of view, from anyone who knows them, irrespective of what "heresies" they may uphold. To me personally, he was not only courteous, but respectfully attentive; the only Englishman whose compliments and praise meant a real gratitude, a serious acknowledgment of my fifteen years' study and adventure, as "worthy service to my country."
Ismet Pasha asked me if I had succeeded in making Lord Curzon understand the grave importance of their movement.
"I may have helped a little," I answered, "I believe I have. But he has always understood nearly the whole truth. What I fear you and your friends must find it almost impossible to understand is the "public opinion" in the West, which he cannot ignore.
"Does he know how foolish it is to talk of a "home" for Armenia?"
"He knows it would be as useless as to tie 'a swarm of bees under a donkey's nose.' But, though—as you justly say—it is not their business, England cannot ignore America and the Powers. It would not bring you peace, or justice, to affront them. I do not wonder that you and Riza Nour grow impatient with the wasteful methods of traditional diplomacy; but that is our way of democracy, to conciliate public opinion by a pose of far greater obstinacy and intolerance than we feel, or intend to act on."
We in England, however, should realise that, however wise and sincere Lord Curzon's own sympathy may be, the general attitude—in England and the Continent—is still based on our interpretation of the "old" Turkey. Our experts, for example, in Constantinople, still approach the Nationalists as they were accustomed to order about Abdul Hamid's Turks. They are, naturally and inevitably, "touchy" in Angora, but we shall not help matters by any offensive allusions to the "Moslem with his tail up, no thank you!"
It would be not only wiser and fairer, but more
