'Where is the greatness of that vain egoist?' asked the outspoken Frenchman. 'I consider myself a hundred times greater, for this simple reason: When Napoleon came down he fell for ever. When I, or my country, are down, then I am at my greatest and best.'"
Though M. Kemal could smile at the Gallic boasting, while honouring the boaster, his own criticism was more quietly expressed:
"Napoleon put ambition first. He fought for himself, not for 'the Cause'—with the inevitable débâcle."
As I listen to Mustapha Kemal, taking advantage the while of his gracious invitation to thaw my frozen toes and hands at the wood fire, I wonder what a "keen soldier" would not have given to be in my place, with the chance of hearing a private lecture from one of the world's great generals, a man not more than forty.
"Were you ever in doubt of success?" I asked.
"No, never," he replied. "I saw the whole scheme from the first (even when we had no munitions), just as it finally worked out. We delayed—to save bloodshed and devastation. Fethi Bey went to London as a last resource, because we wanted a treaty—in ink, not in blood."
Is not that last effort for peace, perhaps, this great man's finest gesture to a war-ridden generation? Knowing the glory he could win for himself, in the certainty of strength for conquest, he yet made three separate attempts to persuade the Powers to enforce a peaceful retirement upon the Greeks. Preparation is not relaxed; no detail has been forgotten; the peasant armies are ready in Anatolia, wondering why, since peace lingers, the Great Chief does not fight!
One of his generals told me later: "You cannot judge "The Pasha" until you have seen him commanding his army. No man could be more fearless, more hard on himself, or kinder to his men. He simply ignores pain, though a rib be driven into his lungs; and when
