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.