CHAPTER XIV
HOME THROUGH THE BALKANS
After a very happy two weeks in Georgia, we left for the homeward trip. The special train brought us to Batoum overnight. The day we spent in wandering about the city’s bazaars. Everything was ridiculously cheap for those possessed of English money, though for some curious reason which I never explored the Turks and Armenians whose shops we visited were forbidden to accept English pounds. Some did accept them on the guarantee of our guide, an English-speaking Georgian, that no evil would come to them as a consequence. We bought astrakhan caps, Russian boots, silver-mounted daggers, drinking-cups, silver chains, furs, and jewelled belts for a mere trifle. In one shop there was a magnificent set of ermine skins for £70 which would have sold for ten times the money in England or America had any one of us had enough business instinct to buy. Persian and Turkish carpets were selling for a mere song!
The British Delegation of three kept together during this promenade. There is no reason for making a special note of this fact except this—that each of us can testify to the falsity of a Reuter’s report circulated throughout England at a later date that Mr. Ramsay Macdonald was mobbed in the streets of Batoum by a number of Bolsheviks! Mr. Macdonald was one of our party. We saw no Bolsheviks in Batoum. And the only semblance of a crowd was when, in a Turkish quarter, the unveiled Englishwoman showed herself in the shortest dress that had been seen in that quarter since the last batch of American women passed that way! The Turkish women go black veiled still, generally by their own choice, and their dresses almost touch the ground.
Before the steamer sailed M. Marquet and I drove along the sea-front to inspect the tents we imagined we saw from a distance, bordering the coast. They were not tents in the regular sense, but rude shelters improvised with poles and tattered garments, which sheltered the most miserable and squalid mass of wild-eyed human beings it has been my lot to see. It was said they were Greek refugees who had fled the approach of the Nationalist Turks. A pro-Bolshevik critic of the Georgians censured them severely for not having provided for these unfortunates; but when huge masses of people suddenly hurl themselves upon a community out of nowhere, organization is not simple, especially when means are limited. The condition of some of the German prisoners’ camps in England in the early days of the war was very far from perfect; but the suddenness of the contingency, no less then the proportions of the problem, offered a reasonable explanation of the unsatisfactoriness of things.
The steamer which took us back to Constantinople brought Herr Kautsky and his wife to Georgia. Kautsky had been detained in Rome with fever for two weeks.
We had a perfect voyage to Constantinople. The sea was as smooth as a mill-pond, and a heavenly moon lighted our path across the waves at night. At Trebizond several of the party went on shore and braved the questionings of the Turko-Bolshevik Governor; but they saw nothing for their pains but a bazaar which was very much inferior to those of Constantinople.
We spent two days in Constantinople waiting for the transcontinental express. During those days I talked with several people who claim to speak authoritatively about affairs in Turkey, and checked my impressions of the earlier visit. Lunch at the British Military Mission and an interview with a Turkish prince of the blood rounded off an experience of the city and its problems, too brief to justify the record of anything more serious than general impressions, liable to be modified upon closer acquaintance.
And perhaps the clearest impression of all that I received was that of the disinterestedness of the British Government in Turkish affairs. France and Italy were clearly up to the eyes in intrigue for positions of commercial and industrial advantage in Turkey. With this in view they were manifestly encouraging in his defiance Mustapha Kemal Pasha, even whilst they were conspiring to perpetrate the Treaty of Sevres. Greece likewise was adopting the insolent attitude of the conqueror, more galling to the Turks than the domination of any other foe. Upon the Commission instituted to govern the affairs of Turkey in general and Constantinople in particular, England glanced with wary eye at the deeds of her colleagues, France, Italy, and Greece. It might be urged that England has quite enough to do with her own vast territories and enormous responsibilities without adding to the burden by taking more than a nominal interest in the development of Turkey. Against such a view the men on the spot protest with indignation. There is a land of inestimable fruitfulness. It lies on the route of valuable British possessions. It is possessed by a race holding high repute amongst the peoples of that part of the world which is not averse to England. Widely advertised Armenian massacres ought not to be permitted to blind the untravelled to the fact that the Turk is regarded very highly by most people who know him well. His faults of cruelty and corruption he shares with all Eastern peoples. His virtues of cleanliness, sobriety, and (in the country) honesty and industry mark him out for peculiar admiration. I have to confess that I met nobody who expressed dislike of the Turk. I met everywhere people who spoke with contempt of the Greek and the Armenian.
“Tell me,” I said to a British officer in Constantinople, “why does everybody hate the Armenians? I do not myself know any of these people; but I can find nobody with a good word to say for them. I have just heard one educated man declare that the only thing to do with the Armenians is to massacre them.”
“It is certainly true,” he replied. “There is a saying in this part of the world that it takes two Jews to make a Greek, two Greeks to make a Levantine, and two Levantines to make an Armenian. Perhaps that explains it.”
“You mean that they are notorious beyond all words for commercial dishonesty and extortionate dealing? But is that all? That is very bad, of course; but does it explain all the bitter hate?”
“I don’t know; but I don’t believe for a moment that it is purely a hatred of Christianity. The Turks are a warlike race. They hate the pacifism of races like the Jews and the Armenians. To them it is effeminate weakness. They despise the drunkenness of Christian tribes. They are abstainers by religion. And the plundering of the peasants by Christian extortioners has done more to set the Crescent against the Cross than any preaching of Christian doctrine could have done by itself.”
“I am proposing to return to this part of the world to visit Armenia in the spring, unless the Bolsheviks from Angora capture it between now and then.”
“Well, good luck to you!” said the young Englishman. “Nothing would tempt me to go. Please remember that if half the Armenians reported to have been massacred had really died, there would not have been any Armenians left to visit!”
The Bolsheviks have captured Armenia, and the Allies do nothing to help. Therein the Armenians have a real grievance. Their really marvellous propaganda had secured them the sympathy of the whole Western world. They had received distinct or tacit promises from the Allies and the League of Nations. But neither the one nor the other has done anything to save them from their frightful fate at the hands of Russian Bolsheviks and Kemalist Turks.
Prince S——, the nephew of Abdul Hamid, is a cultured Turkish gentleman of the very first order. His beautiful little daughter was educated in England. She speaks perfect English, her father admirable French. Over the Turkish coffee, thickly sweet and delicious, we discussed the future of Turkey. I had met the prince and his daughter first in Switzerland, at Caux, overlooking the Montreux end of the Lake of Geneva. The Castle of Chillon, and mountains of Savoy on the French side make a picture of extraordinary beauty. Then, as in Constantinople, he spoke warmly of England. I have seldom met a foreigner who had a higher opinion of England and English institutions. In Turkish matters the prince appears to stand half-way between the Turkish Nationalists and the representatives of the old order. He looks for the day of an independent Turkey, self-governing and governing with intelligence; but he appears to think that day has not yet arrived. Before that, there should be universal education for Turkey, free and progressive. The rich, natural soil of agricultural Turkey should be subject to intensive cultivation on modern scientific lines. Land should be made available for all would-be cultivators; estates limited in size, but not alienated from the owners by the State.
Till the day of its emancipation arrives this patriot prince would have for Turkey the assistance of England. It was obvious to the least interested amongst us that Constantinople suffered atrociously from the divided authority of the Allies. Who were their masters—French, Italian, British, or Greek—the wretched Turks really did not know. Each set of nationals in authority got into the others’ way. There were general suspicions and dislikes. Could the prince have had his way, Turkey would have been ruled jointly by Turks and British until education in responsibility had gradually but surely fitted the Turks to be absolute masters in their own house.
This amiable cultured Turkish gentleman admitted the awful atrocities committed by the Turkish Government in the past against the Armenians, and regretted them. His secretary and not himself spoke of equally fearful cruelties practised upon the Turks by Armenians—the same dreadful game of reprisals with which a mad world appears to be anxious to destroy itself.
A marked feature of the British personnel in Turkey is the extreme youth of most of its members. Those who do not take themselves and their work very seriously do not suffer. Those who are conscientious and have their country’s interests really at heart suffer acutely, not only through the physical strain of getting things done against indifferent officialism in a country of unequalled opportunities and matchless interest, but from the mental pain which is born of seeing great opportunities passed by, or seized by wiser people in the interests of nations other than England.
There is a new-born Socialist Movement in Constantinople—at least, it calls itself Socialist. It came into being as the result of a successful tram strike. As a matter of fact it is really a Trade Union Movement. It has little knowledge of the economics of Marx. Its leader would be described as a Radical in England. I have the same view about the Socialist Movement that Prince S—— has about the Nationalist Movement—that a period of education would be a valuable and is, indeed, a necessary precedent to the agitation for Socialist government, even municipal government.
When we boarded the train in Constantinople it was intensely hot. Within an hour of leaving it blew so cold that the women of our party were constrained to put on their furs. For two days the intense cold lasted. Not until we had passed over the bleak moor and forest lands of Bulgaria, reminiscent of certain parts of Scotland, did we begin to feel anew the warmth of autumn days. Milder Serbia warmed our blood, and we ventured to make an excursion into Belgrade, where the express rested for four hours. Tired of train food, we betook ourselves in a party to the Hôtel Moscou and enjoyed a first-rate supper amongst the joyous Serbs.
I hope to see Belgrade by day in order to revise my opinion of the city. As it is, I have the poorest opinion of it. Its streets are paved with cobble-stones and are full of shell-holes which would hold the proverbial horse and cart! In the pitch black of the night—for the streets were either badly lighted or not lit at all—we were constantly tumbling into the smaller of these unspeakable holes or twisting our ankles on the round cobble-stones. One required the feet of a mountain goat to maintain oneself erect in such abominable thoroughfares.
But a pleasing experience superseded the unpleasant memory of Belgrade streets. I had been given a letter to post to Budapest by a lady in Constantinople, who feared it might be opened if posted in that city. I had given a solemn promise that this should be done. To venture into those Belgrade streets alone was impossible. I had to wait until my fellow-delegates had done feasting. Time passed, and still they ate and ate. Soon it would be impossible. The train was due to leave in a little while. I waited. The eating went on. I rose to go alone. M. Marquet’s kind French heart was touched. He went with me. We wandered over half Belgrade before we found the post office, and when we found it it was closed! We walked to the back of the premises, and there were two young men packing letters into bags. In a mixture of French, English, and German we contrived to make them understand we wanted a stamp. One of them, smiling broadly, took out his pocket-book and produced the necessary article, sticking it on to the letter himself, which he then pushed into his bag. We laid down a substantial coin. But with a graceful bow and a fine smile he declined payment. We shook hands cordially and parted, the travellers with a happier estimate of Belgrade than its stones had supplied!
If one can in any real measure judge a country’s state from the railway train, Serbia and the highlands of Jugo-Slavia are enjoying considerable prosperity. At the time we passed through the country the same abundance of produce was everywhere visible as in Belgium. In addition, the little pigs for which Serbia is renowned were numberless. They ran all over the lines at the railway stations and clustered in herds round every cottage door. The neat, bright comfort of the mountain farms of the Tyrol made a very profound impression, and were a real joy to those of us who were on the look out for as much happiness and prosperity as we could discover in a world torn with sorrow.
A rush round the city of Trieste, a long wait in the railway station in Venice on account of a serious railway accident just ahead, a peep at Milan, a glimpse at Lausanne, and we were on the last stage of our long journey to Paris. The journey had been fairly comfortable with the exception of the last day. There was no water for washing in our carriage. I mean by “our carriage” the one in which the English delegates were. We gave mighty tips, but the attendant would not be comforted and refused to get us more water! He protested savagely at the amount of water the English people used. He complained of the number of times we thought it necessary to wash ourselves. We were thoroughly in disfavour. We bore the discomfort and the feeling of not looking our best till we got to Paris. There came relief, cleanliness and good coffee. Twelve more hours and we should see the home faces once more and recount our adventures to interested friends.
Every one of us vowed we would not go abroad again for a very long while. Every one of us has broken that pledge. It must be so. The human spirit, once having escaped from the circumscribing atmosphere of native city or even country, will never more be content to be environed perpetually by so much less than it has known. It must go out again and again to the scenes and the people it has known in other lands, or break its wings against the bars of its cage, imprisoned in the infinitely small and narrow. Let all who can travel, for the broadening of their minds, the widening of their outlook, the strengthening of their sympathies. And let those who cannot travel read, so that they may know what the men and women of other lands are thinking and feeling, and may co-operate with them in the shaping of brighter and better things for mankind.