In Roumelia, as in Armenia, there now remained comparatively few Turkish troops to withstand the Russian advance, and the capture of Constantinople seemed to be a matter of a few weeks.  There are grounds for thinking that the British Ministry, or certainly its chief, longed to send troops from Malta to help in its defence.  Colonel Wellesley, British attache at the Russian headquarters, returned to London at the time when the news of the crossing of the Balkans reached the Foreign Office.  At once he was summoned to see the Prime Minister, who inquired eagerly as to the length of time which would elapse before the Russians occupied Adrianople.  The officer thought that that event might occur within a month—­an estimate which proved to be above the mark.  Lord Beaconsfield was deeply concerned to hear this and added, “If you can only guarantee me six weeks, I see my way.”  He did not further explain his meaning; but Colonel Wellesley felt sure that he wished to move British troops from Malta to Constantinople[155].  Fortunately the Russian advance to Adrianople was so speedy—­their vanguard entered that city on January 20—­as to dispose of any such project.  But it would seem that only the utter collapse of the Turkish defence put an end to the plans of part at least of the British Cabinet for an armed intervention on behalf of Turkey.

[Footnote 155:  With the Russians in Peace and War, by Colonel F.A.  Wellesley, p. 272.]

Here, then, as at so many points of their history, the Turks lost their opportunity, and that, too, through the incapacity and corruption of their governing class.  The war of 1877 ended as so many of their wars had ended.  Thanks to the bravery of their rank and file and the mistakes of the invaders, they gained tactical successes at some points; but they failed to win the campaign owing to the inability of their Government to organise soundly on a great scale, and the intellectual mediocrity of their commanders in the sphere of strategy.  Mr. Layard, who succeeded Sir Henry Elliot at Constantinople early in 1878, had good reason for writing, “The utter rottenness of the present system has been fully revealed by the present war[156].”  Whether Suleiman was guilty of perverse obstinacy, or, as has often been asserted, of taking bribes from the Russians, cannot be decided.  What is certain is that he was largely responsible for the final debacle.

[Footnote 156:  Sir William White:  Life and Correspondence, p. 128.]

But in a wider and deeper sense the Turks owed their misfortunes to themselves—­to their customs and their creed.  Success in war depends ultimately on the brain-power of the chief leaders and organisers; and that source of strength has long ago been dried up in Turkey by adhesion to a sterilising creed and cramping traditions.  The wars of the latter half of the nineteenth century are of unique interest, not only because they have built up the great national fabrics of to-day, but also because they illustrate the truth of that suggestive remark of the great Napoleon, “The general who does great things is he who also possesses qualities adapted for civil life.”