipline of the British veterans, the Banda troopers were swiftly driven from the Battlefield, leaving a massive hole in the Indian line. Ghosh Muhammad would attempt to consolidate his disparate forces and fill the opening, but it was too late as the momentum of the British charge carried it into the thinned Indian line, shattering it within seconds.

    With defeat now inevitable, Ghosh Muhammad ordered his remaining men to make a fighting retreat from the battlefield, which they accomplished at great cost. Of the 40,000 Indians who had fought that day, nearly half were lost to Delhi, most of whom were captured or simply deserted. The British would sustain several thousand casualties themselves, but seeing that Delhi was ripe with panic after the defeat of Ghosh Muhammad; the exhausted Britons would push themselves onward to the gates of the Imperial City and make an attempt upon its fabled walls. This attempt would fail, but it would succeed in other ways as the Mughal Emperor and many of his retainers would lose their nerve and flee the capital later that night.

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    British soldiers attacking the walls of Delhi

    The news of Mirza Mughal’s flight destroyed whatever morale remained for the Indian troops within Delhi and when the British made a second assault the following morning, they easily brushed aside the remaining defenders, pushing their way atop the walls of Delhi. Soon after, the City’s northern gates were flung open, and the British troops poured into the city like a tidal wave crashing upon the beach. At this point Indian resistance within Delhi quickly collapsed, apart from a few pockets of continued resistance by several Sepoys. By noon on the 28th of February, the city was effectively in British hands, however, the submission of Delhi would not end the violence, in fact it had only just begun. Despite its admittedly meager resistance, an example still needed to be made of the city and people who had massacred 500 defenseless Britons – and their loyal Indian followers - in cold blood.

    All Rebel Sepoys found within the city were immediately deemed traitors and executed without trial. Those who were lucky were killed instantly, usually by firing squad or were tied to cannons. Many of the officers and Subedars (sergeants) would suffer far worse deaths. Many were forced to eat cow or pig, others were subjected to gruesome torture, but eventually they were all killed and usually in horrible ways. Similarly, any Nawabs, Zamindars, Sardars, or other aristocrats known to have supported the Rebellion were executed, with many being hung from gallows or bayoneted until dead. Believing that justice had been served with these punitive acts, General England decamped from the city to meet with Lord Dalhousie and Lord Lawrence to discuss strategy. However, whilst this bloodletting would sate the desires of the Queen's troops, it was far from enough for the Company men, whose friends and families had been slaughtered back in May.

    Taking advantage of General England's absence, many EIC soldiers and their Sikh allies toured the defenseless city, assaulting the men and harassing the women. When they received little condemnation for their actions from General England and his staff - who were busy readying the campaign against the Rebellious Princely States, they naturally progressed to far more heinous acts of violence against the people of Delhi. Added to this was a fair degree of plundered liquor and a lack of officers, many of whom had been killed in the recent fighting. First they would target the city's menfolk who were butchered like the animals they believed them to be. The women of Delhi were also victims of this cruelty, with many being subjected to terrible acts of sexual assault and rape. Even the children were not spared from the violence as young babes were cast from the city's walls, whilst those old enough to work were shot in the streets or bayoneted. Anything of value was stripped from the city, all its gold was confiscated, and its jewels were plundered. Any art of note was carted away, whilst the statues and buildings were torn down. The only buildings spared any desecration were the Emperor’s palace within the Red Fort and the lone church within Delhi, the Central Baptist Church.

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    The Execution of Traitorous Sepoys

    When five days of this grisly spectacle had passed, General England finally returned to the city where he discovered to his horror the devastation his troops had wrought. Sadly, little would come of this butchery as the instigators of these massacres were insulated by their commanders who blamed the matter on an uprising that never actually occurred. General England and his lieutenants were not immune from controversy either as his need for men and innate biases against the Indians may have persuaded him to look the other way regarding this incident. Either way, the end result is the same, as Delhi was now hollowed out.

    The total extent of the massacre is unknown, but modern estimates put it between 20,000 and 50,000 deaths from the battle and ensuing massacres. Thankfully, much of the city’s population had fled the city before the brutal sacking, sparing most of the city’s population from the slaughter. Sadly, an unknown number of these survivors would die from exposure to the elements or hunger in the coming days and weeks as their homes and livelihoods had been ruined by the vengeful British. Another important loss to Delhi was the art, treasure and riches which were looted from the city by Prize agents in the Company’s employ in the days and weeks following the Siege. The pilfering was so great that there was little difference between the great princes of Delhi and a beggar in the days following the city’s sacking. Sadly, for the British, the Recapture of Delhi would not bring about the outcome they desired.

    Rather than demoralize the Indian Rebels and convince them to surrender; the brutal sacking Delhi and the massacre of its people galvanized the Rebels to even greater levels of resistance. In their eyes, surrender now meant almost certain death and their only chance at survival was complete victory over the British. Moreover, the flight of Mirza Mughal and his handlers would provide some measure of legitimacy to the remaining Nawabs and Zamindars still in revolt against the British. His continued defiance would also inspire other Indian patriots to take up arms and continue the fight against the foreign interlopers. Most importantly, one of the strongest and most populous states in India – the Kingdom of Awadh - was still in a state of revolt against British hegemony in India.

    The Princely State of Awadh was a prominent state in the North of the Indian Subcontinent located between the Doab of Delhi and the lands of Bihar. Although it was a relatively young state compared to the mighty Mughal Empire or Maratha Confederacy, the Awadh state was still quite potent, both in wealth and military power. Owing in large part to its strategic position along the Yamuna and Ganges Rivers, Awadh was densely populated and incredibly rich both in trade and commerce.[3] That is until the British Empire began imposing its will upon the Kingdom, stripping away its Eastern provinces and forced into increasingly unfair economic treaties. By 1801, it was effectively reduced to vassalage by the British who appointed and removed its kings on a whim. Such an event would have happened again in late February 1856, had the rebellion at Agra and the attack on Delhi not taken place as a British Army had been dispatched to replace the allegedly incompetent Awadhi King, Wajid Ali Shah.

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    Wajid Ali Shah, King (Nawab) of Awadh

    Instead, news of the Rebellion at Agra compelled Wajid Ali Shah to join the nascent Rebellion, lending his not inconsiderable support to the cause of an independent India. The British Resident in Lucknow, General James Outram was quickly imprisoned; whilst his would be jailors (the British soldiers of the 32nd Regiment of Foot) were quickly overwhelmed by traitorous Sepoys and Awadhi forces near the town of Faizabad. These events were followed soon after by several uprisings at Daryabad, Salon, Sitapur and Sultanpur, effectively eroding British influence over Awadh within a matter of days. Most Britons in Awadhi territory were either slain or imprisoned, with only a small handful holding out until they were finally relieved by the Nepalese Gorkhas in mid-April. Despite this blistering opening salvo in Awadh, this front would only see sporadic fighting for the remainder of the year as the East India Company and British Government rightfully focused their attention and resources on the re-subjugation of Delhi and its environs.

    During that time, the Nawab of Awadh worked tirelessly to reestablish his dominion over his forefather’s country, extending his influence from the Yamuna River to the border with Nepal, and the region of Rohtas to the lands of Mainpuri. He quickly subordinated the nearby Sepoy Regiments, bringing his nominal military strength up to an impressive 27 regiments of infantry and 4 of cavalry. Beyond this he levied another 100,000 soldiers of varying quality and skill. He would establish weapons foundries in Lucknow, producing dozens of cannons and thousands of muskets for his troops. Despite these extensive military preparations, Wajid Ali Shah’s efforts to expand the Indian Rebellion into Bihar, Bengal and Central India met with failure, yet his campaigns against the Rohillas of Rampur met with more success as the latter were forced back to their walled city.

    One Awadhi commander of particular note during this time was the Peshwa of the now defunct Maratha Empire, Nana Saheb. A charismatic leader and a talented commander, Nana Saheb would prove instrumental in reducing a number of British holdouts across the Gangetic plain over the Spring and Summer of 1856, massacring British soldiers and civilians at Kanpur, Safipur, and Bilgram. Although his direct involvement in these incidents is disputed, he was still present at many of these events and it was his followers who committed these acts, earning him the undying hatred of the East India Company leadership. As the year progressed and his success continued, Saheb’s following continued to grow from 1500 die hard followers in March 1856 to nearly 9,000 light cavalrymen in the Maratha style by the start of 1857.


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    Nana Saheb, (Claimant) Peshwa of the Maratha Empire
    By the Spring of 1857, however, the situation had changed completely for the Indians. Delhi had fallen to the British and Mirza Mughal had fled to Lucknow seeking aid from his strongest vassal. Naturally, this earned the ire of the British, who focused in on the Awadhi State with greater intensity than before. Even still, the British did not move against the Awadh state directly, choosing instead to target the smaller Principalities on its periphery first. In early March, the 6th “Irish” Division would fight its way southward against the rebellious cities of Gwalior and Jhansi, which were both recaptured after a three-month long campaign. As this was taking place, the 7th Division under General Grant would make its way to the north of Awadh and join with the Gurkhas of Nepal, where together, they would relieve their Rohilla allies at Rampur. The main strike, however, would come in mid-April as General England and the 3rd Division would finally begin their advance down the Ganges towards the Awadhi capital of Lucknow.

    Recognizing that the British forces were now divided along many separate fronts, Nana Saheb would elect to move westward against General England’s force with the majority of the massive Awadhi Army. The remainder of the Awadhi forces would be sent to reinforce their positions in Bihar, Jharkhand, and Bundelkhand against the advancing British. Setting out with around 80,000 troops, Nana Saheb hoped to destroy England’s division then swiftly turn against each of the others, which he hoped to defeat in detail. Despite its lumbering size, the Indian Army would manage to surprise the much smaller British force near the town of Etawah. The ensuing battle would be rather short as the British forces were divided along the Yamuna River. Those on the Eastern bank were quickly forced to retreat, whilst those on the far bank watched in horror as their comrades were cut down en mass as they fled. Nana Saheb’s attempts against the remainder of the British 3rd Division on the Western bank of the Yamuna would be met with more difficulty, however as they vehemently guarded the nearby river crossings until nightfall, at which point General England ordered his remaining forces to retreat. Overall, the battle of Etawah was a solid victory for the Indians, but not a decisive one as General England’s force, whilst thoroughly beaten and bloodied, still remained as a cohesive unit. Moreover, with the other fronts under pressure from the British, Saheb could not chase down the fleeing 3rd Division for long, eventually ceasing his pursuit four days later.

    Turning his attention northward, Saheb would move against General Grant and his 7th Division in mid-May, meeting them and the Nepalese Army near the town of Bareilly. Unlike at Etawah, the battle of Bareilly would be more evenly matched, with the British maintaining a strong defensive position around the town. The Nepalese Gurkhas also proved themselves to be especially potent fighters as they killed scores of the lightly armed Awadhi troops whilst suffering few losses themselves. However, when Nana Saheb's light cavalry appeared to their rear, the British were forced to cut their losses and withdraw northward into the hills of Nepal. In terms of casualties, the Indians fared much worse at Bareilly than they did at Etawah, losing around 5,800 troops to 3,100 British casualties. Worse still, the British force had escaped intact yet again, once more depriving Nana Saheb of his crushing victory.

    Despite suffering a pair of bitter losses, the British would quickly regroup and re-consolidate their forces in early June. When the Awadhi Army encountered General England at the city of Etah, the British boasted two divisions (the 3rd and 6th) as well as four Gurkha infantry Regiments and half dozen Rohilla and Sikh Cavalry Regiments. The Battle of Etah would prove to be rather indecisive for either side, for whilst the Indians held the field at the end of the day, they had suffered for it greatly, losing nearly 14,000 troops in the engagement. Furthermore, with the arrival of the British 2nd Division under Major General John Pennefather at Calcutta in early May, the British could now put pressure on the Awadh state’s eastern borders whilst their armies were away in the West. The arrival of the 2nd at Calcutta would be followed one month later by the 5th in early June and the German contingent of the British Foreign Legion in late August, boosting the number of British troops in India to well over 80,000 troops and 6 divisions by the beginning of Fall.

    Even the onset of the hot and humid Indian Summer would not provide much aid for the besieged Indians, as the British renewed their offensive against the Awadh state with almost reckless abandon. Over the course of twelve days in early July, General England would embark on his famous Doab Campaign forcing Nana Saheb and his troops into a number of clashes. Although some of these battles would result in Indian victories, the British General refused to withdraw and continued to press the Awadhi commander where ever he could. Eventually, on the 15th of July, the two forces would meet near Nana Saheb's estates by the town of Kanpur. Although the Indians held a strong defensive position nestled in between the city and the Ganges River, they were in a ragged state. Their weaponry was in an utterly abysmal condition after months of constant campaigning, whilst their morale had completely collapsed once news arrived from Paris signifying the end of the Great Russian War. Moreover, the British Army's size had nearly doubled with the arrival of General Grant's division and another 10 Gurkha regiments, bringing the two forces to a more equal footing.

    The battle would begin well enough for Nana Saheb as his troops fended off an assault by the British Irish Division and another by the Sikhs, but when his horse was shot out from under him, his troops quickly lost heart and fled the field of battle barely an hour and a half after it began. Many Awadhi soldiers would flee to the nearby town of Kanpur, where they would make a desperate last stand with the city’s garrison. Most, however fled into the Ganges River, hoping to swim across to the other side. The British seeking to destroy the Awadhi Army once and for all, chased them down into the waters and began brutalizing any rebel they could get their hands on. The massacre that followed was so great that the waters of the sacred river turned red with the blood of nearly ten thousand Indian soldiers.

    Sadly, the disaster at Kanpur was not over for the Indians as the Maratha Peshwa Nana Saheb had survived his fall only to have his horse fall upon him shattering his pelvis and breaking his legs. Recognizing that the battle was lost, several of his guardsmen quickly threw him on a horse and escorted him from the field only to be discovered by several British troopers who immediately set off in pursuit. Injured as he was, Nana Saheb could not escape his pursuers and was soon cornered outside his own estates, his only allies remaining being a handful of his most dedicated followers. Trapped, the British commander, one Brigadier John Nicholson offered to spare him and his compatriots if he surrendered; Saheb refused, prompting the British to attack. The fighting was brief but bitter as the Marathas fought to the death. Although accounts of Nana Saheb's death differ, the most popular was that he was stabbed through the heart by Nicholson, killing him instantly. The remainder of his company were soon cut down as well, bringing a decisive end to the Battle of Kanpur.

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    The Pursuit of Nana Saheb
    The death of Nana Saheb and the destruction of his army at Kanpur was a mortal blow to the Awadh State. Although the Awadhi would continue to resist for another few weeks the writing was on the wall and so in early August 1857, King Wajid Ali Shah dispatched emissaries to the British requesting terms. Whether this was a genuine offer at reconciliation with the British, a humanitarian effort to save the lives of his remaining subjects, or a craven attempt to save his own throne; none, but the Nawab of Awadh can say. Unfortunately for all, the British would refuse to negotiate. Instead, they demanded the immediate release of the British consul General Outram and any other British prisoners in Awadhi custody. They also demanded an indemnity for all slain Britons, amounting to a sum of 20 million Rupees. Wajid Ali was also required to abdicate his throne and cede all his territories to the British. Finally, the British demanded the surrender of Mirza Mughal - who was known to have fled to Awadh and most damning of all, the surrender of any and all Sepoys within his domain who had taken up arms against the British and their allies.

    Despite the harshness of these terms, records suggest that Wajid Ali Shah had strongly considered accepting the British demands as news of the Treaty of Paris had recently reached Lucknow, greatly demoralizing the Awadhi court. No aid would be forthcoming from the Qajaris or the Russians, effectively dooming the Indian Rebellion. At this point, further resistance would only mean further suffering and bloodshed. Awadh was rich enough to pay the British their blood money, and the cessation of Awadhi territory would effectively be reverting back to the pre-war antebellum, only to a greater extent. However, the last term, added at the behest of Lord Dalhousie and Lord Lawrence, was simply too much.

    Honor dictated that Wajid Ali Shah protect his sovereign and guest, Mirza Mughal against any adversary seeking him harm. Beyond this, there was also the fate of the Sepoys within his realm. Knowing how the Sepoys at Delhi had fared when captured by the British, such a demand for their surrender would almost certainly bring about their deaths. Unwilling to condemn many thousands of good men to the gallows just to save his skin, Wajid Ali Shah unilaterally broke off negotiations with the British and prepared his kingdom for a fight to the death.

    Sadly, for the Awadhi, the end result of this conflict was never in doubt as the Indian Army had been destroyed at Kanpur, its military leadership had been decapitated, and its morale gutted. The campaign that followed would see the British besiege one city after another, sacking each and decimating their ability to make war. This was to be a total war, the first of its kind with little regard given to the distinctions between soldier and civilian. Awadhi roads were torn up, weapons foundries were leveled, and their rivers dammed. Farms and fields were pillaged of their yields then burnt and sown with salt. Civilian property was looted or destroyed with little concern given to the needs of their owners. This wanton destruction was intentional so as to punish the rebellious Indians, to make them suffer for their treachery, their villainy, and their murderous barbarity. More than that though it was meant to encourage their surrender, to eliminate their ability to make war, and to erode their will to fight.

    Efforts by the Awadhi to resist only worsened this, yet resist they did as many would choose to unite under Tantia Tope, a former deputy of Nana Saheb who had survived the Battle of Kanpur. Despite being outnumbered and outgunned, Tope would continually attack the British, usually targeting their extensive supply lines throughout the remainder of the Summer and into early Fall. Despite his efforts, however, the British continued their relentless advance upon Lucknow, razing the Awadhi countryside as they went. By early October, they would finally arrive outside the city and prepared to besiege it as they had all the others in their path.

    Yet it was not to be. Unwilling to see his beloved home destroyed, Wajid Ali Shah ordered the gates opened to the British and surrendered himself to them. For his part General England accepted the Awadhi King’s surrender and refused all demands from the EIC to sack the city or punish its inhabitants. There had been enough blood shed for this gruesome campaign, and he would have no more of it on his conscious.

    Mirza Mughal in contrast would attempt to flee from the British once more, however, he was soon discovered and captured by the British who promptly sent him to Britain in chains where he would live out his days in a gilded cage.The Surrender of Awadh and the capture of Mirza Mughal would effectively signal the end of the Indian Rebellion. Although some Rebel leaders like Tantia Tope would continue to resist well into 1858 and 1859, their aspirations of victory were ultimately dashed with Lucknow’s surrender to the British. By 1860, any remaining rebels hidden across the Indian countryside put down their weapons and surrendered to the British, following the issuance of a general amnesty by the British Government, an act that formally concluded the Indian Rebellion of 1856.

    The British had won, but the costs had been great. In terms of lives lost the British had lost upwards of 27,000 men, women, and children to the Rebellion between the Mutiny at Agra in February 1856 and the last recorded skirmish near Dhanbad in March 1860. The toll on the Indian population would be much worse, with around 187,000 soldiers and civilians being killed by the British and their allies in various battle or massacres over the course of the conflict. However, many hundreds of thousands more would die in the ensuing famines and pandemics that swept the countryside, with upwards of 1.5 to 2 million people dying between the end of 1855 and the beginning of 1860. Additionally, the British Government had spent an enormous 50 million Pounds Sterling subduing the Rebellion, which in addition to the exorbitant costs of the Russian War, heavily strained Westminster's treasury.

    Another indicator of the Rebellion’s cost, however, would be in its annual revenues to the United Kingdom's coffers. In 1855, the year before the Revolt, the Subcontinent contributed 28 million Pounds Sterling in loan interest payments, and another 35 million Pounds in exported commodities and trade goods. In 1859, one year after the war’s official end, nearly a third of that sum had been lost and would take nearly twenty years to reach the same levels as before the Rebellion. Overall, the Indian Rebellion of 1856 to 1858 was one of the worse tragedies to befall the Indian subcontinent since the Mughal Conquests in the 16th Century. The subcontinent was ravaged across the Ganges plain, cities were razed to the ground by the vengeful Brits, and the once prosperous Awadhi countryside was burned to cinder and ash. Although the Jewel of the British Empire had been reclaimed, it was tarnished and stained with the blood of its people.

    Next Time: The Long Road Home

    [1] Technically, Richard England was born in what is now Detroit, Michigan, but at the time it was considered a part of Canada. It wouldn’t be until 1796 when Detroit was officially ceded to the United States.
    [2] The Ahadis were the household troops of the Mughal Emperor. By the 1850’s, they were mostly a ceremonial role and had been reduced to almost nothing. Here, the extended success of the Rebellion in Delhi prompted a restoration/expansion of the unit, although they are still not as proficient or numerous as they once were.
    [3] For Reference, in 1764 the Awadh State managed to pay off a 5 million Rupee indemnity to the British in a single year without much trouble. Later on, Awadh would be forced to accept British mercenaries and advisors for a annual fee of 50 Lakh (roughly equivalent to 5 million Rupees) starting in 1773 and later rising to 70 Lakh (7 million Rupees per year in 1798. During the 1820’s the Nawab of Awadh, Ghazi al-Din Haydar donated 10 million rupees (roughly equivalent to 1 million Pounds at the time) to the East India Company to help relieve the economic crisis in Burma. Even by the 1850’s Awadh was still a great breadbasket for India and a thriving population center, whilst Wajid Ali Shah was a great patron of the arts and sciences whilst King of Awadh in OTL.
     
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    Chapter 89: The Long Road Home
  • Author's note: Apologies for a shorter update than normal, but hopefully a faster upload rate will suffice. That said, I'll be covering these topics again in more detail in the chapters ahead.

    Chapter 89: The Long Road Home


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    The Souli Valley circa 1857

    The Spring of 1857 would greet the dusty little village of Dragani as it had every year before. The Sun was burning bright, the air was hot and dry, yet the breeze was gentle and cool. Children played in the streets from sun up to sun down, pretending they were some great heroes of old like Herakles and Achilles or Georgios Karaiskakis and Markos Botsaris. The shepherds were up in their hills tending to their flocks, whilst the farmers were out in their fields tending to their crops. The women gossiped about this or that, about far away events that had little impact on their lives, and the distant war along the Danube – a war that was now long over.

    It took a considerable amount of time for news to reach this remote little backwater in rural Epirus, as few made the journey to this town. Yet on one particular day in early April, a stranger appeared. He was an old man in his late 60’s, one with a prominent mustache and long silver hair. He walked with a pronounced limp earned from a lifetime of battle and hardship, yet he stood proud and tall. He was blind in one eye, yet he did not need to see for he had known these roads his whole life. The hills and valleys, the olive trees and the orchards; they were all the same as his memories, distant memories of a childhood so long ago. He could never forget this place, for it was his home. It was a place he had fought long and hard to liberate for nearly 50 years of his life and now at the end of his days, it was finally free.

    The people were strangers to him too, for his people, the people of his village had been chased into exile by the despot Ali Pasha of Ioannina more than fifty years ago. Those who settled here in the following years were not his kin, but rather Cham Albanians and Epirote Greeks who had little relation to him or his clan. They surely knew of him, or rather his now exaggerated exploits which claimed he had single handily defeated the Turkish hosts at holy Missolonghi on three occasions. That he had ridden to Nafplion in a single day and chartered the entire Greek constitution by himself. That he had slain the tyrant Reshid Pasha and driven the Egyptians into the sea, saving Hellas from the vile Turks.

    Yet that hero of yore had long since disappeared from the world, retreating a small house on the edge of Agrinio after the war where he lived a quiet life of isolation. His only visitors being his children; the valiant soldier Dimitrios and the beautiful court lady Rosa who visited on occasion as their busy lives in the capital made visiting hard. Yet the news from Paris changed everything for this man as the 1857 Treaty of Paris not only confirmed the Tsar’s victory over the Sultan, but it also confirmed the annexation of Thessaly and Epirus to the Greek State. Throngs of jubilant people took to the streets all across Greece celebrating this momentous occasion, the young danced in the streets, whilst the old sang joyous songs and indulged in spirits until the wee hours of the night. Yet for the old Strategos of Agrinio, it marked the beginning of his long journey home. Bidding his family and friends farewell, Markos Botsaris left Agrinio for the Souli Valley, seeking his beloved homeland one last time.

    Traveling as fast as his ragged 68-year old body could take him, Botsaris traveled first to the holy city of Missolonghi where he had spent so many years of his life fighting against the Turks in a desperate defense of his new home. From there, he would travel by boat to the bustling port city of Preveza and then onward to rugged Arta. From there, however, he traveled on foot, northward to the Souli Valley and the village of Dragani where he had spent his childhood so many years ago. Upon coming into sight of this place, old Botsaris broke down into tears for his life’s work had been accomplished, his homeland – his beloved Souli was free, and he was finally home. Weary as he was after such a long and toilsome journey, Markos Botsaris would find a quiet place upon a hill overlooking the town of his birth. Taking a seat beneath a small olive tree, with the whistling wind passing through his hair and the lavender sky looking over him Markos Botsaris would breathe his last with a smile on his face as he passed from this mortal coil into the realm of God.
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    The Souli Valley as it appears today

    Although accounts differ over the exact circumstances of Markos Botsaris’ death, it is known that he had returned to the Souli Valley prior to his passing. Such a journey was commonplace for many such survivors of the Revolution. Many had fled from their homes in Thessaly, Epirus, Macedonia, Thrace and Asia Minor during the War for Independence and now, some thirty years later they had a chance to return home. Of course, not all would go as most had established new lives for themselves within the old borders of Greece, yet some like Botsaris and many of his Souliotes kin would.

    However, the lands they would find were in a state of flux as the Ottoman Empire had begun withdrawing from these provinces almost immediately after the signing of the earlier Treaty of Constantinople in mid-1855. First to leave were many of the first-rate Army regiments in the region which were reassigned to the Danubian Front against Russia. Despite this, many hundreds if not thousands of Ottoman troops remained in Thessaly and Epirus to keep the peace and maintain appearances if nothing else, at least until the Armistice with Russia in the November of 1856 at which point these last remaining Ottoman authorities in the province were slowly withdrawn as well. By April 1857, this process was essentially complete, and no sooner had they left than the Greek Army, and an army of Greek bureaucrats moved in.

    The integration process that followed was rather smooth all things considered, although a handful of incidents would occur between the incoming Greeks and the outgoing Turks. One of the largest issues was the extent of Greece’s new borders. Owing to the vagaries of the Treaty of Constantinople and the Treaty of Paris (both of which declared the cessation of Yanya and Tirhala to the Kingdom of Greece, but not their extent), there existed some measure of debate over where exactly the border between them lay. Greece pushed for the northernmost extent of these territories, including the northern edges foothills of the Olympus mountain range and the entire Aoos River valley up to Vlore. The Ottoman Government naturally pushed for the southernmost boundary as a means of preserving its already damaged honor and legitimacy.

    Tensions became so heated that war threatened to break out between Athens and Kostantîniyye. Thankfully, through the mediation of Britain and France, the two came to an agreement; Greece’s boundaries in Epirus would lie along the Aoos River to the south and east of Tepelene and then onto the Ionian Sea by the shortest, but most natural route so long as this route included the city of Himara. In Thessaly, it was agreed that the Ottomans would maintain control over the passes through the Olympus Range, whilst Greece would receive everything to the South of the mountains. Finally, the Kingdom of Greece would pay an indemnity of one million Pounds Sterling to the Ottoman Empire, resolving the dispute between them.

    However, coinciding with this movement of Hellenes into Thessaly and Epirus was an even larger exodus of Turkish and Albanian notables who were unwilling to live under Greek rule. Property rights would be a major point of contention as returning Greek families often finding their ancestral lands occupied by new Turkish or Albanian settlers. On most occasions a diplomatic outcome was reached with one party or the other ceding their rights to the land or property in question, in return for a financial indemnity issued by the Greek Government. On more than one occasion, these disputes devolved into violent scuffles with a number of Greeks and Turks ending up dead. Most Turks simply left after a few weeks of this abuse and traveled northward for Ottoman territory.

    Thankfully, the process of expanding Greece’s institutions into Thessaly and Epirus would prove more peaceful fortunately. The autocephalous Church of Greece would seamlessly assume jurisdiction over the new provinces of Thessaly, Epirus, the Ionian Islands, and the Dodecanese Islands, in return for financial compensation to the Ecumenical Patriarch. Similarly, the implementation of Greek Laws across the new lands was met with great approval by the Christian peoples of these regions, who were now equal before God and the Government. Many of the Muslim peoples still residing in these provinces would take umbrage at this, as they had enjoyed various legal privileges over their Christian neighbors thanks to the Ottoman Government’s usage of Sharia Law, which was largely ignored in Greek courts. As a result, many thousands more would depart for Turkey in the coming weeks and months.

    While conflict with the Greeks, cultural differences and social pressure were certainly notable factors in compelling the flight of these Muslim populations, the deciding motive was more often and not, economic in nature. For the better part of the last two hundred years, the local economies of Thessaly and Epirus were dependant upon the major landlords of the region; the Chifliks who had acclumulated vast estates across the country. One such Chiflik, Ali Pasha of Ioannina became so powerful and wealthy, that nearly all of Greece and Albania were under his control. Yet, the manner in which these magnates gained their power was through the virtual enslavement of their tenants who were tied to the land they lived on and forced to work for a pittance.

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    Ali Pasha of Ioannina -
    One of the most notorious Chifliks, who at his height controlled an expansive domain from Montenegro to the Peloponnese and from the Adriatic to the Aegean.

    These men ruled their domains with an iron fist, who punished any resistance to their extortion with violence. Naturally, this heavy handedness resulted in various revolts over the years, but as these men were usually high ranking officials within the Ottoman Government, they could usually rely upon the support of the Ottoman Army to subdue any dissent. By the 1850's, however, this state of affairs was no longer possible.

    With the War against Russia necessitating the withdrawal of the Ottoman field units from Thessaly and Epirus, these regions quickly erupted into anarchy. The Chifliks were forced to cower in fear as their former serfs marched through the fields and towns pillaging as they went. Many of these magnates prayed for the quick return of the Army to punish these haughty slaves, yet these prayers would fall on deaf ears as Ottoman authority in Thessaly and Epirus only continued to decline in the coming months. When it finally became known that the Sublime Porte was ceding the two provinces to Greece in late 1856, it was the last straw for many remaining Chifliks who promptly sold their properties to the highest bidder and fled north to the Ottoman Empire. Naturally, many of their attendants, retainers, administrators, guards, and suppliers were forced to follow as their livlihoods were based off servicing their masters.

    Although both provinces would experience great reductions in their Muslim populations because of this, Thessaly would be hit the hardest with nearly the entire community had departed by the end of the year. By 1860, only a handful remained in Thessaly, most of whom lived in the cities and were usually of Greek or Albanian background. In Epirus, the situation was more complex as the Chifliks and their hangers on decamped for the Ottoman Empire en masse, yet unlike Thessaly, the Chifliks of Epirus had enslave their coreligionists with reckless abandon for no other reason than they were poor and unable to resist. When the Chifliks were chased out of Epirus, it was a combined effort by the Christian and Muslim peasants of the region, who had both suffered under their despotic rule.

    Sadly, the flight of the Turkish and Albanian Chifliks did not bring about immediate relief for their former victims as many had dealt their lands to incoming Greek businessmen who had no qualms about continuing their predecessors vile practices. However, as slavery (and by effect Serfdom) was illegal in the Kingdom of Greece, these new Greek Chifliks were forced to provide some measure of wages to their laborers, yet in many cases it wasn't enough to survive. After several months of this, many farmers began reaching out to their representatives for help in resolving the issue. Ignorant of the true extent of the problem, many lawmakers in Athens extended minor financial assistance to these destitute farmers as they had done before in the 1830's and 1840s, and left the matter at that.

    When this inevitably failed to resolve the issue, many simply left their fields altogether and marched on Athens demanding the Greek Government do more to finally resolve the issue. All told, some 11,800 peasant farmers would march on Athens, a sizeable number by any degree, let alone for little Greece. With throngs of angry people now upon their doorstep, the Greek Government had little choice, but to act on this issue once and for all. Despite resistance from various magnates and landowning lobbyists within the Legislature, the so called Farmer's March (I Poreia ton Agroton) would ultimately prompt the passage of the 1859 Land Reform Act.

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    Protests near the Royal Palace during the Farmer's March

    First and foremost, the Greek Government reiterated its opposition to Slavery in all its forms and promised to pursue legal action against any entity known to have breached the law. Beyond this, the Athenian Government offered a one time buyback opportunity for any Chifliks or Greek landowners at 1.5 times the going rate per acre, effectively buying up massive swaths of land. All told, this would amount to nearly 14,000,000 Drachma being doled out to various magnates across the country, effectively ending their resistance to the measure.

    The new laws would also work to prevent such a situation from ever developing again as small farmers (defined as any landowner with less than 50 acres) were formally barred from selling their property to another party for a period of five years. Similarly, to combat absentee landlordism, any landlord found to be absent from their properties for more than eight months in a year would forfeit their property to the Government, who would promptly auction off the vacant proprerty. Overall, the passage of the 1859 Land Reform Act would relief most of the pent up anger and frustration that these small farmers and laborers had held for generations. Nevertheless, some issues would sadly persist, but it was clear to all that this was a large step in the right direction.

    Thankfully, the administrative integration of Thessaly and Epirus would go much smoother for the Greek government. As had happened with the Ionian and Dodecanese Islands before them, the Greek Government ordered a new census to record the populations of these provinces before declaring a new round of elections in the Fall. Although it would be the third election in as many years, the Athenian Government declared it necessary to ensure the people received their proper representation under the law. In the meantime, governors were appointed by King Leopold with Theodore Grivas serving as the Interim Governor of the newly constituted Province of Epirus (Ípiros) and Aristeidis Moraitinis for the Province of Thessaly (Thessalía). Similarly, each province would be allocated twenty interim representatives in the Legislature until a more accurate total could be determined following the census.


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    Theodore Grivas (Left) and Aristeidis Moraitinis (Right),
    Interim Governors of Epirus (Ípiros) and Thessaly (Thessalía) respectively​

    Several months later in early September, the census was completed and the long-awaited numbers would reveal that the Kingdom of Greece had expanded to a massive population of over 2.2 million people. Around 91.5 percent were Hellenes or of Hellenic persuasion, 7 percent self-identified as Albanians, 1 percent were Turks, and the remainder were Germans, Poles, Italians, or Jews. The vast majority were Orthodox Christians, with only 3 percent following the Islamic faith, and 1 percent following Roman Catholic sect of Christianity or a Protestant denomination, with a smaller number of Jews and other religions. Overall, the new provinces of Thessaly, Epirus, the Dodecanese Islands, and the Ionian Islands had increased the population of Greece by just over 800,000 people. Of this total, around 270,000 people belong to the region of Thessaly, another 260,000 lived in Epirus, about 236,000 called the Ionian Islands home, and the remaining 60,000 living in the Dodecanese Islands.

    Owing to this, it was decided to split the new provinces so that they would keep in line with the preexisting Nomoi of Greece and not provide any one province with too much political power. The region of Thessaly was therefore split into three separate provinces; that would become the Nomos of Larissa, the Nomos of Karditsa, and the Nomos of Magnesia with the latter taking the municipalities of Demetrias, Farsala, and Domokos from the neighboring Nomos of Phthiotis-Phocis. Similarly, the lands of Epirus would be divided up, with the Nomos of Arta expanding into the southern municipalities, whilst the new Nomoi of Ioannina and Argyrocastron divided the remaining territory between them. The Ionian Islands would also be divided into separate administrative units, with the islands of Kephalonia Ithaca, Lefkada being grouped together into the Nomos of Kephalonia, and the islands of Corfu and Zakynthos forming their own independent provinces. Lastly there was the Dodecanese Islands, which were left intact owing to their small size and even smaller population.

    In terms of political representation, the Hellenic Legislature would be expanded to an impressive 217 seats with the Nomoi of Larissa, Ioannina, and Magnesia each receiving 10 representatives, the Nomoi of Corfu, Karditsa, Kephalonia, and Argyrocastron would each receive 9 representatives, whilst the Dodecanese and Zakynthos received 7 each. The political affiliation of these new representatives was almost entirely Nationalist in orientation, cementing their control over Greek politics for decades to come. However, this development would be both a blessing and a curse for the Nationalist Party as it eventually became divided over its ambitions, ultimately resulting in the fracturing of the party.

    Yet that development was far in the future; in the present, the increased ranks of the Nationalist Party all but ended the political ambitions of Alexandros Mavrokordatos and his Liberal Party. While they did pick up 23 seats here and there, the addition of 57 new Nationalist politicians to the Legislature, completely eroded whatever negotiating power they still held as an opposition party. Any vote going forward could be secured on Nationalist votes alone with room to spare resulting in a very Nationalist oriented agenda by the Greek Government in the months and years ahead.

    Next Time: The Lands and Peoples of Hellas
     
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    Chapter 90: The (New) Lands and People of Hellas
  • Author's Note: So this is a bit of a shorter than average chapter covering the geography and demographics of Greece's newly acquired territories. Coming up next will be an update on the new and improved Greek economy following the addition of these new provinces and all that sweet, sweet British coin they milked in during the Russian War.

    Chapter 90: The (New) Lands and Peoples of Hellas


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    The Spine of Greece
    The unification of Thessaly, Epirus, the Ionian Islands and the Dodecanese Islands with the Kingdom of Greece was a truly monumental event in the history of the young state. The fledgling country would grow from a rather paltry 60,000 square kilometers in 1854 to a more respectable 91,000 square kilometers in 1857.[1] Under the 1857 Treaty of Paris, the frontier of Hellas would move northward by a considerable margin, changing by nearly 70 miles in east with the addition of Thessaly and more than 100 miles in the west with the expansion of Epirus. This massive change in the political landscape of the Southern Balkans would have tremendous effects on the region in the coming months and years, yet in 1857 the situation in Greece was quite exuberant following the Treaty of Paris, which would formalize the new borders of the Greek State.

    Starting on the Gulf of Thermaïkós, near the port of Platamon; the new border would follow the southern slopes of the Olympus Range to the municipality of Livadi. From there, the border would extend southwest passing by the Kamvounia Mountains to the Antichasia Mountain range, where the frontier then shifts westward through to the Valley of Millia and the Valia Calda Valley. The border would then move northwestward, through the Pindus Mountains towards the Aoos River, reaching the river near its confluence with the Sarantaporos River. Lastly, the border would follow the Aoos northwestward to the municipality of Tepelenë, passing to the south of the Gribës mountain range and then proceeding onwards to the Adriatic Sea, ending near Mount Chika.

    Despite this incredible gain for the Kingdom of Greece, there remained serious doubts over their extent. In the negotiations with the Ottomans over the final border, the Athenian government had made a considerable effort to claim control over the Vale of Tempe, the Meluna Pass and the Millia Valley owing to their highly strategic nature. However, owing to heightened Turkish resistance, British indifference, and French ignorance; the Greeks were forced to rescind their claims to the latter two passes in return for the Tempe Pass. This decision would leave a sour taste in the mouth of most Greek diplomats, as they felt spurned and betrayed by their Western Allies. As such, the annexation of Thessaly and Epirus would only strengthen the revanchism and irredentism of the Hellenes in the coming years.

    Thankfully, the Enosis of the Ionian Islands with Greece was a much simpler process with the cordial signing of the Palmerston-Kolokotronis Treaty in 1855, which formally ceded the Ionian Islands to the Kingdom of Greece. This annexation strengthened Athens’ grip on the eastern Ionian Sea, whilst also securing a small window into the Southern Adriatic via the island of Sasona. Moreover, it represented the first expansion of the Greek State since its independence in 1830, providing fuel to the nationalist rhetoric of the Greek Government. Similarly, the inclusion of the Dodecanese Islands in 1856 would also have a significant impact on the geopolitics of the region as the Southern and Central Aegean effectively became a Greek lake in all but name. With its Enosis to the mainland, the Hellenic state gained effective control over all the islands and archipelagoes of the Aegean south of Lesbos and Limnos, providing Athens with tremendous influence over maritime traffic throughout the region.

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    The Greek Lake

    In terms of strategic value and overall worth, however, the region of Thessaly is perhaps the most significant gain by the Kingdom of Greece in the 1850’s. By far, Thessaly’s most noteworthy feature is the Thessalian Plain which is the largest extent of arable farmland in the entire country. With its expansive plains and alluvial soils from the mighty Pineios River; Thessaly is hands down the most fertile province in Greece and arguably the entire Balkans. When combined with the upcoming agricultural reforms and infrastructure investments of the 1860's, Thessaly would soon become one of the most prosperous regions in the Kingdom and the breadbasket of all Hellas. In terms of mineral deposits, however, Thessaly is quite lacking, with only a few Hematite reserves in the south near the municipality of Almyros and a few small Chromium deposits in the Pindus mountains.

    The mountains of Thessaly do, however, provide it with strong defensive barrier against any outside adversaries. Its northern flank is well protected thanks to the presence of the Olympus, Kamvounia, Khásia and Antikhasia mountain ranges, providing the Kingdom of Hellas with a strong bulwark against their Turkish neighbor to the North. While the loss of the Millia Valley and Meluna Pass to the Turks is regretable, Hellenic control over the Vale of Tempe is a significant boon for Greece's defenses. The eastern edge of the region ends at the Aegean Sea and stretches from Platamon in the North to the Pelion Peninsula in the South. The south of the province is delineated by the Pelion and Óssa Mountains in the Southeast on the Pelion peninsula, while the southwestern edge of the province is marked by the Óthrys range. Finally, the Western edge of Thessaly is established in the midst of the Pindus Mountain range.

    Beyond this, Thessaly also brings with it various demographic and cultural benefits. Of particular note are the Monasteries of Meteora on the western edge of the province. Built atop massive pillars of rock, the Meteora Monasteries are home to numerous religious artefacts and iconography as well as various works of art and treasure adding to the cultural heritage of the nascent state. Similarly, amongst the Kamvounia Mountains in the north of Thessaly lies Mount Olympus, home to the ancient Hellenic Pantheon of yore. Although it’s peaks technically lie outside of Greece’s borders and it has long since lost any major religious connotations to the Hellenes, it still remains an important cultural and historic site for the people of Greece featuring a number of Christian monasteries and churches.

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    Meteora, Greece​

    Thessaly also boasts the largest population of the new territories, with more than 270,000 residents at the time of annexation. Of these, almost all of them are Hellenes owing to the recent flight of the Turkish Chifliks and their predominantly Turkish or Albanian retainers. Despite this, there still exist a small number of Turkish communities within Thessaly, who were either unable or unwilling to depart with their countrymen in 1857. While not considered separate peoples, Thessaly also features sizeable communities of the Aromanians and Sarakatsani within its boundaries, with most residing either to the north of Larissa or in the valleys of the Pindus Mountains. There are also a few scattered Albanian and Slavic communities in Thessaly, although these are predominantly located in the north of the country and nearer the borders.

    Similarly, the religious map of the region was overwhelmingly in favor of the Greek Orthodox Church as most of Thessaly’s Muslim inhabitants had left for the Ottoman Empire following the union with Greece. Nevertheless, there are a number of Muslim practioneers within the province, namely those followers of the Sunni sect of Islam who reside primarily in Larissa or the communities along the border. Most of these are ethnic Turks and Albanians, but there are a small handful of Muslim Greeks. While the former are often devout in their faith, the latter are decidedly less so and would steadily return to the fold of the Greek Orthodox Church in the coming years - doing so, either under peer pressure or after having a genuine change of heart.

    In terms of occupation, most of the inhabitants of Thessaly reside in the countryside as farmers, just as their fathers and forefathers before them had for countless generations. However, by the late 1850’s a growing number of Hellenes had begun migrating from the countryside to the cities of the region. With the mass exodus of the Turkish elites and their hangers-on, Thessalía was left almost completely devoid of trained administrators, bureaucrats, clerks, financiers, and judges, who had decamped for the Turkish Empire.

    Some of these openings would be filled by Greeks moving in from the South, but many were left vacant for the native Hellenes of these lands to fill. For the greatly impoverished Greeks and Albanians of Epirus and Thessaly, this vacuum was a great opportunity to better themselves and their families, with many hundreds, if not thousands of second and third sons flocking to the cities to fill these now vacant occupations. Even still, the population of the Thessalian cities remained quite low in the years initially following Enosis. For instance, the city of Trikala only held around 20,000 residents in 1860, while the next largest, Larissa only boasted 15,000 inhabitants. Despite these dramatic changes, agriculture remained the lifeblood of the Thessalian economy, with a clear plurality of laborers choosing to remain as farmers in the Thessalian countryside.


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    The Port of Demetrias (OTL Volos) would benefit greatly from urbanization in the 1860’s, growing from a meager fishing village to the premier port of Thessaly within a few years.

    The region of Epirus in comparison offers very little to the Kingdom of Greece beyond its defensible borders and added population. Flanked to the north by the Ceraunian Mountains and Aoos River, and by the Pindus along its’ Eastern edge, Epirus is a truly rugged country. The climate in the region, like the rest of Greece, is hot year-round with short, but surprisingly cold winters made worse by the brutally cold Boreas winds. Unlike the rest of Greece, however, much of Epirus is actually quite lush owing to the preponderance of rains and storms during the Winter months.

    Sadly, this is negated by the land's preponderance of mountains, which cover nearly all of Epirus, making it one of the most impoverished counties within all of Greece. Nevertheless, Epirus would be home to some 260,000 people who manage to eke out a meager living in the region’s many valleys, which tend to be more hospitable than the rest of the county. In fact, the valleys and foothills near Thesprotia, Ioannina and Argyrokastro boast more arable farmland than the rest of the region combined, resulting in their rise as the predominant cities in the province.

    The valley of Ioannina in particular would possess nearly a fifth of Epirus’ entire population within its municipal environs, signifying the region's prime locale. However, even this amount pales in comparison to the 50,000 residents of Ioannina who lived within its walls during the pinnacle of Ali Pasha's reign, some 50 years prior. Situated on the western shore of Lake Pamvotis, Ioannina is in an idealic locale that receives the most rainfall on average in all of Greece, enabling it to support such a population. Some of Ioannina's residents would even rise to become prolific businessmen, bankers, and philosophical thinkers such as the famed Zosimades merchant family, Georgios Stravos - founder of the Bank of Hellas, and Athanasios Tsakalov - one of the founders of the Filiki Eteria. the same could not be said for the rest of Epirus, with most municipalities featuring far less than ten thousand souls, owing to a severe lack in available farm land to support such large populations. As such, most of the region’s inhabitants would resort to fishing, if they lived along the coast, or pastoralism, if they lived in the interior.

    Sadly, not all parts and peoples of Epirus were quite so accommodating. The coastal region of Thesprotia for instance, would see periods of systemic violence between its Christian and Muslim communities over control of the municipality's limited farmland. Most of the time, these feuds were instigated by the Greeks who sought to drive out their Muslim neighbors, seeking to claim their property for their own. Naturally, the Albanians resisted, prompting several instances of bloodshed between the two communities. The Greek Government would make periodic attempts to peacefully resolve such disputes, however, owing to the general lawlessness of the region in the initial aftermath of its annexation, other issues of concern, years of pent up animosity, and the immense pride of both warring factions; these efforts would all fail. Ultimately, Thesprotia would see sporadic fighting for the better part of the next two decades until Athens finally ordered the Gendarmerie into the province in 1874 to put an end to the feud once and for all.

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    Scene from the Thesprotia Feud

    The annexation of Epirus to Greece would bring moderate demographic changes to the region as the dreaded Chifliks were finally driven out by the local Greek and Albanian peasantry in 1857. Like Thessaly, many of their followers would also depart for the Ottoman Empire alongside their Turkish paymasters, leaving Epirus bereft of administrators and bureaucrats. This in turn enabled ambitious Greeks and Albanians to rise above their simple origins or change their course in life. This would naturally result in a degree of urbanization within Epirus, but also a significant amount of emigration as well. No longer tied to the land of their birth, most would travel to other corners of Greece seeking better opportunities for themselves and their families. A few hundred would go even further and departed for other lands in the United Kingdom, France or even the distant United States of America.

    Ethnically, Epirus is more evenly split with Hellenes and Albanians comprising the two major ethnic groups within the region. The southern municipalities of Epirus are almost entirely Greek in language, customs, and creed. However, the further north in the province one goes, the more Albanian its persuasion becomes. Most of the Albanians of Epirus belong to the Cham and Lab communities, with both being most prominent along the Epirote coast. The Greeks of Epirus, in turn generally belong to the Epirote, Roumeliote, Souliote, Sarakatsani, Arvanites, or Aromanian communities. That being said, cultural differences between the two groups are almost indistinguishable after centuries of cohabitation and conformity brought on by the Sublime Porte. From a glance they would appear the same; they dress in the same manner, most practice the same customs and traditions - with slight variations between communities, and they share the same martial tendencies. Nevertheless, there does remain one major difference between the two communities: Religion.

    The Albanians of Epirus are predominantly Muslim and belong overwhelmingly to the Sunni Muslim sect of Islam. However, there is a small, but influential community of the Bektashi sect found within the county, located primarily in the North of Epirus. There are also a number of Albanian Christians, belonging to both the Latin sect and the Greek Orthodox sect of Christianity. Most found on the Greek side of the border support the Greek Church, but there are a small number of Albanian Catholics in Greece as well. There is also a small, but vibrant community of Jews within Epirus, with most residing in and around Ioannina and the other major city centers of the region. Many of these people are members of the Romaniote community, easing their integration into the Greek state. In comparison, the Greeks of the region overwhelmingly follow the Church of their forefathers, the Greek Orthodox Church. While the expansion of the autocephalous Church of Greece into the Epirus would cause some concern initially, once it became apparent that very little would actually change on the ground for the faithful, the matter was promptly forgotten.

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    Members of the Romaniote Jewish Community

    Sitting at the Southeastern edge of the Aegean; the Dodecanese, or "Twelve Islands", are an archipelago of over 100 islands ranging considerably both in size and scope. The largest and most prominent of the Dodecanese Islands is the island of Rhodes, located almost directly across from the Anatolian port of Marmaris. Thanks to their prime strategic positioning along multiple trade routes, Rhodes and the Dodecanese developed into bustling centers of commerce during ancient times. Even though its significance has waxed and waned over the ensuing centuries, its importance as a trade center remains intact to this day, lending Rhodes and the Dodecanese a sizeable amount of influence over the surrounding sea lanes.

    Compared to the mainland, the Dodecanese Islands would see little social upheaval, owing to the reduced prominence of the Chifliks in their archipelago. Nevertheless, the exodus of their Muslim overlords from the islands, along with many of their attendants and the Ottoman bureaucrats, would lead to some upward mobility for the predominantly Greek lower and middle class of the Dodecanese, although this was a far cry from the changes seen in Thessaly and Epirus. By 1860, the population of the Dodecanese was almost entirely Greek and of Orthodox denomination. However, there did exist a small remnant of the Ottoman presence in the archipelago, with nearly a thousand Turks or Arabs residing on the islands after the departure of the Sublime Porte. Similarly, there are a few dozen Jewish families scattered across the Dodecanese, of which most reside in Rhodes. Overall, the Dodecanese Islands would add the fewest people to the Kingdom of Greece, with roughly 60,000 inhabitants scattered across the archipelago, of which nearly half resided on the isle of Rhodes.

    The Heptanese Islands or "Seven Islands" are perhaps the most valuable acquisition for the Kingdom of Greece after the region of Thessaly. While its population is less than that of Thessaly and Epirus at 230,000 people, most of these inhabitants are well educated and are head and shoulders above their mainland kin in terms of wealth and prosperity. Part of this can be attributed to the good geography of the region as it along with Epirus receives nearly three times more rainfall than the rest of Greece and it also sits along important trade routes between the Adriatic and Mediterranean. However, it cannot be denied that the Ionian Islands benefited from nearly forty years of British occupation.

    Unlike their kin suffering under Ottoman rule, the Eptanesians enjoyed a number of political liberties and personal freedoms under the British including a relatively liberal system of government, limited representation on a local level, and a general respect for their rights and customs. The British also supported the establishment of schools across the islands, including the famed Ionian Academy in Corfu which was responsible for producing dozens of skilled doctors, scientists and lawyers over the coming decades. Moreover, the merchants of the Ionian Islands also had easy access to the British Empire's ports and the protection of the Royal Navy.

    However, not all was well under the British as they vehemently opposed and violently repressed Eptanesian efforts for Enosis with Greece following the latter's independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1830. This would result in a number of radical political parties rising to the fore of Eptanesian politics, with the eponymous Party of Radicals being especially prominent. This political radicalism would not end with the Ionian Islands annexation to Greece in 1855, as it would later become a hotbed of Socialist agitators in the ensuing decades. Ultimately, the departure of the British in 1855 would result in a moderate shakeup of the political landscape on the islands, but owing to their more developed political institutions, the local Eptanesian politicians simply moved up to the national level avoiding much of the headache their kinsmen in Thessaly, Epirus and the Dodecanese experienced following their unions with Greece.

    The Ionian Islands would have a pronounced effect on the Kingdom of Greece’s demographics, however, as included among their 230,000 predominantly Greek Orthodox inhabitants were a number of Catholic Christians. These peoples were either descendants of Italian settlers or local Greeks who had converted to the Latin Rite after generations of Venetian rule. Added to this were a number of Catholics in the Dodecanese, specifically the isle of Rhodes, a holdover from the old Frankokratia. When added to the preexisting communities in the Cyclades as well as the various Catholic immigrants that have arrived in Greece since Independence and the few Catholic Albanians in Epirus; the Catholic population in Greece numbers slightly over 20,000 people in total by 1860.

    Of particular note is a small community of Maltese migrants scattered across the Heptanese islands (most of whom are on the island of Corfu). These settlers had come to the islands during Britain’s occupation of the islands; usually providing skilled labor that the locals could not. However, since the cessation of the Heptanese Islands to Greece, emigration from Malta has ceased entirely, with some families returning to Malta and a few others even traveling to Great Britain. Despite their relatively small size, the Maltese community has had a noticeable impact on rural Corfu, with several interior villages baring Maltese names, whilst many people from these parts were said to have spoken with Maltese accents and dressed in Maltese fashions. Sadly, they have long since assimilated into their neighboring Greek communities, although their influence on the local culture still remains in some aspects of the Eptanesian community.[2]

    Next Time: The New Men

    [1] Basically, Greece grew from around the size of Latvia to around the size of Portugal.
    [2] The Maltese Corfiotes still exist in our world, but due to an earlier end of British rule the community would never grow to the same size as the OTL community.
     
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    Chapter 91: The New Men
  • Chapter 91: The New Men

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    The Port of Patras

    The Kingdom of Greece emerged from the Great Russian War in a markedly improved position with extensive territorial, demographic and economic gains. As previously mentioned, its population ballooned from 1.4 million people to just over 2.2 million, while its land area grew by nearly 50 percent from 60 thousand square kilometers to more than 90 thousand kilometers. More than this, however, the economy of the Greek state would absolutely explode over the course of the War. At the start of the 1850’s, the GDP for the Greek state stood around 158 million Drachma per year (about £6.4 million); a respectable sum for such a small state on the edge of Europe with little in the way of natural resources, arable land, or manufacturing capabilities. Yet, by the end of the decade, a mere 10 years later the Greek economy had nearly tripled growing to an impressive 428 million Drachma (£17.1 million).

    Much of this growth would be attributed to the added territory and population the Greek State gained in the preceding years, providing new resources to develop and more people to work. Some of this could also be attributed to the natural development of the Greek economy which continued to expand, modernize and industrialize. However, it cannot be denied that a significant portion of this sum was the result of the greatly increased investment of cash from the United Kingdom with nearly £2 million being injected into the Greek economy by British agents between May of 1855 and February of 1857.

    Per the terms of the 1855 Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement, British ship captains were now permitted - if not actively encouraged - to layover at Greek ports where they could take on provisions (primarily foodstuffs and medical supplies). They would also be permitted to make moderate repairs to their vessel’s hulls, sails, engines, and rigging if necessary while in port. The only restrictions in this treaty would be regarding the selling of munitions and military armaments by the Greeks to the British. However, some enterprising Greek merchants and customs agents could be convinced to conveniently overlook this issue when provided with additional coin.

    Moreover, this trade was not just restricted to ships and ship captains, as their compliments of sailors and soldiers were usually permitted shore leave during these stays in port, where they would often make smaller purchases of their own. Many touring troopers bought gifts for their families back home; Greek style jewelry and dresses for their wives and daughters, fustanellas and Greek weapons for their brothers and sons. Others laying over in Heraklion or Argos would even make the short trek up to the old Palaces at Knossos and Mycenae respectively, where they would tour the ancient sites and purchase artifacts, or rather replicas of said artifacts for their own collections and galleries back home.

    However, most British soldiers and sailors would usually indulge in the local cuisine, delicacies like currants and oddities like mastic. Greek wines and spirits were especially popular among the British during their stays in Greece, with some discerning officers continuing to purchase particular brands of Hellenic liquor well after the war concluded in 1857. A few Britons would even enjoy the comforts of a Greek woman’s bed, usually resulting in a number of unwanted scandals for their commanding officers especially if that woman happened to be the wife of another man or if the girl’s father was particularly stalwart in upholding her honor. Thankfully these instances were far and few between, but there were still a few recorded instances of violence and a couple shotgun weddings for good measure.

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    The British procure supplies

    This exchange of Greek goods and services for British coin would benefit both sides tremendously as many Greek shipwrights, merchants, and farmers gained great wealth. Meanwhile, the British troops were given a brief respite from the rigors of war - which did much to preserve their morale, while their ships underwent repairs, and their holds were restocked with fresh food, medicine, and in some rare cases weapons. However, not all Greeks benefited from this exchange, and even those that did, did not do so at the same degree as those at the upper end of Greek society reaped the rewards at a disproportionate level compared to those at the lower strata.

    The reasoning for this disparity was quite simple as the small land holders of Hellas usually tended towards subsistence farming as opposed to growing for trade and personal financial gain. As such, they often had little to no excess product available to sell at market as much of what they cultivated was usually consumed by their families or their local communities for personal sustenance. While this would do little to advance their plots in life; for the rural farmers of Greece this worked out well enough as they were able to survive for generation after generation. They were self-sufficient and usually able to provide for themselves and their families. Even when they could not, due to unforeseen crop failures, conflicts, or pestilences; members of their local community would generally chip in whatever they could to help their neighbors survive their current hardships, confident that if their roles were reversed that their neighbors would return the favor. That is not to say that the Cretan goat herders and Boeotian grain farmers didn’t have excess product available to sell at the market to interested British tourists. They certainly did. Yet, they didn’t have nearly as much product available as their larger competitors who were geared towards mass production of marketable goods, nor did they have much incentive to produce in excess.

    In contrast to the small peasant farmers, the great landed magnates of Greece were freed from the constant need to feed themselves and their families as they could often buy whatever they needed with their great wealth and affluence. As such they were able to sow their extensive plantations with desirable cash crops like grapes, olives, cotton, flax, and tobacco for sale, all of which were desirable commodities both in Greece and abroad. This made them rich beyond measure in impoverished little Greece, giving themselves and their families extensive influence over their communities. Many would gain their great wealth in the years preceding the Russian War, while many others would gain it during the War itself. One such individual to grow quite wealthy during this time would be the new representative of Livadeia, Dimitrios Nakos.

    Although he was only a junior member of the Nationalist Party in 1856, Nakos came from a politically well-connected family in central Boeotia, one which had amassed a sizeable swathe of newly reclaimed land that had once been under lake Copais.[1] His father and uncle had been among the greatest proponents of the Lake’s draining during the 1840’s and for their efforts, they were awarded several dozen hectares of the new land at a discounted rate. The property proved to be quite productive and quickly generated dividends for the Nakos family, with Dimitrios and his siblings assuming control in 1854.

    Following his election to Parliament in the 1856 Elections, Nakos would become increasingly detached from the day-to-day operation of his property, hiring an overseer to manage his plantation in his stead whilst he spent more and more time in Athens. Like most farms in the region, the Nakos estates would primarily produce cereals and fruits such as grain and barley and mulberries and pears. Yet, between 1855 and 1857, their main source of revenue would come from their currants and wine which were sold at a premium to British officers laying over in nearby Chalcis and Agios Konstantinos. In fact, bottles of Nakos brand Retsina would be especially popular among the officers of Lord Raglan’s staff, with the British commander being himself a rather noteworthy patron of the Nakos vineyards during his brief time in theater.

    Dimitrios Nakos was not a singular case, however, as many other Greek MPs, Senators, Governors and Judges such as Georgios Lassanis, Nikolaos Poniropoulos, Nicholas Stournas, and Antonios Papadakis grew quite rich from the Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement as many were themselves great landholders with massive estates and plantations scattered across the country. Often times, these so-called New Men were the sons of klephts and armatolis, with little to their names beyond a strong work ethic and a desire to succeed at any cost. While this was certainly not illegal by any means, they did skirt the lines of what was or wasn’t legal as many of the men who assented to the treaty with Britain were coincidentally amongst the largest benefactors of this deal. Even King Leopold found himself cashing in on the Treaty with Britain as new tourists began visiting several of his properties, including a small vineyard owned by the King located just outside the port town of Nafplion.

    Although less famous than their other holdings, this property was among their eldest as it was first bestowed to Leopold by the people of Nafplion upon his arrival in Greece back in the Spring of 1830. Since then, it had remained a fond residence for the Greek king who continued to visit it well into his later years. Known colloquially as the House of Leopold, the property was a finely built manor with territory amounting to roughly 13 hectares in land, featuring a number of olive groves, grape vines and citrus trees all of which were maintained by a team of laborers on the Royal dole. Whilst relatively small in comparison to the massive plantations owned by the men listed above which numbered in the hundreds of hectares, the site would still earn the King and his family a tidy profit over the years, with its greatest period of productivity coming during the height of the Great Russian War as numerous British officers and diplomats retreated to the villa for private meetings with the Greek King.

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    The House of Leopold, near the port of Nafplion

    This economic boon was not just limited to the landed elite as the shipping magnates of Greece also prospered from the Treaty with Britain as the constant need to supply British forces in Bulgaria and in Anatolia stretched the Royal Navy and the Board of Ordnance to the very limit. Although the British Royal Navy was the premier maritime force in the world and the British merchant marine was among the largest and most developed; the Board of Ordnance found itself hard pressed to support the extensive British War effort against Russia. Budget cuts and well-meaning, yet ill-timed reforms had gutted the once formidable institution in the run up to the War. Several Departments within the Board of Ordnance were downsized or eliminated entirely as part of a greater effort to combine the Board with the Department of the Army - a reform that was never fully implemented beyond these opening acts. Added to this was the inefficient and insufferably archaic bureaucracy that governed the British Army, with its aristocratic hangers-on and its division of responsibilities among several independent minded and rivalrous institutions.

    In spite of all this, the Board of Ordnance would initially keep up with demands during the War’s opening months as the British contribution to the conflict was still relatively small at only 2 under strength Divisions in the Spring and Summer of 1854. However, as the size of the British Balkan Army increased exponentially over the latter half of 1854 and Britain began making offensives against Russia’s Baltic and Siberian coastlines, the situation began to quickly worsen as more and more troops and material were needed. Lack of munitions would prove to be a significant issue early on, as the British had recently begun transitioning to the new Model 1852 Enfield Rifle and Lancaster siege gun causing all sorts of supply shortages. The campaigning in the Baltic was especially wasteful in this regard as nearly 100,000 cannonballs were fired upon Bomarsund Fortress alone, stretching their already limited supply even further. Food was another issue for the British as several of their food stores had spoiled while en route or were lost at sea, leaving British troopers to ration their provisions. Fodder for horses would be another issue, with many cavalry regiments routinely being forced to fight as infantry due weak and sickly mounts. Whilst this was all certainly unfortunate, the worst blow to the Board would come in November with the early onset of Winter.

    The Winter of 1854/1855 would be among the worst in recorded memory with terrible storms roiling the Black Sea on a daily basis and temperatures regularly dipping below freezing, rapidly turning the seasonal rains to snow. Yet, the worst would come early in the season on the 14th and 15th of November with stiff winds coming down from the North, damaging or destroying nearly 40 Allied ships (both British and Ottoman) gathered off the coast of Varna and Constanta. Aboard these ships were quantities of winter uniforms, charcoal, and tents for the troops which would be desperately needed in the weeks and months ahead. Without their winter gear, many British soldiers would succumb to the cold and illness, worsening an already terrible situation. Frostbite was a common occurrence for both sides, but overall, more British troops would die or become invalids during Winter quarters than during the entire fighting season of 1854.

    While part of this would be attributed to back luck, much would be chalked up to poor planning on the part of the Board of Ordnance which had proven itself criminally incompetent. As Major General of the Board of Ordnance, Lord Raglan would receive harsh criticism for his poor leadership of the Board, both in failing to prepare the necessary logistical networks prior to the conflict and for his failure to adequately respond during the war once these failings became apparent. There would be consequences aplenty for this incompetence after the conflict was ended, but in the meantime the British Government would be forced to rely increasingly upon the assistance of the Ottomans and later the Greeks to supply their troops. The Ottomans would provide what they could, but as the needs of their own forces grew and more of their realm came under threat, they naturally had less to provide their ally.

    The Greeks in turn grew as a trading partner following the Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement in early 1855, which improved relations between the two countries tremendously. To this end, several dozen ships sailing under the Greek ensign made their way to the Bulgarian coast carrying loads of food, clothing, and medical supplies to the main British depots at Varna earning their captains and crews a great bounty in coin. Greek merchant families such as the Argentis, Lemos, Papayanni, Schilizzi, Sekiaris, Skaramagas, Spartali and Vagliano families made great profits sailing their ships into the ports of Varna and Burgas. However, the true beneficiaries of this trade were the Rallis brothers whose preexisting relations with the British facilitated greater cooperation between them.

    With over 40,000 employees across four different continents and branches from London to Athens and Konstantinyye to Calcutta, the Rallis were truly a global enterprise that had staked their credibility and their fortunes on the success of the British Empire. More than this, however, they had extensive business dealings and philanthropic ventures in Greece giving them a high degree of influence over the Greek government, helping to facilitate the Agreement between Britain and Greece in early 1855. Pantias Ralli in particular, had a close connection to the influential Skaramaga merchant family through his wife Marietta, and would in turn bring the rest of the Chian Network of families into the arrangement as well. As such, by the Fall of 1855, the Hellenic Merchant Navy was almost entirely at the beck and call of the British Government. However, not all Greeks were satisfied with this arrangement.

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    Pantias Rallis, Director of the London Branch of the Ralli Bros Trading House

    While the Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement would do much to strengthen Anglo-Greek relations and put a tremendous amount of wealth into the hands of Greek merchants and traders, it would do little to diminish Greek support for Russia which still remained high even in the wake of the Treaty with Britain. Russia was a historic friend of Greece, with shared cultural, religious, and dynastic ties with the Hellenes. Most importantly to this particular discussion, Russia was also Greece’s second largest trading partner, behind only the Ottoman Empire and just ahead of the United Kingdom. Naturally, the outbreak of War between Greece’s largest three trading partners wounded their economy immensely as they could no longer openly trade with Russia owing to the British blockade of Russia’s Black Sea ports, resulting in a brief, albeit sharp decline for the Greek Market. This economic downturn was made worse by growing animosity between the Greek State and Ottoman Empire, which brought about an abrupt reduction in trade between the two countries for the remainder of the war.

    Faced with the prospect of financial ruin and presented with a golden opportunity to snub the Ottomans, many Greek captains and their crews turned to smuggling with Russia. One such family were the Vagliano Brothers who quickly came to dominate the Russian grain trade. Based out of Taganrog, the Vaglianos and their compatriots had an intricate knowledge of the local waters around the Sea of Azov and the Crimea. They knew of its coves and caves, where its sand banks and shoals lay, and where the tides usually settled. With their swift ketches and sloops, these derring-do’s and their experienced crews would manage to routinely evade the British and Ottoman patrols in the Black Sea, making their way to Greece with hulls full of Russian goods. There, these smugglers would then sell their loads – predominantly grain, before sailing back to Russia with their ill-gotten gains. In the highest of ironies, there were several instances where Greek ship captains would buy Russian goods in Crimea with British coin and then promptly sell these very same goods to the hungry British in Rumelia.

    Whilst this illicit trade certainly aided both the British and the Russians, it cannot be denied that the Russians benefitted more as their cash strapped regime became increasingly dependent upon this exchange to stay afloat financially. By late 1856, the grain export trade – reduced as it was – still amounted to nearly one third of all Russian exports. Moreover, Greek smuggling made a mockery of the British Government who had promised their Ottoman Ally an end to Greek belligerency in return for territorial and economic concessions to the Hellenes. Greek smuggling also undermined the stalwart reputation of the Royal Navy who were repeatedly made to look like fools in the face of lowly Greek merchants who eluded them with relative ease. Nevertheless, the British Government would grin and bear the insult for the remainder of the war with Russia, choosing to overlook it in favor of winning the ongoing conflict.

    Gottlieb_Biermann_Grotte_mit_Schmugglern.jpg

    Greek smugglers loading Russian wares onto their boats
    While this tourism and trade was all well and good for the Greek Economy; the most direct British investments in Greece would come in the form of various upgrades to Greece’s port facilities. Between 1855 and 1857, several coastal cities such as Piraeus, Patras, Heraklion, and Chios among several others were gradually brought up to the same standards as Britain’s naval dockyards back in Malta. Ostensibly, this was done to help grease the wheels of Greek neutrality, but in truth, the British simply found many of the Ottoman ports to be severely lacking in modern naval accoutrements, barring Kostantîniyye and a few others. The Imperial Arsenal in Constantinople was certainly a high-quality naval yard capable of building, repairing and maintaining modern steam warships, but it was only one site. The Porte had made efforts to expand their shipbuilding capabilities at Izmit and Gemlik but owing to the many crises plaguing the Empire over the years, little progress had been made at either site before the start of the current War with Russia.

    The Ottomans did have a number of quality ports along the Black Sea such as Sinope, Trabzon, and Varna; but these sites were prone to Russian raids which frequently harassed the Turkish coast. Even after their defeat in the Battle of the Bosporus in 1854, the Russian Black Seas Fleet continued to sortie against vulnerable Ottoman ports up to the end of the War in 1857. The collapse of Ottoman defenses in Anatolia and the Balkans also didn’t help in this regard either, as both Trabzon and Varna were effectively under siege by late 1856 making them less than ideal repair depots for British ships.

    Bulgarian and Greek partisans were also known issues for the Sublime Porte as they routinely targeted Ottoman war making infrastructure throughout the War. While their sedition was not always successful, nor was it long lasting; they did make life difficult for the Ottomans and their British allies. Their most impressive achievement would be the complete destruction of Varna’s harbor in October 1854, with nearly two hundred buildings around the wharf being burnt to ash and cinders by Christian saboteurs. The damage was so great at Varna, that ships could not unload their goods at the port for nearly five months, while the site was cleared of debris and later rebuilt. With all this taking place, Greece became increasingly attractive to the Admiralty and the Board of Ordnance as a safer means of repairing, supplying, and transporting their forces into the Ottoman Empire.

    Now of course, the British could have made similar investments into the Ottoman Aegean and Mediterranean ports; they were formal allies in the War against Russia after all. Yet they surprisingly chose not to do so. Perhaps, the seditionary activity by Christian rebels deterred them as there were many rebel bands operating in Asia Minor, Macedonia, Thrace and Rumelia during this time. Perhaps, they were fearful of a complete collapse by their Ottoman allies, thus leaving these investments vulnerable to the Russians or their proxies. Or maybe, they simply wanted a smaller and weaker state to influence, a state much more prone to their intrigues.

    While British influence was certainly strong in the Ottoman Empire, they were technically an equal partner of the British and would not take kindly to their “Ally” controlling their port facilities for months and years at a time. There was also no guarantee that British influence in Kostantîniyye would continue at its current high after the present conflict. In fact, there were already signs of disillusionment within the Sublime Porte towards their British ally in mid-1855, with some Ottoman Ministers openly questioning their commitment to the War. The Kingdom of Greece in comparison was a substantially weaker power and would have much less ability to protest, especially if “adequate” compensation were provided – ie; the cessation of the Ionian Islands and increased British investment in Greece. Whatever the case, the Greek Government eventually agreed to London’s terms, and the British would gain control over many of these ports for the duration of the War against Russia.

    In the short term, this would cause a moderate decline in Greek shipping and commerce as the Greeks were forced to cede precious harbor space and port facilities to the British, while also losing out on valuable port tolls and customs dues. In the long term, however, this development would prove to be a great boon to the Greek economy as new slipways were dug, new warehouses were constructed, and preexisting port infrastructure was expanded all at the British Government’s expense. All told, around half a million Pounds Sterling would be spent improving the Greek ports between 1855 and 1857 providing a massive boon to Greece’s maritime industry.

    Pireasport_in_1892.jpg

    The Port of Piraeus circa 1860
    One group that benefitted immensely from this improvement in maritime infrastructure was the steamship industry in Greece, with Hellenic Steamship Company being among the most successful. Founded in 1837 by veteran British naval commander and Philhellene, Sir Frank Abney Hastings, the Hellenic Steamship Company (EEA) had quickly expanded into a wide-open market in the Eastern Mediterranean. The EEA specialized in shipbuilding and seaborne transportation of goods and people across the Aegean which they accomplished to great effect. Later on, EEA operations would expand to the Black Sea, Ionian Sea, and Eastern Mediterranean Sea by the late 1840’s, increasing the company’s bottom line immensely.

    However, while Hastings was certainly a visionary with an eye to the future, he would prove to be a poor businessman who unfortunately hamstrung the company for many years with his blunt demeanor and insensitive disregard towards Greece’s sailing tradition. There was also substantial resistance to modernization amongst the merchant class and shipping magnates of the Archipelago who viewed the steamship with contempt. Despite its success as a weapon of war during the War for Independence and its growing proficiency for seaborne commerce; various elements within Greece’s maritime community still considered the steamship a novelty, a very expensive novelty that was prone to mechanical breakdowns. In their eyes, the advantages steamships offered were not nearly enough to overcome the immense financial burdens of buying the ships, hiring the engineers necessary to maintain them, and training the crews to operate them safely. Not to mention the exorbitant costs of coaling the ships on a regular basis, as coal wasn’t exactly readily available in Greece at the time.[2]

    Hasting’s efforts to sell his ships and their services to Greek Government would meet with more success as they would agree to a minor transporting contract in the early 1840’s. Yet, there were also those within the Ministry of the Navy who argued that a dramatic shift to steam powered ships would diminish the quality of the Hellenic Navy as they would effectively lose all the accumulated knowledge and finely honed skills developed over countless generations. Instead, they suggested a more gradual transition, taking place over the next few decades – a timeline that was very much at odds with the EEA’s interests of a more rapid shift.

    Eventually, Hasting’s declining health, along with the Company’s declining profits would see the EEA’s Board of Managers vote to replace Hastings with one of their own, Elias Kechagias who took the reins of the company in February 1851. Kechagias was a businessman through and through, but he had developed a firm respect for Hastings over the years and had adopted several of his opinions on the importance of naval innovation. Upon taking power, Kechagias quickly began a broad sweeping public relations campaign to expand the appeal of the steamship amongst a younger generation of seamen, citing their increased safety and speed compared to the antiquated sailing ships of their forefathers.

    His most notable public relations initiative, however, would be a boat race from Piraeus to the port of Mytilene between a traditional sailing sloop named Cleon and one of his company’s newest steamships named the Diodotus. To heighten the excitement of the race, Kechagias gave the Cleon a head start of several hours before unleashing the Diodotus to chase it down. Despite its initial disadvantage, the Diodotus quickly caught and then passed the Cleon as it was nearing the western coast of Lesbos.[3] The Diodutus’ victory was so great that the Cleon had only arrived in port after the winning captain had begun his victory speech. While these public relation displays would prove dividends in the long term, the EEA’s profits margin would stay relatively static in the short term, that is until the signing of the Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement in the Spring of 1855.

    Thereafter, EEA ships would transport countless tons of cargo to the Bulgarian coast, whilst British Steamships requiring service would flock to Syros with nearly four dozen British warships, transport ships, and medical ships arriving at the EEA’s facilities between May 1855 and March 1857 seeking repairs and resupply. While the British coin was certainly nice, the publicity generated by the increased traffic helped too as local business for the EEA nearly doubled within a year’s time. Another factor working in Kechagias’ favor was the opening of the Megalopolis coal mine in recent years, nearly doubling Greece’s production of lignite by 1861 thus mitigating one of the largest remaining criticisms of steamship usage, namely the high cost and limited supply of coal.

    While the improved fortunes of the EEA helped revitalize Syros for a time, it would only be temporary as Athens and Piraeus continued their ascendency as the economic heart of Greece, especially with the opening of the Corinth Canal in late 1862. Moreover, the EEA’s great success would breed competition as a number of rivals began to emerge in the coming years to service the growing steamship industry. Nevertheless, Syros and the EEA would still see a number of prominent engineers travel to and emerge from their dockyards including one young shipwright from Paros named Demosthenis Issigonis.[4]

    Brainsik-ermoupoli.jpg

    The port of Hermoupolis on the isle of Syros, seat of the Hellenic Steamship Company
    Although he was only in his late twenties at the start of the Great Russian War, Demosthenis Issigonis had already established himself as a capable worker among his peers at the port town of Parikia, one with a keen intellect and good work ethic. Owing to its ideal location, Paros like many other islands in the Cyclades would host a number of British warships over the course of the Great Eurasian War. Naturally, this uptick in traffic would also mean an uptick in business for the local shipwrights, Issigonis included, with many walking away from the war substantially richer than they began it. Yet as is usually the case with fast money, many would quickly squander it on poor investments and personal vices. Issigonis was no exception. Yet what made him special was that he would walk away from the Conflict with something far greater than coin; he would gain an intricate knowledge and experience working on steamships.

    Following the last major sortie of the Russian Black Seas’ Fleet in the Spring of 1856, various British warships withdrew from the theater seeking safe harbors for repairs. Most ships would stop in the nearby ports of the Ottoman Empire, yet a small handful would attempt to return to Malta for more extensive work. One such ship, was a steam frigate called HMS Tiger which would soon begin experiencing engine trouble whilst steaming through the Aegean and quickly fell behind its compatriots. Although the ship would make it as far as the Cyclades, its issues began to multiply and worsen greatly, forcing the ship’s Captain, Sir Henry Wells Giffard to make the fateful decision to dock at the closest port; the port he chose was Parikia on the isle of Paros.

    The arrival of HMS Tiger in the small seaside town would prove troublesome for the locals as they lacked the experience or knowhow to repair a steamship’s engines. Many of the older and more established shipwrights simply balked at the challenge outright, whilst a few others considered the job before abandoning it later on. Ultimately, young Demosthenis would take it upon himself to repair the damaged vessel at great personal expense to himself and his family. Yet, after several weeks of trial and error, as well as extensive correspondence with representatives of the EEA, Demosthenis would succeed in restoring the warship to active service, earning himself a tidy commission for his considerable efforts. More important than this, however, was the great knowledge and insight he had gained on steamships which would help propel him and his family to greatness in the years ahead. Months later, Demosthenis would move to Syros and work as an engineer for the Hellenic Steamship Company for several years before ultimately leaving to create his own company in 1864, but that is a story for another day.

    450px-H.M._Steam-ship_%27Tiger%27_ILN-1854-0603-0020.jpg

    HMS Tiger

    Sadly, for many Greeks scattered across the countryside, this great economic proliferation was not readily apparent. Whereas the great plantations and shipping magnates of Greece had seen their profits increase exponentially thanks to a massive influx of British coin, this foreign investments into Greece’s port facilities and luxury industries had little impact on the daily lives of many hundreds of thousands of Hellenes still residing in rustic villages scattered across the interior. Far from the glitz and the glamor of Athens or Patras or Heraklion or Chios, most Greeks eked out a spartan existence just at or slightly above the poverty line, with some unfortunate souls even living in states of abject poverty. To help make ends meet, those within the lower strata of Greek society were often forced to take on multiple jobs just to keep a roof over their families’ heads and to keep their children’s bellies full.

    A Morean man could be a farmer for much of the year, planting grain or corn in Autumn and then harvest it in late Spring. At the same time, he would begin cultivating beans and lentils to add variety to his diet while also increasing his stock of sellable produce. The women and children of the family also contributed to the effort by tending to their small vegetable garden where they grew various plants and herbs like tomatoes, cucumbers, garlic, cabbage and squash among others for personal consumption. If they were fortunate enough, then they would also maintain their olive groves, apple orchards and fig trees. When there was nothing else to tend to, or when there were breaks in the growing seasons; these peasant farmers would often supplement their meagre incomes by cobbling shoes, knitting clothes, felling trees for raw lumber or for making charcoal out of it. Some less fortunate souls even made their livings collecting and selling wild herbs and grasses, or by working as seasonal laborers harvesting crops on a larger plantation. This wasn’t just true of farmers as most shepherds and some lesser merchants also performed various other jobs to support their families when their main profession wasn’t enough to make ends meet.

    To fully understand the poverty of the rural Greek communities, one need not look any further than their diet, which generally consisted of the very foodstuffs they had produced themselves. Usually, this took the form of bread, beans, corn, dairy products, nuts, potatoes, and various fruits and vegetables.[5] Sometimes they would accent their meals with fish if they lived near the coast or flourishes of salt, garlic, piperi (paprika), saffron and other herbs if they were lucky. Meanwhile, their choose of beverages often consisted of well or river water, milk if they had goats or cattle, mead if they had honey, wine if they had grape orchards, and/or other liquors if they had the resources to produce them. For most Greeks, however, meat was a rarity, one that was only indulged once a year during Easter and even then, the poorest within Greece couldn’t even afford this small luxury.

    330px-Koukouvagia.jpg

    Dakos - a traditional Cretan dish
    Things were even worse in the New Provinces of Greece as large swaths of Thessaly and Epirus had been despoiled by Greek partisans and Ottoman auxiliaries over the course of the recent conflict. Countless acres of farmland had been scorched, numerous villages had been pillaged, thousands of people had been slain, and thousands more had been uprooted from their homes and forced to flee in whichever direction they could. Epirus was especially hit hard as what had once been the best road system in the Balkans under Ali Pasha Tepelenë had deteriorated into one of the worst as three decades of neglect, war and wanton destruction had ruined the region’s infrastructure. Moreover, the already limited arable land of Epirus was ravaged and raided by warring bands year after year leaving little pristine land for those that remained. Even after the War had come to an official end in 1857, the fighting continued unabated for a time as sporadic acts of sectarian violence occurred between neighboring Christian and Muslim communities until the latter emigrated from the region or the Greek Government intervened to restore peace.

    Moreover, the archaic land practices and feudal practices of the Ottoman era carried over into the Kingdom of Greece for a short time, stunting the growth – or rather recovery - of the new provinces for several critical months. Several enterprising Greeks would attempt to replace the outgoing Muslim elites themselves, only to face stiff resistance from the yeoman farmers of these lands. Although the Greek Government would move quickly to help Thessaly and Epirus recover, investing heavily into the reconstruction of damaged roads and irrigation systems, it would ultimately take a number of years before these provinces would fully rebound from the turmoil of recent conflict and beginning surpassing their previous limits.

    Complicating matters was the practice of dividing a father’s properties evenly amongst his sons, even when such divisions made it impossible to support them and their families. As such, the younger sons would often be forced to sell these unproductive properties to their elder siblings and migrate to the cities in the hopes of fending off starvation. While many thousands would emigrate from the countryside to the cities, many thousands more stubbornly refused to leave the land of their birth, resulting in widespread poverty and famine across large swathes of Thessaly and Epirus. The Athenian Government would attempt to curtail this practice and promote migration to the cities, but there was little they could really do in this regard without trampling upon the legal rights of landholders. As such, Thessaly long considered the breadbasket of Greece, was forced to import grain from the other provinces of Hellas for several months just to feed its population.

    Added to this growing crisis was a not so insignificant number of refugees from Macedonia, Thrace and Ionia who had fled Ottoman reprisals for the relative safety of Greece. Although Government sources during this time were relatively sparse, most accounts put the total number of refugees arriving in the Greek State at around twelve to sixteen thousand people although it is believed to be much higher, with many thousands more fleeing elsewhere. Of these people, many settled in the nearest safe haven they could find, which in most cases were the already encumbered regions of Thessaly and Epirus. Sadly, as these border provinces had been desolated by war and rebellion, many refugees were then forced to venture even further south into Aetolia-Acarnania and Phocis-Phthiotis, with many turning to the major cities for shelter and sustenance. Most of the new arrivals had little more than the clothes upon their backs, while some unfortunate souls didn’t even have that meagre luxury. One particular account from an unknown writer describes the arrival of a Kozani mother and her three young children in Lamia during the Summer of 1856.

    “They were a truly sorry lot. The children, two girls and one boy, were no older than 12 or 14 at most, with the boy being the smallest of the lot and little more than a toddler. The Mother was likely in her mid to late thirties and carried herself with a stoic pride; pride that had been weathered by exhaustion and whatever tragedies had driven them here. Their faces were gaunt; even that of the little ones. Their bodies emaciated and thin. Their eyes were blank and lifeless. Much of their skin and what remained of their clothes were caked in mud and dirt. The children were adorned in a smattering of rags and loincloths that had once been charming little outfits. The mother was clad in the remains of a formerly resplendent dress, a dress that had long since been torn apart viciously as if by vile vipers. All suffered from calloused and bloodied feet, whilst the mother and eldest daughter featured numerous bruises to their faces, arms and legs. There was no sign of a father for this household, nor any other adult menfolk; if there were, then they had met with a terrible fate.
    -unknown author”


    Similar accounts were sadly commonplace across the Balkans during the waning days of the Great Russian War and Macedonia Revolt of 1855-1857 as numerous communities were ransacked by rampaging Ottoman troops and their auxiliaries. The North African mercenaries were particularly brutal in their pillaging; killing whatever men and boys of fighting age they could find, raping the women, and enslaving the rest. Whatever wealth they could find was pillaged, whilst everything else was burned and left to rot. It comes as no surprise then that feelings of revanchism grew within the hearts and minds of the Greek people for their kinsmen were left to suffer and die under such depraved overlords as these.

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    Epirote militiamen attack an Albanian community in Epirus
    -Scene from the Thesprotia Land Feud

    The refugee crisis afflicting the Balkans was not exclusive to the Greeks however, as many communities of Albanians, Bulgarians, Serbians, and even some Turks also experienced forced migrations from their homes by warring bands. The plights of these other peoples will be covered in a later account, but for the purpose of this piece it should be noted that many of the Muslims of Thessaly and Epirus would flee from the annexed provinces for the relative safety of the Ottoman Empire. Although many of the poorer Muslims left with in a hurry with naught but the clothes on their backs; several of the Chifliks in the know took their time and carefully vacated as much of their personal property as they possibly could in anticipation of the Greek annexation. This was usually in the form of coin, furniture, jewelry, livestock, pottery, tools, and anything else that wasn’t nailed down, before promptly selling what was left to the highest bidder and departing for the Ottoman Empire. Much of this was done out of financial necessity as many of these items would be needed to start over in the Turkish State; yet for many, this was simply one last act of spite towards the Greeks who had opposed them and driven them from their homes.

    This ironically created another problem for the Greeks as roughly three fourths of all arable land in Thessaly and Epirus were previously owned by the Turks and Albanians. Efforts to divvy up the vacant property would often result in feuds between those who claimed ownership via their dealings with the Chifliks and those who claimed ownership via right of occupation and conquest. Here too, the Greek Government would have to step in to settle the matter, resulting in a number of years of legal debates and court cases between the various interests and actors. Even when these litigations were resolved peacefully, and tracts of land were finally sold at auction, the landed magnates would often times outbid their poorer opponents forcing the latter to finally give up their claims and settle for a pittance. Thankfully, this wasn’t always the case as many thousands of peasant farmers gained their own land after generations of effective serfdom, but not all were so lucky. In fact, many thousands would be forced to vacate their homes for the cities in the hopes of finding new opportunities and sources of income to support their families.

    Although these were all certainly unfortunate developments, it wasn’t entirely negative for the Kingdom of Greece and its New Provinces. As previously mentioned, the Hellenic Government invested heavily in the recovery of Thessaly and Epirus, spending upwards of one million Pounds Sterling between the Spring of 1857 and the start of 1860. Most of this sum was spent on the construction, or rather reconstruction of various roads, bridges, aqueducts, irrigation canals, and drainage culverts across the regions, all of which helped revert the territory to the state it was in before the recent conflict. However, around a quarter of this amount would go towards the construction of a new railway connection the city of Larissa with the region's chief port of Demetrios in the south of the province.

    Another fifty million Drachma (~2 million Pounds Sterling) would be loaned to smaller Thessalian and Epirote farmers, enabling them to legally purchase their lands, hire laborers, and acquire more modern farming tools and equipment like cast iron and steel ploughs and horse drawn reapers. Additionally, the University of Athens’ School of Agriculture opened its doors to particularly deserving Thessalian and Epirote Farmers, granting them access to their resources and accrued knowledge on modern farming practices and techniques. Most importantly, the Greek Government would formally abolish the dreaded Chiflik system in early 1861 and established various protections for small landholders against predatory buyers and large plantation owners.

    While modernization and development would be a slow process, especially among Greece's smaller land holders and farmers who continued to use their ancient practices well into the 1880's, these initiatives were more quickly adopted by the county's latifundia who experienced marked improvements in their production in the ensuing months. However, one crop in particular – grain - would see a truly meteoric jump in its annual yields thanks to these measures. In 1860, the total national production of Greek grains (wheat, maize, barley, rice, etc) was a respectable 600,000 tons, a sum that was largely divided amongst the many provinces of Greece.[6] By 1900, this total had nearly tripled to 1.7 million tons, with much of the increased production coming from the lands of Thessaly alone; earning the province the moniker “the Breadbasket of Greece”.

    Next Time: A Game of Gods and Men

    [1] His father and uncle were both veterans of the War for Independence. Later on, this uncle would become a prominent politician from Boeotia during the late 1830’s and 1840’s in OTL.
    [2] As of the 1840’s the only known sources of coal in Greece ITTL are those on Euboea and near Megalopolis. However, only the Aliveri mine was operational at this time, with the Megalopolis mine only opening in the early 1850’s ITTL.
    [3] This is a reference to the Mytilenean Debate and the ensuing race to Mytilene during the opening years of the Peloponnesian War.
    [4] This is an ATL version of the grandfather of Mini Cooper founder, Sir Alec Issigonis. ITTL, his family stays in Paros owing to the better fortunes of Greece.
    [5] This is basically the “Mediterranean Diet” in a nutshell.
    [6] For reference, the Kingdom of Greece produced a similar yield of cereals (615 million kg) per year in 1906. While this is a massive improvement over OTL, I do believe it is justified as TTL’s 1860 Greece is roughly the same size territorially as OTL 1906 Greece, with the only major differences being the addition of Crete and Northern Epirus ITTL which aren’t exactly agricultural powerhouses. However, TTL’s Greece is far ahead of OTL in terms of its agricultural development. In OTL, Greece’s agricultural industry really underperformed, with many Greek farmers still utilizing archaic tools like the wooden plough and hand reaper well into the 20th century. They also failed to implement even the most basic modern farming practices such as crop rotation and the use of fertilizers, much to their own detriment. Obviously, this wasn’t uniform across the entire country as some did try to modernize, but by in large most were really behind the times. As such, I believe a Greece that does implement a lot of these new tools and techniques can really ramp up their agricultural production to more respectable numbers far sooner than OTL.
     
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    Chapter 92: A Game of Gods and Men
  • Author's Note:
    Surprise, I have a new chapter ready for you all! I had originally intended to post this a few days ago to coincide with the recent Olympic Games Closing Ceremony, but I had some technical difficulties and eventually decided to delay it.

    Anyway, before we get to the Chapter, I'll quickly opine on some recent topics of debate you all had.

    Revolts in the Ottoman Empire:
    Yes there will be more revolts in the Ottoman Empire, that is the nature of the beast. That said, I won't spoil where they will happen and what the results will be as that isn't any fun. If you really want to know and don't want to wait then PM me and I'll spoil you rotten.:evilsmile:

    Greek Economy:
    The Greek economy is in a very good position to flourish and expand even more. Sadly, that trend won't last forever and eventually there will be economic stagnation, recessions, and depressions in Greece's future. That being said, if Greece manages these correctly, then it shouldn't be too bad. ;):evilsmile:

    Greek Expansion:
    In terms of priorities for Greek expansion, number one on the list is clearly Constantinople, followed closely by Macedonia - specifically Thessaloniki and the area surrounding it. Next is the Aegean coast of Anatolia, then probably the Straits region, with the remaining coastline of Anatolia coming in after that, then maybe more of Albania and the Balkans. At the bottom of that list is Southern Italy. Point being, Greece is more interested in expanding eastward than it is westward. While there are certainly Greco communities still living in Southern Italy at this time ITTL, Athens would sooner expand into North Africa than Southern Italy.

    Chapter 92: A Game of Gods and Men

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    Athletes line up for the running of the 100 meter dash at the 1866 Olympic Games

    Today we celebrate the beginning of the 39th Summer Olympic Games, a contest of great athleticism where athletes from all across the globe journey to one select site to due battle against one another for glory and gold. However, these battles are not done with swords and spears or guns and artillery, but with feats of strength, speed, and intellect. Putting everything on the line, these competitors risk it all for a chance at being the best in the world for their respective fields. To be an Olympic Champion is a great honor for all who earn it. Yet, there is so much more to the Olympics Games than a simple entertainment extravaganza held every four years, as their history dates back to the Greek Dark Ages nearly 2800 years ago.

    Far from the simple athletic event that it is today, the Ancient Olympics were more so a religious ceremony hosted in honor of the Olympian Gods. The host site of the Ancient Olympic Games was in the Elian city of Olympia, which was first and foremost a city of temples dedicated to Olympian Zeus and his fellow deities. Thusly, these games were not meant to entertain the mere mortals standing in attendance at rustic Olympia. No, these were displays of valor and piety before the Hellenic Gods seated high upon Mount Olympus. These contests of strength and speed and grit and determination were meant to show the often arbitrary and conceited Gods that humanity was noble and strong and deserving of their patronage.

    As such, the men partaking in these contests were often honored as great champions by their respective city-states. As representatives of their home Poleis, these athletes were attended to by throngs of supporters, physicians, and sponsors who ensured that their man was in tip top shape for the Games. In the eyes of their cities, victory for their athletes meant that the Gods favored had favored them, and by favoring their champions, they favored their cities as well. Victors in these competitions were often regarded as heroes on par with the legends of yore; they were bestowed great gifts and treated to extravagant feasts at the expense of their native Polis. There were also benefits for the victorious cities as they received great prestige and influence if their athletes won in the most recent Panhellenic Games.

    Finally, the Olympics were tremendous diplomatic forums where city-states made treaties and forged alliances with one another. It is important to note, however, that the Olympic Games were themselves part of the larger Panhellenic Games; with competitors journeying to one of four cities (Olympia, Delhpi, Nemea, and Isthmia) every year. These Games were held in such high esteem by the Ancient Greeks, that they usually observed a two-month truce surrounding them, despite their incredibly warlike nature. Any violators of this truce, be they friend or foe was scrutinized and shunned as a villian and oathbreaker. Over time, the Games at Olympia would grow in importance and eventually overshadow those of the other cities, owing to its glorification of the King of the Olympians, almighty Zeus.

    According to the Ancient philosopher Aristotle, the first Olympic games took place in the year 776 BCE, following the Summer Solstice.[1] However, unlike later iterations of these Games, this competition consisted of a single event, a foot race known as the Stadion. The Stadion was a simple foot race of roughly 180 meters named in honor of a legendary race held between the Idei Daktiloi (the Ideal Fingers) of the Titan Queen Rhea. Charged with protecting the infant deity Zeus from the auspices of his vile father, the Titan Cronos; the Dactyls of Rhea spirited the young God from Crete to the Peloponnese. However, as they traveled the five brothers grew bored, and in their boredom, they began to fight amongst themselves.

    To end their feuding, the eldest of the five, Idaios Iraklis (Ideal Herakles, not to be confused with the legendary son of Zeus) suggested that they have a race to settle their squabbles and entertain young Zeus. Agreeing to their brother’s proposal, the Five settled upon a distance of 180 meters for their contest. Readying themselves on the line, they counted down and then leapt to action with all their godly might once the call was made. Though the brothers were evenly matched, the elder Iraklis proved himself the better in their contest, winning by a hair over his younger siblings. Yet in his humility and great wisdom, Iraklis offered to race his brothers again in four years’ time, a challenge which they readily accepted. While the historical accuracy of this story is dubious at best, it nevertheless served as inspiration for the Ancient Greeks who carefully modelled their own competition off this mythical race.


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    Depiction of the Stadion
    As the years passed, more and more sporting events would be added to the Games. The first added in 724 BCE would be the Diaulos, a foot race twice the length of the Stadion. In 720 BCE, an even longer race would be added called the Dolichos, which averaged around 1,500 meters in length. In 708 BCE another two events would be added to the Games, Wrestling and the Pentathalon; the latter of which was a myriad of contests consisting of a long jump, javelin throwing, discus throwing, a foot race comparable in length to the Stadion, and wrestling. Later Olympiads would also see the inclusion of boxing, horse racing, chariot racing and other athletic challenges to the Games. Yet, through it all the Stadion remained the most prestigious event at the Olympics, with the victor of this one event being proclaimed the winner of the entire Olympic Games.

    Over time, however, later iterations of the Olympic Games would see the rise in popularity of another event; the Pankration. Pankration was a variation of wrestling with few rules and restrictions. As such, it quickly became popular among young men and boys in attendance at these Games.[2] The violence of the sport was so great that several participants were killed over the years with many others being seriously maimed and injured. Owing to this great violence, Pankration would be outlawed by the Roman Emperor Theodosius alongside gladiatorial fights and other violent displays of entertainment in the 390’s CE. In more recent years, there has been an effort to rekindle Pankration fighting at the Olympics and within Greece sporting circles in general. However, it has found its greatest success in the Hellenic Military which has adopted Pankration as part of its hand-to-hand fighting training regimen for their more elite units like the Evzones Regiments.

    Despite the violence of its events, the allure of the Olympics Games was so great during its heyday that many great kings and mighty emperors would travel to Olympia and partake in the festivities. Among them was Philip II of Macedon and the Roman Emperor Nero providing a foreign element to the Event. Even brilliant Augustus himself would patronize the Olympic Games in a showing of his piety and magnamnity. Outside of these prominent monarchs, tens of thousands of commonfolk would journey to Elis over the centuries to bear witness to the great spectacles at Olympia. Yet as is the case with all things, interest in the Olympic Games would eventually wax and wane as Barbarian invasions, plagues, earthquakes, and the growing influence of Christianity slowly did away with the Olympics. Ultimately, the last recorded Games would take place in 385 CE before it finally disappeared into the annals of history forevermore.

    Despite this, the legend of the Ancient Olympic Games continued to live on as various communities across Europe would stage their own variations of the competition over the centuries. The most noteworthy contests were the Cotswold Olimpick Games, held in Cotswold, England from the early 1600’s until the early 1800's. Although they bear the Olympics name, the Cotswold Games were more akin to a lowly county festival than a prestigious athletic competition as the events consisted of dancing, hunting, music making, fighting both with weapons and fists, and the occasional foot and horse race. Nevertheless, the Cotswold Games would prove quite popular attracting many visitors and attendees over the years.

    Unfortunately, the Cotswold Olimpicks were not without controversy, as they featured their share of violence and brutality, with participants being maimed and even killed on a few occasions. Moreover, the event itself was often regaled by its contemporaries as a heathen festival full of drunkards and the dregs of society, greatly diminishing its reputation. Ultimately, the Cotswold Olimpicks would appear sporadically every few years from their inception in 1612 all the way until 1852 when growing controversies finally forced the shire of Cotswold to sell off the communal plots upon which the Games had taken place, effectively ending the Games once and for all.

    Another competition of note was the L'Olympiade de la République held in France during the height of the French Revolution. While it was much shorter in duration, only lasting from 1796 to 1798, it would be deemed in far higher regard by historians and philosophers than the Cotswold Games. Unlike the English Cotswold Olimpicks, the L’Olympiade emulated the Ancient Games very closely, including several events such as wrestling, running, horse races, javelin throws and discus throws among others. Moreover, the Olympiade would also feature the first recorded use of the metric system in sports, with it becoming the standard across the globe for most sporting contests in the coming decades.

    Whilst these precursors were certainly interesting and helped continued the legacy of the Ancient Olympic Games well into the 19th Century; the Independence of Greece in 1830 would serve as a far greater catalyst for the Olympic revival as the ancient site of the Games were now liberated after centuries of foreign occupation. For their part, many within Greece were receptive to the idea, yet many others, especially within more conservative circles opposed their resurrection. However, with the country still recovering from their War for Independence, it was ultimately a rather low priority for the Athenian Government and Greek populace as a whole who were far more interested in providing food and shelter for themselves and their families. Yet, as the country began to recover, and the people began to move on from the rigors of war and the daily struggle for survival; public support for the ancient sporting event began to rise with several prominent figures in Greek society even hosting their own interpretations of the Olympics.

    The first iteration of these would be the Soutsos Games in 1836, which were organized by the renowned Greek Romanticist Panagiotis Soutsos in the ancient city of Olympia. Although he is most famous today for his poems Odiporos (the Wanderer) and Leandros, Soutsos was also a major proponent of Greek language reform towards a purer (ancient) form. This fascination with the Ancient Greek language also carried over to Ancient Greek culture, religion and; most importantly to the topic of this chapter, the Olympics. In 1835, Soutsos would release his latest work, Dialogues with the Dead, a work which glorified, among many other things, the Ancient Olympic Games. As with many of his earlier works, Dialogues would prove especially popular among certain segments of the population who began advocating for the resurrection of the Olympics in their ancient homeland.


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    Panagiotis Soutsos, Famed Poet and Organizer of the “First Modern Olympic Games”

    Buoyed by this outpouring of support, Soutsos, along with many of his closest supporters and sponsors would form the Hellenic Olympic Society to begin advocating for the revival of the ancient sporting event. While this was a novel idea with a degree of popular support, they still had several hurdles to overcome. First was determining the site and timing of the Games. Being the romantic and purist that he was, Soutsos naturally proposed the ancient city of Olympia following the Summer Solstice just as it had been in olden times. The symbolism of the site was certainly prominent as the rebirth of the Games at Olympia would symbolize a greater revival of the Hellenic spirit. While much of the city was still a buried ruin, excavations had thankfully started in recent years, resulting in the uncovering of several stadiums at the site, bringing moderate attention to the long-neglected region.

    The next issue was funding for their endeavors, with Soutsos and his colleagues reaching out to various bankers and philanthropists willing to support their work. Initially, they would receive some nominal support from the Zosimades of Ioannina, the banker Georgios Stravos, and the ambassador to Vienna Georgios Sinas among others, providing them with a quick infusion of cash to begin organizing their event. However, their efforts to gain the financial backing from other prominent Greek philanthropists such as Georgios Rizaris and Ioannis Papafis ended in failure, as they saw the ancient Games a glorification of Pagan rituals and vehemently refused to support such a sacrilegious act. Ironically, they would also meet resistance from several historians and archaeologists such as Theodoros Manousis who argued that major festivities at Olympia would endanger the preservation of the historical site. Nevertheless, Soutsos and his clique would press on with their efforts, eventually raising the necessary funds for their Olympic Games.

    However, they would still need Government support, or at the very least its begrudging acquiescence for their efforts in order to host the Games at Olympia given that extensive activities would be carried out at the historic site if they had their way. Reaching out to their contacts in the Kapodistrias Administration, the Hellenic Olympic Society would find several members of the regime who were quite receptive to the idea of the Olympics, with the Minister of Internal Affairs, Viaros Kapodistrias even openly endorsing their proposals and offering to aid them in their efforts.[3] However, in doing so they quickly created more problems for themselves as Viaros Kapodistrias was known for being quite meddlesome and authoritative.

    True to form, Viaros immediately began interfering in the organization of the Olympics, specifically its location and timing. Arguing that Olympia was linked too closely with the pagan rites of their forefathers, he instead proposed that the New Games be held at Athens. This made a large amount of sense as Athens was the capital of the modern Hellenic Kingdom as well as the epicenter of culture in the nascent state. Moreover, there was also the issue that Olympia was a distant and largely uninhabited village whereas Athens was quickly becoming the largest city in the country, one which was easily accessible for any prospective participants and attendees. Not done yet, Viaros also proposed that the Games be scheduled for the 25th of March, coinciding with the annual Independence Day festivities as part of a larger celebration of Greek culture and its recent victories over its adversaries.

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    Medals issued in 1836 commemorating the War for Independence
    Ultimately, Soutsos and the Hellenic Olympic Society would eventually agree to the 25th of March, however, they vehemently refused to budge on the location of the Games believing the city of Olympia to be integral to the Olympics. Soutsos would famously quip that "the Olympics without Olympia would be akin to a ballgame without a ball." Sadly, this decision would prove to be their downfall as the site was in a rather poor state of disrepair after millennia of disuse. The general lack of infrastructure in the region also limited the number of participants and spectators willing to make the journey to rural Olympia in March 1836. Worse still there was great public discontent with the decision to link the modern Games to their ancient counterpart. Despite their considerable efforts to the contrary, many in Greek society viewed the Soutsos Games as a perverse display of Hellenic Paganism, rather than the glorification of Greek culture which Soutsos had originally envisioned.

    Nevertheless, Soutsos and his supporters pressed on and after months of buildup, the day finally came. Sadly, as expected by many, the results would prove to be rather disappointing. In total there were a mere thirteen athletes at Olympia willing to participate in the Games, with a scant 784 people in attendance to cheer them on, almost all of them being from the local area. Also in attendance were a number of musicians, singers and poets who serenaded visitors with their works, whilst peddlers advertised their merchandise. To help distance these Games from their Pagan roots, whilst still respecting the religious undertones of the event; Soutsos would invite the Metropolitan Larissis Kyrillos to lead a prayer service and serve as the Games’ Master of Ceremonies.

    Ironically, the pomp and circumstance surrounding the Soutsos Olympics would overshadow the Games themselves as there was only a single event at these 1836 Games, the Stadion foot race, just like the first Games of yore. The exhibitors were directed to the start line, readied themselves and jolted forward at the ringing of a gunshot. Moments later, the race was finished. The winner was a local Moreot man from Patras named Georgios Katopodis, who was described as thin and lanky by the few spectators still in attendance who were stunned to find out that the Games were over after all of a few seconds. Unimpressed by the display, many left in a huff and refused to purchase any of the merchandise being offered by the organizers, resulting in a sizeable loss in revenue for the event’s sponsors.

    Unwilling to commit further resources to an apparently failed initiative, many of their investors pulled their support from the venture. Making matters worse, Viaros Kapodistrias would be transferred to the Ministry of Justice several days after the Games. His successor as Minister of Internal Affairs, Iakovos Rizos Neroulos would prove much more hostile to Soutsos and his clique leading to the formal end of Government support for the Soutsos Olympics. Nevertheless, Soutsos and a small group of his supporters would organize a second Olympic Games at Olympia four years later in 1840, however, turnout would be even smaller than the first Soutsos Games, forcing the Hellenic Olympic Society to shutter its doors later that year.

    Despite its failures, the efforts of Panagiotis Soutsos and his supporters would help pave the way for future endeavors as other patrons would attempt to revitalize athletics within the Greek state. Most were local affairs that generated little publicity outside their communities. Eventually, one would emerge above the rest, as the great land magnate Evangelos Zappas would take up the torch for the Olympics several years later to great effect.

    A veteran of the War for Independence, Zappas had later emigrated abroad to Wallachia where he quickly earned his fortune as a businessman, trader, and land baron. By the 1850’s, Evangelos was among the richest men in the Balkans, with a net worth of several million Drachma, whilst also establishing important connections with some of the most influential people in the region. Rather than waste his fortune on himself as many of his contemporaries did, Zappas would instead invest it in the country of Greece, serving as a great benefactor of the nascent state. He would sponsor the construction of many schools and hospitals across the country, providing cheap medical services and easy access to education for many hundreds if not thousands of Greeks. However, his greatest contributions were in arts and culture, specifically the second Greek attempt at reviving the Olympic Games.

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    Evangelos Zappas; Land Magnate, Philanthropist, and “Father” of the Modern Olympic Games

    Like many others, Evangelos Zappas had been inspired by the poems of Panagiotis Soutsos, particularly those regarding Ancient Greece and the Olympics. He had even been a benefactor of both the 1836 and 1840 Soutsos Games, despite his admittedly minor fortune at the time. By the early 1850’s however, his financial standing was strong enough that he could organize the Games himself. At great personal expense, Zappas and his cousin Konstantinos would advocate for the revival of the Olympic Games in Greece. Fortunately for the two, the situation in Greece was vastly different than it was during the 1830’s. The country had almost completely recovered from the destructive War for Independence, the Greek economy was booming and, most importantly, there was now a greater interest in leisure activities and entertainment in Greece. While there were still those who viewed the Olympics with skepticism and mistrust owing to its Pagan history, most Greeks looked upon them more favorably, or at the very least, they didn’t oppose them to the same degree as they had over a decade before.

    As such, Zappas would find relatively little public resistance to his Olympic Games, the so-called Zappas Games, which he tentatively scheduled for the Summer of 1854. Moreover, as he could finance the Games by himself, Zappas needn’t worry himself over the conflicting opinions of benefactors and sponsors, as he didn’t need any. Nor would there be any efforts to tie his Games to the Greek Independence Day celebration as Soutsos had been forced to do years before. No! His Games would stand on their own as an event unto themselves. He would do things how he wanted to do them, scheduling the games for the Month of July just as they had in the days of yore.

    Yet, whilst he was a romantic at heart, Evangelos Zappas was also a prudent businessman and understood better than anyone the necessity of drawing a large crowd if his endeavor was to survive. Recognizing this, he would elect to stage his Olympic Games on the biggest stage in all of Greece, Athens. By 1854, Athens was hands down the largest city in Greece, with well over 60,000 full time residents and thousands more traveling to the city over the course of the year for work or leisure. Moreover, its infrastructure was the best in the country with the proliferation of railroads across the Attic peninsula and the enlargement of the ports of Piraeus and Laurium, easily connecting the capital city to the rest of Greece. Finally, there were also a host of possible venues within the city for his Games, with the Panathenaic being the most impressive and the most prestigious.

    Located in central Athens, the Panathenaic was a massive stadium that could seat nearly 50,000 spectators at its height. More impressive however, was its exquisite façade, which was made entirely out of the priceless Pentelic marble, providing the building with a flawlessly white appearance. However, by Zappas’ day it was little more than a half-buried ruin, as raiders and occupiers had looted the site for its riches and left the stadium derelict millennia ago. There had been some efforts to excavate the site, specifically when the architects Kleanthis and Schaubert had renovated Athens during the late 1830’s and early 1840’s, yet it still remained in disrepair by the early 1850's.

    This would not deter Zappas, however, as he swiftly reached out to his compatriot the Representative of Athens, Timoleon Filliman to lobby the Hellenic Government on his behalf. After greasing some palms, agreeing to extensive government oversight of the site’s excavation, and promising to keep the original design of the stadium largely intact; Zappas was finally given permission to begin restoration work at the Panathenaic. All this did not come cheaply, however, as the Hellenic Government maintained a monopoly on the priceless Pentelic Marble, and only produced it to interested parties at an incredibly high cost and only for projects they approved of. They also required that great care be exercised when digging at the Panathenaic to not endanger any artifacts that may be found, resulting in numerous delays and shutdowns whilst priceless relics were uncovered, documented, and then carefully removed from the site for safekeeping. Ultimately, the Panathenaic would not be ready in time for the 1854 Games, forcing the event to be relocated to the nearby Constitution Square for the duration of that year’s event.

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    The Panathenaic as it appeared during the Summer of 1854

    Despite this setback, the Panathenaic would feature prominently in the opening and closing ceremonies for the First Zappas Games and in several of the Competition's award celebrations. A factor working in Zappas' favor was that unlike the Soutsos Games of 1836 and 1840, these Games would feature a multitude of events including the Stadion (a 192-meter foot race) and the Dolichos (a 1354-meter foot race), discus and javelin throwing, long jumping, and wrestling. However, as sporting was still an uncommon pastime in mid-19th Century Greece, the contenders came from a wide variety of backgrounds and professions. Some were farmers or laborers, others were lawyers or bureaucrats, a few were soldiers or sailors, and a handful were even teachers and clergymen signaling a complete shift in public opinion from the Soutsos Games. There are even five recorded instances of policemen charged with patrolling the Square, who temporarily abandoned their posts to join in various events. More incredibly, however, was the account of a well-known blind beggar, who “miraculously” regained his vision in time to join in the running of the Dolichos and finished in a remarkable 4th place.[4]

    Many participants were attracted by the rather generous rewards awarded to the winners, with those finishing in first place in their respective competitions receiving 200 Drachma and an olive wreath to celebrate their victory. Those finishing in second or third place received lesser prizes of 100 Drachma and 50 Drachma respectively, both of which were still considerable amounts for the average worker at the time who barely made a quarter that sum in a month. Overall, over one hundred and eighty men would compete in the 1854 Olympic Games with nearly 30,000 people visiting the grounds over the three day event including Prime Minister Constantine Kanaris, Prince Constantine and Prince Alexander. Needless to say, the first Zappas Games were a surprising success.

    No sooner had the 1854 Games concluded did Zappas and his deputies begin planning a second Olympic Games, which were tentatively scheduled for the Summer of 1858. Before then, however, they had much work to do. First and foremost, the restoration of the Panathenaic needed to be completed as the leading complaint from most spectators were the poor views from the hastily erected stands and seats in Constitution Square. To that end, work at the ancient stadium was quickened, with the site being fully cleared of dirt and debris by October of 1856, the track was re-leveled in the Summer of 1957, while the repair of its stands was completed by May of the following year. Overall, Zappas would spend upwards of half a million Drachma on the restoration and renovation of the Panathenaic between 1852 and 1858.

    Zappas and his supporters would also begin efforts to standardize and professionalize the events at their Second Olympic Games. While amateurs spontaneously joining competitions on a whim had its benefits as many people were drawn to the Games for a chance to win the cash prizes; they also had their drawbacks as it lessened the quality of the Games themselves. There were several instances of bumbling buffoons and drunkards taking part in numerous events in which they had no right to partake in. Ultimately, their inclusion only made a mockery of the entire spectacle, much to the humiliation of Zappas and his fellows. To rectify this changes were needed to ensure the quality of the competitors was improved.

    There after, Zappas and his conglomerate would formally establish the Hellenic Olympic Committee (Ellinikí Olympiakí Epitropí) which would govern the running and organization of all future Olympic Games. The EOE would require that all participants in their Games announce their intentions at least three months in advance, thus preventing any similar instances from happening again. Whilst this would lead to some backlash from some segments of the Greek press who lauded the First Game for its great openness to the public, most approved of the measure citing it as an improvement. Moreover, this measure would ensure that only the most truly committed athletes entered into the Games.

    Finally, to further the appeal of the Games, Zappas and his Committee would expand the number of events from the original six (the Stadion, Dolichos, discus throwing, javelin throwing, long jumping, and wrestling) to eleven. These new additions were a 400-meter race roughly equivalent to the ancient Diaulos, a high jump, a Triple jump, Pole Climbing, and the Pentathlon. Whilst some would also advocate for the return of Pankration, the Marathon, and horse races in keeping with the past, others pushed for the inclusion of new events like shooting contests, bicycle races and swims of various distances. Ultimately, it was decided that further events would be added in future Games if the interest was there for them. With these changes enacted and work on the Panathenaic completed, the Second Zappas Olympic Games was ready to commence on the 11th of July 1858.

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    The Panathenaic at the 1858 Olympics Opening Ceremony

    Like the 1854 Games, the Second Zappas Olympics would prove to be immensely popular with nearly 50,000 people attending over the course of the weeklong contest including King Leopold, Prime Minister Kanaris, and Prince Constantine among many others. Also in attendance were a number of foreign dignitaries and diplomats, including the exiled Prince of Serbia, Mihailo Obrenovic, the former UK Ambassador to Greece and current Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet, Lord Edmund Lyons, and his successor in the post, Sir Thomas Wyse. However, owing to the more restrictive application process for this year’s Games, only 64 athletes would participate in these Games as opposed to the 181 contestants four years earlier. Most of these competitors were from the local region, with nearly 36 coming from Athens alone. Still, they would see a multitude of competitors from all across Greece travel to the Panathenaic to compete for their chance at glory.

    Six days of competition would follow as athletes battled for victory in their respective competitions until only one stood atop all the rest in their field. Ultimately, the event would end on the 17th of July with surprisingly little fanfare. While critics would praise Zappas and the HOC for the better venue and for establishing more events; they would argue that the 58 Games, whilst certainly more organized, were also a more sterilized and lethargic version of the 54 Games. Many prospective exhibitors were turned away at the gates, apparently not knowing of the rule changes regarding athletes. Nevertheless, most looked upon this competition with optimism as a promising step in the right direction. Moreover, these Olympic Games would also see the first usage of medallions for those competitors finishing in first place for their respective competitions. Whilst these games would not be memorable as the First Zappas Games or the one immediately after; they were still well regarded by the press and people of Greece at the time.

    Seeking to improve the level of competition even further, Zappas and the EOE would establish a fund which would be doled out to athletes upon their qualification. These funds would support said athletes, providing them food and housing in Athens provided they dedicate themselves to training for their specific field. Additional funding would be put aside to establish a formal gymnasium in Athens – the Gymnasterion, which would be comparable to those facilities found across Germany, France and the United Kingdom. There, athletes could train in a controlled environment where they could hone their skills to the best of their ability.

    Other changes would include the issuing of matching uniforms for participants to improve the cohesion and professional image of the attending athletes. These included a white tunic with blue stripes and a matching pair of white shorts/pants depending on personal preference. The awarding of medals to the victors was also well received by the public. To expand upon this, athletes finishing in first place would receive a gold coated medallion, while lesser medals of silver and copper would also be provided to those athletes finishing in second and third place respectively. An official Olympic Hymn was written for the Opening and Closing ceremonies for the Game, whilst festivities and celebrations were scheduled in the days leading up to the Games themselves.

    Finally, another 13 events would be added to preexisting 11 events for the 1862 Games. They included three new foot races a 100-meter foot race, a 5000-meter foot race, and a Marathon race akin to the ancient Marathon of Pheidippides. Additionally, three hurdle races were included at distances of 110-meters, 200-meters, and 400 meters. Other new events included a shot-put competition, a fencing competition, two shooting events; one with handguns at 25 meters and the other with rifles at 200 meters, and three freestyle swimming events of 100-meters, 200-meters, and 400-meters. For the swimming events, it was decided that participants would swim in the nearby Bay of Zea as they could not afford to build a specialized swimming facility in time for the next games in 1862. Instead, they would erect smaller leisure facilities, lavatories, and rest areas for attending spectators on the shoreline.

    With these changes made the 1862 Olympics would begin in earnest on the 13th of July 1862. Whilst many changes had been enacted to make for a smoother and more entertaining viewing experience, the number of spectators at the opening ceremony was markedly lower in 1862 than it had been in 1858. Whereas attendance had been at an impressive 50,000 people at the Second Olympic Games four years earlier, only around 41,000 attended the Third Games. To the EOE’s credit, however, the number of participating athletes was more than double that of 1858, with nearly 160 exhibitors at the Panathenaic on the First day of the Games.

    Of particular note were the inclusion of 7 Britons in the field of athletes at this year’s Games. These Englishmen were sailors and officers of the Mediterranean Fleet whose ship the HMS Warrior had been tasked with patrolling the Aegean in a show of strength after the recent War with Russia. Although their involvement in the Games was a matter of controversy at the time as non-Hellenic peoples didn’t usually participate; Zappas and the Olympic Committee had conveniently overlooked the issue when pressured by the British Ambassador Sir Thomas Wyse. Moreover, they had broken no rules or regulations when announcing their intent to participate in the Games. Overall, their involvement would have little impact on the outcome of most events, bar the rifles competition as one Englishman, Commander George Tryon would finish second behind a Greek Army Lieutenant named Ioannis Dimakopoulos.

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    Commander George Tryon (Left) and Lieutenant Ioannis Dimakopoulos (Right)​

    Controversy aside, the 1862 Games were viewed positively by Greek and foreign press resulting in an outpouring of interest from various Olympic organizations across the Globe. Although many members of the Hellenic Olympic Committee were reluctant to open up their Games to foreign athletes and foreign interests, Zappas and a number of his cohorts were more receptive to the idea and would eventually decide in favor of greater foreign involvement, starting with the 1866 Olympic Games. Sadly, Evangelos Zappas would not live to see the fourth such Games as he would die in 1865 at the age of 64. Before passing, Zappas would leave the remainder of his fortune to the Hellenic Olympic Committee, later rechristened simply as the Olympic Committee - which would establish a fund to continue the Olympic Games in his honor.

    Although his death would be a hard hit to his family, friends, and colleagues; his tremendous efforts to restore the Olympic Games were simply incredible to say the least. It is no wonder then, why many consider him to be the father of the modern Olympic Games. Ultimately, the Zappas Olympic Games would continue and eventually morph into the current iteration of the Olympic Games that we know today, with the first officially recognized competition being the one held in 1866. All told, there would be over 200 athletes from eleven different countries, almost all of which were European, although 3 athletes were from the Americas (2 were from the USA and 1 was from Chile).

    Since that time, the Games have only continued to grow and prosper as more countries, more athletes, and more events were added with each and every competition. Eventually, a Winter Olympics comprised of winter themed sporting events would be formed around the turn of the Century. Then later on, women would be allowed to openly participate in the Games. While these developments are worthy of their own chapters, they are beyond the scopes of this article detailing the Modern Game’s origin. Nevertheless, it is safe to say, that the Olympic Games were here to stay thanks to the considerable efforts of Evangelos Zappas, Panagiotis Soutsos, and all those preceding them.

    Next Time: Mr. Smith goes to Athens


    [1] There is some debate over the exact year of the first Olympic Games, with some ancient sources arguing that the Games of 776 were not the First, only that it was the first recorded. Archaeological evidence does seem to support the theory that there were earlier competitions at Olympia.
    [2] There were only two rules in ancient Pankration: no biting, and no gouging of the eyes. Everything else was permitted.
    [3] In OTL, Soutsos and members of the Greek government considered including an Olympic Games as part of the Independence Day celebrations. Sadly, these talks came to nothing for one reason or another. ITTL, Soutsos is more successful.
    [4] This is actually based off of OTL. Apparently, the beggar in question was only pretending to be blind.
     
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    Chapter 93: Mr. Smith goes to Athens
  • Author's Note: Okay, I now I said that I'd have this update ready last weekend. It didn't happen because I am an addict and my drug is Elden Ring, which has consumed pretty much all of my free time the last few weeks.:oops: Anyway, I managed to put this chapter together in between my play sessions over the last month, so hopefully this isn't too disjointed.;) Before we begin though, I have a few things I wish to opine on.

    Regarding the Olympics TTL:
    While I haven't completely ruled out making Greece the permanent site for the Summer Games - they will definitely be a reoccurring host for the Games, much more so than OTL. Now the Winter Games on the other hand, will be generally based outside of Greece more often than not when they're eventually founded In fact, there may not even be a Greek Winter Games, as there are many other countries with stronger winter sports pedigree than Greece.

    @Vaeius Sadly, I don't have a name in mind, it was just a reference to the OTL 1896 Olympic Games who allegedly had a Chilean runner named Luis Subercaseaux participate in the 100, 400, and 800 meter runs. His involvement is disputed, however, as he was not recorded as starting any of these races despite being listed on all three.

    Regarding Greece conquering Anatolia/the Russian Civil War/events far into the future:
    So minor spoiler, but I'm not planning on Greece conquering all of Anatolia, or even most of Anatolia. In fact, they'd be lucky to hold onto just the coasts of Anatolia. That said, I never said they won't try for more than they can realistically hold.

    We're human and humans make mistakes. Similarly, the characters in this story are human too, they will make mistakes, they will be brash and arrogant and bite off more than they can chew and they will probably fail as a result, which I honestly think is more interesting than a story about everyone doing everything right and getting everything they want. And who knows, maybe through some massive stroke of luck, they do end up getting much more than they reasonably should and if they do, then they will have to endure all the consequences that success brings.

    However, this is all many years in the future ITTL and many, many, many chapters ahead from where we are in the narrative right now, so much can and will change between now and then. In fact, the world is already quite different from OTL and will continue to diverge more and more with each passing year ITTL. So if an event like the Russian Civil War emerges in this timeline, it will not be like the Civil War in OTL, of that I am certain.

    Regarding the K&G video:
    I'm not a native Greek speaker, so I don't really have a basis for how to correctly pronounce anyone's names both OTL and ITTL. It could also be that the spelling I'm using for some of the names doesn't line up that well with the pronunciations used in the video either.

    A large part of the problem could also be that I haven't really covered the War for Independence in much depth since I started the timeline over 4 years ago. In fact, most of the characters featured in those first 30 chapters back then are either dead or have largely retired from public life by this point in the timeline, so it makes sense that they'd seem unfamiliar to some of you. Hell, as the timeline officially started in July 1822, I didn't really get the chance to cover the founding members of the Filiki Eteria or some of the early war figures like Alexander Ypsilantis, Athanasios Diakos, or Germanos III.

    Now, without further ado....

    Part 93: Mr. Smith goes to Athens

    Areopagus_Rock_From_Which_St._Paul_Preached_to_the_Athenians._%281841%29_-_TIMEA.jpg

    The Areopagus in Athens – site of the Ancient Athenian Judicial Council

    Following the latest round of elections in the Fall of 1857, the Kómma Ethnikofrónōn (the Nationalist Party) would pick up a staggering 57 seats in the Vouli - the Hellenic Legislature’s Lower Chamber - raising their majority from 81 seats in 1854 to 138 in 1857. The Fileléfthero Kómma (the Liberal Party) of Alexandros Mavrokordatos, would similarly make gains from the New Provinces, with his group earning 23 new seats, raising their total to 79 Representatives in the Vouli. However, despite making reasonable gains in this recent Election, the Liberals' share of the vote in the Lower Chamber would still decrease by almost 5%. Moreover, their situation was even worse when compared to the aftermath of the recent 1855 Snap Elections, which had seen them pick up 17 of the 20 seats allocated to the Ionian Islands, narrowing the gap between the two parties considerably from 81:56 to 84:73.

    Whereas before, the abstention or betrayal of a small handful of Nationalist legislators could decide the outcome of a bill in the Liberals' favor; after the 1857 elections, the Nationalists had a massive advantage of 59 members providing for a much larger cushion in the Vouli. Moreover, as the rules of the Vouli only required a simple majority to pass legislation, they only needed the support of 109 legislators to vote for a bill; meaning that as many as 29 Nationalist representatives could break ranks with their Party leadership and still fail to stop a bill from becoming law. Moreover, they essentially had a two thirds majority within the Vouli on their own, meaning they could essentially override any veto issued by King Leopold with only a handful of Liberal defectors. With this turn of events, the Liberals effectively lost whatever negotiating power they still had within the Legislature, effectively marking the end for any formal opposition to the Nationalist Party within Greece for the better part of the next two decades. This period, extending from 1857 to 1873 would be known to posterity as the Nationalist Oligarchy.

    However, in spite of the preeminence of the Nationalist Party in the Hellenic Legislature; they were not as all-powerful as they seemed. On the surface, the Nationalist Party was a socially conservative and economically liberal political party that advocated for the Enosis (Union) of the Greek State with traditionally Greek lands. Yet, buried beneath this monolithic veneer that the Party bosses and publicists presented it to be, the Nationalists were in fact quite a diverse group with many differing opinions and ideologies that would often put it at odds with itself.

    Many members expressed differing economic, social, and political ideologies that conflicted and contrasted greatly with many of their peers. Some supported socialist economic policies that would see the Hellenic Government take more control over the Greek economy, enacting stricter regulations upon the private market to better the conditions of the Greek workers. Others favored a more liberal, laize-faire approach, enabling the market to regulate itself and sort out its problems on its own. Some wanted greater government involvement in the day to day lives of its citizens, whilst others wanted as little government interference as possible. A few Nationalists would even whisper of dissolving the Monarchy altogether and establishing a Republic, although they were generally relegated to the fringes of the Party.

    In fact, the only unifying tenant of the Nationalist Party was the Megali Idea - the expansion of the Greek State into historical Greek lands. Yet here too, the extent of their ambitions also differed with many clamoring for the reconquest of Macedonia, Thrace, Constantinople, Ionia, Bithynia, Cyprus and the Northern Aegean Islands. Some pushed for more, however, calling for the liberation of distant Pontus, Cappadocia, and Cilicia reconstituting the old Rhomaion borders in Anatolia. A few more radical thinkers even suggested the expansion of Greece across the Mediterranean into Southern Italy, the Levantine coast, and North Africa.[1] Ironically, this support for the Megali Idea had fully permeated the rival Liberal Party by this time, effectively eroding much of the distinction between the two parties beyond minor economic and social policy differences.

    Megali Idea .png

    One of the many interpretations of the Megali Idea
    In the midst of all this, several distinct factions would begin to form under the umbrella of the wider Nationalist Party. Of these, the most boisterous were the so called Sosialethnikistés (Social Nationalists). These members of the Nationalist Party were a vocal minority within the overarching organization who clamored for the establishment of social safety nets, greater government spending on education and healthcare, more extensive land reform, and the confirmation of worker’s rights and trade unions. They also supported a more limited expansion of the Greek state to include the Aegean Islands, Cyprus, Ionia, Macedonia, Thrace and Constantinople. Their stance towards ethnic minorities was also much more reserved and respectful, compared to the bombastic and downright xenophobic views held by some of their peers.

    In total, the Social Nationalists would number 17 members who caucused together in the Vouli after the 1857 Elections. Most would come from the poorer provinces of Western Greece such as Aetolia-Acarnania, Arta, and Argyrokastro, although two would come from the Nomos of Heraklion and Chania. Incidentally, many were also former members of the short lived Hellenic Socialist Party which had first emerged in 1848, only to quickly disappear by the 1855 Elections. Whilst they initially constituted a small faction within the Nationalist Party, they were quite outspoken in their opinions and used every resource available to them to make their voices heard making them quite popular with the young and disenfranchised of Greek society for whom they fought.

    In the next elections, their numbers would more than double to 41 Representatives and continue to rise every election that, before leveling off at 52 representatives in the 1869 Elections. Because of their meteoric rise in popularity and their rather radical political agenda, the other, more conservative elements of the Nationalist Party would cooperate to suppress them. This coordinated opposition to their agenda would eventually force many of the Social Nationalists to formal break with the Nationalists and create their own political party in 1875, the Hellenic Labor Party – an act that would mark the beginning of the end for the Nationalist Party.

    470px-SEKE.jpg


    The Shipwrights’ Hammer and the Farmers’ Sickle -Symbols of the Hellenic Labor Party circa 1880

    The next major group, forming the largest faction within the Nationalist Party with 62 representatives in the Vouli were the Palioí Ethnikistés, the so-called Old Nationalists. Most of these men were members of the Nationalist Party prior to the Enosis of Thessaly and Epirus with the Kingdom of Greece, in fact many were holdovers from the days of the Ioannis Kolettis regime. They were predominantly wealthy land holders and shipping magnates, rather than the fire brand speakers and philosophers that made up the Social Nationalist ranks. Whilst they normally supported limited government spending beyond its current purview, they did favor economic investments particularly those that benefited themselves or their political allies. As such, some of their members developed a reputation for nepotism and corruption in later years for their rather self-interested political agenda. Whilst their initiatives would do a measure of good for their own constituents; over time, their share of the Vouli would gradually diminish in favor of various other factions which eventually emerged from the Nationalist yoke.

    The first of these groups to arise from the scandal riddled Old Nationalist Faction would be the Anexártitoi Ethnikistés, the Independent Nationalists who quickly gathered 27 members to their cause following the 1861 elections. Like the Old Nationalists, they are generally considered among the many conservative sub-factions of the Nationalist Party. However, in comparison to the Palioí Ethnikistés, the Anexártitoi Ethnikistés usually fall in the more liberal end of the Conservative factions and usually tended towards the center on most policy issues. Moreover, they would portray themselves as moderates, independent of the shadowy machinations and byzantine intrigue governing the Nationalist Party Leadership.

    Complicating matters were the inclusion of various other groups, like the Nationalist Republicans who desired to abolish the Monarchy and establish a democratic republic in its place. By in large, they were a minority, within a minority, as most of their members came from within the ranks of the Social Nationalists, as such, in 1857 they only boasted 5 members. Nevertheless, they would provide a distinct Anti-Monarchist flair to the group going forward. On the opposite end of the political spectrum were the Orthodox Nationalists. These were 11 of more conservative members of the Nationalist Party who advocated for the stricter adherence to traditon, the continued prevalence of the landed elite and shipping magnates, and the zealous pursuit of the Megali Idea. Generally, they caucused with the Old Nationalists, but as time passed they would begin moving in their own direction, away from the increasingly corrupt clique that led the Nationalist Party.

    Beyond these four were several other sub-factions, yet they were based more on regional or ethnic identity, rather than political ideology in most cases. More often than not, these groups formed voting blocks of like-minded representatives usually from one particular region of the country such as the Moreot Nationalists, the Epirote Nationalists, and the Cretan Nationalists among others. Generally speaking, their agenda consisted of gaining greater government funding for their constituents and municipalities, usually out of genuine interest for their kin back home, although there are a few instances of Representatives using these initiatives to line their own pockets as well.

    With all these competing interests and agendas, it is likely that the Nationalist Party would have failed miserably were it in the hands of lesser men. Thankfully for the Party and its supporters, its leader at this time was the venerable Navy Admiral turned politician, Constantine Kanaris who had navigated these tumultuous waters and created something resembling a modern political party. However, by 1860, Kanaris was getting old, quite old at 70 years of age. Moreover, his once robust health was not what it once was as the stress and strain of governing a country as rowdy as Greece for seven long years had begun to take its toll on the old Navarchos.

    347px-Konstantinos_Kanaris.png

    Constantine Kanaris, Prime Minister of Greece circa 1860
    Adding to the old sailor’s troubles were a number of personal tragedies that had befallen his family during his tenure as Prime Minister. In no less than 12 years, he would lose three of his children between 1848 and 1860. The first to perish would be his only daughter, Maria in March of 1848, who would sadly succumb to the rigors of childbirth – something that was still incredibly perilous in that day and age even for the rich and powerful. Thankfully, the child, a boy named Konstantinos would survive, but the loss of his only daughter would weigh heavily on the Greek Premier for the next few years as she was barely more than a child at the time of her death.

    The next to perish would be his youngest son Aristidis who would succumb to typhus in November of 1855. Unlike his father and older brothers, young Aristidis had joined the Army, attended the Hellenic Military Academy, and became a junior officer in 1853. Two years later, Lieutenant Aristidis Kanaris and a number of his peers would later be selected to serve as official observers for the Greek Army during the War between Russia, Britain and the Ottoman Empire. Sadly, he would never make it to the front on the Danube as he would fatefully come into contact with a number of sickly British soldiers whilst laying over at the port of Varna.

    Taking pity on them, Aristidis would attempt to aid in their treatment, only to become afflicted with the terrible disease himself and perish before word had even reached Athens of his illness. The sudden death of Kanaris’ youngest son was certainly a tragedy as he was a promising young officer, but it was not fruitless, as his death would galvanize many Greek doctors and nurses to journey to Constantinople where they would care for the sick and wounded of all colors, countries, and creeds saving hundreds, if not thousands of lives in the process. This was of little comfort to Constantine Kanaris, however, as the loss of his youngest child would never stop hurting as he himself had pushed Aristidis to join the expedition to the Danube, believing it would benefit his career and broaden his horizons.

    The last tragedy to befall the house of Kanaris would come in early January of 1860 as Konstantinos’ eldest son, Nikolaos was struck down by rioters in Beirut. Nikolaos had been appointed as the deputy Greek consul for the city of Beirut at the behest of his father to further Greek interests in the region. Unfortunately, the timing could not have been worse as within a month of his arrival in country, the whole Levant would explode into sectarian violence as the Muslims turned against their Christian neighbors beating, brutalizing, and murdering any they came across. Mount Lebanon was no different as the local Druze and Sunni communities, emboldened by their compatriots’ actions in Syria - rebelled against the reign of their Maronite ruler, Qasim Shihab.[2]

    Caught up in all of this was Nikolaos Kanaris who had made the fateful decision to stay in Beirut and provide shelter for numerous Maronite and Armenian families seeking refuge from persecution. By extending his protection to the Christians of Beirut, Nikolaos put himself at great personal risk as rioters frequently harassed the Greek Consulate, profaning its walls and hurling rocks, roof tiles and fecal matter at its staff members as they passed through its gate. Nevertheless, his selflessness would save many dozens of lives, who were then spirited away to the hills and valleys of Mount Lebanon, or overseas where they’d be safe for a time. Sadly, tensions within the city continued to grow and the boldness of the protesters grew with it. By late August, tensions reached a boiling point, when a mob of angered Arabs arrived outside his door demanding he surrender his guests to the mob. Nikolaos refused their demands as he had time and time again, but this time, the rioters refused to leave. Emotions quickly escalated and moments later, Nikolaos Kanaris was dead, murdered in cold blood by the mob, who summarily stormed his residence and butchered all inside – be they Maronite, Armenian, or Greek - with reckless abandon.

    590px-1860_in_Lebanon.jpg

    Beiruti Protestors gather outside the home of Nikolaos Kanaris

    Furious and aggrieved by the death of his eldest son, Kanaris dispatched envoys to the Ottoman government and Lebanon Emir demanding justice. Unfortunately, as Anti-Greek sentiment was on the rise in Kostantîniyye at this time, very little was done about the matter by the Sublime Porte beyond a token offer of condolences and a half-hearted apology. War between Greece and the Ottoman Empire was only averted by the considerable efforts of the French ambassador, Edouard Thouvenel who petitioned the Porte for a French led Peace Keeping expedition to restore the Sultan's Peace and bring those insidious brigands to justice.

    Forming the core of this Peace Keeping Force were three French infantry regiments and a regiment of hussars under the command of General Charles de Beaufort d’Hautpoul. Alongside the French were a number of British, Prussian, Austrian, Hungarian and Italian troops with the begrudging approval of the Beiruti Government and their overlord in Konstantinyye. In addition to these land forces were over twenty warships from various foreign powers, with the largest contingent coming from little Greece. The Greek contribution to this Peace Corps was surprisingly large relative to their influence, nevertheless, they still managed to mobilize five ships including a pair of screw frigates (VP Psara and VP Hydra), a sailing frigate (VP Chios), and two sloops of war (VP Messolongion and VP Tripolitsa). However, owing to the growing hostility between Athens and Constantinople, no Greek forces were permitted to land in Lebanon much to the chagrin of the Hellenes.

    Nevertheless, the Greek vessels were quite active patrolling the waters off the coast of Beirut owing to the vigorous leadership of the Greek Squadron’s commanding officer, Antinavarchos Themistocles Kanaris - younger brother of the slain Nikolaos Kanaris. Naturally upset with the murder of his elder brother, Themistocles had few qualms meting out justice upon any rabble rousers his ships, sailors and marines came across while in theater. During the campaign, no less than a dozen "pirate" vessels would be sunk, and another 22 were harassed by the angered Greeks, who clearly had a bone to pick with rowdy Arabs.

    Despite this oversized Greek Naval contingent, the other Powers would generally take the lead in the campaign on land, pacifying the region through shows of force and acts of shock and awe rather than wanton destruction and callous murders. Eventually, their efforts would pay off, leading to the surrender or flight of almost every major rebel element in the Mount Lebanon/Syria region by the beginning of 1861. With the rebellion effectively over, the Prince of Lebanon, Qasim Shihab quickly rounded up a number of prominent prisoners, executed a number of them, and shipped their heads to the Greek captains anchored off the coast of Beirut as a sign of good will towards the Athenian Government – effectively ameliorating the angered Greek Prime Minister.

    630px-French_expeditionary_corps_landing_in_Beyrouth_16_August_1860.jpg

    French troops arrive in Beirut
    Beyond these personal losses for the old Navarchos, the Kanaris Administration would also be rocked by a number of scandals and controversies around this time; chief among these being the Voulgaris Affair. In 1858, the Greek Minister of the Interior, Dimitrios Voulgaris would be accused of using Government money to buy votes for himself and several of his closest allies during the most recent elections. Voulgaris naturally refuted the charges against him and would vigorously proclaim his innocence. However, many of his colleagues would contradict the Minister and admit to their involvement in the plot, before summarily resigning from office in disgrace. By May of 1858, more than half a dozen Representatives had left office, either permanently or via extended leaves of absences, never to return.

    Voulgaris remained obstinate, however, much to the chagrin of Constantine Kanaris who quickly found himself under increasing pressure to sunder all ties with his longtime ally and friend. For his part, Kanaris stayed loyal to his colleague far longer than he reasonably should have as a second rumor of nepotism, bribery, and coercion within the Ministry of the Interior conveniently emerged in late September, undermining Voulgaris’ reputation even further. With Kanaris reluctant to act, the Vouli would be forced to make him. A total of 171 Representatives from both the Nationalist and Liberal Parties would present Kanaris with a fait accompli demanding the removal of Voulgaris’ from his Ministry posting, or else he risk a vote of no confidence that would likely see him overthrown. With no other choice, the old Navarchos would accept their demands and compel Voulgaris to give up his Cabinet post and retire with honor whilst he still had some left.

    Slighted at this perceived betrayal, Voulgaris would instead take the matters to the Judiciary where he would choose to settle the matter in the courtroom. Placed under a bright spotlight, the crux of the argument against Voulgaris would eventually collapse as the instigators of the rumors conveniently failed to show in court. While Voulgaris’ adversaries would claim coercion against the witnesses, he would nevertheless prevail owing to lack of evidence. Yet, in spite of this great victory, his name was forever tarnished and would never again attain the immense power and influence that he once held. Even still, Dimitrios Voulgaris remained a rather popular and charismatic figure in the Vouli with many important supporters in the Chamber. However, having been spurned by his former friend and ally, he would then focus all of his energies into opposing Kanaris.

    330px-Dimitrios_Voulgaris.png

    Dimitrios Voulgaris; Minister of the Treasury (1848-1854), Minister of the Interior (1854-1858) and center of the notorious Voulgaris Affair in late 1858

    Although the Voulgaris Affair was certainly the most famous example of corruption within the Kanaris Administration it was not the first he had faced, nor would it be the last. In fact, his first term as Prime Minister back in early 1850, had been riddled with controversies and scandals. None were more damning, however, than those surrounding his controversial Minister of Finance, Nikolaos Poniropoulos. Poniropoulos, a former klepht captain turned politician, was forced upon Kanaris by his old rival Ioannis Kolettis, who threatened to gridlock the Vouli unless his several of his proxies were granted Cabinet postings in Kanaris’ nascent regime - Poniropoulos being one such proxy. As his support within the Vouli was quite limited at the time, Kanaris was forced to accept the arrangement with Kolletis much to his own chagrin.

    However, as he would soon discover, the agreement with Kolettis was a poison pill, as Poniropoulos would soon use his new prerogatives to manipulate grain prices to the benefit of himself and close associates. This scheme would see grain prices steadily outpace the rise in inflation, earning Poniropoulos and his allies hundreds of thousands of Drachma in the process. Naturally, this would also hurt the poor and impoverished of Greece who were already struggling to feed themselves and their families. Within a matter of weeks, most of the major cities of Greece were awash with protests calling for the removal of Poniropoulos, whilst some municipalities would report multiple riots over bread. Unable to act decisively given his own delicate grip on power, Kanaris would eventually be forced to resign, bringing about the Ioannis Kolettis Administration.

    Today, many historians believe that the Poniropoulos Grain Controversy was orchestrated by Kolettis to undermine Kanaris and sink his Premiership, as Poniropoulos would conveniently retire within days of Kanaris' resignation, whilst his controversial policies were summarily revoked. While Ioannis Kolettis was long dead by 1858, his influence over the Nationalist Party remained strong as many of his cronies and underlings remained in prominent positions all throughout the Party leadership. Moreover, these same men continued to operate in a ruthlessly calculated manner, sparking numerous controversies and scandals in the years that followed. Nevertheless, they were just the tip of the iceberg as the most widespread case of Government corruption, would ironically come from a bipartisan piece of legislation; the 1859 Land Reform Act.

    While on the surface, the Land Reform Act was a measure meant to protect the small landholders and yeoman farmers of Greece at the expense of the country’s large magnates and latifundia, it cannot be denied that the bill contained a massive payout to the landed elite of Greece. In return for their support for the measure establishing various protections for small family farmers, many prominent landowners would receive lump sums of cash amounting to upwards of 14 million Drachma. Officially, this was given as recompense to those who purchased land and property from the fleeing Chifliks, however, many other figures who weren’t involved in this illicit trade with the Turks were also recipients of this Government capital.

    Moreover, hidden deep within the Bill were numerous carve outs and loopholes, exempting various magnates from several taxes and fees that they might otherwise had faced for their illegal actions, costing the Government millions in uncollected revenue. Finally, there were a number of promises for future Government investment into infrastructure projects in their respective provinces to mollify the landed elite. This latter measure has generally been glossed over as it was lumped in with additional provisions for the poor and downtrodden, although these handouts to the poor are relatively meager in comparison. Overall, the 1859 Land Reform Act was a mixed bag for many Greeks, as though it did strengthen protections for small landholders across the country; it also disproportionately benefited the landed elite, who were officially the targets of these new Government regulations.

    Whilst corruption was certainly a problem in the Legislature, it was unfortunately endemic throughout all levels of the Greek Government. Often times, low level bureaucrats sent to gather that year’s tax revenue, would be skim several Drachma off the top, then report the reduced amount to government offices in Athens. Other times, they would dramatically under report the properties of a local magnate in return for a sizeable bribe – usually lesser than the taxes owed. As there was little in the way of Government oversight at this time, any evidence of wrongdoing would usually be chalked up to accounting errors in most instances, never to be redressed again. Local notaries were also prone to bribery and often committed the very fraud they were hired to prevent. That is not to say that corrupt government officials were not caught or punished for their crimes, but as long as they didn’t grow too bold or fail to cover their tracks effectively, then nothing would normally come of their criminal behavior. It likely didn’t help that the group responsible for investigating these crimes and arresting the alleged perpetrators, the Gendarmerie were embroiled in various controversies of their own.

    As Greece did not have a proper civilian police force prior to the 1880’s, much of the responsibilities for keeping the peace in Greece fell on the Hellenic Army’s Gendarmerie Regiment who were essentially overworked, overburdened, and, more often than not, under paid. Under normal circumstances, the Gendarmerie would be tasked with policing the Army’s ranks, hunting bandits, and enforcing the Government’s authority over the more autonomous regions of Greece such as the Mani, the islands of Hydra and Spetses, and Thesprotia among others. In addition to these, however, they were often charged with suppressing popular unrest throughout the country, breaking up protests, arresting criminals, and guarding prisons. Whilst these were certainly irksome tasks, most members of the Gendarmerie were not above taking bribes to look the other way on certain issues or to go after one's rivals instead.

    This latter point would become particularly egregious under Ioannis Kolettis, who notoriously used the Gendarmerie as his cudgel against his many political opponents during his Premiership. The famed Strategos Yannis Makriyannis was coerced into an early retirement by the captain of a Gendarmerie squadron who conveniently arrested his son, Dimitris for stealing the day after a particularly heated spat he had with Kolettis. Similarly, Alexandros Mavrokordatos also found himself on the wrong side of the Gendarmerie who raided his family home in Athens no less than 17 times between 1850 and 1853. Even King Leopold would find himself at the Gendarmerie’s mercy as Kolettis provided Leopold with an “escort” of Gendarmerie officers, loyal only to the Prime Minister for every one of his speeches before the Legislature (eventually Leopold would stop visiting the Vouli entirely until Kolettis’ death in 1853).

    Beyond this, the Gendarmerie were also known to harass various ethnic minorities during Kolettis’ Premiership, often questioning them about their religion, citizenship, and mother tongue. If the suspect was found to be disagreeable, they would usually have their businesses disrupted, their goods seized, or their families bothered. If they resisted beyond what was expected, as happened from time to time, they could find themselves being incarcerated or beaten, or both, or worse in some rarer instances. This trend would sadly continue well into the Kanaris years, particularly in the New Provinces as the Athens worked to establish its control over Thessaly and Epirus.

    Whilst the takeover of these regions was mostly peaceful, there were several government reports of “resistance” by indigenous Muslim communities against the new Greek authorities. According to some questionable accounts, Muslim bandits attacked several bureaucrats in the region of Trikala, killing five and wounding three more in late 1857. Soon after, the Turkish and Albanian communities in the area would find themselves being forced from their homes by the Gendarmerie who coerced many hundreds, if not thousands into departing for the Ottoman Empire. Coincidentally, their now vacant properties were summarily confiscated and auctioned off at a premium rate, primarily to rich land magnates with connections in high places. The continued sectarian violence in Thesprotia and its environs would also see the Gendarmerie called in to restore order, although in this case it would generally be utilized against both Albanian Muslims and Epirote Christians without prejudice.

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    Troops of the Hellenic Gendarmerie

    Beyond these acts of political violence and coercion, there were also several instances of politicians using their clout to benefit themselves or their family through acts of nepotism. By all accounts, Constantine Kanaris has generally had a good personal record regarding corruption during his decades of public service, yet even he was not above using his office's power and influence to benefit his sons. This was done namely by influencing the Foreign Ministry, the Hellenic Navy, and the Hellenic Army to advance their careers at a quickened pace or to provide them with extraordinary experiences most of their peers could hardly dream of. Such is almost certainly the case with young Aristidis, who was barely out of the Military Academy in 1853 only to be “selected” to serve as an official observer for the Great Russian War less than two years later. Similarly, Nikolaos would see himself appointed to the consulate in Beirut, a posting generally described as plush and incredibly exotic by his peers, despite having only joined the Foreign Ministry a few years prior.

    Needless to say, such allegations against Kanaris were quickly silenced followed the successive deaths of his youngest and eldest sons in 1855 and 1860 respectively. For even his most committed rivals, such talk was viewed in especially poor taste and needlessly cruel towards a man who had lost three of his children in barely twelve years. Moreover, most members of the political and social elite in Greece were guilty of the same offenses, having exploited their power, influence, and personal connections to better themselves, their families, or their friends. It was the norm for those in positions of power; not just in Greece, but all across the globe. Moreover, it was also something that was incredibly hard to prove in a court of law, as in many cases, clout and personal connections could only contribute so much to a man’s career. Unless they had the skills to succeed on their own, it did not matter who they knew or who their parents were.

    For instance, whilst Panos Kolokotronis almost certainly used his office as Aide de Camp to King Leopold to implant his own son Theodoros into Prince Constantine’s inner circle of friends, his schemes would have come to naught if the two boys didn’t form a genuine relationship in the years that followed. Similarly, Alexandros Mavrokordatos was known to patronize the career of his brother-in-law Spyridon Trikoupis, appointing him to various high offices during his singular term as Prime Minister and then later sponsoring his leadership for the Liberal Party upon his retirement from public office in 1861. Yet it cannot be denied that Trikoupis was a talented orator and a skilled diplomat who would have earned such an impressive resume on his own at a later date even without the support of his Phanariot in-laws.

    Though corruption, political violence, and nepotism would continue to wax and wane over the coming decades, it cannot be denied that the 1850's, 60's and 70's would be their apex in Greece. As with all things, the blame for this proliferation of corruption would fall on those in charge, namely Prime Minister Kanaris and King Leopold for not cracking down on these issues sooner or with more force. Yet in both cases, however, they were clearly elderly men on the downturn of their lives. As mentioned before, Kanaris had served as Prime Minister for nearly 8 consecutive years, during a period of immense stress and crisis across the Balkans region, all while suffering repeated losses to his family and circle of allies. Similarly, Leopold was clearly afflicted with various ailments by the start of the 1860's resulting in a slow, if steady withdrawal from public life in the lead up to his death before the end of the decade, all the while he continued to wear the heavy crown of Hellas with grim determination.

    Next Time: Twilight of the Lion King

    [1] In case you didn't realize, this is a reference to you my dearly beloved readers.
    [2] Owing to the improved standing of the Egyptians in the Second Syrian War, Bashir Shihab was not ousted from power in Mount Lebanon. As such, he was succeeded by his son Qasim upon his death in 1850. Similarly, the Mount Lebanon Emirate was not dissolved ITTL for the same reasons, effectively becoming a buffer between Ottoman Syria and Egyptian Palestine.
     
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    Part 94: Twilight of the Lion King
  • Author's Note:
    Apologies for the more than two month delay, suffice to say I've been rather busy recently, but I did manage to put this new chapter together and I've been putting some work into the next few updates so hopefully they will be along in the near future. Either way, I greatly appreciate the support you all continue to give me and I hope you enjoy. Now without further ado....

    Part 94: Twilight of the Lion King

    Prins_Leopold_als_koning_van_Griekenland%2C_1830_A_comfortable_thing_to_be_King_of_Greece_%28titel_op_object%29%2C_RP-P-1954-550.jpg

    A British Political Cartoon from 1830 mocking Prince Leopold for accepting the "Comfortable" Greek Throne
    By all accounts, the 1850’s were the apex of King Leopold’s popularity, power, and prestige both in Greece and across much of Europe. As the third son of an impoverished and undistinguished noble house, many of his rivals had originally believed that the vain Prince Leopold would quickly fail in Greece and come crawling back to London with his tail between his legs within a few months’ time way back in 1830. Yet, through considerable effort and good providence, he would endure month after month and year after year where many of his peers and rivals across the continent did not. Soon it would be the likes of King Charles X Bourbon, King Otto von Wittlesbach, Chancellor Klemens von Metternich, and King Louis-Philippe d’Orleans who were made to flee from revolutionaries hounding them in the streets, all the while Leopold stood tall and proud as he paraded through the streets of Athens before throngs of cheering Hellenes in each year’s Independence Day celebrations. His continued survival, if not flourishment in Greece year after year incited a degree of begrudging respect from his adversaries and rivals across the continent.

    More than that, Leopold had proven himself to be much more than a parvenu prince with strong pedigree of familial relations that many in London had first believed him to be back in 1830. Through his considerable efforts at diplomacy and statecraft, he had successfully painted himself as a modern-day Nestor, maintaining the peace of Southeastern Europe on multiple occasions through careful mediation and intervention.[1] His personal correspondence with the Ottoman Sultan Abdulmejid would help thaw relations between their two states after the bitter lows of the Cyprus Affair and the Treaty of Constantinople. In fact, Abdulmejid’s respect for Leopold was so great that he would often turn to the Greek king for advice on occasion. Although this relationship would earn him a fair degree of ire and disdain in Greece for a time as many of his detractors called him a coward or worse, a Turkish lacky; his efforts would ultimately bear fruit during the Great Russian War, earning Greece hefty rewards in land and coin.

    Leopold would also prove to be a gifted matchmaker - thanks in no small part to the immense prestige and influence of his niece Victoria, effectively tying his family to the great crowned houses of Europe. Between 1830 and 1860, the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha would link itself to the ancient Houses of Bourbon, Braganza, Hanover, Hohenzollern, Orléans, Romanov, and Württemberg. Whilst this was purely done to glorify and enrich the House of Saxe-Coburg, it cannot be denied that Leopold’s marital alliances also benefited Greece tremendously.

    Through his personal relationship to Victoria, Leopold ensured a close relationship between Greece and the United Kingdom resulting in a number of generous trade agreements, loans, and arms deals between the two countries over the years. Similarly, a marriage between Prince Louis, duc d’Nemours and Leopold’s niece, Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha had been intended to bring France closer to the United Kingdom and Greece through this marital union. Sadly, this dynastic alliance would not last long, as the events of 1848 would dash these hopes with the ouster of the House of Orleans and eventual re-ascension of the House of Bonaparte under Napoleon II. Finally, the marriage of Leopold’s eldest son Constantine to Grand Duchess Anna Mikhailovna of Russia secured a long-lasting relationship with the House of Romanov, a relationship that had already proven dividends in the Paris Peace Conference of 1857 and would continue to pay dividends for years to come.


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    Coat of Arms of the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha

    Meanwhile in Hellas itself, Leopold’s reputation was viewed as a sterling example of Constitutional Monarchy. Under the Hellenic Constitution of 1830, Leopold, as King of Hellas, would be the Chief Executive of the Kingdom of Greece. His primary responsibilities included inspecting the troops as Commander in Chief of the Hellenic Military, issuing commendations and awards to deserving military men and civil servants, overseeing Cabinet meetings as Head of State, and appointing Ministers to the Cabinet, Senators to the Senate, and Governors to the Provinces upon the advice and consent of the Vouli. Beyond this, Leopold’s royal prerogative was rather vague providing him and his heirs with a degree of legal discretion on many matters. For instance, Leopold would routinely use these vagaries to conduct his own diplomacy, effectively running the Foreign Ministry out of the Royal Palace at several points throughout his reign.

    By in large, though, Leopold would generally abide by the limits imposed upon him by the Constitution and would only intervene in the Government’s internal affairs when his input was explicitly requested or when certain issues threatened his prerogatives. For instance, Leopold’s stance on the economy was generally well received as he was a consistent, albeit modest advocate for modernization and industrialization. Similarly, he supported a strong Hellenic Military and national defense, but resisted efforts to expand it to a size that would risk antagonizing its neighbors and allies. However, it is his role as mediator that is remembered most fondly. Using his natural talents as an orator and diplomat, Leopold would position himself as an impartial actor in most political arguments, using his power and influence to peacefully resolve disputes between various politicians for the betterment of Greece. Thanks to his tactful interventions, Leopold would manage to (largely) keep the peace between the various political parties in Greece, preventing tensions from escalating too high to the point of violence or worse.

    Finally, with his marriage to Princess Marie of Württemberg in 1833 and the birth of his three children (Diadochos Constantine, Prince Alexander, and Princess Katherine), Leopold had brought much needed stability, legitimacy, and durability to the nascent Hellenic Monarchy. By siring an heir to the throne, Leopold ensured that the Monarchy would continue following his death. Similarly, the birth of Constantine’s own children would further strengthen the House of Saxe-Coburg’s grip on the Crown of Greece well into the distant future. Even still, Leopold was not completely unchallenged in Greece, nor was his reign endorsed by all Greeks.

    A small, but vocal minority of Greek thinkers and philosophers supported the abolition of the monarchy and the (re)establishment of a republican form of government. Whilst some facet of their rationale would certainly be xenophobic in nature, (Leopold and his brood were Germans who had been forced upon the Greeks by foreign powers), their most successful arguments would be depicted in a financial lens. For instance, the Greek Government provided the Hellenic Royal Family with a massive allowance of 1.2 Million Drachma (roughly 50,000 Pounds Sterling) annually, representing around 6.3% of the National Budget in 1855. Whilst some of this would go towards philanthropic causes, patronizing Greek businesses, or paying the many hundreds of servants and laborers on the payrolls of the Crown; it cannot be denied that most of this coin was spent maintaining the lavish lifestyle of the Greek Royal Family.

    The Royals lived in lavish palaces and mansions, whilst many Greeks lived in simple hovels. They owned several vineyards and country villas, a pleasure yacht with a private dock, and even a royal carriage on the Athens-Piraeus Railway whilst many Greeks owned little more than the clothes on their backs. Lastly, whilst most Greeks struggled to feed themselves or their families, the Royals enjoyed lavish feasts and wasted untold sums of food and drink that was simply discarded after their many dinner parties. Nevertheless, most Greeks found this arrangement acceptable given the much-needed sense of stability and legitimacy Leopold and his family provided to the Greek Government and Greek State. So it was that when the 25th anniversary of his coronation arrived in June of 1855; King Leopold of Greece was well and truly secure in his position.

    As had been the case for each of the last 24 celebrations, that year’s celebrations on the 21st of March, 29th of May, and 14th of June were lively, joyous and full of merriment, thanks in large part to the coinciding Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement which saw Greece gaining the Ionian Islands.[2] One could hardly go a single city block in Athens, without seeing storefronts and houses adorned with little flags of the Hellenic State, the Azure and White glistening in the blazing Mediterranean sunlight. The regular filth of the streets had been swept aside and in its place were countless flower petals cast from the rooftops and throngs of people dressed in their best costumes to bear witness to that year’s proceeding. The weather whilst certainly warm, was moderated by a gentle breeze rolling in off the sea.

    Following a private church service in the Royal Chapel, King Leopold and his entourage departed the Royal Palace to begin that day’s event. Riding upright in his old military uniform atop a brilliant white Thessalian colt with a gilded saddle, the King of Greece looked every part of a conquering hero. Flanking the King were his two sons, Diadochos Constantine mounted atop a black Thessalian colt to the right and Prince Alexander on a white Thessalian Charger to the left, both young men outfitted in their ravishing military uniforms of the Evelpidon Military Academy. Behind the two Princes was a quarter mile long procession of attendants, courtiers, foreign dignitaries, politicians, royal guests, servants and soldiers who proceed down the main promenade to Constitution Square where the King would oversee that year’s celebration from atop a grand dais embroidered in blue and white.

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    Scene from King Leopold’s Silver Jubilee; New Soldiers pledging allegiance to King Leopold and the Greek Government

    First on the itinerary were a slew of speeches from various politicians and foreign dignitaries generally aimed at inflating Leopold’s ego, with one by the former Prime Minister Alexandros Mavrokordatos allegedly bringing the old man to tears. Whether this was a genuine display of emotion from the normally cold Leopold, or a calculated political move none, but Leopold can truly say. The longest speech by far, though would come from the King himself, which in true Leopold fashion would drag on for an agonizingly long two and a half hours, covering a breadth of meandering topics from his coronation to the present day.

    Perhaps the extensive oration was meant to convince his detractors that he was fully fit and healthy even though he was fast approaching his 65th birthday and had been deathly ill several times in recent memory. Or perhaps, Leopold simply enjoyed hearing himself talk, which he was certainly known to do. Either way, the King’s speech would mercifully end before the sun had set, allowing the day to give way to a night of feasting, drinking, music, and dancing mirroring Leopold’s coronation ceremony 25 years prior. Surely this night of pageantry and gaiety was the great pinnacle of his life as the trajectory of Leopold’s life would soon begin it’s long and slow decline.

    Barely a year later, in the first weeks of July 1856, King Leopold would be stricken with increasingly severe bouts of pain in his abdomen and groin. Accompanying the pain were extensive periods of restlessness, sweating, itching, nausea, and vomiting. Although the elder statesman would attempt to push through the discomfort and continue working as he had done previously either out of vanity or prudence; it eventually became too much to handle or hide as he would soon become bedridden for days at a time. Forced to seek professional medical help at the behest of his worried wife and daughter, Leopold would soon discover that he was suffering from a bad case of kidney stones, which made even the simplest of tasks excruciatingly painful.

    Over the next few weeks, Leopold would undergo a number of tests, examinations, and procedures to relieve him of his ailment, only for each effort to end in failure with the pain returning in a few days’ time. Irritated by the great expense incurred and the constant poking and prodding of the doctors, Leopold would swear off any further medical assistance for the next few years choosing to endure the pain instead. Thankfully for the Old King, the kidney stones would eventually pass through his system naturally, enabling him to continue with his work, albeit at a noticeably reduced capacity than before. Accompanying this decline in health was a decline in his appearance, as Leopold would lose all remaining vestiges of his once famous beauty.

    By the mid-1850’s Leopold was effectively bald, apart from a few strands of greying hair upon the back and sides of his head. Horrified and humiliated by his deteriorating appearance, the vain Greek King would resort to wearing ridiculous looking wigs, styled in the wind-swept fashion that had been oh so popular in his youth. Alongside this loss in hair came an increase in his girth. Despite his habit for taking long walks down the Athenian promenade and his fondness for horseback riding, Leopold quickly regained all the weight he had lost during his extensive bout with kidney stones over the previous months. Here too, Leopold would choose to conceal his worsening condition by wearing corsets and stays which certainly made him look thinner, but only at the cost of his remaining flexibility and maneuverability. Worst of all, Leopold’s once impeccable skin and handsome façade were marred by the ravages of time. Blemishes and winkles dotted his face, his cheeks were sunken, and his skin was sickly pale. Only his eyes retained their vigor, yet they were growing darker with each passing year. Desperate to preserve some vestige of his youthful beauty, the elder Leopold would rouge his cheeks and apply women’s makeup to conceal imperfections upon his face and hands, yet in the process he would only make a vicious mockery of his younger self.

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    King Leopold of Greece (circa 1860)

    Accompanying this loss in his appearance would come a remarkably fast loss in his prestige and influence both at home and abroad. For one, Leopold would find that his efforts at playing peacemaker between the British and Russians was largely ineffective. The British were irritated with Greece’s blatant disregard of the neutrality clauses within the Treaty of Constantinople, whilst the Russians were clearly disappointed by Greece’s dealings with the British and Ottomans maintaining their neutrality in the Great Eurasian War. After the conflict, Leopold would uncharacteristically find himself at odds with his Russian ally through his public support of Prince Milos Obrenovic of Serbia who returned to power in Belgrade in the Summer of 1859.[3] Obrenovic’s restoration would naturally result in the ouster of the Russian backed Prince Alexander Karađorđević much to the chagrin of St. Petersburg who had gone to great lengths propping up their ally's faltering reign. Whilst little would come of this minor diplomatic misstep initially, it would prove irksome to the Russians in what was to be the first of many issues to emerge in the Greco-Russian relationship. Soon after, Leopold would find himself engaging in another unforced error with a prominent power, this time with the Ottoman Empire.

    Relations between the Kingdom of Greece and the Ottoman Empire had always been quite tense to say the least, with both sides sharing an incredible among of bad blood towards the other. Leopold for his part had attempted to tamp down on this hostility by fostering a close personal relationship with the young Sultan Abdulmejid with whom he engaged in letter writing over the years. The two would even meet on a number of occasions, usually meeting on neutral ground in London or Paris whilst on holiday or at various diplomatic summits. Their joint efforts had been instrumental in maintaining the peace between their two states over the past 20 years, but by the start of 1857 Abdulmejid’s reign was dealt a mortal blow with the devastating Treaty of Paris, which marked the formal end to the Great Russian War. Faced with extensive territorial losses, demographic losses, and economic losses; all that Abdulmejid had worked towards during his reign was effectively undone. His reform-oriented policies were discredited as were his attempts to broker closer relations with the Christian Great Powers of Europe who had essentially left his country to die in the gutter. Moreover, his already fragile health was upset by the immense stress of the war and the ruinous toll it had taken on his Country.Abdulmejid’s death on the 7th of January 1860 thus deprived Leopold of a fond acquaintance, one who had shown him great respect and friendship throughout their years of correspondence.

    Moreover, it would prove to be a greatly destabilizing event for the entire region as his successor would be his weak-kneed brother Abdulaziz, who quickly fell under the sway of his powerful Grand Vizier, Mehmed Emin Ali Pasha who had grown far more nationalistic in the years following the Great Russian War. Mehmed Pasha had come to view the ethnic and religious minorities of the Empire with distrust and disdain, believing them to be the originators of all the Empires troubles. Of all his criticisms, however, he considered the Hellenes and their Kingdom of Hellas to be the worst, calling them “a den of opportunistic jackals and thieves who picked at the still living carcass of the Turk.”

    Leopold’s attempts at fostering a relationship with the new Ottoman Sultan would only make things worse as Leopold’s meandering letters promising friendship and counsel were instead interpreted as condescending and patronizing by Abdulaziz and Mehmed Emin Ali Pasha. Angered by this perceived slight, Abdulaziz’s ministers would summon Nikolaos Aivazidis – the Greek Consul to Constantinople, berate him ad nauseum for his King’s lack of deference when addressing his superior - the mighty and magnanimous Osmanli Padishah, and then promptly dismiss him without so much as offering him a chance at a rebuttal. Naturally, Athens was not pleased that their man in Kostantîniyye had received such a thorough dressing down at the hands of the antagonistic Ottoman Grand Vizier, prompting a retaliation from Constantine Kanaris who was clearly still bereaved after the death of his eldest son Nikolaos only a few weeks before. Leopold’s attempts at mediation were ignored, and his efforts at reconciliation were hotly opposed much to his detriment and disappointment.

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    Sultan Abdulaziz of the Ottoman Empire (circa 1865)

    At home things were not much better as his eldest son, Diadochos Constantine was no longer the meek little boy he had once been and would prove himself more resistant to his father’s machinations and manipulations. Having finally started growing into his lanky frame by the age of 22, Constantine was becoming something akin to a handsome young man. His long arms and legs had been padded with some degree of muscle after years of military training, whilst his suits and military uniforms were better tailored to fit his more developed physique. His nose remained large, but with his mustachioed upper lip, thick sideburns, and stubbled chin it was easily concealed. Moreover, his thick facial hair was more in keeping with the fashion of the day, putting him at odds with his father who remained defiantly clean shaven. In a sense, the proverbial shoe was now on the other foot as Constantine was the (comparatively) handsome young man, whilst Leopold was the ugly and clearly aging old man. More than this, however, Constantine rarely interacted with his father.

    Part of this was due to his own growing list of responsibilities. Having been enrolled in the Hellenic Military Academy in 1852, Constantine would find himself thoroughly occupied by his studies and military training. Even after his graduation in the Spring of 1856, his duties as a newly minted Army Officer would require long days of work that lasted well into the night on some occasions. Officially, Constantine was to be an artillery officer, although given the dangers of the trade, he was generally relegated to staff work. This was in part due to his propensity for administrative work, but it cannot be denied that his instructors and superiors feared what would happen if he was injured or worse, killed during live fire exercises. It also didn’t help that he was still a rather poor soldier, one with a weak constitution and a general disdain for the rigors of field work.

    It is also important to remember that by this time, Diadochos Constantine had a family of his own that he needed to tend to. He had married Grand Duchess Anna Mikhailovna in 1853 and though their first months together had been difficult, in time they had grown to understand one another to a certain degree.[4] Soon, the pair would be blessed with a child Princess Marie (b.1854) with another to follow in the coming months, Prince Constantine (b. 1856) and a third coming soon after in Princess Elena (b.1857). Given his growing family, it naturally became necessary for Constantine to set out on his own and establish his own household, away from his oppressive father and doting mother. Although he certainly was not the best of fathers or husbands, with many of his peers and colleagues considering him rather aloof at best and cold at worst, Constantine did endeavor to be a better father than Leopold. To that end, Constantine and his family would re-establish themselves at a rather lush manor several miles away in the foothills of Mount Parnitha. There, Constantine would provide his children with a private upbringing away from the pressures of the Royal Court, the Greek Government, and his dreadful father.

    Even still, Constantine had the time to see his father as his work generally kept him in Attica and his personal residence was only a short carriage ride away from the Royal Palace. Yet for one reason or another, Constantine simply refused to meet with the King unless business or politics demanded it. Though their relationship had certainly improved since the chilly lows of 1852, it cannot be denied that there still existed great animosity between the two. This was most poignantly seen with the birth and naming of Constantine’s son in early February 1856. Rather than name him after his own father as was in keeping with the customs and norms of the day; the Diadochos would instead defy expectations and christen him Konstantinos after himself in a clear slight to his father Leopold.[5] The birth of Constantine’s younger son, Prince Michael in 1860, would similarly spurn Leopold, as the boy was named after his maternal grandfather instead.

    Tensions between King and Crown Prince would only worsen from there, as Constantine gradually came to associate himself more strongly with Admiral Kanaris and the Nationalist Party, whereas Leopold tended to patronize Mavrokordatos and his Liberals. The 1857 Elections would temporarily upend this dynamic as the Nationalists thereafter became the de facto party of the Greek Government, forcing both father and son into the same corner politically. Even still, the two were at odds with Leopold associating more with the Conservatives, whilst Constantine began leaning towards the more Liberal wing of the Party. Relations between the two would temporarily improve with Leopold’s illness and months of medical treatment as the Royal family attempted to present a united front to the people of Greece, but no sooner had Leopold begun his recovery in the Fall of 1856, did the animosity between the two return stronger than ever.

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    Diadochos Constantine of Greece (circa 1860)

    Thankfully, Leopold’s younger son Prince Alexander would prove more pliant to his father’s wishes, choosing to voluntarily follow his brother into the Military Academy once he came of age in 1854. Whereas Constantine had struggled tremendously, Alexander would flourish almost instantly, proving himself to be one of the best cadets in his year, ultimately graduating four years later in 1858 in the top fifth of his class. Where Constantine was mercurial and aloof and clearly ungifted in many ways, Alexander was bold, gregarious and incredibly athletic. This certainly made him more attractice in the eyes of Leopold, yet the two did have some differences that nearly brough them to blows.

    Though he had a knack for the military, Alexander had no real love for Army life and would instead choose to patronize the arts. He adored art in all its forms and would have made a life of it if fate had deemed otherwise. Sadly, his father had little use for a painter or writer of a son and though he allowed him to keep it as a hobby, he explicitly refused to allow his son to make a profession of painting and writing. Forced to redirect his passion elsewhere, Alexander would soon find himself becoming a patron of the growing sporting community of Greece, which had been worked into a fervor with the success of the Zappas Olympics. Whilst Leopold wasn’t completely enamored with the thought, he begrudgingly accepted his younger son’s interests in athletics. As such, Alexander would take to it quite quickly, sponsoring various athletes and even organizing teams for a number of competitions.

    On one particular occasion during the 1858 Olympic Games, Prince Alexander would even adorn himself in the simple white leotard of the Olympic Athletes and enter one of the footraces alongside several of his fellow Academy cadets. While he did not win the race, he would finish in a respectable third position to great acclaim and praise by the people of Athens who had come out to witness the event. Although Leopold was perturbed by Alexander’s lack of royal dignity, he recognized his son’s interests in the Games – along with the immense popularity of the events themselves - and permitted him to serve in an advisory role to Zappas’ Olympic Committee, eventually becoming President of the Committee in his later years.

    This clear difference in treatment between Constantine and Alexander by their father was made all the more apparent when it came to the matter of their marriages. Whereas Constantine had no input upon his own betrothal and only learned of the matter well after it had been arranged, Alexander was given some deference on deciding who he married and when the marriage ceremony would be. Perhaps this was due to their difference in status as Constantine was the heir apparent, he was subjected to more scrutiny and higher demands, thus a prestigious and wealthy bride was needed to appease their critics. Meanwhile, Alexander was a second son with a lesser chance of inheriting the throne. Therefore, he had fewer eyes upon him, hence the greater deference to his interest - it likely helped that Alexander and Leopold were on speaking terms unlike Constantine and Leopold.

    To that end, Leopold began searching for a suitable bride for young Alexander once he had finished arranging Constantine’s marriage in 1853. Leopold’s desired candidate was another Russian Grand Duchess with the eldest daughter of Tsarevich Alexander, Grand Duchess Alexandra being his first choice. Unfortunately, the outbreak of war between the Ottomans, British and Russians forced Leopold to reconsider as he did not wish to alienate his British Allies, nor his beloved Niece and Nephew. To that end, he looked to Prussia next, where he would find two potential candidates for Alexander. The first was Princess Louise, daughter of Crown Prince Wilhelm. Of the two candidates she was very enticing being the daughter of the soon to be king of Prussia, providing Leopold a close connection with the Royal House of Hohenzollern. Moreover, she was close in age to Prince Alexander, meaning a marriage between the two could happen as soon as late 1854, early 1855 following her 16th birthday. However, given the politics of Germany at the time, and her father’s desire for a more local match for his beloved daughter, a marriage between Alexander and Louise was turned down.

    The second option was Wilhelm’s niece, Princess Alexandrine of Prussia (daughter of Wilhelm’s youngest brother Prince Albert). Although she was four years younger than Princess Louise, she was an attractive candidate in her own right as she possessed a vast fortune estimated at one million Pounds Sterling, thanks to her eccentric mother’s savvy investments and business dealings.[6] Moreover, given the much-publicized troubles of her parent’s marriage, she effectively grew up in the Royal Court in Berlin in the care of her aunt Queen Elisabeth, where she was much admired and loved. There, she would grow up alongside her cousins, Prince Frederick (son of Crown Prince Wilhelm) and his sister, Princess Louise becoming quite close to the future King of Prussia. Ironically, it was for these reasons that she was also considered by Leopold’s own niece, Queen Victoria as a potential spouse for her eldest son Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. She would eventually decide against the match given the peculiarities of her son and the recommendations of her daughters, but in return she would provide her uncle Leopold with her full blessing of the match between Alexander and Alexandrine.

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    Princess Alexandrine of Prussia, Wife of Prince Alexander of Greece

    The Prussian King Frederick Wilhelm IV was more reluctant to part with his adopted daughter, however, as he considered Greece to be a distant and unstable land. Moreover, Alexandrine being little more than a child was reluctant to part with her beloved uncle whose health grew worse with each passing day. Yet on the counsel of his brother, Crown Prince Wilhelm; Frederick Wilhelm would permit the Greek Prince to at least meet with her and if she favored the Greek Prince, then an arrangement could be made. Satisfied by this argument, Friedrich Wilhelm would agree and a meeting between the two would be staged for the Summer of 1855, when Prince Alexander would be on leave from his training at Evelpidon.

    According to reports, the two would fall in love at first sight with Prince Alexander being especially taken with the charming young Princess of Prussia, whilst Princess Alexandrine was overjoyed by the Greek Prince’s dashing good looks and cultured mind. The two would thereafter engage in constant letter writing over the ensuing months, furthering their relationship. Convinced that her happiness would be secured through this match, King Frederick Wilhelm IV finally gave his approval for the betrothal of Prince Alexander and Princess Alexandrine. The couple would marry once Princess Alexandrine came of age in early 1858 over the course of two marriage ceremonies, one in Berlin on the 1st of April 1858 and the other in Athens on the 5th of May. Ironically, the marriage of Prince Alexander would be the last of the Greek Royal weddings as his younger sister’s wedding had preceded his own by several months.

    By all accounts, Princess Katherine was the ablest and brightest of King Leopold’s children. She was incredibly beautiful with dark brunette hair, auburn doe shaped eyes, and delicate features. Her figure was petite, but not frail as she was quite athletic for a woman of her day, finding great interest in horseback riding, dancing and swimming. Katherine’s greatest asset, however, was her mind, as she was incredibly sharp and witty. Capable of reading, writing and speaking in no less than nine different languages fluently, Princess Katherine had been given the best education a woman could hope for in the 19th Century. At 13 she had read all of Plutarch’s works and declared him to be her favorite writer. At 14 she frequently served as her father’s aid and secretary, effectively filling the role once held by Leopold’s old confidante Baron Stockmar. On more than one occasion, she would even meet with foreign dignitaries and oversee meetings of the Cabinet, much to the shock and awe of her father’s Ministers who were quite impressed by her tact and skill.

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    Princess Katherine of Greece (circa 1861)

    She was loved by all she met and fiercely admired by those who knew her, chief among them being her own father who doted on her constantly. By his own admission, Leopold sought to secure Katherine’s happiness and well-being through a good marriage. To that end, he would first seek out the hand of Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolaevich, third son of Tsar Nicholas of Russia. Whilst Leopold was certainly impressed with young Nicholas as he was a fabulously rich and influential man, Katherine was not as enamored by her Russian cousin, and proved reluctant towards this match. Thankfully for all involved, the outbreak of War between Russia and the Anglo-Ottoman Alliance would put a damper on this proposal as Leopold didn’t wish to upset his British allies by deepening his family’s marital ties with their enemy.

    With a Russian Grand Duke now off the table, Leopold would return to the drawing board once more to seek out an appropriate suitor for his daughter’s hand. However, before he would get the chance to find a candidate of his own, Katherine would meet the man of her heart’s desire among the list of royal guests at her father’s Silver Jubilee celebration in the form of one Prince Louis of the Two Sicilies. As the second son of King Ferdinand of the Two Sicilies, Prince Louis was a lively and attractive young man. He was relatively tall and maintained a slim, but athletic build. He was a soldier by trade and carried himself like a dashing chevalier of yore. More than that, however, he was notoriously charming and very flirtatious, one who was capable of sweeping any young woman off her feet with just a single glance and wink of an eye.

    Yet what attracted Katherine most of all was his keen mind. Louis was something of a humanist and considered himself to be a charitable man who sought to use his gifts for the betterment of all. Politically speaking, Louis was an outspoken Liberal, or rather he was more liberal than was the norm for the traditionally conversative House of Bourbon. Most of all, he had a certain fire to him, a zest for life that made Katherine's heart flutter with romanticism. Although his older brother Prince Francesco, soon to be King Francesco II, was himself unmarried and would provide Katherine with the opportunity of becoming a queen in a few years; Princess Katherine held a rather poor opinion of him given his weak character and poor intellect. Instead, she would place her bets on his charming and ambitious younger brother.

    Unable, or perhaps unwilling to convince her otherwise given his worsening Kidney stone affliction, Leopold would eventually give his approval for the match and would begin making the necessary arrangements. Over the ensuing months, a number of liaisons would travel back and forth between the two Mediterranean countries until all matters of debate were settled. Although matters of religion would prove difficult, as she was a devout follower of the Greek Orthodox Church and he was a staunch Roman Catholic; it was eventually determined that Princess Katherine would be allowed to keep her faith, whilst any children of their marriage would be raised as members of the Catholic Church. Next came the matter of their wedding location, with the wedding ceremony being set in two parts, one in Athens and the other in Naples. Finally, the matter of a dowry proved to be the most contentious issue as the notoriously miserly King Leopold proved hesitant to settle on a particular sum. Eventually, Prince Louis with a number of his father’s advisors would manage to pry the old Greek King for a remarkable 60,000 Pounds Sterling and an allowance of 8,000 Pounds every year thereafter.

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    Prince Louis, Count of Trani

    Sadly, the marriages of Princess Katherine and Prince Alexander were to be the last happy moments in Leopold’s life as he was soon struck with a number of personal tragedies in rapid succession. In mid-May 1859, word arrived from Vienna that Leopold’s longtime friend and confidante, Archduke John of Austria had passed away only a few days after his 77th birthday. Despite their difference in stations, John had quickly befriended young Leopold during a chance encounter in London in 1815. Thereafter the two men remained strong friends and allies, with Archduke John being one of the first dignitaries (outside the British delegation) to openly support Prince Leopold’s candidacy for the Greek Crown in the 1830 Conference of London. In the years since, Leopold and John would maintain a frequent correspondence, with Leopold frequently turning to John for wisdom and advice, right up until John’s unfortunate passing in early May 1859.

    One year later in August 1860, Leopold would lose his estranged elder sister Julianne. Formerly known as Anna Feodorovna, Grand Duchess of Russia, Julianne was the one time wife of Leopold’s good friend and benefactor, Grand Duke Constantine Pavlovich. Although they had not been particularly close as she had moved to St. Petersburg when he was only 5 years of age, her death saddened him as she was still family and above all Leopold valued family over all else. Even still, she was not mourned deeply by the Greek King who had been distant towards her after the events of 1814, when he had been tasked with returning her to her estranged husband, only to be rejected outright and thoroughly embarrassed by the whole affair. More impactful to Leopold, however, was the loss of his other sister Victoria, Duchess of Kent who died a few months later in March of 1861.

    Whereas Leopold held a poor opinion of Julianne, he had absolutely adored Victoria. She had been one of his closest friends and confidantes after the death of his beloved first wife Charlotte, providing him kinship and companionship when he desperately desired it. While his own ambitions on the British throne had been dashed by the cruelty of fate; through his sister and her daughter (Queen Victoria), Leopold was given a chance to become the power behind the throne. Sadly, differences over Duchess Victoria’s rumored love affairs drove mother and daughter apart for many years, greatly reducing Leopold’s grip over his young niece until her marriage to Prince Albert in 1841 provided him with yet another proxy in Buckingham. Nevertheless, Leopold remained in constant contact with Victoria who would routinely provide him with great insight into the changing machinations of the British court. Thus, with her loss Leopold lost one more link to his childhood, one more link to his youth and one more link to his time in Great Britain.

    Finally in September of that same year, Leopold was hit with one last great loss in the form of his loyal servant, Baron Stockmar. Doctor Christian Friedrich Stockmar had served the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha ably for the better part of 40 years; first joining Leopold’s household as his personal physician in 1816, before quickly becoming Prince Leopold’s chief secretary and advisor in the ensuing months. In the weeks preceding Leopold’s coronation as King of Greece, Stockmar assisted Leopold in “refreshing” his understanding of the Greek language, Greek history, and Greek culture to better prepare him for the task ahead of him. In the following months, Stockmar would serve as Leopold’s liaison on many occasions, meeting with various politicians and dignitaries when the King was otherwise occupied. In 1832, Stockmar would be charged with securing Leopold a fitting wife, a task which he masterfully accomplished through the betrothal and marriage of Princess Marie of Württemberg to Leopold in early 1833. Following the births of Leopold’s children, Stockmar would also be charged with tutoring the young Prince Constantine until 1840 when he would receive his final orders from Leopold, which would see him depart Greece for Great Britain, where he would advance his master’s cause in the Court of Queen Victoria.

    Doctor Stockmar would remain in London for the next 7 years serving as a political adviser to Queen Victoria and then to her husband Prince Albert who relied heavily on Stockmar’s skills during his first few years in the United Kingdom. By 1846, however, both Victoria and Albert had grown more independent and less reliant upon Stockmar and Leopold’s counseling and granted him leave to return to Germany where he would enter an early retirement. This would not last long however, as the Revolutions of 1848 compelled Doctor Stockmar to return to service, this time in the court of Prince Ernest II of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (Prince Albert’s older brother). However, unrest in the Ernestine Duchies would eventually force Prince Ernest and Baron Stockmar from Coburg, with Ernest fleeing to Berlin, whilst Stockmar traveled across Germany for several months before ultimately making his way to Athens where he rejoined Leopold after more than 9 years apart.

    This reunion between master and servant was similarly short lived, however, as the political situation in Greece was far more volatile owing to Ioannis Kolettis’ machinations and antagonism towards King Leopold and his supporters, Stockmar included. This combined with the restoration of Ernest to his family’s Duchy in late 1850 compelled Stockmar to return to Germany once again, where he would serve as Ernest’s chief adviser for the next few years before ultimately retiring once again in 1857, this time for good. Although Leopold would attempt to stir Stockmar from his rest one last time in 1858 to serve as his representative in Berlin during his son Alexander’s marriage to Princess Alexandrine of Prussia, his efforts would come to naught as Stockmar was himself quite ill and politely refrained from leaving his family. Understanding his close friend’s decision and respecting his 40 years of service, Leopold honored Stockmar’s request.

    Stockmar’s death was thus a hard blow to Leopold who had come to rely heavily upon his advice and friendship over the four and a half decades. Moreover, the loss of his two closest comrades and his last two remaining siblings made Leopold recognize his own mortality, something which was becoming more apparent with each passing day. By the end of 1861, he was 71 years of age and though he was not quite on death’s door, his health was clearly failing as he suffered from a growing litany of ailments and illnesses. Sadly, for Leopold, there was more bad news to come. Yet instead of the death of a close friend or confidante, it would come in the form of a massive political scandal, one which threatened the stability of the Hellenic Monarchy.

    Next Time: The Coburg Love Affair

    [1] Ironically, this is both a compliment and an insult to Leopold as whilst Nestor was certainly described as wise, he was also known to issue faulty advice as well, often in a prattling manner. This actually matches Leopold quite well given his own OTL behavior.
    [2] These three dates correspond to the official start of the Greek War for Independence in 1821, the formal ending of the War with the 1830 Treaty of London, and the day of Leopold’s coronation.
    [3] Having gained independence from the Ottoman Empire, Prince Alexander is able to hold onto power for a few more months thanks to the ensuing prestige boost before the British and French backed Milos Obrenovic is able to instigate a coup against him.
    [4] Owing in large part to the continued survival of his mother, TTL’s Prince Constantine has a better opinion of women than OTL’s Leopold II.
    [5] For simplicity’s sake I’ll refer to Constantine Senior as Diadochos Constantine and Constantine Junior as Prince Constantine. Don’t worry, this will be resolved later.
    [6] Both Alexandrine’s father, Prince Albert of Prussia and mother, Princess Marianne of the Netherlands divorced in 1848 OTL and both married morganatically afterwards to their respective lovers. In the case of Princess Marianne she would prove to be a successful investor and entrepreneur, making a small fortune for herself and her children, effectively making them the richest members of the Hohenzollern family. For instance, at the time of her OTL marriage, Princess Alexandrine was provided with a dowry of 1,000,000 dollars by her mother.
     
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    Part 95: The Coburg Love Affair
  • Part 95: The Coburg Love Affair

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    The King and his Mistress

    The relationship between Leopold and his children has been well documented and detailed as mentioned in previous chapters. He was a doting father to his daughter Katherine, upon whom he showered all his parental love and affection. He was strict, yet fair to his second son Alexander owing to the latter’s skills and the strong resemblance to himself. Finally, he was cold at best and abusive at worst to his eldest son and heir, Constantine whom he constantly ridiculed and neglected. Yet the relationship between King Leopold and their mother, his wife Queen Marie of Württemberg has been much harder to discern.

    On the surface, King Leopold was portrayed as a faithful, if somewhat distant husband to his wife of 29 years. They were regularly seen together either walking down the main promenade of Athens or riding horses across through the Attica countryside – one of the few pastimes that still brought visible excitement to Leopold. They would regularly entertain guests in the Royal Palace, whilst on quieter occasions they would sit together and read in their study for hours on end. He would confide in her and listen to her counsel on matters of state and foreign policy – even if he didn’t always follow it. Finally, they had had three successful children and numerous grandchildren with more on the way, ensuring that their line would continue for generations to come. Yet, despite all this, there was something amiss with their marriage.

    For one, Leopold was more than 25 years her senior, having been born in 1790, whilst she was born in 1816. Although age gaps between spouses was certainly common, especially among royal couples; the great magnitude of this difference was certainly an outlier even by the standards of the day. By all rights, Leopold was old enough to be her father - coincidentally he was only 9 years younger than her actual father, King Wilhelm of Württemberg. Moreover, owing to their vastly different ages, the two had vastly different experiences growing up which would shape them in completely different ways.

    Having been born on the 16th of December 1790, the first twenty-five years of Leopold’s life would be shaped by tragedy and strife brought on by the French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars. In late 1806, his homeland the Ernestine Duchy of Saxe-Coburg and Saalfeld was occupied by the French during the War of the Fourth Coalition after his father had made the disastrous decision to join Prussia in its fight against the Corsican Devil.[1] Broken by this defeat, Leopold’s father Duke Francis died soon after, whilst his brother Ernest and mother Augusta Reuss were forced to flee to Russia for refuge. Leopold himself was taken as a hostage and later sent to Paris in return for an end to French occupation of the Duchy. After some time as a captive in France, he would escape to Russia where he would serve during the Patriotic War of 1812 and following War of the Sixth Coalition, making a name for himself as a brave and dashing cavalry officer culminating in the Battle of the Nations at Leipzig. Sadly, the end of war and defeat of Napoleon would not signal an end to Leopold’s hardships or his tragedies, but it would offer a brief respite.

    In early 1816 on a chance meeting in London, Leopold met Charlotte Princess of Wales, the heiress to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. The two would quickly develop a romantic attraction for one another and fell deeper and deeper into love in the coming months. By the end of the May, the two were wed and within a year, Charlotte was pregnant with their first child. Sadly, this happiness was but a fleeting moment in Leopold’s otherwise dreadful life as their infant son was stillborn. Completing the tragedy would be the death of Princess Charlotte hours later due to medical complications from the miscarriage. Devastated by these twin losses, Leopold retreated into a self-imposed solitude and stupor for 13 long years, barely stirring from Claremont House. When he was finally called upon to become King of Greece in 1830 by his British paymasters, he was a markedly different man. Where he was once kind and compassionate, he was now cold and callous. Where he had been once been brave and dashing, he had now become cautious and calculating.


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    Claremont House; Leopold’s home for 14 years

    Queen Marie, meanwhile, was born on the 30th of October 1816 and would be raised during a time of general peace and prosperity across Europe as the Corsican Devil was defeated and the Old Order was finally restored. Unlike Leopold she would experience no wars or civil unrest, she would not need to flee to distant lands or fight in terrible wars. No, her childhood was an ideal one filled with love and family. The only tragedy Marie that would experience in her youth was the loss of her birth mother, Grand Duchess Katherine Pavlona of Russia in 1819. Yet, as she was only a small child at the time Marie hardly knew her at the time of her death. Soon after, her father, King William married his cousin, Duchess Pauline of Württemberg, and whilst this could have complicated young Marie’s life, her stepmother readily accepted Marie and her sister Sophie into her loving embrace, raising the two girls as if they were her own. Whilst her youth was certainly charmed, her marriage would not be as fortunate.

    Though Leopold still retained most of his famous good looks at the time of their marriage in early 1833, he was emotionally distant and dreadfully dull. Moreover, his marriage to Marie was based more upon good business and politics, than on love or genuine affection between the two. Leopold certainly cared for her, or rather he cared for what she represented to him – a connection to one of the great distinguished houses of Europe and all the prestige and respect that marriage would bring to him. She knew all this, yet it still hurt her deeply that the man she was to marry had little love for her as a person. Ever the dutiful daughter, Marie would maintain appearances during the wedding service for the sake of her family, but behind closed doors she would later admit to her maids and ladies that she wept all throughout her wedding night. After spending a fortnight in Stuttgart, the royal couple would depart for Greece in what was to be another troubling event for the young Queen as she left the land of her birth for a distant and unruly land on the cusp of civilization.

    Although Leopold was a cold and rather loveless man, he was not heartless or cruel to young Marie and would slowly win her affections through his gentle and respectful demeanor. Thanks to good providence, three children would be born from this union and to all it seemed as if Leopold and Marie had finally come to understand one another, if not love each other. Perhaps they did for a time. Yet the loss of their fourth child (a stillborn son) upended whatever affection had grown between them in their seven years of marriage. Both King and Queen were said to be deeply aggrieved by the loss of their fourth child as they went into mourning for several weeks. Yet, their grief would affect them in completely different ways.

    Seeking to replace the loss of her fourth child through the nurturing of her first three, Queen Marie would devote herself to them more than ever before. She would dote on them whenever possible, giving her love freely and endlessly, whilst also providing them with toys and trinkets whenever Leopold would permit them. More than that, she would take on a more active role in their education and development; selecting instructors, preparing curriculum and providing them with opportunities to grow and have new experiences.

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    Queen Marie of Greece, circa 1834

    In sharp contrast, King Leopold would withdraw further into himself. He would distance himself from his wife, both figuratively and literally, as he refrained from sharing the same bed as her for the remainder of their marriage. Yet Leopold did not suddenly choose the life of an ascetic, nor that of a chaste monk to ease his melancholy. No, it is likely that he simply did not wish to see his dear wife, suffer, and die in childbirth as his beloved Charlotte had so many years before. Instead, he would look for loose women and cheap thrills to fill the hole in his cold heart and satisfy the lustful urges he still possessed.

    In what was perhaps, one of his worst kept secrets, King Leopold had a propensity for having several mistresses throughout his lifetime. Although it is unknown how many extramarital affairs Leopold engaged in over the years, there were a few noteworthy women to enter his life. The first was the German actress Caroline Bauer, niece of Leopold’s close friend and confidante Doctor Christian Friedrich Stockmar. Owing to her eerily close resemblance to his late wife Princess Charlotte, the two would develop a rather close relationship with one another, with Caroline showing great love and loyalty towards the dour Prince in their short time together. Although Leopold refrained from opening his heart to her fully, he did open his home to Caroline and her mother (Baron Stockmar’s sister). Because of this many believed that Leopold had married the woman. These rumors eventually proved untrue – much to Caroline’s disappointment, but they would continue to persist until Leopold formally broke off all relations with her in 1830 upon taking the Greek Throne.

    Although he had ended his relations with Caroline Bauer upon arriving in Greece in 1830, he did not swear himself off from romantic flings as he quickly established relations with a number of women in the nascent Greek Court soon after arriving in his new Kingdom. To what extent these relations progressed, none but Leopold and those women can say. Nonetheless, it can be confirmed that Leopold was quite keen on the Phanariot actress Rallou Karatza during the first months of his reign, with particularly salacious rumors claiming the pair shared a few nights together in 1831. Similarly, rumors contend that Katarina Botsaris was also a familiar of the King. Although Katarina would reveal that she had tender feelings for King Leopold as a youthful girl, she remained adamant they did not engage in sexual activities together, nor was her dignity besmirched through promiscuity. Owing to her father’s good reputation and great influence - along with a few underhanded suggestions of violence by his followers, these rumors didn’t persist very long.

    To his credit, Leopold would refrain from engaging in any extramarital affairs after his marriage to Queen Marie to not offend his young and fertile and beautiful wife (and his rather potent in-laws). Yet, as the years progressed and Marie’s beauty began to fade and her child baring years passed her by, Leopold’s lustful eyes began to wander. They need not look far as they would eventually settle upon one of his wife’s companions, the lady Fotini Mavromichali.

    Granddaughter of famed Maniot chieftain Petros "Petrobey" Mavromichalis, Fotini was born in 1826 just prior to Ibrahim Pasha’s campaign in the Mani. There she would spend much of her childhood; only occasionally venturing out of Laconia alongside her father Anastasios on his business trips to Athens. Yet following her 17th birthday, her father brought her with him to the Capital as he had done many times before, yet on this specific occasion she would catch the eye of Queen Marie. The two quickly formed a rapport and within days she was brought into the Queen’s retinue as a lady in waiting. Known for her beauty as well as her kindness and great wit, Fotini was well regarded in the Greek court and quickly developed a fondness with the young Princess Katherine, effectively becoming a surrogate older sister for the young girl.

    Fotini was also incredibly popular with many of the young men in court, who frequently romanced her and asked for her favor. Even the young prince Constantine is said to have been smitten by her beauty when he first laid eyes on her. Yet, being little more than a child at their first meeting and being highly inexperience in the art of romance, he failed to win her affections or her interest beyond a passing respect for his royal station much to young Constantine’s dismay. Twisting the knife even further, it would be his father King Leopold who earned her affections instead.

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    Fotini Mavromichalis, longtime mistress of King Leopold
    Although official accounts on the beginning of their love affair are sparse, it is believed that Leopold first began courting the Mavromichalis girl within a few weeks of her arrival in Athens in late 1843. Try as she might to resist him at first, she would eventually succumb to his relentless advances sometime during the Spring of 1845, beginning an illicit affair that would last for the better part of the next two decades.[2] Slowly, but surely, rumors would begin to circulate first through the palace and then throughout Athens of Leopold’s infidelity. Hoping to cover his tracks and mitigate the bad press, he would arrange a fitting match for Fotini with Naval Commander Andreas Miaoulis in the Summer of 1846.

    Lieutenant Commander Miaoulis was himself the grandson of the famed Hydriot Admiral Andreas Miaoulis and had joined the Hellenic Navy in 1836. Owing to his great skill and family connections within the Navy, Andreas would quickly rise through the ranks, earning the highly prestigious – if somewhat dull assignment as the ship captain for King Leopold’s leisure yacht Hellas. Despite the great differences in age and upbringing, the two developed a rather strong bond with one another based on their shared interests in the sea and their respective military experiences. Miaoulis was also known to be unquestionably loyal to Leopold, whom he considered as a friend and mentor. Regrettably, it was this very relationship that Leopold now sought to exploit.

    Using Miaoulis’ prominent position in the King’s retinue as an excuse, Fotini could be kept nearer to Leopold, whilst her husband was conveniently occupied with the King’s business. Loyal Miaoulis, remained blissfully unaware of his liege’s true machinations and began courting Fotini upon Leopold’s suggestion in early 1846. Either through genuine affection for one another, or out of loyalty to Leopold, Fotini accepted Andreas’ proposal of marriage with King Leopold giving his blessing for the match on the 11th of June 1846. With a cover now established, the lovers were free to continue their affair in the shadows.

    Eventually, Fotini would temporarily resign from the Queen’s service during the Fall of 1847, only to return to her service the following Spring after giving birth to a son, who was coincidentally named Leo. Although many would pretend otherwise, most assumed that the boy was the son of the King given his features and the alleged timing of his conception as his legal father was out of the country at the time.

    Queen Marie for her part would feign ignorance, although she would dismiss Fotini from her service several months later – officially to provide her with more time to raise her son. Her attitude towards Leopold became noticeably different, however. Although she had always deferred to her husband and respected his judgement, by the late 1840’s/early 1850’s she became increasingly solemn and meek towards him, if not melancholic when in his company. Perhaps she felt as if she had failed him in some capacity or maybe she felt as if she had slighted him in some manner, justifying this betrayal. Hurt and confused as she was, Marie would not condemn Leopold for his infidelity, nor would she call him out on it in public enabling Leopold to continue with his affair as if nothing had happened at all.

    Outside of this child's birth and all the rumors surrounding the boy’s true parentage, there would be few ramifications for Leopold as he remained both popular and prestigious and growed more popular still in the coming years. Leopold’s “patronage” of reputable journalists would also help to cover the King’s tracks as these writers and reporters would often dismiss the King’s extramarital adventures as idle gossip and slander against the Monarchy, whilst muddying the waters with stories of the King's successes and triumphs. Similarly, Leopold would go to great lengths to secure the support of the Mavromichali clan through various appointments to prominent positions in court for Fotini’s brothers Petros and Konstantinos, the Governorship of Laconia for her father Anastasios, and seats in the Senate for her other distinguished uncles and cousins. For a time then, it would have seemed that the issue was at an end. Little Leo was raised unaware of his royal lineage, whilst his “father”, Andreas magnanimously accepted the child as his own and made no further fuss about the issue – at least in public.

    This state of affairs would continue for the better part of the next 15 years with the lovers seeing each other sporadically, until early May of 1862 when Queen Marie’s father, King Wilhelm I of Württemberg died from a stroke at the age of 80. Although he was quite old and Württemberg - like much of Germany, was awash with unrest and nationalistic fervor, his death was still rather sudden and unexpected for Queen Marie as he had been reportedly in good health only weeks before his passing. Despondent at the loss of her dear father, the Queen immediately departed for Stuttgart, accompanied by her sons and a number of her ladies. Noticeably absent from this Royal party was King Leopold, who was himself ill at the time and was unable to make the long journey with his wife to Germany. Despite her grief, Marie initially offered to stay and tend to her ailing husband, yet out of "true compassion" Leopold encouraged her to go without him, which she reluctantly agreed to.

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    Funeral Procession of King William I of Württemberg

    With his wife and sons conveniently away from the Palace for the next few months, Leopold was thus presented with a golden opportunity to enjoy the company of his longtime mistress who quickly rushed to join him within a day of the Queen's departure. Although her looks had begun to fade by the 1860’s, Leopold still cherished his mistress and doted on her as he did his daughter long ago. Perhaps it was the absence of his beloved Katherine that prompted Leopold to call upon his longtime lover at this time. Or maybe it was a spur of the moment decision with his wife and sons away in Württemberg. Or perhaps, he had genuine feelings for her that went beyond looks and sex. Either way, Fotini Miaoulis was boldly seen entering the King’s bed chambers multiple times over the coming weeks and months, much to the concern and shock of the palace staff. Although his defenders would describe these interactions as that of one friend nursing another back to good health, his detractors would decry Leopold as fraternizing with his mistress whilst his grieving wife and children mourned her father in Stuttgart.

    Although this was certainly a bad look for King Leopold, the worst was still to come as young Leo Miaoulis accompanied his mother to the Palace one day in late June. Instantly it became clear whose son he really was. Although barely 14 years of age, young Leo was the spitting image of King Leopold during his youth. He was tall, well muscled, with dark hair and a handsome face featuring the Coburg family’s famous good looks. Unable to deny the truth in front of him, the King and the “Miaoulis boy” would share a few words with one another in public, before departing behind closed doors for a much longer interaction. Sadly, what was said during this exchange was not recorded, but according to second-hand accounts, King Leopold all but confirmed young Leo’s true heritage to the boy and a group of his closest confidantes. Despite their best efforts at secrecy, this information quickly cascaded outwards throughout the Palace and then into the city of Athens.

    For the boy’s legal father, Andreas Miaoulis the timing couldn’t have been worse. His life over the last decade and a half had been anything but blessed. His health had deteriorated, his looks had declined, and two of his children (a daughter named Chrissida and a son named Dimitrios) died of cholera in 1856. Moreover, his Naval career came to an abrupt end following the Lebanon Expedition in 1860. Whilst cruising off the coast of Sidon, his ship would come under fire from a pair of small fletches under the control of the Arab rebels. Despite being a veteran Navy captain of 24 years, the altercation greatly unnerved him as a nearby cabin boy was struck in the gut by a 6 pounder, disemboweling him instantly. Seeing a young boy no older than his own son die before him in an extremely excruciating manner, Captain Miaoulis succumbed to a minor nervous breakdown prompting his first mate to assume command in his stead.

    Upon his return to Greece later that year, Andreas was promptly cashiered from the service citing problems with his health. Thereafter, he had troubling holding employment for longer than a few months before his deteriorating mindset forced him to retreat into isolation for weeks at a time to recover. Beyond the obvious financial problems caused by this, there were also a number of problems for his marriage with Fotini, whose status as a prominent Athenian socialite was dependent upon the appearance of a stable marriage and an opulent lifestyle. On several occasions between the Fall of 1860 and the Spring of 1862, no less than two dozen Gendarmeries were called to the Miaoulis household in downtown Athens to breakup spats between the embattled husband and his disgruntled wife.

    Now came the renewed rumors of his wife’s infidelity, rumors which were confirmed in the harshest manner possible with the revelation that his eldest son was in fact the child of King Leopold. Although he had always suspected the truth regarding Leo's lineage – if not known it outright, Andreas Miaoulis had always treated him as his own. He had loved the boy and truly believed him to be his own, if not by blood than at least by choice. Yet this revelation still stung deeply. Moreover, he did not find a sympathetic press willing to support him in this distressing time. Instead, he would find himself being mocked as a cuckold and a fool. His marriage was revealed to be a sham, his eldest son wasn’t his own, and his close friend, the King was actually his greatest betrayer. Heartbroken and betrayed, Andreas Miaoulis would draw his service pistol and shoot himself in the head on the 20th of October 1862, killing him instantly.[3]

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    The Death of Andreas Miaoulis

    For Leopold, this was an utter disaster.

    At first, he would attempt to brush off Miaoulis’ suicide as an unfortunate coincidence brought about by his mental instability. Yet when this proved insufficient at diverting public attention; he and his supporters would instead go on the offensive, decrying his adversaries in the press and legislature for using the death of his close friend as a political weapon against him. Though this would work to some degree, it would soon be upended when a half dozen women came forward, claiming they had sired children with the King. Although most would be turned away as gossipers and liars, at least two of these claimants would be considered legitimate. The first was a former maid in the Palace, whose thirteen-year-old daughter Sophie bore a striking resemblance to Princess Katherine. The other was a young boy named Georgios, whose mother was not publicly identified beyond her name of Anna.[4] He was a stocky boy of 6 and had a a thick head of hair and a face similar to that of Prince Alexander when he was a small child making it apparent to all whose son he was.

    Faced with mounting pressure from his adversaries and even some of his allies; King Leopold had little recourse but to publicly acknowledge his errors, admit his faults, and beseech the Greek people for their forgiveness. A magnanimous people by nature, the Hellenes, begrudgingly forgave their erstwhile King, but only after he had made sure to provide reparations to the aggrieved Miaoulis family for their tragic loss. Although the total sum was not officially revealed, the personal funds Leopold set aside would provide for the Miaoulis children for years to come. For his other children, Leopold would provide enough funds for their mothers to live comfortable lives, whilst Leopold would make various arrangements regarding their education and upbringing.

    The Hellenic Legislature was less forgiving, as they formally denounced the King’s unfaithfulness towards his lawful wife and moved to censure him. The Vouli would also establish an oversight committee to oversee the Monarchy’s finances in general, but particularly those of the reigning monarch. Effectively, this was to ensure that the King wasn’t wasting the people’s money on his superfluous relationships and hush money on nosy journalists. This was not enough for some, as many of the Republicans and Socialists within the Vouli attempted to initiate an investigation into Leopold’s wrongdoings to see if he had perjured himself before the Vouli or committed any crimes with his numerous affairs and attempted coverups. Were it not for the stern leadership of Prime Minister Constantine Kanaris, it is possible that something more could have actually come of these investigations. Instead these matters were quashed and shelved, albeit at a great cost to Kanaris' already flagging health and political capital.

    The true crucible, however, would come with the return of his wife Marie and their sons Constantine and Alexander. For Prince Constantine, this development effectively ended their relationship once and for all. Although he relished in his father’s public humiliation, Constantine could not help but feel that his father had tarnished the Crown’s good name in the waning days of his reign. Moreover, he despised his father for betraying their mother in the manner that he did and would henceforth refuse to speak to Leopold in person, only choosing to communicate with him via letters or intermediaries. Prince Alexander would be a little more reserved in his response, choosing to keep up appearances in public for the sake of the family. Yet in private, he would similarly distance himself from his father and only make amends with Leopold a few days prior to his death. Ironically, it would be Queen Marie who was the least hostile towards Leopold despite being the most aggrieved. Either out of genuine love for her husband or out of a keen political acumen, Queen Marie publicly forgave her lecherous husband for his infidelities against her and humbly asked that the people of Greece do so too. What was said in private between husband and wife is unknown however.

    Regardless, Leopold’s extramarital affairs were formally ended in January 1863 as Fotini Miaoulis would promptly leave Athens and return to the Mani where she would reside with her family for the rest of her days. Not much is known about the other women in Leopold’s life after 1862, only that they similarly kept low profiles and disappeared from public life soon after the scandal became public knowledge. Years later, Fotini’s son Leo Miaoulis would follow his royal half-brothers into the Military, yet in honor of his late “father" Andreas, he would join the Navy and enjoy a long and storied career. Leopold’s other children, Sophie and Georgios would remain with their respective mothers until they came of age, with Leopold continually planning their education and development until his own death in 1864. Eventually, the matter would pass as other issues came to the fore of Greek politics and so it was, that the Hellenic Monarchy weathered its most fearsome storm yet. Whether they would weather the next crisis was anyone’s guess.

    Next Time: The End of the Beginning

    [1] Leopold’s brother, Ernest served in the battles of Jena and Auerstadt alongside the Prussians, whilst his other brother Ferdinand served in the Battles of Aspern-Essling and Wagram with the Austrians. All three brothers would reunite during the War of the Sixth Coalition where they all served with distinction.
    [2] The OTL Fotini Mavromichali was also a lady in waiting to Queen Amalie of Greece, and it is rumored that she had an affair with King Otto. ITTL they aren’t just rumors.
    [3] The tragic end of TTL’s Andreas Miaoulis is conjecture based upon his OTL suicide in 1887.
    [4] OTL Leopold had at least two children out of wedlock.
     
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    Chapter 96: The End of the Beginning
  • Author's Note: I should preface this by saying this chapter is very different from what I usually write. I tend to write my parts in a top down style, taking the perspective of a historian analyzing events. Here I opted to look at these events from Diadochos Constantine's point of view as I felt the moment would be more poignant that way. I'm not the best at dialogue, but I hope you all enjoy this chapter as I'd like to do more of these in the future.

    Chapter 96: The End of the Beginning

    Mort_du_roi_L%C3%A9opold_Ier_de_Belgique_le_10_d%C3%A9cembre_1865.jpg

    The Last Moments of King Leopold of Greece

    Having weathered the fallout of his disastrous love affair with Fotini Mavromichalis, King Leopold of Greece and his advisors would begin strategizing for his eventual return to prominence in the Winter of 1863. However, he would find that he had lost much of the goodwill that he had strove so hard to build over the last 30 years. His sons despised him, his wife was distant towards him, the people were furious with him. Even his own supporters recommended that he refrain from making unnecessary public appearances for some time to allow animosity towards him to diminish.

    Ever the cautious man, Leopold acquiesced and retreated to the confines of his lush palace for the next few months. His only escapes from this self-induced solitude were a number of letters to his family, friends, and political allies as well as a few public excursions to attend Mass on Easter Sunday and Pentecost. Meanwhile, his sons would take over most of his public duties, with Alexander overseeing that year’s Independence Day festivities, whilst Constantine sat in on meetings of the Cabinet, the General Staff, and Vouli in place of his father. Officially, the King’s absence from these events was given as some illness which laid him low, but all knew the truth. Leopold was ashamed, he was humiliated, and he dared not harm himself further at this time.

    By the beginning of Autumn, public interest had turned away from the King’s love affairs to other, more important matters; namely those of the economy and foreign relations with the Turks, both of which were always tumultuous. Sensing that the time was right to formally begin rehabilitating his image, Leopold began making more and more appearances in public. Most of these outings would be for charitable purposes, giving alms to the poor, food to the hungry, and shelter to the homeless. Although never a truly pious man, Leopold began attending church weekly where he made sure to continually seek the absolution from his sins. Although no one can say how genuine these initiatives were, it would appear that his efforts were starting to make some inroads with the people. Sadly, it was not to be.

    On the 21st of December 1863; King Leopold I of Greece was out making his rounds throughout Athens as he usually did. The weather was particularly cold that day and snow was seen falling in some places. He dispensed with whatever coin he had on hand, giving it to the needy as he went. He even parted with his great coat which he donated to a freezing beggar in threadbare rags. As his company made their way through the streets, he encountered Fotini Mavromichalis’ brother Petros, her uncle Georgios, and a number of their Maniot followers. Although the meeting started well enough given recent events, their conversation soon grew heated as shouts and implied threats were hurled at Leopold. Though he attempted to press onward stoically, Leopold's blank expression soon turned that of a pained grimace as he began clutching at his chest and gasping for air. After a few staggered steps, he collapsed.

    Panic immediately gripped his attendants who quickly rushed to their king, finding him in a terrible state. Despite the cold he was sweating immensely, his speech was slurred, and he was gripped with a horrible fever. Frantic, some men tried carrying Leopold back to the Palace upon their shoulders with all the speed they could muster, only to stop as his condition continued to deteriorate. Even the Mavromichali men feared for the King and rushed away in search of help, returning moments later with some Gendarmeries and a doctor to tend to the King. Setting him down, the doctor quickly treated him for shock, wrapped him in warm blankets, and provided him with water to quench his parched lips. Eventually, a litter would be prepared for the King, and he would be placed upon it ever so gently, where upon he was carefully carried back to his home. Over the ensuing two weeks King Leopold would drift in and out of consciousness, his constitution continuing to decline.

    It was clear to all that he was dying.

    ******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
    The 3rd of January 1864
    The Royal Palace in Athens


    Diadochos Constantine sat outside his father’s chambers. At first, he did not believe it. He did not want to believe it. He refused to believe it. The old man, his father was dying. He had been sick before, deathly ill at times, yet he had recovered. He always recovered. So why was this time any different. Why now of all times. Why had not he chosen to die sooner, before this wretched scandal had emerged. Why not die later, after he had finished redeeming himself.

    Why, why, why?!?

    It didn’t matter anymore. The doctors said his father was dying and nothing could stop that now. Now here he was waiting outside his father’s personal chambers. Here to see him one last time before the end. Yet even still, he did not want to see him.

    He hated him, he despised him, he abhorred him. And yet, he could not help but feel a tinge of sadness and regret. The man that lay dying in the other room was his father, his own flesh and blood. When he was still a beardless youth, he had hoped that he might reach some sort of understanding with his father, that some sort of accord could be reached between them. That they may make amends with each other and come to love one another as a father should his son and a son should his father. These were the foolish hopes of a child, yet even then he still hoped for it. Even now at the end of it all, he still hoped for it. Vainly and foolishly.

    Now his father was dying and he hated him all the more for it as he had deprived him of any chance at reconciliation, any chance at love. The very though of this caused his breathing to quicken, his teeth to clench, his eyes to burn, and his hands to shake. He was becoming lost in his anger.

    "Darling"

    It was his wife, Anna

    "Anna, I...I don't know what to do."

    "It will be alright my Darling. You will be alright. We will be alright and no matter what happens, the children and I will always love you."


    Grasping her husband’s trembling hands within her own, Anna cradled them and kissed them. Her words were soothing and her touch gentle. The sweet smile on her face calmed his fraying nerves and settled his boiling rage. Although they were not as close as he had wanted them to be, he still cherished his wife. She had borne him five beautiful children (two sons and three daughters) for which he was forever grateful. She was loyal and gentle and kind towards him when few had ever been so tender hearted. He endeavored never to treat her the way that his father had treated his own mother for his children deserved that much if nothing else.

    Turning his gaze towards them, he saw his youngest, a son named Michael in the arms of his wet nurse cooing at everything that happened around him with such awe and wonder in his small blue eyes. Though he was little more than a newborn babe, he was already so aware, so bright.

    Next, he turned to his daughters Maria, Elena, and Sophie. All three were charming young girls who delighted all who knew them, though he still had trouble connecting with them himself. Perhaps it was some sort of subconscious guilt that he had, having once desired sons instead of daughters. Even still, he still loved them in his own way and tried his best with them.

    Yet it was his second child, his eldest son Constantine that brought him the greatest pride. He was barely seven years, yet he was different from himself in almost every way. Young Constantine was incredibly outgoing, striking up conversations with everyone about anything be they man, woman, or child. He was already quite tall for his age, with a crown of golden hair atop his head, and bright blue eyes lighting up his face. He had a great love for the outdoors and a zest for life. His son would make a fine King someday, of that Diadochos Constantine was sure.

    After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, one of his father’s aides – a young officer finally opened the door and bid Constantine to enter with him. Though he was reluctant to do so, he understood what this moment meant. Constantine was there to bear witness to the King’s - his father’s last moments. Rising from his seat in the hall, he passed through the wooden doors into his father’s personal office, his wife and children following close behind.

    He had dreaded this room in his youth as almost every week, young Constantine and his siblings would be ushered in here, before their domineering father. There, he would grade them on their ongoing education and training, rewarding them or punishing them as necessary.

    First, he would wax poetically about sister Katherine’s great intellect and skill. A prodigy he called her. He often gifted her new books or dresses or dolls for her great efforts.

    Next, he would adorn brother Alexander with accolades for his triumphs and trophies. Talented and strong was he, yet still possessing room for improvement.

    Last, was Constantine, but for his eldest all Leopold offered was disappointment for his many failures and inadequacies. Average at best, his father called him. Perhaps he expected more from his eldest son and heir. Perhaps in his own way, it was an attempt at encouraging improvement. Instead, it only worsened their relationship and ruined his self-confidence. Once he was King, this room would be locked shut and never again would he enter it.

    “Your Highness” A stern voice echoed out.

    It was man from before, Major Vassos, his father’s aide de camp. He was a lean fellow, with a quizzical look upon his brow and a whimsical mustache above his lips. Constantine remembered him from the Academy, he was a few years behind him, in brother Alexander’s class if he recalled correctly.

    They’re ready for you your Highness.” Major Vassos stated solemnly

    Constantine nodded and after a moment’s pause to prepare himself, he and his family would enter Leopold’s bedchamber.

    Inside he would find a finely decorated room, albeit in keeping with his father’s “distinct” tastes. The floor was made of marble which was mostly covered with a massive rug in various shades of blue. The walls were adorned with paintings, some of which depicted his vainglorious father in his youth. In the corner was a great armoire and beside it a giant mirror. Looking further, Constantine would see around thirty people scattered throughout the room, some sitting, others standing. He recognized most, a few were servants of his house, others were courtiers, and some were military men or politicians.

    Prime Minister Constantine Kanaris was there, as was his Deputy Panos Kolokotronis and a number of their aides. Both men respected his father and though they had distanced themselves from him following his recent scandals, they still found it within themselves to be here at his end. Alongside them was Panos’ son and Diadochos Constantine’s companion, Theodoros. Tall and strong, he was a mountain of a man. They had been together since childhood, brothers in arms at the Academy and now he was here to pay his condolences to his friend and soon to be sovereign on the looming death of his father.

    Lastly, he saw his mother and brother sitting beside the bed. Dread upon their faces and sadness in their eyes. Even after everything his father put her through, she was still here and had barely left his side since they had brought him back to the palace all those days ago. Tending to him, changing his sheets, and giving him wet sponges to drink from. She was too good for him.

    Unable to avoid it any longer, Constantine now looked to the bed - his father’s bed where he saw his father. Yet what should have been his childhood tormentor – strong and proud, was instead a sickly old man - frail and weak. He had lost weight, a lot of weight. His breathing was heavy and labored. His eyes sunken and hollow. What was left of his hair was greying and withered. His face and hands were pale, and his bed sheets drenched in sweat. Every now and then whispers spewed forth from his parched lips, but what he said, Constantine could not understand.

    Here he was, his oppressor, his tormentor lying broken before him and yet, instead of jubilation and triumph, Constantine felt …sadness? Pity? Did seeing his mighty father in this weakened state sadden him?

    No!

    Certainly not. That man deserved this agony, this suffering after all he had done to his family. All he had done to him! Yet no sooner had that thought come to mind, did he instantly regret it.

    At this all his hate for his father vanished and in its place was sadness and regret.

    Taking his seat beside his mother and brother, Constantine would look on in dazed silence as his father’s private chaplain, a middle aged priest named Nikos entered the room, an attendant by his side here to record every word that escaped his father’s lips. At a predetermined time, the Priest began reciting a number of prayers before making the sign of the cross. He offered the King his last rites and then beseeched him to make one last confession of his sins and to seek the forgiveness and mercy of the Savior Jesus Christ. With his condition as it was, Leopold just continued to murmur aimlessly; his once great mind having succumbed to delirium and rot. Finally, after a few more moments, his mind cleared, his strength returned and his arms shot forth, flailing desperately as he let forth one last cry.

    “Cha…lotte.”

    Charlotte?

    Did he mean That Charlotte? His first wife from nearly 50 years before? The one he had loved with all his heart and all his soul. The one that had been snatched away from him in a cruel twist of fate.

    Whoever she was, it mattered not, because no sooner had he uttered her name, did his strength finally fail him. His arms which reached vainly for the sky now fell limp to his sides. His labored breathing gradually slowed and then stopped completely. His listless eyes grew dark. At a little after two in the morning on the 4th of January, King Leopold of Greece was pronounced dead.

    Dread and silence hung over the room for several lingering moments. Barely a soul in the room offered him any tears. There were no weeping women, no bawling children. There were only a few hushed comments by those in attendance and a few words of condolence to the now Dowager Queen Marie over the loss of her husband.

    Soon, however, the stillness of the air was broken by one of Leopold’s courtiers who quietly mouthed some words. At first, Constantine couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then slowly, this chant was taken up by those in the room, one after the other. Louder and louder this hymn grew until everyone in the room was rising to sing it aloud. At this he finally understood what they were saying.

    “God Save the King!”

    “God Save the King!”

    “God Save the King!”


    Only Diadochos Constantine remained silent as a stream of tears poured down his cheeks.

    Next Time: A Marble King
     
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    Chapter 97: A King of Marble
  • Author's Note: So once again, this is a bit of a shorter update that doesn't really cover much ground. Basically, it was my intent to use this a springboard to go in any which direction that you, the reader would prefer that I go in. As such, I'll be making a poll either later today or tomorrow to gauge your interest in where I take the story next.

    Part 97: A King of Marble
    L%C3%A9opold%2C_duc_de_Brabant_-_Bocourt.jpg

    King Constantine I and XII
    Immediately following the death of King Leopold, most present at his bedside understood the gravity of the situation. The King was dead and his successor, Diadochos Constantine needed to be invested with the prerogatives of the Crown. What this process looked like, however, was anyone’s guess. The Constitution of 1830 did outline that the eldest (legitimate) son of Leopold’s body would inherit the throne upon his death, but few had made any significant preparations for such an occasion, let alone made any attempts to formally codify it. As such, their actions that day would set the precedent for all future successions of power. Regardless of the semantics, Greece was now without its Chief Executive, its Commander in Chief, its Head of State, and this could simply not do.

    Once emotions had settled, a call was sent out for the Judges of the Supreme Court and ranking members of the Vouli to be awoken and brought to the Royal Palace as soon as they were able. Last to arrive, a little after four in the morning was the President of the Supreme Court, Aristides Moraitinis who would preside over the events that followed. After being brought up to speed on the King's passing and giving his condolences to the late King’s family, he approached Diadochos Constantine and recited the same oath of office that Leopold had sworn nearly 34 years prior. After some prodding, Constantine was roused from his daze and began repeating the oath back to the assembled crowd. At that, the legal authorities and responsibilities of the Crown was passed from the late Leopold to Constantine who was now legally the King of Greece.

    Though he had been officially acknowledged as the King of Greece on the 4th of January 1864, the manner in which this investiture had been conducted was irksome to many of those involved – most of all Constantine. It was a rushed and informal affair, conducted in private away from the eyes of the people whose support the Monarchy needed, now more than ever. If Constantine were to gain - or rather regain their support after the recent scandals surrounding his father, then he would need a public spectacle to mark the beginning of this new era of Greece. He needed a Royal Coronation.

    To Constantine, this made a degree of sense as his father had his own coronation – simple though it may have been, all the way back in June of 1830. Even with Greece war torn and indebted as it was, they had managed to arrange a festival in Leopold’s honor welcoming him as their King. Moreover, Constantine wished to stress the modernity and prestige of the Hellenic Monarchy to his peers across the Continent, many of whom still looked upon his parvenu house and his rustic country with mocking eyes. It was to be a grand spectacle, akin to those of Great Britain, Austria, and Russia, proclaiming to all that he (and thusly Greece) was their equal. The Vouli proved hesitant to the idea, however.

    Given the recent controversies surrounding the Monarchy, they felt it unwise at present to spend countless Drachma on an entirely self-aggrandizing spectacle. Moreover, the Vouli was in recess for Christmas, with many Representatives away in their municipalities and would not return to session for many weeks to come. Although they would be called back to Athens, they didn't think it prudent to immediately embark on a spending spree for the new King. Instead, many Representatives still in attendance favored a far simpler (and far less expensive) Inauguration Ceremony before the Vouli and Senate.

    Constantine would resist this measure at first, decrying it in private as an indignity and an insult to his closest advisors, but with Royal influence still at its nadir and lacking many political allies in the Vouli, he and his entourage begrudgingly accepted this simplified ceremony. However, in return for his acceptance, he requested free reign to organize the festivities surrounding the Ceremony which the Vouli hesitantly accepted. With the style of the Ceremony settled upon, they would tentatively schedule Constantine’s public ascension to the Hellenic Throne for the 1st of February.

    The following weeks would see a flurry of activity in the Royal Palace as foreign dignitaries arrived to pay their respects, whilst politicians made various preparations. Among the topics of debate included the location of the a Mass in the King's honor with some of his courtiers suggesting the Royal Chapel in the Palace. However, given its small size and isolation, it was not considered overt enough. Another candidate was the Church of the Holy Trinity as it was the oldest cathedral in Athens. The site was the personal favorite of the new Queen Anna (Grand Duchess Anna Mikhailovna) as the Greek Government had leased it to the Russian Government to provide for the Russian community in Greece following her wedding to Constantine in 1853. However, as the site was undergoing renovations at the time, it was eventually passed over in favor of the new Metropolitan Cathedral of Athens which had finally completed construction only a few months prior.

    Postes_hell%C3%A9niques-CP%281918%29-0022.jpg

    The Metropolitan Cathedral of Athens (circa 1900)
    Other matters such as the regalia and trappings of the new King’s raiment’s was discussed at length by various sub-committees with some pushing for more traditionally Hellenic garb, whilst others wanted to promote the modernity of Greece with more contemporary (ie. Western) coronation garb. It was eventually decided that Constantine would wear a simple military uniform of a Hellenic Army General as his father had when he was Crowned King 34 years prior. Finally, there would be no usage of the regalia brought to Greece by Leopold given the insignificance of the items after Leopold’s arrival in Greece – they had been relegated to a display case in the Old Palace of Athens where they remain to this day.

    The last matter of major debate was that of Constantine’s official title. Upon his coronation in June 1830, Leopold had taken the lesser - and rather unpopular title, King of Hellas instead of the superior and more popular King of the Hellenes. Although the difference was slight, the meaning was not as the former implied Kingship only over the State of Greece, whereas the latter implied kingship over the Greek peoples, not just in Greece but everywhere. This lesser title had been forced upon his father and the Greek state by the Great Powers back in the Conference of London as a means of appeasing the wounded Ottoman Empire whose affections the British and French still sought to uphold.

    Over the years there had been a number of attempts by Hellenic Nationalists to push Leopold into repudiating this title and taking the superior title of King of the Hellenes in 1848 and again in 1855. Yet, on both occasions he refused to budge on the issue – fearing the animosity of the Powers whose support he still sought out and the animosity of the Turks whose belligerency he feared. Constantine had no such qualms, however.

    When the subject was presented to him during the lead up to his Inauguration, Constantine would make a show of the matter by feigning indifference at first. Yet, when pressed by members of the Vouli and members of his retinue, he would quickly change course and acquiesce to their request, accepting the title, King of the Hellenes. Although a few of his more conservative councilors would advise him against such a reckless act, most delighted in his bravado and let out a hearty cry in jubilation at their new King’s bravery and gusto.

    Of equal controversy was the choice of his official regnal name, Konstantinos XII Koburgos. Whereas his new title King of the Greeks sparked controversy with the Ottomans by claiming legal sovereignty over the Greek peoples living within the Ottoman Empire; his chosen name and regnal number presented a much graver threat to the Turks by linking himself directly to the last Roman Emperor, Konstantinos XI Palaiologos Constantine. In doing so, Constantine had essentially staked his claim to the territory and legacy of the medieval Rhomaion Empire. Going further, Constantine would back up these claims to Imperial greatness by sponsoring a number of genealogists and historians to record his ancestors all the way back to the Imperial Houses of Palaiologos, Angelos, and Kommenos.

    Constantine_XI.jpg

    Statue of Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos in Athens

    The announcement of these terms and the rather serious revival of the claims attached to them would immediately spark outrage in Kostantîniyye, who threatened little Greece with war if the 1830 Treaty of London and 1855 Treaty of Constantinople weren’t upheld to the very letter. However, the Ottomans were in a poor position to act on these threats as they were already embroiled in a crisis with Egypt, not to mention the ongoing unrest in their Levantine and Balkan provinces and the fact that their economy was thoroughly gutted. As these were hardly secrets, many in Athens to feel confident enough to disregard their threats. They would be proven right, for when the Powers showed little concern over the machinations of the new Greek King given the ongoing crises in Europe and the Middle East, the Sublime Porte begrudgingly dropped the matter. Despite this indifference, the Powers of Europe would not acknowledge Constantine’s unilateral acts, however, and would continue to refer to him as Constantine I, King of Hellas whenever he traveled abroad, much to his disappointment.

    Breaking up the preparations for Constantine’s coronation was Leopold’s funeral. On the 18th of January, King Leopold of Greece was finally laid to rest. Despite his recent failings as a man, his reign as a King was remembered fondly by the people of Greece. His long reign had brought a measure of legitimacy and stability to the Greek state that was sorely needed after the War for Independence. As such, throngs of people braved the cold to see their erstwhile King one last time. The funeral service in his memory at the Cathedral of Athens was attended by nearly 1000 people including a number of guests from all corners of Europe such as his beloved nephew Prince Albert and his son the Prince of Wales Prince Edward, Tsarevich Nicholas Alexandrovich and his brother Grand Duke Alexander Alexandrovich of Russia, his son in law King Louis of the Two Sicilies, and a number of other royal guests, extended family members and long-time family friends. For his part, Constantine said little and did less, choosing to let others speak and act on his behalf.

    Arriv%C3%A9e_du_corps_du_roi_L%C3%A9opold_Ier_au_Palais_royal_le_13_d%C3%A9cembre_1865.jpg

    The Funeral Procession of King Leopold
    Per Leopold’s will, he had requested that his body be laid to rest in Windsor next to his first wife, Princess Charlotte of Wales. However, this was rejected unanimously by both his son Diadochos Constantine and his Ministers who demanded that his remains be entombed in a royal crypt in Athens. Fittingly, Leopold had embroiled himself in one last controversy as unbeknownst to all, he had made arrangements with his niece Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom to bring about his will. The British Queen would attempt to negotiate with her Greek cousin to no avail. As Constantine and his government proved defiant to Leopold's last wishes, forcing Victoria to content herself with erecting a statue in her beloved uncle’s honor in St. George’s Chapel.

    Two weeks later, the day of Constantine’s formal Inauguration as the King of the Greeks arrived. Much as he might have wished that the routine Church service was a grand Coronation, he made the most of the event and received a benediction from the Metropolitan in his honor. The Gathering of the Vouli and Senate was much less mundane, however, as nearly a thousand men and women forced themselves into the small Vouli Chamber. At half past noon, Constantine, his family and a number of his aides, courtiers and retainers arrived at the Legislative building upon gilded carriages and great chargers. Tall, fully bearded and accompanied by a vast retinue of uniformed attendants and military men, Constantine looked every bit the mighty monarch.

    Standing at the center, upon an embroidered dais was Prime Minister Kanaris who invited the new King into the chamber and made a brief speech extolling the desire of the Legislature to work with King Constantine for the benefit of all Greeks. Although it was not public knowledge, Kanaris had revealed his intent to Constantine in a private meeting that he wished to resign from office following that day’s events. He recognized that his own time was nearing its end and wished to spend his last years with his remaining family in peace. Moreover, he knew that Constantine held political views that differed from his own and thus sought to provide the new King with a chance to select a Premier more to his liking. Yet upon the request of Constantine, he conceded to staying on in a transitionary role until a proper replacement could be selected.

    Next to address the gathered Representatives and Senators was the President of the Supreme Court, Aristides Moraitinis who prompted Constantine to rise and recite the same oath of office that he had following his father’s passing nearly a month prior. In short, he swore to abide by and defend the Constitution of the Greek State. He swore to uphold the rights of the Greek people. He swore to maintain the dignity and honor of the Monarchy. Finally, he swore to do his utmost to serve the Greek State. With this oath complete, the gathered crowd of legislators, judges, royal guests and visitors erupted into applause. Turning to address the crowd, Constantine would take in this moment before making a short, but impactful speech that was equal parts humble and defiant.

    First, he would describe his father’s recent passing as well as the scandals that surrounded his final days. He would ask that the people forgive his wayward father and move on from the controversy for the sake of the country. Next, he talked of his own life, his triumphs and his failures. He asked that the people aid him in his great task and that he promised to do everything in his power to lead them to greatness. Finally, he talked of his hopes and aspirations for his reign. His hopes of a better Greece - as well as his thinly veiled desires of conquest and expansion, of glory and grandeur. Little did anyone there that day know that King Constantine’s reign would indeed earn glory for little Greece, marking some of the highest highs of its modern history. Yet it would also mark some of its lowest lows and some of its greatest tragedies.
     
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    Chapter 98: Kleptocracy
  • So I'm not going to lie, I didn't expect to be gone from this thread for nearly 8 months. Then again, I didn't expect to be short tasked to the other side of the world on three days notice either, but that's life in the military for you. :coldsweat: Anyway, hope everyone's doing well and apologies for the long hiatus. While I've been rather busy for the last few months, I did do a fair amount of writing on this timeline and I actually have built up a fairly decent stockpile of completed/mostly completed chapters that I will be releasing over the coming weeks. Hope you all enjoy!

    Chapter 98: Kleptocracy


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    A Klepht of Ottoman Roumelia
    In the days and weeks following Constantine’s Inauguration as King of the Hellenes, a flurry of concern gripped the Government. Yet this worry was not due to the wide-eyed ambitions of their young new king whose gaze lay firmly upon the North and East, but rather the abrupt decision of their wizened old Prime Minister Constantine Kanaris to retire. Having shouldered the weight of the Hellenic Government for 11 consecutive years and nearly 12 in total, Kanaris was a stalwart of Greek Politics. For many young Greeks he was the only Prime Minister they could remember, second only to the great Ioannis Kapodistrias. Though his recent resume was marred with controversies, his Premiership on a whole had been incredibly successful seeing Greece expand territorially, grow economically, and flourish politically.

    Although his term as Prime Minister was successful by almost every margin, his greatest achievement by far would be the signings of the Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement and the Treaty of Constantinople in 1855 which would see the Kingdom of Greece gain the territories of Epirus, Thessaly, the Ionian Islands and the Dodecanese Islands uniting them under the Azure and White. The additions of these new provinces would expand the Hellenic State from a paltry 60,000 square kilometers to a more impressive 90,000 square kilometers, providing Greece with more defensible borders and more resources. Additionally, with these new territories came new peoples, growing Greece’s population from a meager 1.4 million people at the start of his second term, to a more respectable 2.4 million inhabitants by 1864.

    Along with these territorial and demographic expansions came an economic explosion as the GDP of the Hellenic State had more than doubled, from 198 million Drachma (7.92 million Pounds) in 1853 to nearly 410 million Drachma (16.4 million Pounds) by the start of 1864.[1] Much of this was due to the added resources and peoples of the New Provinces as the fertile fields of Thessaly were among the most productive farmlands in the entire Balkans, whilst the Ionian Islands and Dodecanese Islands were important hubs of commerce and trade in the Eastern Mediterranean.

    However, these additions in territory were further strengthened and improved upon thanks to the business-friendly policies of the Kanaris Administration. Several of Greece’s port facilities had been modernized and expanded – thanks in large part to British investment, whilst the Corinth Canal - started in 1853, was finally completed in mid-1862 with British assistance, opening up new avenues of trade throughout the region and expanding their capacity to ship goods across the Eastern Mediterranean. There had also been a fair amount of land reform throughout Greece during his tenure as Prime Minister, which would finally do away with the dreaded Chiflik system in Thessaly and Epirus empowering a new generation of small landholders across the country.

    Finally, his skillful stewardship of the Greek state had seen the Nationalist Party rise to the pinnacle of Greek politics where they would remain largely unchallenged for years to come. Their grip on power was so complete that the legislative gridlock that had defined the Vouli since its inception was virtually non-existent from the mid-1850s onwards to the early 1870s. Regular appropriation bills which normally took months to pass were passed with routine efficiency, major pieces of legislation were drafted, amended, and passed into law with remarkable swiftness, whilst regional Governors, Ministers, and political appointees were appointed with ease. Although this uni-party system would eventually grow irksome for most Greeks and cumbersome for the Nationalist Party Elites, it nevertheless, served them well through some troubling and trying times.

    %D0%9F%D0%BE%D1%80%D1%82%D1%80%D0%B5%D1%82_%D0%BA_%D1%81%D1%82%D0%B0%D1%82%D1%8C%D0%B5_%C2%AB%D0%9A%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B0%D1%80%D0%B8%D1%81%C2%BB._%D0%92%D0%BE%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%BD%D0%B0%D1%8F_%D1%8D%D0%BD%D1%86%D0%B8%D0%BA%D0%BB%D0%BE%D0%BF%D0%B5%D0%B4%D0%B8%D1%8F_%D0%A1%D1%8B%D1%82%D0%B8%D0%BD%D0%B0_%28%D0%A1%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%BA%D1%82-%D0%9F%D0%B5%D1%82%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%B1%D1%83%D1%80%D0%B3%2C_1911-1915%29.jpg

    Lithograph of Constantine Kanaris in early January 1864 only a few weeks before his resignation from Office

    Despite these great successes, however, Kanaris’ leadership of the Greek Government was not without its faults, especially in more recent years. His questionable handling of the notorious love affair between King Leopold and Fotini Mavromichalis had earned him the ire of many within the Vouli. Kanaris had routinely dismissed rumors of the King’s infidelity until long after it became public knowledge, making him out to be a doddering old fool in many eyes. His intransigence was made all the worse by the comparatively light punishment he levied upon Leopold in the affair’s aftermath, with many describing it as a mere slap on the wrist.

    The 1858 Voulgaris Corruption Scandal was also a highly contentious moment for the Kanaris Government. Kanaris and Voulgaris were longtime friends and political allies who had forged their relationship during the trials and testaments of the Revolution and tumultuous early post Revolution period. Yet, in the eyes of many Greeks, Voulgaris was a crook who had exploited their friendship to his own benefit politically. Even as more and more rumors of Voulgaris’ corrupt behavior came to light, Kanaris continued to stand by his Interior Minister in defiance of the Vouli who clamored for his ouster. Only once public sentiment had firmly turned against Voulgaris – and the Vouli threatened to remove Kanaris from office, would the Old Navarchos relent to the Legislature’s pressure and ask Voulgaris to resign. This stalwart support for his former compatriot would ultimately result in rounds of humiliating investigations into Kanaris’ own affairs by his political adversaries who sought to demonize and humiliate him. Eventually, the ensuing fallout would reveal that Constantine Kanaris was completely innocence in the Voulgaris matter, yet it cannot be denied that he was left weakened after the whole debacle.

    Finally, his oversight of the Lebanese Expedition in 1861 was also draped in controversy. Although he argued that he was defending Greeks and Greek interests throughout the Eastern Mediterranean, many suggested that he was overly involved in the planning and management of the expedition - owing to the death of his eldest son. According to his critics, this vendetta against the Lebanese Arabs would lead to the premature deployment of the Hellenic Navy to the region before an agreement had been reached with the Ottoman government, nearly sparking a war for which they were ill-prepared. Although an accord would be hastily concluded permitting limited Greek involvement in the French led Lebanese Expedition, they were restricted to a purely naval mission and only along the Levantine coast from Acre to Tartus. After several months, the expedition would be successfully concluded, yet its only real success - apart from the sinking of a few worthless “pirate vessels”, was the further antagonism of the Ottoman Government.

    Speaking of the Ottomans; relations between Athens and Kostantîniyye had steadily declined during Kanaris’ tenure as Prime Minister. Although they had never been strong to begin with, Kanaris’ inability or rather his unwillingness to oppose Greek irredentism at the Sublime Porte’s expense eroded whatever good will had grown between the two states since 1830. The Turks would on numerous occasions accuse Kanaris of turning a blind eye to brigands operating out of Greek territory and of weapons smugglers crossing the border to deposit their illicit goods with Christian partisans.

    Whilst few Greeks cared for the opinions of the Turks, these infringements upon the Ottoman Empire’s sovereignty did irk the United Kingdom who still sought to buttress the Sublime Porte against the ever-expanding Russian Empire. As cordial relations with the British were of much greater importance to the Greeks, mounting pressure from London would eventually force Kanaris to - at least in public - take a much sterner stance against the more militant nationalists in his Government during the later years of his Premiership. Whilst he would never actually renounce the Megali Idea or their accompanying claims to Ottoman territory, he would suspend all state sponsored subterfuge against the Ottomans and he would publicly oppose war with the Turks for the remainder of his time in office.

    Finally, there was the matter that Constantine Kanaris was rapidly approaching his 74th birthday in 1864. He was old, very old and Kanaris felt every bit his age. His youth had been ruled by conflict and war fighting against the Turks in the War of Independence and supporting further rebellions across the Ottoman Empire. He witnessed firsthand the destruction of his beloved homeland of Psara, losing many friends and family at the hands of the Turks. His later years were governed by political infighting and the rigors of administrating a nascent country. Both had taken an immense toll upon him; body, mind, and spirit. Beyond this, he had watched three of his children predecease him and more recently his wife of 47 years, Despoina who had passed away from a sudden illness utterly devastating him. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to spend his remaining days in peace with what family he had left.

    Thankfully for the old Navarchos, King Constantine would accept his resignation, on the condition that he stay on past his Inauguration. King Constantine’s later writings would confirm that this delaying action was merely a show of respect as the he had already made his decision on Kanaris’ replacement. However, King Constantine’s critics would argue that the German interloper did not wish to draw attention away from the pageantry of his coronation. Either way, it was decided that Kanaris would stay on until the end of February to help ease the transition process for the young King. Two weeks after his investiture King Constantine accepted Kanaris’ formal resignation, offered him a firm handshake and kindly pat on the shoulder. With his work finally done, Constantine Kanaris would retire to a small villa on the edge of Athens where he would live out the remainder of his days in relative peace, surrounded by his friends and family. Like the great Ioannis Kapodistrias before him, Kanaris would occasionally stir from his rest to offer words of wisdom to King Constantine or to provide whatever counsel he could to his successors before ultimately succumbing to old age in November of 1875.

    Constantine Kanaris had set a high standard for Prime Minister of the Hellenic State, one which many men might fail to reach. Thankfully for Greece, the man that would ultimately succeed Kanaris was up to the task. He was no stranger to King Constantine or Constantine Kanaris as he had been a constant presence at the Royal Court during the King’s youth and through much of Kanaris’ Premiership. He had served as Aide de Camp and Adjutant to the late King Leopold, he was a Strategos of the Hellenic Army, Minister of the Army, and Deputy Prime Minister. He was King Constantine’s old mentor and the father of his closest friend. He was Panos Kolokotronis.

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    Panos Kolokotronis circa 1852, 7th Prime Minister of Greece
    Born on the island of Zakynthos in 1800, Panos Kolokotronis was himself the son of martyred War Hero Theodoros Kolokotronis. Though he would live in his father’s shadow for the first few months of the war, he would emerge as a great leader in his own right during Ibrahim Kavalali Pasha’s invasion of the Morea. Leading a prolonged guerilla campaign against the Egyptian Prince; Panos would finally strike a decisive blow against Ibrahim Pasha in 1826 near the town of Gytheio in the Mani where he and his men captured or killed nearly half of the enemy Army. Thereafter, Kolokotronis and his allies would go on the offensive reclaiming nearly all of the Peloponnese from Egyptian and Ottoman occupation, culminating in the surrender of Patras in early 1828. With the evacuation of the Egyptian Army in late 1827/early 1828, the War in the Peloponnese came to an end and so too did Panos’ involvement in the War, apart from a single raid into Central Greece in early 1829.

    Following the Revolution, Panos would begin shifting from the life of a klepht and warrior into that of a career soldier and civil servant, when in the Summer of 1830, he was selected to serve as the new King Leopold’s Aide de Camp. Though this lowly posting likely insulted his great pride and could have incited a terrible controversy, the young Strategos remained surprisingly humble during his time of service to the King and made the most of his opportunity to learn the finer points of statecraft and administration from Leopold.

    His patience would be rewarded, as within a few short months, he was named as the King’s Adjutant and Chief Military Adviser a role he would continue to hold for several years, before replacing the retiring Markos Botsaris as field commander of the Hellenic Army. However, his time in this position would be limited as he soon joined the Government of Ioannes Metaxas as Minister of the Army in 1841. In these roles he maintained his close working relation with King Leopold and would visit the Royal Manor on occasion to wine and dine with the King and his family.

    It was around this time that he would make his impact felt on the young Diadochos Constantine who, being shunned by the cold and overly disciplined Leopold, came to admire the famed Panos Kolokotronis as a surrogate father figure in lieu of his actual father. Unlike Leopold, Panos was quite respectful to young Constantine and always wore a kindly expression on his face despite his imposing stature and fierce reputation. Most importantly, he introduced his own son Theodoros into the household of the young Diadochos Constantine. The two were of similar ages and though they differed greatly in temperament and character, they would prove fast friends. Whilst Panos would come and go in service of the King and Hellenic Government; Theodoros would remain a constant part of Diadochos Constantine’s life, becoming the Agrippa to Constantine’s Augustus.

    Paul_Fischer_-_Kong_Georg_af_Gr%C3%A6kenland_og_Kong_Edward_VII_af_England_sk%C3%A5ler_i_champagne.png

    An Enduring Friendship;
    King Constantine (Center) and Theodoros Kolokotronis (left) in their later years.

    It comes as no surprise then that the newly enthroned King Constantine chose Panos Kolokotronis to be the first Prime Minister of his reign. He trusted the old Strategos and believed him to be the right person for the job. He wasn’t wrong in this belief either, as Panos Kolokotronis was a living legend and one of the few remaining Heroes from the Revolutionary War. Moreover, he was widely favored by several dozen legislators within the Nationalist Party and he had extensive name recognition among the Hellenic people, making him a natural choice for the position. Most importantly, he was a capable statesman with experience serving in the Ministry of the Army, the Interior Ministry, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs at various points over the past 23 years.

    This is not to say that Panos Kolokotronis was universally adored, as he certainly wasn’t. He had many rivals throughout the Hellenic Government. His infamous Kolokotronis Pride had earned him many enemies within the Vouli, primarily among those of the Liberal Party and the Conservative Wing of the Nationalist Party. To these men, Panos Kolokotronis was a vainglorious braggart, a vagabond and a cutthroat who spared no expense to get his way (be it by treasure spent or blood spilt). In 1847, he famously attacked the former Finance Minister Ioannis Orlandos with his cane for having the audacity to support closer economic relations with the Turks. Although the Prime Minister at the time, Alexandros Mavrokordatos threatened Panos with censorship and expulsion from the Vouli for this act of violence; his staunch support from the King and large following in the Legislature made such a move impossible.

    Panos Kolokotronis was also unabashedly biased towards his fellow Peloponnesians, using his great influence to benefit his allies, granting them high ranking positions in his Ministries or among his staff. Meanwhile, few Islanders, Roumeliotes or Phanariotes ever entered into his service. Those that did were often his former compatriots from the War or members of his wife Eleni Boubouli’s extended family. He was also notorious for his nepotism, using his power and prestige to advance the careers of his relatives and close friends with his brothers Konstantinos and Ioannis being constant figures in any Government that he himself was a part of. Despite all this, even his detractors and political rivals would agree -albeit begrudgingly - that Panos Kolokotronis was the right man for the job. Thus, when King Constantine approached Panos Kolokotronis and requested that he take the office of the Prime Minister for himself, he graciously accepted.

    Within a few short weeks, the new Prime Minister had selected his cadre of ministers – primarily from amongst his political allies, personal friends, and immediate family members. His Deputy Prime Minister would be his younger brother Ioannis (Gennaios) Kolokotronis. A former soldier and Senator, Ioannis had served as an irregular during the War for Independence during his youth. Although not as famous as his elder brother, Ioannis had quietly built a solid career in the Hellenic Bureaucracy serving in the Ministries of the Interior and the Ministry of the Army over the last 20 years. Moreover, Ioannis was resoundingly loyal to his brother Panos and had faithfully served in his staff for many years. Rewarding his brother’s continued fidelity, Panos would also appoint Ioannis to the important posting of Interior Minister as he dared not appoint anyone else to the position.

    The prestigious Office of the Foreign Minister would be filled by his other brother, Konstantinos Kolokotronis who was himself a respectable statesman in his own right. Contrary to popular opinion, it was Konstantinos, not Panos who had helped fashion the famed Clarendon-Kolokotronis Agreement with Viscount Palmerston and the Earl of Clarendon in 1855. Through his shrewd negotiations with the British, Konstantinos would successfully wring the Ionian Islands from London’s grip along with a number of financial concessions and investments. His adept diplomacy would also secure the much sought after territories of Thessaly, Epirus and the Dodecanese Islands during the latter 1855 Treaty of Constantinople.

    Continuing this trend of appointing close family members and friends to his Cabinet, Panos’ would appoint his brother-in-law, Georgios Yiannouzas to the office of Minister of the Navy. Meanwhile, his close friend Thrasyvoulos Zaimis would become head of the Education and Religious Affairs Ministry and the Achaean Efstathios Iliopoulos was appointed Justice Minister – yet another ally of the Kolokotronis family. To solidify his grip over the Nationalist Party and provide some semblance of continuity, Panos Kolokotronis would appoint a few holdovers from the previous Kanaris Government to other important cabinet positions with Dimitrios Christidis retaining his role as the head of the Finance Ministry, whilst Ioannis Antonopoulos and Benizelos Roufos would be retained as Ministers without Portfolios. The latter would retire from public service within the year however and was eventually replaced by the former Mayor of Spetses, Nikolaos Mexis, another of Panos’ allies.

    Cabinet of Panos Kolokotronis (1864):
    • Prime Minister: Panos Kolokotronis
    • Deputy Prime Minister: Ioannis (Gennaios) Kolokotronis
    • Foreign Minister: Konstantinos Kolokotronis
    • Interior Minister: Ioannis (Gennaios) Kolokotronis
    • Finance Minister: Dimitrios Christidis
    • Justice Minister: Efstathios Iliopoulos
    • Education and Religious Affairs Minister: Thrasyvoulos Zaimis
    • Army Minister: Panos Kolokotronis
    • Navy Minister: Georgios Yiannouzas
    • Ministers Without Portfolio: Ioannis Antonopoulos, Benizelos Roufos and Nikolaos Mexis

    Owing to the predominance of former klephts, armatolis, pirates and privateers within the Kolokotronis Government, historians would later term this regime as the “Kolokotronis Kleptocracy”. Despite this title, Greece would be remarkably stable under the Kolokotronis Administration and see very little in the way of major corruption allegations or violent outbursts between its Political Parties until its firery demise in 1872. Much of this was due to the relatively seamless transition between the Kanaris and Kolokotronis governments as very little changeover took place below the Cabinet, with many lower and mid-level bureaucrats retaining their posts. Even many deputy ministers who were themselves political appointees retained their former positions or were moved into lateral offices. That said, the transition between the Kanaris Government and the Kolokotronis Government was not entirely painless as Kolokotronis’ adversaries in the Legislature would frequently resist him.

    Chief among these adversaries was the wisened statesman Alexandros Mavrokordatos who had helmed the opposing Liberal Party for the better part of the last 25 years. Although he had fallen into ill health by the 1860’s, Mavrokordatos still remained passionate and obstinate in his rivalry towards Panos Kolokotronis and his opposition to the Nationalist Party agenda. Though the Liberal Party was smaller by far than the Nationalist Party with 86 Representatives to 131, his control over the Party was firm as few members of his caucus broke ranks with their leader. Without a supermajority in the Vouli, Mavrokordatos and his allies could successfully delay the Nationalist agenda through every mean available to them from protesting vital votes to filibusters until compromises were met or amendments were made. However, Mavrokordatos’ declining health and eventual death in late September of 1864 threw the Liberals into confusion and disarray, from which they would not soon recover.

    The timing couldn't be worse as the subsequent General Elections in November of that year would be for all intents and purposes, a massacre as the Liberals were soundly defeated, losing more than 20 seats to the Nationalists. With this defeat, the Liberal Party was effectively relegated to irrelevancy in Greek politics providing Panos Kolokotronis and his Nationalists with their much sought after supermajority in the Vouli. Yet this was both a blessing - giving them complete control over the Vouli, and a curse as the Nationalist Party would suffer from growing fragmentation and diverging ideology within its ranks. Ironically, this defeat in the 1864 Elections would also serve as an important development for the Liberal Party which was forced to undergo its own period of reform and soul searching in the wake of this terrible defeat.

    Next Time: Captains of Industry

    [1] Shout out to @Lascaris for his great tables detailing this information way back in post number 3654.
     
    Chapter 99: Captains of Industry
  • Chapter 99: Captains of Industry
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    The Port of Laurium; Greece's burgeoning industrial center (circa 1870)

    Aiding with the transition of the previous Kanaris Government with the new Kolokotronis Administration was the continuation of many policies and directives established during the previous administration. This would be seen most clearly in regards to foreign policy which maintained close relations with the United Kingdom, France and Russia. Religious and cultural policy would also see little changes under the Kolokotronis Regime, with a similar impetus dedicated to preserving ancient sites across the land and Hellenization of the various minorities in the Country. Finally, the Kolokotronis Government’s views on the prerogatives of the State differed little if at all between the two regimes, with both enjoying a strong working relationship with the King and both maintaining a healthy respect for the prerogatives of the Monarchy so long as the Monarchy continued to cooperate with and respect the Legislature. Yet, that is not to say that there were not differences between the two; there most certainly were. Kolokotronis’ stances on other issues such as the military and economy featured distinct differences that would become more apparent within a few months.

    The Kanaris Governments had generally favored a hands off or laissez faire approach to the economy, only choosing to intervene directly to further develop Greece’s maritime infrastructure or in the event of emergencies that threatened the stability of the Greek State. The former was seen primarily through his development of numerous ports and maritime infrastructure across the country, culminating in the construction of the Corinth Canal in 1862. Meanwhile, the latter was seen through his implementation of the 1859 Land Reform Act, abolishing the dreaded Chiflik system in Thessaly and Epirus following the infamous Farmer’s March. Whilst this decision was certainly a step in the right direction there were still some problems that became evident, it was also heavy handed in some respects regarding larger landowners and overly inadequate in others.

    Upon assuming Office in March of 1864, the Panos Kolokotronis Administration would improve upon the previous the 1859 Land Reform Act, by extending its effects to all of Greece. Due to certain technicalities and loopholes hidden within the text of the law, the protections afforded to small landholders were only guaranteed to farmers in Thessaly and Epirus, not all of Greece. On the surface this wasn’t a major concern in Athens as the Chiflik system was long dead in the Old Provinces[1]. However, digging deeper, one could find a fair degree of absentee landlordism across the country along with several cases of exploitation of gullible planters being swindled out of their properties at below market rates. This was amended under the amended Land Reform Act in 1865, as land holders in Greece were formally divided into two categories for administrative purposes; small landowners who owned 25 acres or less and large landowners who owned more than 25 acres with various protections afforded to each.[2]

    To aid smaller planters, interest rates for government loans were set at a standard rate of 6% nationwide, whilst larger plantation owners were charged nearly double at an interest rate of 10%. The 1865 Land Reform Act would once more condemn the practice of slavery, serfdom, and indentured servitude as unjust, inhumane, and illegal in the lands of Greece. However, it would permit the establishment of contract laborers and tenant farmers so long as a third party (usually a government official or public notary) was present at the contract signing to ensure that the tenants were not taken advantage of by the prospective employer. Additionally, these same officials would be required to make random inspections of the property to ensure that the situation remained favorable to all parties. Finally, the provision preventing the selling of property was reduced from 5 years to 3 so long as neighboring small landowners were given an opportunity to purchase the property.

    There was also a slight revision in this new Act which benefited larger landowners. Whereas before, absenteeism of eight months would be automatically punished with the forfeiture of the entire farmstead to the Government, now large landholders were now permitted to retain their properties provided they paid a small fine to the Hellenic Government, with the amount paid dependent upon the size of the plantation in question. However, should the landholder in question continue their absenteeism from the property, then an additional fine would be assessed for every month thereafter up to 12 months in total. At this time, the original penalty would be reimposed, and the property would be deemed vacant. Should the landholder wish to contest this decision, they would be required to make an appeal to a court of law, with the resulting ruling being made on a case-by-case basis.

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    Several Orchards near Agios Vasileios, Crete

    Whilst land reform was certainly helpful to many Greek farmers, this wasn’t the only aspect of the Greek economy that the Kolokotronis Administration would touch upon as Greece’s heavier industries also received some much-needed attention and investment. Much of this renewed focus would go towards the Mines of Laurium which was quickly developing into Greece’s industrial epicenter. With its proven deposits of silver, lead, iron and zinc it had the potential to pull the Greek Economy into the Modern era and yet, since its reopening in 1839 its production had been rather disappointing.

    Much of this can be blamed on the poor management of the Laurium Metallurgical Company whose primary focus up to this point had been the mining of silver and lead owing to their higher value. Yet, even with 25 years of continuous operations at Laurium, the Company had only succeeded in producing a meager 12 imperial tons of silver and a little over 8,000 tons of lead in 1861, with lower totals reported in every year before and since.[3] Moreover, the continued neglect of Laurium’s iron and zinc deposits was also baffling for the Hellenic Government who sought to exploit the site’s resources to the fullest. It would soon become clear what was happening at Laurium, as discrepancies with its recorded production and actual production.

    Unbeknownst to the Hellenic Government, either through a lack of oversight or ignorance, the Laurium Metallurgical Company – a joint French-Hellenic Mining syndicate, had been making up the shortfalls in its silver production through the selling of ancient lead and silver tailings found at the site, known as ekvolades in Greece. As this product was not mined from the earth, but rather picked off the ground it wasn’t subject to mining regulations regarding the taxing of the company’s findings. No one knows when exactly this practice began at the site, but upon the discovery of this practice in early 1865, the Kolokotronis Government would swiftly move to strip the Laurium Metallurgy Company of their permits, inciting a long and arduous legal battle and diplomatic confrontation with France who came to the defense of the Company.

    Tensions nearly boiled over as the Kolokotronis Government threatened to nationalize the Company and all their assets without compensation. In response, the French Ambassador Arthur de Gobineau promised to call upon the French Mediterranean Squadron and blockade Piraeus, Laurium and other ports in Attica if such an act were carried out. This state of affairs would continue off and on for months, until finally a breakthrough emerged when the Hellenic Government offered to buy back the mining rights at Laurium, to which the Company agreed. Meanwhile, to sooth relations with France, the Greek Government would agree to a new trade deal selling excess ore to Paris in exchange for various French made commodities like munitions and machinery. Finally, new regulations would be put in place taxing the sale of ancient tailings in Greece, closing this loophole once and for all.[4]

    Under the management of a new company, the appropriately named Hellenic Minerals and Metals Extraction Syndicate (later renamed to the much simpler Hellenic Minerals), the miners of Laurium would finally begin extracting zinc and iron ore from the site. Thus, over the ensuing months, half a dozen new mines would open across the southern tip of Attica in pursuit of these precious metals. One last development at Laurium would be carried out in early 1869, when the Kolokotronis Government issued a permit for the construction of a new blast furnace smelting facility at Laurium to test the viability of the Bessemer Process. Although it wouldn’t be complete until the end of the start of the 1870’s, it would eventually confirm that the Bessemer Process was within the means of the Greek State, albeit on a moderate scale.
    Carte_du_Laurion_antique.jpg

    A map depicting various mines in the Laurium region of Attica (circa 1900)​

    There were also several other mining developments elsewhere in Greece during this time as a primitive new iron ore mining facility would be opened at Larymna in early 1868, bolstering Greece’s meager iron ore production. A new marble mining facility would be opened on the north slope of Mount Pantelicus to help supply Pentelic marble for the refurbishment of Athens’ ancient structures in preparation for the 1866 Olympic Games. Finally, several companies in the Peloponnese were given permission to explore for additional coal deposits in the hills surrounding the city of Megalopolis.

    Whilst these were all certainly important economic developments for Greece; commerce and trade remained Greece’s the lifeblood of the Greek Economy and Panos’ largest contribution to this sector of the Hellenic Economy would be through his expansion of Greece’s landward infrastructure. Beginning in the Autumn of 1864, the Kolokotronis Administration would authorize the construction of over 200 miles of new paved roads in Crete and the Peloponnese, a new bridge spanning the Euripus Strait, a bridge over the Arachthos River near Arta, a dozen new lighthouses such as those at Santorini and Rhodes, and new aqueducts for Athens, Patras and Heraklion among several other less noteworthy projects. Similarly, Athens’ sewer system was renovated and expanded for the first time in centuries as the city was rapidly approaching 100,000 inhabitants and was suffering from increasing issues with health and cleanliness. However, the cornerstone of Panos’ economic investment programs would be his infamous Hellenic Rail Act of 1865 which approved contracts and government funding for a dozen new railways across the Country.

    FarosSantorini.jpg

    The Lighthouse of Akrotini - located on the isle of Santorini (constructed circa 1869).

    At the start of his term in 1864, Greece’s railroad network stood at less than 90 miles or roughly 145 kilometers divided between five active railroads and a smattering of other projects that were in varying stages of development.[5] By the end of Panos Kolokotronis’ Premiership this number would more than triple with the completion of 9 new railroads and two more finishing soon after. Most of these new railways were smaller lines that connected various ports to other population centers further in land such as the Chalcis-Dirfys line that was completed in 1867, the Missolonghi-Agrinio Line opened in 1870, or the Diakopto-Kalavryta line which began operating in 1873. Yet, there was one that was much more ambitious and perhaps more strategically important than any of these minor railways. This was a single rail line running from Athens to Larissa, tying the richer and more developed South of Greece with the more rural and less integrated North of Greece.

    At nearly 400km (~250 miles); the Athens-Larissa Railway would be the longest line yet in Greece. Traversing through several mountainous passes and crossing multiple rivers, it was a colossal undertaking for any country at the time, let alone little Greece. Complicating planning even further were later additions for two auxiliary lines that connected the Aegean entrepot of Demetrias, and the Western Thessalian population centers of Trikala, Karditsa, and Kalambaka to this main line adding another 150 kms (93 miles) to the project. Despite the immense challenges involved, several competitors would emerge for the contract to build and manage the new railway. Eventually a contract would be reached leading numerous surveyors to chart a safe course from the Capital city of Athens to Larissa. By the beginning of Spring 1865, a general route had been established, prompting the government to dispatch a company of engineers and laborers to begin clearing the path. As this was taking place, orders for nearly 550 kilometers of rail were placed with various distributors across the country. However, several issues would soon emerge for the project.

    First and foremost, producing this much rail would take time, a lot of time as Greece’s rail production industry was practically non-existent in 1865. Part of this was due to the relative inexpensiveness of sea travel in Greece which disincentivized railroad construction and by effect, rail production over the past few decades. Given their infrequent construction, railroads were viewed as a rather niche venture by most metal smiths in the country and were only produced on a case-by-case basis in the past and usually for marked up rates. As there wasn’t exactly a strong or profitable market for making this much rail in Greece, only a handful of smithies scattered across Greece even had the experience or know-how to construct railway tracks, let alone the tools or techniques.

    Perhaps more important to the issue of limited rail production was the relatively small iron working industry in Greece which only totaled about 200,000 tons per annum. This sum was in turn divided between the production of tools, ships, and ornaments or was refined further into steel.[6] Some of this ore was even exported abroad given Greece’s limited manufacturing and refinery capabilities. The opening of iron mines at Laurium and Larymna in 1865 and 1868 respectively, would help alleviate this issue boosting Greek iron production to nearly 400,000 tons by the end of the century, but it would take time before they were producing any meaningful supplies of iron ore.

    There was also another problem, as those smithy companies that did possess the means to refine the ore had their own differing standards for rail quality and rail fastening systems. Often times, the type of iron used in rails often differed between smithy and furnaces, with some making cast iron rails, whilst others created wrought iron. Generally, most lines were comprised entirely of one or the other, but in the odd case of the Laurium-Athens railroad it used both given its (at the time) rather extensive length. Naturally, this resulted in segments made of cast iron eventually cracking under continued usage, culminating in the costly derailment of a freight train in September 1861 and the death of its four operators. Other common issues were the wide variety of fastener systems which ranged from stakes or spikes of varying quality, shapes and sizes which either provided too little flexibility to the rails causing them to break under pressure, or too much flexibility, causing them to gradually shift their course and completely breaking free of their fasteners in some instances.

    One last issue was the differing gauges of the various tracks in Greece. Some railroads, particularly those in the Peloponnese used Meter Gauge - tracks that were spaced one meter apart. Meter Gauge was particularly popular with the French at the time and had proven quite receptive in parts of the Morea, specifically those regions where French business interests were largely focused. In contrast other railways, primarily those in Attica had generally used what is now known as Narrow Gauge with most being around 600mm. As the new line was supposed to tie into the Athens-Piraeus line, many supported making it Narrow Gauge as well. However, some championed the use of 1435 mm, or what is now referred to as Standard Gauge. Standard Gauge had become increasingly popular amongst the British, who cited its greater efficiency compared to narrower gauge railways which couldn’t carry heavier freight and broader gauge railways which had trouble in rugged terrain.

    Kalamai1910.jpg

    A Train in Kalamata using Meter Gauge

    To resolve these many issues and provide a continuing regulatory body to oversee all future infrastructure projects; the Hellenic Government would split the Departments of Infrastructure and Development from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and establish a new Agency; the Ministry of Infrastructure, Transportation, and Economic Development, or simply the Ministry of Infrastructure for short. It’s first Minister would be the talented Representative from Messinia Alexandros Koumoundouros who had spent time as both the Deputy Minister of Finance for Economic Development and the Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs for Infrastructure before being elevated to a full Minister in his own right in late 1865. Koumoundouros’ Ministry would be charged with standardizing rail production and construction across the country in accordance with the norms of the times throughout Europe; that being wrought iron rails with timber sleepers and tie plate fasteners. They would sit upon a bedding of rock and gravel ballast, providing a porous, yet relatively even surface for the ties to sit within securely. Finally, the gauge of the rails would be set at the Stephenson Gauge of 1435 millimeters (Standard Gauge).

    The latter decision proved quite divisive as many Representatives from the Peloponnese and Attica opposed the shift to British Standard Gauge as it would force preexisting Railroads to change their gauges in accordance with this new standard. However, as the United Kingdom was the chief supplier of rail cars for the Hellenic Kingdom - almost all of which were now being produced with Standard Gauge wheelsets - this argument carried less weight than it might have otherwise. It also cannot be denied that Panos Kolokotronis likely forced this decision given he had been one of the original proponents of 1435mm gauge only months prior. As such, all new lines would be constructed in Standard Gauge. Yet, in the spirit of compromise it was decided that preexisting lines utilizing Meter or Narrow Gauges would be allowed to continue operating whilst being gradually replaced with Standard Gauge lines.

    With the necessary prep work complete by the end of 1865, construction was officially set to begin the following year in early 1866. The first leg of the line would see the mainland port of Chalcis connected to Athens by the end of 1866. However, despite this early success, wrought iron supply shortages hampered construction efforts considerably. More than that, the project was incredibly expensive, with the estimated total of the 1865 Hellenic Rail Act (all 900kms of it) costing around 80 million Drachma (~3.5 million Pounds Sterling), or roughly 1.5 times the annual revenue stream of the entire Hellenic Government in 1865, prompting the acceptance of a number of loans to help finance the project in a timely manner. This combined with the collapse of the bridge over the Sperchios River following a particularly wet Winter in 1869 effectively halted construction just shy of the city of Lamia as more funds needed to be appropriated to fund a new bridge. Thus, by the start of the One Year War in 1871, only half of the main railway was complete; still an impressive feat for Greece, but nevertheless, disappointing after the considerable resources invested in the project.

    Whilst there were certainly economic benefits to these endeavors, the real boon of this project would be the strategic ramifications it would bring to Greece as troops and supplies could be more easily shifted from the South to the North in the event of War with the Turks. And War with the Turks was the true goal of Panos Kolokotronis. Although he had come to terms with the fact that Greece needed cordial relations with its Northern neighbor, he himself despised the Ottoman Empire for having murdered his father and despoiling his homeland. Thus, the remainder of his life would be dedicated to the complete destruction of the Turk. However, Panos Kolokotronis was no longer a young man who was easily blinded by rage. He knew full well that Greece stood little chance against the Ottoman Empire as it was now and to that end he made preparations to bring about its destruction.

    Next Time: The Balkan League

    [1] Old Provinces is a reference to the territories of Pre-1855 Greece which include the Peloponnese, Attica-Boeotia, Aetolia-Acarnania, Phthiotis-Phocis, Crete, the Cyclades, and Chios-Samos.
    [2] 15-20 acres is generally defined as the minimum required for self-sustenance, whilst 25 acres provides these farmers with some margin for crops failing and something they can sell and make a minor profit from. Obviously, this is not a perfect system, but it is a step in the right direction.
    [3] According to the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica, Greece in 1905 produced roughly 165,000 tons of dressed lead with about 14,000 tons being silver pig lead. This in turn produced about 1600 to 1900 grams of silver ore per ton, which range anywhere from 807881 ounces to 931233 ounces of silver, or 22 to 26 tons of silver ore. For simplicity, I averaged the two together for 24 tons of silver and then halved this number to account for the lacking technological innovations in the intervening 40 years and for story reasonings listed above. If the mines hadn’t been operational for nearly 25 years by now ITTL, then I’d consider making it even lower but I feel as if 12 tons is good enough.
    [4] A reference to the OTL Lavrion issue. For those unfamiliar, the Laurium Mines were opened in the 1860s in OTL and were operated by a French-Italian company named Roux - Serpieri - Fressynet CIE. The Company would utilize a loophole in Greek Tax law by selling the Evkolades – tailings from the ancient mining activity, which were unfortunately overlooked in the original contract negotiations.
    [5] These railroads are, in no particular order: Athens-Piraeus, Laurium-Athens, Kalamata-Messini, Pyrgos-Katakolo, and Lamia-Stilis.
    [6] Greek iron ore production in 1905 was listed at around 460,000 tons according to the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica. Given technological differences between the early 1900’s and 1860’s, I’ve adjusted this downward somewhat.
     
    Chapter 100: The Balkan League
  • So a few days of traveling turned into a few weeks. :coldsweat:

    Anyway, I've been enjoying the speculation and theory crafting on what's been going on elsewhere in the world ITTL. Once this current arc on the upcoming Greco-Turkish War is complete I'll be doing a tour across the world to show you all what has been happening in the last few years (or in some cases decades). That said, some countries like France, Germany and Italy will be receiving more attention in the form of their own chapters, whilst others like Spain, Portugal, the Scandinavian Countries, South America and Sub-Saharan Africa will be covered more broadly.

    Now moving onto today's chapter, I hope you all enjoy!

    Chapter 100: The Balkan League

    Balkan_League_and_Hagia_Sophia.jpg

    An artistic depiction of the Balkan Christians celebrating their eventual victory over the Turks.

    The idea of a Pan-Christian alliance against the Turks was not a new concept for the peoples of the Balkans, with the earliest iterations of this idea dating back to the Middle Ages with the Smyrniote, Nicopolis, and Varna Crusades and the later Holy Leagues, all of which achieved varying levels of success. In more recent times, the first auspices of what would later become the Balkan League took root in the years before the Greek War for Independence under the aegis of the Filiki Eteria. Although the Society of Friends was primarily a Hellenic organization aimed at Greek independence, it also advocated for the Enlightenment ideals of liberty, equality and fraternity among the Christian peoples of the Ottoman Empire. It stated their collective desire for independence from Turkish occupation and the destruction of the Sublime Porte. To that end, the Society invited several prominent figures from Serbian society to join such as Karađorđe, Romanians like Tudor Vladimirescu, and even a few Russians providing the Group with a Pan-Orthodox facade.[1] Sadly, despite its grand ambitions, broad popular support, years of planning, and extensive financial and material backing; it was not to be.

    Official Russian support for the Filiki Eteria would never materialize, with some prominent Ministers like Ioannis Kapodistrias denouncing the Society as a dangerous and criminal organization. Despite the promises of its nominal leader, Alexander Ypsilantis to the contrary; St. Petersburg would be neutral at best in the conflict to come, prompting Tudor Vladimirescu to formally break ties with the Society. Worse still Vladimirescu was alleged to have leaked information of the rebellion to the Sublime Porte leading to his swift execution by Ypsilantis in retaliation. With their leader dead at the hands of the Greeks, the Wallachians deserted en masse in the face of the approaching Ottomans, leaving the Greeks to face them alone. Sure enough, the Greeks of Wallachia were summarily crushed, Ypsilantis was forced into exile in Austria, and the Danubian Principalities were occupied until 1826.

    Meanwhile in Serbia, plans for a renewed revolt against the Ottoman Empire were similarly disrupted following the murder of Karađorđe in 1817. His successor, Milos Obrenovic continued the fight from 1815 to 1817, he successfully negotiated an armistice with the Porte on the eve of the Greek Revolution. Although he remained open to restarting the war, negotiations with the Ottomans would achieve a moderate degree of autonomy for the Serbian people, snuffing out much of the support for any further bloodshed in the Northern Balkans. Whilst many Serbians, Montenegrins, and Vlachs would still go on to serve with distinction in the Hellenic Army and Hellenic Government during the Revolution like Vasos Mavrovouniotis and Chatzi Christos Dagovic, the broader failure of the Filiki Eteria to unite the Balkan Christians and drive the Turks out of the Balkans was largely seen as a missed opportunity by the Orthodox Commonwealth.

    Philiki.jpg

    Insignia of the Filiki Eteria​

    The collapse of a united Orthodox front in the face of the Ottomans in 1821 was certainly a disappointment for many across the Balkans, yet it wouldn’t dissuade the most ardent from trying again. This time, instead of a secret society of philosophers, brigands and merchantmen from various tribes and communes, it would be a union of nation states with professional soldiers and proper warships. This alliance would take several decades to develop, however, as Greece in the wake of their War for Independence was thoroughly devastated and in desperate need of nation building at home. Meanwhile, its Northern counterparts of Serbia, Wallachia, Moldavia, and Montenegro remained under Ottoman suzerainty. Still under the sway of the Turks, Kostantîniyye could effectively control access to these countries, meddling in their affairs and limiting Greek correspondence significantly. While there were certainly work arounds, such as clandestine meetings or overtures through third parties, it would take considerably more time and resources to do so. Nevertheless, Athens endeavored to rebuilding its relations with its northern brethren.

    Of the four other Christian Balkan States, Greece’s relationship with Serbia would be the fondest and most beneficial. Beginning in 1839, the Kingdom of Hellas and the Principality of Serbia would formally open consulates in each other’s respective capitals, with the Greek one in Belgrade opening in early April and the Serbian consulate opening in Athens in mid-November of that year. This would then be followed by a small number of trade agreements between the two states during the following months seeing large numbers of Serbian fruits, meats and dairy products shipped down the Danube River on Greek trading vessels. A similar deal seeing various Greek goods sold at Serbian markets was also approved in early 1841.

    Sadly, the flourishing relations between the two states would come to an abrupt halt following the sudden retirement of Greek Prime Minister Ioannis Kapodistrias. Whilst his successor, Andreas Metaxas proved willing enough to continue negotiations and further strengthen ties with Belgrade; negotiations would be derailed yet again just a few months later when young Prince Mihailo Obrenovic of Serbia was deposed in favor of Alexander Karađorđević. Needing the consent of the Sublime Porte to ascend the vacant Serbian throne, Karađorđević backed out of all further talks with the Greek Government at the request of the Ottoman Government - who had taken umbrage at recent Greek subterfuge in Cyprus and Albania.

    Hopes in Athens that this was just a singular event were unfortunately quashed as Prince Karađorđević would prove surprisingly cordial towards the Turks over his 16-year reign. Choosing diplomacy over belligerency, the Serbian Prince would successfully negotiate several treaties with Kostantîniyye that would see the Ottoman presence in Serbia gradually reduced. By the mid-1850s, Serbia was effectively independent with the last Turkish garrison in the country leaving by April of 1855 to join the ongoing Ottoman war against the Russians. Finally, Prince Alexander (or rather his benefactor Russia) would secure the formal independence of Serbia at the 1857 Treaty of Paris, officially ending over 400 years of Turkish rule. Yet this was not enough for some within his country. Given his tendency for absolutism, his routine flaunting of the Serbia legislature, and his strong Russophilia; Karađorđević would be ousted from power in a coup backed by Britain and France leading to his eventual abdication and exile in 1858. Few in Athens shed tears at his departure.

    In his place returned the elder statesman Milos Obrenovic and his son Prince Mihailo who proved more receptive to the Greeks and reached out to gain support for their new regime. Greek Prime Minister Constantine Kanaris and the Hellenic Government consented to these talks and dispatched the elder statesman Dimitrios Karatasos to Belgrade several months later in the Spring of 1859. A veteran of the War for Independence, Karatasos was the perfect man for the job as he had long advocated for closer ties between the Hellenes and the Serbs and had visited the country many times over the past 30 years. Upon his arrival in Belgrade, he would be welcomed by the Prime Minister of the newly independent Serbia, Ilija Garašanin with whom he would enter into negotiations with over the next few weeks.


    Yero_Tsiamis_of_Chalkidiki%2C_Greek_Macedonian_revolutionary_1854.jpg
    Ilija_Gara%C5%A1anin_%28cropped%29.jpg

    Dimitrios Karastos (Left) and Ilija Garašanin (Right)​

    First and foremost, in recognition of Serbia’s formal independence from Ottoman Suzerainty, the Greek consulate in Belgrade was elevated into a proper embassy, with the Greek Consul in Belgrade (Karatasos) assuming the office and title of Ambassador. The Hellenic State also agreed to recognize Serbia’s elevation to a proper Kingdom, from that of a lesser Principality awarding Prince Milos and his government all the customs and courtesies due such a rank. Next, the Bank of Greece (at the request of the Greek Government) was empowered to issue loans to the Serbian Government in return for favorable trade conditions for Greek merchants. Finally, Karatasos would announce his Government’s support for the renewed Obrenovic Monarchy over the ousted Karađorđevićs.

    Noticeably absent from these discussions between the Greek and Serbian Governments was any indication of a military alliance between their two states. The fault for this omission would not belong to dying King Milos Obrenovic or his Prime Minister Ilija Garašanin who both supported defensive ties with Hellas. Nor can the Hellenic Government of Constantine Kanaris or their man on the ground Dimitrios Karatasos be blamed as both called for stronger relations with Belgrade. No, it would be King Leopold of Greece who had derailed negotiations this time.

    A cautious man by nature, Leopold was incredibly reluctant to antagonize the Ottoman Empire whose strength he routinely overestimated, a sentiment that had only grown as he grew older. Although he recognized the great passion his subjects held towards the Megali Idea, of reclaiming their lost homelands, of avenging themselves and their families against the hated Turks; he could not bring himself to supporting such a measure that would lead to death and devastation and the potential ruin of his country. Whilst he was certainly no pacifist, Leopold remembered well the destruction and pain of the Napoleonic Wars. The pain of losing a father, a homeland to fires of war; it was something he wished to never see again especially when it was his state at risk of devastation.

    It also cannot be denied that Leopold feared losing the favor of the Great Powers, especially Great Britain who was the chief ally of the Ottomans. In Leopold’s opinion, any overt move against the Sublime Porte would likely agitate Westminster against Athens which would be a disaster on both a political and personal level for Leopold. Moreso, Leopold feared that an alliance with Serbia would jeopardize Greece’s defensive guarantees from Britain, France and Russia. Whilst friendship and cooperation with Serbia and the other Balkan States was certainly welcome, it could never replace the protection and prominence that came from the Great European Powers in his opinion. Ultimately, the most Mihailo and the Serbian Government would ever pry out of the miserly old King Leopold was a vague promise to “support Serbia should it’s frontiers be invaded by a foreign power.”


    Unsurprisingly, Leopold’s own son Diadochos Constantine held a differing opinion on the matter, (correctly) viewing the Powers as competing rivals more than a cohesive block. This had been seen most recently with the Russian War, as Britain and Russia came to blows over Russian influence over the Ottoman Empire. Similarly, the Belgian War would see France and Prussia fight over the fate of the Flemings whilst Britain looked the other way and ignored a similar guarantee to defend Belgium’s territorial integrity all in the name of Great Power politics. Such conflicts made clear to the Prince that the Powers of Europe were utterly divided and behaved in accordance with their own base desires.

    Looking to the Powers themselves, Prince Constantine was not alone in believing that Russia was firmly on their side and would support them in any venture against the Turk regardless of the casus belli. France was a harder sell for some, but the Hellenic Government had made considerable efforts to solidify relations with Paris under the Kolettis and later Kanaris Regimes. The German powers were deemed to have no real sway on matter, leaving only Britain as a potential obstacle in their path. London did have a vested interest in a strong and stable Ottoman Empire, but they also had interests in Greece as well. If Britain pushed too hard against Greece, then they ran the risk of losing them completely to France, or worse Russia. Ultimately Constantine believed that Britain could be convinced to replace a dying Turkish Empire with an ascendant Greek Empire.

    Pressing ahead with his ambitions, Diadochos Constantine in a rare stroke of luck and diplomatic genius would meet with Prince Mihailo of Serbia during a chance encounter in 1857 at the Paris Peace Conference. Although nearly ten years his junior, Constantine found a kindred spirit in Mihailo and found himself talking to the Serbian Prince well into the night. They discussed everything under the sun from politics and government to their hobbies and their interests. Naturally discussions transitioned to their respective ambitions for their states, which were quite similar with each desiring the aggrandizement of their homelands through war with the Turks. Thereafter, the two Princes were inseparable for the remainder of the Peace Conference until finally, business and politics drew the two away. Although they would rarely meet in person thereafter, their relationship endured through letters and the rare encounter over the coming months and years.
    +
    330px-Knez_Mihajlo_III_Obrenovic.jpg


    +
    King Mihailo I Obrenovic of Serbia​

    The death of King Leopold in early 1864 would thus remove the final obstacle between full Hellenic and Serbian cooperation against the Turks. Although it would take some time to become apparent, Leopold’s passing and the appointment of Panos Kolokotronis marked a decisive shift in Greece’s foreign policy. By late Fall, with his government firmly ensconced and with the new King’s blessing, Prime Minister Panos Kolokotronis dispatched his brother, the Foreign Minister Konstantinos Kolokotronis on a “grand tour of the Balkans”.

    Traveling first to Trieste, Konstantinos and his staff would travel towards Vienna under the auspices of discussing a possible betrothal between Emperor Franz Joseph’s second daughter Gisela to Diadochos Konstantinos (the eldest son of King Constantine). Negotiations would quickly breakdown over discussion of a dowry, prompting Foreign Minister Kolokotronis to depart for Hungary. Once in Budapest, he would pay his respects for the recent passing of King Lajos Batthany, offering condolences to his son and heir Prince Elemér. Later he would wine and dine with the elder statesman Lajos Kossuth, broaching the topic of closer trade relations with Hungary. After a week in Budapest, Kolokotronis would then travel down the Danube to Belgrade, arriving during the Christmas season. There, his true mission would begin. Over the coming days, Konstantinos Kolokotronis, Ilija Garašanin and their respective staffs would hammer out a deal that would shape the future of the Balkans.

    On the surface, the Kolokotronis- Garašanin Accord (or Christmas Accord as it is commonly called) would seem rather mundane. To begin with, Athens and Belgrade would reaffirm their historical friendship with one another and formalize King Leopold’s earlier “guarantee” of a defensive alliance between their two states. Next would be several pages worth of idle flattery by each diplomat towards the other’s respective head of state and a betrothal arrangement by King Constantine of Greece, who offered his eldest daughter Maria’s hand to King Mihailo’s “nephew” and heir Prince Milan once they came of age. Finally, the Hellenic Government agreed to supply Serbia with a number of Minié Rifles that the Hellenic Army could agree to part ways with, to aid Belgrade in their search for a new rifle. However, this was only the official treaty.

    Hidden behind closed doors; a number of secret articles were secretly agreed to with their contents only revealed to a select number of people in both the Hellenic and Serbian Governments. The First of these secret articles would see both Serbia and Greece officially united in opposition against the Ottoman Empire, with its destruction and removal from Europe being their ultimate objective. The Second Article would outline their respective goals and territorial aspirations to the former Ottoman Balkan possessions following said conflict. Finally, the third Article would detail each countries’ military, material, and economic commitments to their pact and their stratagem for victory.

    Greek-Delegation-Berlin-Congress.jpg

    Members of the Greek Delegation to Belgrade circa 1865

    Under the Kolokotronis-Garašanin Accord; the Hellenic Government expressed its claims to the North Aegean Islands, Macedonia, the entirety of Ottoman Thrace, the Straits region and Constantinople in addition to other non-Balkan territories such as the Asia Minor Coast and Cyprus. Athens would also express a lesser desire to advance their frontier into the Vilayet of Albania, removing the Ottoman presence in the region. Whilst some within Athens would call for the complete conquest of Albania and its annexation into the Hellenic State, most members of the Kolokotronis Government took a more reasoned approach suggesting that the province be turned into a client state that would be diplomatically, economically, and militarily dependent upon the Kingdom of Greece for its survival.

    The Kingdom of Serbia was equally ambitious in it claims as Belgrade wished to unite the South Slavic peoples into a Greater South Slavic state - Yugoslavia. Their goals largely correlated to the annexation of Bosnia, Herzegovina, Novi Pazar, Kosovo, and much of Macedonia. Members of the Serbian Government also admitted their aspirations for a port along the Adriatic coast via Northern Albania. Finally, Belgrade revealed their ambitions to unify their nation with that of the Bulgarians. Whilst many in Athens viewed this last point as dubious at best – few Bulgarians had actually been consulted on this matter and that the Bulgarians would ultimately come to dominate such a union; Foreign Minister Kolokotronis consented to the Serbian terms with the exception of Macedonia which was similarly claimed by the Greek delegation. Eventually, the two sides would reach a compromise with Greece gaining “Littoral Macedonia” and Serbia receiving “Inland Macedonia” with the exact border being decided by their troops on the ground.

    Whilst settling their competing claims was certainly all well and good, they would require extensive planning and preparation for the coming war with the Turks to actually achieve their stated goals. Article Three of the Kolokotronis- Garašanin Accord would thusly cover troop deployments and mobilization of their respective armed forces against the Ottoman Empire. Looking first to the Sublime Porte and its available resources, it was determined through reliable sources in Kostantîniyye that they possessed an Army in the range of 380,000 to 400,000 soldiers. However, of this sum, only half were stationed in the Balkans and many of this number were 2nd and 3rd line troops of dubious quality. Similarly, the Ottoman Navy whilst large at over 80 naval vessels; it only possessed modern 3 ironclad warships with four more in various states of construction and another 30 or so steamships rounding out its forces.[2] To combat this, the Hellenes and Serbians would need to raise a comparable number of men and ships if they were to fulfill their respective goals.

    In 1864, the Hellenic Kingdom boasted a professional army of 48,000 soldiers split between 5 infantry divisions, a cavalry brigade, 3 artillery regiments and the Frourá – the Royal Guard Brigade. They could also mobilize the Ethnofylaki, the Hellenic National Guard adding on paper another 40,000 men to the Alliance, although many of these men were considered to be second or third line troops. The Serbians in turn had a professional army of around 4,000 men upon their independence in 1860, although this had slowly grown over the following years. In addition to this, Belgrade could also call upon the Narodna Vojska (the National Militia) adding in theory another 120,000 men to the cause, although Serbian Prime Minister Ilija Garašanin would later admit that his country could only supply half this number. Thus, Greece and Serbia at present could muster around 150,000 troops between them, of which nearly two thirds were militiamen.

    In terms of naval capabilities, the Kingdom of Serbia possessed little in the way of a proper navy, with it only fielding a handful of gunboats and minelayers on the Danube River. Greece in turn, possessed a moderately sized Green Water Navy of 56 warships ranging from old sailing sloops and brigs to 13 newer steamships of the screw frigate, screw corvette, and screw sloop variety. The Hellenic Navy was also beginning its forays into ironclad construction, launching the Vasilefs Leopoldos in late 1864. The Vasilefs Leopoldos was part of the Salamis class which were broadside ironclad warships with a projected displacement of around 4600 tons, with 4.75-inch belt armor, four 8 inch guns, and twenty-two 6.4 inch cannons rounding it out. The Vasilefs Leopoldos would be later joined by its sister ship, the Vasilissa Maria in early 1865. However, the completion of the Leopoldos and Maria would do little to change the naval balance as they paled in comparison to the 3 Osmaniye class ironclads fielded by the Ottomans both in armor (4.75 inches to 5.5) and armaments (8-inch main batteries to the Turk’s 9-inch main guns).


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    VP Vasilefs Leopoldos

    Whilst both the Hellenic and Serbian Governments trusted that their soldiers and sailors could win out over the Turks in the heat of battle, their entire strategy would rely upon the success or failure of the Hellenic Navy. If the Greek fleet could win out against their Turkish counterparts, then the Aegean Sea could be secured, denying the Ottoman Army the ability to rapidly reinforce their armies in the Balkans. Whilst they could still travel overland from the Levant and Mesopotamia to Anatolia then from Anatolia to Thrace and eventually Macedonia, it would take many weeks, if not months for this process to take place given the Ottoman Empire’s pitiful infrastructure in their eastern territories. By that point, the contest in the Western Balkans would likely be decided, with the Powers likely moving in to enforce an armistice.

    Whilst Athens and Belgrade doubted that they could achieve everything they desired in this one conflict, they believed that they could get more than enough if they moved fast enough and decisively enough to occupy it before the Powers intervened. As such, both resolved to augment their existing forces through various means over the coming months and years to swing the tides in their favor. For Greece this meant the introduction of a conscription system along Prussian lines and the continuation of former Prime Minister Constantine Kanaris’ naval buildup program to keep pace with the Ottoman Navy. The Serbians would in turn work to increase their stockpile of weapons and munitions to field the entirety of their National Militia against the Turks. Over the course of the next 6 years, the two allies would make further preparations for their clash with the Ottomans, with Greece beginning its search for more potent rifles and artillery, whilst the Serbs sought to improve the training and discipline of their troops. Lastly, both Athens and Belgrade would look to broaden their alliance through the inclusion of various Greek, Serbian, and Bulgarian partisan groups along with the other two Balkan states Montenegro and Wallachia-Moldavia.

    Relations between Greece and Montenegro were quite peculiar as Athens had been cordial but distant to Cetinje as its mercurial vassalage to the Ottoman Empire, limited resources and economic potential deterred Athens from making a decisive effort to ally with Cetinje for many years. This changed following Montenegro’s formal independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1857 as Greece would soon establish a consulate in the small country, later upgrading it to a full embassy in 1864. Relations steadily improved from there and ultimately culminating in 1867 when the Montenegrin Government was suddenly presented with the opportunity to join Greece and Serbia in their Alliance against the Ottomans.

    Needing little persuasion, Cetinje immediately jumped at the opportunity, seeing it as a chance to secure a much desire coastline along the Adriatic and expand their state. Although their resources were few, the Prince of Montenegro, Danilo I Petrović-Njegoš pledged 16,000 men to the Alliance, now dubbed the Balkan League in return for guarantees to Ottoman territory and financial support from the other League members. Although hesitant to provide subsidies to the Montenegrins, Athens agreed to furnish a number of loans to Cetinje to procure armaments and train troops for the coming war with the Turks. The Serbians were similarly reluctant to surrender any of their claimed territory to the Montenegrins (Ulcinj, Scutari, and Sandžak), but conceded in return for additional gains elsewhere in Northern Macedonia.


    Danilo_Petrovi%C4%87_Njego%C5%A1.jpg

    Prince Danilo I of Montenegro

    Efforts to entice Bucharest to join their Alliance against the Turks would prove more difficult. Although it had been more than 40 years, there remained some lingering resentment over the rule of the Phanariots in Wallachia and Moldavia as their mismanagement and corruption had impoverished these countries for generations. More recently there was a growing conflict over the fate of the Aromanian peoples, who both Athens and Bucharest contested were their kin. Bucharest took umbrage at what it saw as the forced Hellenization of its peoples living within Greek territory; rewarding those who assimilated, whilst persecuting those that did not.

    Athens denied this in the most vigorous manner possible, claiming that the Aromanians were a Hellenic people akin to the Souliots and Arvanites, and were subject to every right that any other Greek citizens enjoyed. The Hellenic Government supported their claims by declaring that the Aromanians within Greece followed the Greek Rite, they obeyed Greek laws, they wore Greek clothing and took up Greek names. Their leaders and many of the younger generations of Aromanians spoke fluent Greek as their primary language. Regrettably, Bucharest remained unconvinced of the matter making for a thorny issue between the would be allies.

    Beyond the Aromanian Question, there was also the matter of what concessions Wallachia-Moldavia would receive if it joined the Balkan League against the Turks. It had few claims to Ottoman Territory, although it certainly desired a firmer control of the Danubian Delta via Dobruja. Nor would it be opposed to gains along the left bank of the Danube River either, securing its economic viability, although this brought it into conflict with the Serbian Government who also desired these lands for its proclaimed Yugoslavia. However, its true ambitions lay to the North, not the South, as it desired the liberation and unification of Transylvania. Greece had no quarrel with the Kingdom of Hungary and whilst Serbia did desire the Banat; Budapest had gone to considerable lengths to bolster relations with Belgrade. As negotiations appeared to be heading nowhere fast, the Romanian Government threatened to walk out of the talks leaving Greece, Serbia, and Montenegro on their own to face the Ottomans.

    Complicating matters immensely was the decision by members of the Romanian Government led by Lascăr Catargiu to leak terms of these negotiations to the Russians in the Fall of 1869. Whilst Romania was theoretically an independent state following the Great Russian War, it was by all accounts a Russian satellite state that took its cues from St. Petersburg. The Russian Government had been vaguely aware of the Balkan League since its inception back in early 1865, yet it failed to grasp the true intentions of the group, believing it to instead be an economic or diplomatic front meant to bolster their influence. The revelations by Catargiu and his associates would, however, undoubtedly set off alarms in the Winter Palace. Not only were the Balkan States aligning together in armed opposition to the Ottomans, they were also planning to divvy up the spoils of the Turkish carcass between themselves. Whereas before, the Balkan League as an amusing, if otherwise harmless organization, now they were seen as a potential threat to Russian interests in the Balkans.

    Despite its long history of violence and animosity towards the Turks, in the aftermath of the Russo-Turkish War of 1854-1857 Russia had effectively broken the will of the Ottoman Empire. The Porte was stripped of its Balkan tributaries losing Wallachia, Moldavia, Serbia and Montenegro to St. Petersburg. Its peoples rebelled against it, its economy was in ruins, its government was divided, its armies were ravaged, and its navy was a burnt-out wreck resting on the seafloor. Most importantly, Russia had gained supremacy over the straits, denying foreign ships entry, whilst enabling their own merchant ships to pass unmolested. Although their warships were still restricted from exiting the Black Sea, it was a minor inconvenience at best that could be redressed at a later date. Thus, the Turks were no threat to Russia post 1857; they were a weakling that could be easily coerced and manipulated to suit whatever needs St. Petersburg had for it. Whilst there were things that could certainly be better, the current status quo was very much to their liking. Any move to change it for good or ill would be seen as an affront against them and contrary to their wishes.

    Although no one knew it at the time, relations between Russia and the Balkan League member states were also beginning to strain. The ouster of the Karađorđević dynasty from Belgrade had upset Russia’s plans for Serbia, as France and Britain grew in influence over the country, whilst distancing itself from St. Petersburg. Whilst they still cared for the Serbs as a fellow Slavic and Eastern Orthodox people, this betrayal stung for many in the Winter Palace as Russia had gone to great lengths supporting their fight for independence in 1804,1815, 1828, and most recently in 1854 only for the Serbs to effectively spit in their face and join with their recent adversary Great Britain.

    Greece was also a troubling case for St. Petersburg. It had long been an ally of Russia and had even supported them with material aid and volunteers during the last war with the Turks. Yet its claims on Tsargrad, the Bosporus and Dardanelles Straits concerned St. Petersburg who desired these lands for themselves. Any conflict in the Straits would negatively impact Russian trade through the region, bringing immense economic hardship to the Motherland. Moreover, any power gaining control over the Straits, especially one that was in bed with Great Britain was simply unacceptable to St. Petersburg as they could likewise limit Russian access to the Straits. No, it was decided that the Russian Empire would move to pacify the Balkan League through diplomacy, coercion and, if necessary, force. Sadly, for all involved, it was already too late; for the Ottoman Empire in the midst of economic collapse and civil unrest proved too tempting a target for the League to pass up. The long march to war had begun.

    Next Time: A Sublime Mess

    [1] This point is a little iffy. I’ve seen sources that state Vladimirescu was a member of the Society, and others that say he wasn’t a formal member, but still working with them in a close capacity. Either way he was in correspondence with them and agreed to work with Alexander Ypsilantis during the 1821 Rebellion in Wallachia, only to back out at the last possible second.
    [2] For reference, in OTL the Ottoman Navy only fielded 49 ships (29 sailing ships and 20 steamships) in 1855 following the outbreak of the Crimean War. By 1876 this number had grown to nearly 200 ships with 27 ironclad warships as Sultan Abdulaziz was very partial towards the Navy. Given the greater financial limitations and reduced resources of the Ottoman Empire here, I’m inclined to reduce their number of ships by quite a bit ITTL.
     
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