CLOSE
Getty Images
Getty Images

Coup in Constantinople

Getty Images
Getty Images

The First World War was an unprecedented catastrophe that killed millions and set the continent of Europe on the path to further calamity two decades later. But it didn’t come out of nowhere. With the centennial of the outbreak of hostilities coming up in 2014, Erik Sass will be looking back at the lead-up to the war, when seemingly minor moments of friction accumulated until the situation was ready to explode. He'll be covering those events 100 years after they occurred. This is the 53rd installment in the series. (See all entries here.)

January 23, 1913: Coup in Constantinople, Betrayal in the Balkans, Conniving in the Caucasus

In January 1913 there was reason to hope the First Balkan War was winding down. After the Ottoman Empire suffered crushing defeats at the hands of the Balkan League—Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece and Montenegro—the two sides agreed to a ceasefire and entered into peace negotiations at the Conference of London beginning in December 1912.

As might be expected, these negotiations were a bit rocky: On January 1, 1913, the Turks said they were willing to give up almost all of their European territory, but not the key city of Adrianople, where the Turkish garrison was still holding out against a Bulgarian siege. The Bulgarians wouldn’t make peace if they didn’t get Adrianople. This conflict threatened to deadlock the negotiations, which were suspended on January 6.

On January 17, Europe’s Great Powers intervened by warning the Turkish representatives that if they didn’t make peace soon, the Ottoman Empire faced the loss of its Asian territories as well—a bold-faced threat. This arm-twisting paid off; on January 22, the Turkish negotiators thought better of their earlier refusal and agreed to give up Adrianople. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

But their relief was premature. On January 23, 1913, the Turkish “Liberal Union” government that agreed to the deal was overthrown by military officers from the rival Committee of Union and Progress, better known as the Young Turks, led by Enver Pasha, the commander of the Constantinople reserve army.

Emboldened by their defensive victory at Chataldzha and horrified by the suffering of some 400,000 Turkish refugees streaming in from the Balkans, the nationalist officers refused to give up Adrianople before it had even been lost. Instead, they deposed the Grand Vizier, Kamil Pasha, and shot the Minister of War, Nazim Pasha, as punishment for his failure in the First Balkan War. Hoping to reinvigorate the Turkish military, the officers appointed a non-political general (and recent Minister of War), Mahmud Shevket Pasha, as the new Grand Vizier. The First Balkan War would drag on.

The Balkan League Begins to Fray

The Turks had reason to be hopeful. Although the members of the Balkan League presented a united front in their peace negotiations with the Ottoman Empire, tensions were rising over the division of spoils from the First Balkan War. In June 1913 these disputes would lead to the Second Balkan War, pitting Bulgaria against its former allies Serbia and Greece (plus Turkey and Romania for good measure).

The trouble was already brewing in January 1913, as intervention by Europe’s Great Powers triggered a chain reaction of conflicting territorial demands. Fearing the growth of Serbian power, Austria-Hungary was determined to prevent the small Slavic kingdom from gaining access to the sea, raising the possibility of war with Serbia’s backer Russia. To avoid a wider European conflagration, the Great Powers moved to placate Austria-Hungary by convincing Russia to agree to the creation of a new, independent Albania, which would block Serbia from the sea.

Albanian independence was crucial to defusing broader European tensions, but it did so at the cost of local stability in the Balkans. Because Serbia was forced to give up its conquests in Albania, it became even more determined to hold on to its conquests to the east, in Macedonia – including territory also claimed by Bulgaria. On January 13, 1913, Serbia sent Bulgaria a diplomatic note formally requesting to revise their treaty of March 1912 to give Serbia a bigger chunk of Macedonia, noting that Bulgaria hadn’t committed the promised number of troops to their joint operations in Macedonia.

Of course this was bound to infuriate the Bulgarians, who felt that their focus on defeating the Turks closer to home, in Thrace, had benefited the whole Balkan League. Meanwhile Bulgaria also had a bone to pick with Greece over the city of Salonika, the southern gateway to the Balkans. To top it all off, Romania was also demanding territorial compensation from Bulgaria in return for recognizing its conquests in Thrace. A new coalition was coming into being, this time directed against Bulgaria.

Russia Uses Kurds and Armenians as Pawns

In addition to losing its Balkan territories, farther east the beleaguered Ottoman Empire faced the threat of Russian aggression in the Caucasus. Here the Russians employed a time-tested ruse, combining covert action and diplomatic pressure, as cynical as anything dreamed up by a modern intelligence agency in the 21st century.

The ruse entailed using the Armenian and Kurdish populations of the Ottoman Empire as pawns to justify Russian intervention. Essentially, the Russians secretly armed the Muslim Kurds and Christian Armenians and encouraged them to fight each other as well as the Turkish government, thus creating a pretext for the Russians to step in as the “protectors” of the Armenians, incorporating the Armenian region into the Russian Empire while they were at it.

On November 26, 1912, the Russian ambassador to Constantinople, Baron von Giers, demanded that the Turks institute “reforms” granting more autonomy to the Armenians – a preamble to Russian annexation of the region. Meanwhile on November 28, 1912, Russian foreign minister Sergei Sazonov sent a secret directive to Russian consuls in eastern Anatolia telling them to work to unite the Kurdish tribes (never an easy task), and between December 1912 and February 1913 several Kurdish chiefs secretly swore fealty to the Russians.

In short, the Russians were creating a problem so they could solve it. Of course, by setting themselves up as the Armenians’ saviors, the Russians also stoked Turkish paranoia about Armenian loyalty (or lack thereof), laying the groundwork for the horrific Armenian Genocide during the coming Great War.

The other Great Powers were aware of what was going on, at least to some degree: on January 23, 1913, the German ambassador to St. Petersburg, Count Friedrich Pourtalès, wrote a letter to the German chancellor, Bethmann Hollweg, warning him that Kurdish atrocities against Armenians would create an opening for Russia to expand into eastern Anatolia. As noted previously, this was unacceptable to the Germans, who feared they would lose out if the other Great Powers started dividing up the Ottoman Empire; a Russian advance in Anatolia would also threaten the proposed “Berlin to Baghdad” railway, a key part of Germany’s push to increase its influence in the Middle East.

See all installments of the World War I Centennial series here.

nextArticle.image_alt|e
Image: London Stereoscopic Company, Getty Images. Background: iStock. Composite: Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss
arrow
literature
15 Intriguing Facts about George Eliot
Image: London Stereoscopic Company, Getty Images. Background: iStock. Composite: Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss
Image: London Stereoscopic Company, Getty Images. Background: iStock. Composite: Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss

Born in England in 1819, novelist and poet George Eliot is best remembered for writing classic books like Middlemarch and Silas Marner. Despite the time period she wrote in, the author—whose real name was Mary Anne (or Marian) Evans—was no stuffy Victorian. She had a famously scandalous love life and, among other linguistic accomplishments, is responsible for the term pop music. Here are 15 things you might not know about the beloved British writer.

1. SHE WAS BORN ON THE ESTATE WHERE HER FATHER WORKED.

Eliot was born on the grounds of Arbury Hall and Estate, a sprawling mansion in Warwickshire, England with hundreds of acres of surrounding gardens and farmland. Her father, Robert Evans, worked for the estate's owners, the Newdigate family, as a manager and agent. His job entailed collecting rents from tenant farmers and overseeing the property's coal mine.

2. HER RURAL UPBRINGING INSPIRED HER LATER NOVELS.

Arbury Hall
Arbury Hall
Elliott Brown, Flickr // CC BY-SA 2.0

Eliot was just an infant when her family moved from Arbury Hall to a home in a nearby town. But Arbury and the Warwickshire countryside left their mark on her. In Scenes of Clerical Life (1858), Eliot's collection of three short stories, she wrote about the area and drew inspiration from real places and people. And some of her stories mirrored reality pretty closely. For instance, she turned Arbury Hall into Cheverel Manor, and Sir Roger Newdigate, Arbury's owner, into Sir Christopher Cheverel.

3. SHE EDITED A JOURNAL FOR PROGRESSIVE THINKERS.

In the early 1850s, Eliot wrote for The Westminster Review, a London-based periodical founded by philosophers Jeremy Bentham and James Mill, contributing essays and reviews using the name Marian Evans. She soon became the de facto editor of the progressive journal, though her role was anonymous. Years later, other writers reviewed Eliot's own pseudonymous works in the journal she once edited.

4. SHE WORKED AS A TRANSLATOR.

Throughout her life, Eliot put her language skills to work translating foreign works into English. She translated books like David Friedrich Strauss's Das Leben Jesu (The Life of Jesus), a highly controversial German treatise that argued that Jesus Christ was a real person, but not divine. (Upon reading her translation, one English nobleman called it "the most pestilential book ever vomited out of the jaws of hell.") Eliot also translated The Essence of Christianity by German philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach and the Latin Ethics by Benedict de Spinoza, incorporating facets of these philosophical and religious ideas into her own writing.

5. SHE WASN'T A FAN OF MOST WOMEN WRITERS OF HER DAY.

Eliot was by no means a misogynist, but she did have some harsh words for fellow women writers. In an anonymous essay titled "Silly Novels by Lady Novelists," Eliot lamented the frivolous characters and unrealistic plots that she argued were nearly ubiquitous features of novels written by women at the time. Published in The Westminster Review in 1856, Eliot's essay asserted that these books, full of cliches and improbable romantic endings, made educated women look foolish. She also criticized the writing style of other women of her time, saying they mistook "vagueness for depth, bombast for eloquence, and affectation for originality." However, she did allow that not every book written by a woman fell into this trap, praising writers like Currer Bell (Charlotte Brontë) and Elizabeth Gaskell.

6. SHE WAS NOT CONSIDERED CONVENTIONALLY ATTRACTIVE …

George Eliot, circa 1868.
George Eliot, circa 1868.
Hulton Archive, Getty Images

Eliot's appearance was a source of avid discussion during her lifetime, and her looks continue to fascinate readers today. Eliot herself joked about her ugliness in letters to friends, and the novelist Henry James once described her in a letter to his father as "magnificently ugly, deliciously hideous." He went on to say that the "horse-faced" writer had a "vast pendulous nose," a low forehead, and bad teeth, among other physical flaws.

7. … BUT MEN LOVED HER.

Despite her plain appearance, men were drawn to Eliot. In the same letter where he called her "deliciously hideous," James explained his counterintuitive attraction towards her like this: "Now in this vast ugliness resides a most powerful beauty which, in a very few minutes, steals forth and charms the mind, so that you end, as I ended, in falling in love with her."

After various dalliances and a marriage proposal that she turned down, she spent more than two decades with the philosopher and critic George Lewes. But Lewes was already married, and as a result, many in Eliot's social circle (including her brother) shunned her. Though Lewes couldn't obtain an official divorce from his estranged wife, he and Eliot lived together as partners until his death in 1878, and she referred to herself as Mrs. Marian Lewes.

8. HER PEN NAME PAID HOMAGE TO HER LOVER.

In 1856, both to avoid the sexism of the publishing industry and distance her literary work from her scandalous romantic situation, she adopted the pen name George Eliot, a male nom de plume that paid homage to Lewes. In addition to adopting his first name, some historians have also suggested that "Eliot" derives from "To L(ewes), I owe it."

9. SHE MARRIED A MAN TWO DECADES HER JUNIOR …

After Lewes's death, Eliot channeled her grief by editing his writing and spending time with her lawyer and accountant, John Cross. Although Eliot was 60 and Cross was just 40, the two friends fell in love and married at London's St. George's Church in the spring of 1880.

10. … BUT THEIR HONEYMOON TOOK A DARK TURN.

After their wedding, the pair traveled to Venice, Italy for their honeymoon. Although Cross wrote a letter to his sister indicating that he was having a delightful time, Eliot knew something was wrong. Her new husband was depressed, agitated, and losing weight. She called a doctor to their hotel room and was speaking with him when Cross jumped off the balcony into the Grand Canal.

Cross was rescued by a hotel worker and the personal gondolier the couple had hired to take them around the waterways. The newlyweds eventually continued on their trip, and they remained married until Eliot's death later that year. Historians continue to speculate about the reason for his jump, and whether it was a suicide attempt—Cross may have had a personal and family history of mental illness—or some kind of heat-induced delirium. The mysterious incident was recently turned into a novel.

11. SHE INVENTED THE TERM POP

You probably don't associate George Eliot with Lady Gaga, but the Oxford English Dictionary credits the Victorian novelist with coining the term pop to refer to popular music. In November 1862, Eliot wrote in a birthday letter to a friend, "We have been to a Monday Pop. this week to hear Beethoven's Septet, and an amazing thing of Bach's played by the amazing Joachim. But there is too much 'Pop.' for the thorough enjoyment of the chamber music they give."

12. … AND A NEW MEANING OF THE WORD BROWSER.

George Eliot statue in Nuneaton, Warwickshire, UK
George Eliot statue in Nuneaton, Warwickshire, UK

Diamond Geezer, Flickr // CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Eliot coined a number of other now-common terms in her writing. For instance, she was the first to use the word browser in the modern sense of someone who is casually looking around (like a browser in a bookstore). According to the Oxford English Dictionary, in the 16th century, the word browser meant “a person who cuts the leaves and twigs of trees to use as food for animals in winter." Later, it came to mean an animal that searched for leaves and twigs to eat. Eliot's historical novel Romola marked the first recorded time the word was used to mean a person generally surveying something. In it, she describes several friends of Florentine politician Bartolomeo Scala as "amiable browsers in the Medicean park."

13. SHE WAS ALSO A POET.

Although Eliot was most famous for her novels, she also produced two volumes of poetry. Her first published piece of writing was a poem called "Knowing That Shortly I Must Put Off This Tabernacle." Published in The Christian Observer in 1840, the poem refers to the Bible and imagines a person who is about to die saying goodbye to Earth. In a later poem, "O May I Join the Choir Invisible," Eliot argues that improving the world during one's lifetime is the only way to achieve permanence.

14. VIRGINIA WOOLF ADMIRED HER WRITING.

Author Virginia Woolf praised Middlemarch's mature prose, referring to it as "the magnificent book which with all its imperfections is one of the few English novels written for grown-up people." And modern readers seem to agree. In 2015, a BBC poll of 82 book critics from around the world named Middlemarch the greatest British novel of all time. Several authors, including Julian Barnes and Martin Amis, have also listed the book as one of the greatest English novels ever written.

15. HER FORMER HOME IS NOW A STEAKHOUSE.

Griff House, where Eliot lived as an infant until her early twenties, still exists, but it's now home to a steakhouse and hotel. Called the Griff House Beefeater & Nuneaton Premier Travel Inn, the spot also features a pond, gardens, and a play area for kids.

nextArticle.image_alt|e
Scientific Reports, Fernando Ramirez Rozzi
arrow
Stones, Bones, and Wrecks
Humans Might Have Practiced Brain Surgery on Cows 5000 Years Ago
Scientific Reports, Fernando Ramirez Rozzi
Scientific Reports, Fernando Ramirez Rozzi

In the 1970s, archaeologists discovered a site in France containing hundreds of cow skeletons dating back 5000 to 5400 years. The sheer number wasn't surprising—human agriculture in that part of the world was booming by 3000 BCE. What perplexed scientists was something uncovered there a few decades later: a cow skull bearing a thoughtfully drilled hole. Now, a team of researchers has released evidence that suggests the hole is an early example of animal brain surgery.

Fernando Ramírez Rozzi, a paleontologist with the French National Center for Scientific Research, and Alain Froment, an anthropologist at the Museum of Mankind in Paris, published their findings in the journal Nature Scientific Reports. After comparing the opening to the holes chiseled into the skulls of humans from the same era, they found the bones bore some striking similarities. They didn't show any signs of fracturing from blunt force trauma; rather, the hole in the cow skull, like those in the human skulls, seemed to have been carved out carefully using a tool made for exactly that purpose. That suggests that the hole is evidence of the earliest known veterinary surgery performed by humans.

Trepanation, or the practice of boring holes into human skulls, is one of the oldest forms of surgery. Experts are still unsure why ancient humans did this, but the level of care that went into the procedures suggests that the surgery was likely used to treat sick patients while they were still alive. Why a person would perform this same surgery on a cow, however, is harder to explain.

The authors present a few theories, the first being that these ancient brain surgeons were treating a sick cow the same way they might treat a sick human. If a cow was suffering from a neural disease like epilepsy, perhaps they though that cutting a hole in its head would relieve whatever was agitating the brain. The cow would have needed to be pretty special to warrant such an effort when there were hundreds of healthy cows living on the same plot of land, as evidenced by the skeletons it was found with.

Another possible explanation was that whoever operated on the cow did so as practice to prepare them for drilling into the heads of live humans one day. "Cranial surgery requires great manual dexterity and a complete knowledge of the anatomy of the brain and vessel distribution," the authors write in the study. "It is possible that the mastery of techniques in cranial surgery shown in the Mesolithic and Neolithic periods was acquired through experimentation on animals."

Either way, the bovine patient didn't live to see the results of the procedure: The bone around the hole hadn't healed at all, which suggests the cow either died during surgery or wasn't alive to begin with.

SECTIONS

arrow
LIVE SMARTER
More from mental floss studios