The Bismarck of the Balkans.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XIX, Issue 6046, 11 September 1894, Page 3

The Bismarck of the Balkans.

I am at dinner at my hotel ; the fish

has just been served. A voice sounds behind me. I have not heard the step oil the carpeted floor. " Mr Cumberland V' "Yes!" "I am M. Stamhuloff's private secretary, and his Excellency desiies me to say that be wishes to see you." " Now, or after dinner V' A moment's hesitation, during which the private secretary is evidently considering my chances of getting my dinner if I leave the tabic d' hole at this stage ; then, with the remembrance that M. Stambuloff is a man to be obeyed on the instant, he bows and says: "I am sorry to disturb you, but now, if you please." I get up from the table and follow the private secretary. We meet in the passage by the way a knot of foreign-looking men, members of M. Stambulofl's numerous suite—on guard, as it were The door of M. StambulofFs private sitting room is opened, and we enter. A somewhat stern - looking man of middle age, a man with a massive round head, slightly bald at the temples, dark, deep-set eyes, a thick brown moustache, and a tuft of hair a la Napoleon 111. on his chin, is seated at the table. This is M. Stambuloff, the " Saviour of Bulgaria." He rises and gravely gives me his hand—at this moment there is no cordiality in his grasp and silently motions me to be seated. We sit watch ing each other in silence; he closely studying me, I endeavoring to read him. But M. Stambuloff is not an easy man to read. His eyes are impenetrable; his face has a hard set, unreadable quantity. Thus we gaze at each other. Then his Excellency breaks the silence by expressing his pleasure at making my acquaintance, and I follow by saying how honored I fell at making his. We talk about things in general—each in French that is not Parisian, but, for the purpose, fairly understandable. When I flounder the secretary comes to my assistance, and puts my words and his Excellency's into Bulgarian. It is very Russian in form and sound, this Bulgarian speech, but it apparently has all the brevity of English. I saw at once that M. Stambouloff would not be drawn about his policy, and I made no attempt at drawing him. He is not a communicative man, but a thinker —a man of deeds, not words. An ordinary reader of human nature would at once see bis force of character—a force that every feature of his strongly determined face portrays. To me, this man of iron will —this man, who alone in all Bulgaria was capable of surmounting obstacles from which many a European statesman would have shrunk in hesitation—this man, who possessed no fear and knew not the word failure, was an intensely interesting study. It is impossible to listen to him without beincr impressed by his earnestness. I followed him in his survey of bhe progress of his country with the full conviction that he was not overstating the fact one whit, and when he spoke of its future I found myself carried away on the wave of his enthusiasm. His is not the enthusiasm of mere emotion, but one borne of conviction and fostered on actual belief and practical knowledge. Given time and freedom, M. Stambuloff—this Bismarck of the Balkanswill realise his dream of Bulgaria.