Before finally and openly declaring himself on the side of the Huns, Ferdinand was forced to receive a deputation consisting of five of the most powerful men in Bulgaria. They were the leaders of five of the ten parties which divide Bulgarian politics: namely Gueschoff (Nationalists), Daneff (Progressive Liberals), Malinoff (Democrats), Zanoff (Radicals), and Stambulivski (Country Party). They had come to warn him that Bulgaria was opposed to his policy of active intervention with the Central Powers, and minced no words in fulfilling their task. They made it abundantly plain that at least half of Bulgaria was opposed to his action, and that he would suffer such consequences as he had always dreaded since his arrival in Bulgaria if he persisted in his folly.

The ball was opened by Malinoff, who was Prime Minister of Bulgaria at the time when Ferdinand declared himself Czar.

“The policy being conducted by the Government,” he said, “is a policy of adventure which tends to throw Bulgaria into the arms of Germany, either spurring her to an attack on Serbia or else forcing upon her a neutrality which is desired by Germany. This policy is contrary to the sentiments and the interests of the country, and if the Government continues along these lines the disturbances which it will provoke will be very serious. For these reasons, after having appealed to the Government in vain, we request Your Majesty to call the Chamber together immediately, and we further ask that a Coalition be called to guarantee the country against any rash adventure.”

The King listened in silence and made no reply. Then with a nod he invited Stambulivski to speak. The head of the Agrarian party, a rough and haughty man, very popular with the masses of the Bulgarian peasants from whom he has sprung, and who has only recently set aside the peasant’s costume for the dress of the citizen, rose and addressed the King with vigour:—

“In the name of the workers in the fields of Bulgaria I wish to add to the words of my colleague, Malinoff, that the Bulgarians hold you personally responsible, rather than your Government, for the disastrous adventure of 1913. If a similar adventure were to be repeated the catastrophe would this time be beyond remedy. Again the responsibility would lie with your policy, which is contrary to the well-being of the country, and the country would not fail to call you to account in person. In order to make it quite clear what is the wish of your country I present in writing to Your Majesty its exact expression.”

Next came Zanoff, the uncompromising Radical, who said, “I had sworn I would never set foot in your palace. If I have come to-day it is because the interests of the country, higher than my private principles, have obliged me to do so. What I have to say Your Majesty can read in this paper which I present in the name of my party.” He then presented a memorandum similar in content to that of the Agrarians. The King read this too and continued to keep silent.

Gueschoff, Prime Minister during the first Balkan war, followed:—

“Your Majesty, I, too, declare myself to be fully in agreement with what Stambulivski has already said. However hard his words may have seemed, they nevertheless express in their simple, uncultivated frankness, unacquainted with the formalities of etiquette, our common thoughts. We, all of us representatives of the Opposition, consider the present policy contrary to the sentiments and interests of the country, for, by spurring it on to make common cause with Germany, it brings it into hostility with mighty Russia, who was our liberator, and the adventure into which the country will be hurled will cost it its future. We disapprove in the most absolute manner of this policy, and we, too, request that the Sobranje be summoned and that a Ministry may be formed having the co-operation of all parties.”

Dr. Daneff, who succeeded Guesehoff, but resigned when the attack on Serbia and Greece failed, spoke in the same strain.

Having heard them all the King replied:—

“I have listened to your threatenings, and I will refer them to the Prime Minister, that he may take cognizance of them and know what to decide.”

There was an awkward pause, which Ferdinand attempted to fill by passing some remarks about the crops to Stambulivski. But the attention of the giant farmer was riveted on something more than agriculture.

“This,” he said, “is not the moment to talk of these things. I say again to Your Majesty, that the country will not have a policy of adventure such as cost it so dear in 1913. This policy is, moreover, yours. Before 1913 we believed you a great diplomatist, but we have seen what your diplomacy brought us. You have taken advantage of all the holes in the Constitution to get the direction of the country in your own hands. Your ministers count for nothing; you alone are the author of this policy, and you alone will have the responsibility of it.”

“The policy I have decided to follow,” the King frigidly replied, “is the one which I consider the best and the most advantageous for the country.”

“It is a policy which can only lead to disaster,” replied the farmer, “which will bring about new catastrophes, and will compromise not only the future of the country, but of your own dynasty, and which may cost you your head!”

The King measured with his eyes this countryman who spoke such weighty words.

“Do not trouble yourself about my head. It is an old one. Rather think of your own,” said the King, with the shadow of a scornful smile, as he moved away.

But Stambulivski replied: “My head matters little, sire; I am only thinking of the country’s.”

But Ferdinand chose to disregard the warning. His choice was already made, and a few days later he was figuring before the world once more in the uncongenial guise of Ferdinand the War Lord.