Chapter I: Foreword: An Englishwoman in Angora

AT the time of writing I am the only Englishwoman who has been in Angora since the Nationalist movement began.

Others, moved by curiosity, have sought permission to visit the country under its new _régime_, but Nationalist Turkey has bidden them wait—until she is sure that her guests will write, or speak, the _truth_ about what they may see, and can be trusted to forget the prejudices with which they would almost certainly arrive.

For myself, I have three times been welcomed to Turkey with open arms _on account_ of my nationality. On this occasion I was still welcome, but _in spite of_ my nationality—an ugly truth that my mind almost refuses to accept.

To compare impressions from these visits one must first ask: “How could such a change of attitude come to pass?”

Formerly Great Britain was _the_ country of all countries that “counted” in Turkey. To be a “gentleman”—(they used the English word)—was the Turks’ highest ambition. British stuffs were chosen in preference to French, _not_ because they were finer or of greater value, but simply because they were _British_. Our ideals, our policy, and, I must add, our governesses, were almost regarded as sacred in Turkish eyes.

And now I am advised, for greater safety, to travel as an American! God forbid! I stand by the old flag.

I would smile, could the tears be hidden, when I recall the police officer who so solemnly enquired if _I was sure_ I was not an American.

“Perfectly sure,” I replied.

“How then,” said he, “has that impossibility—an Englishwoman in Angora—become possible?”

“Your Government,” I answered, “has made it possible. As you have no one else here from my country, I have given myself this mission.... An old friend of the Turks, a woman who loves her own country! Can she not do _something_ for that peace between us, which is a supreme necessity to both? That is why I am here.”

* * * * *

I do not forget that Turks were our “enemies” in the war. But they came back, beaten to the dust—and penitent. Then was the moment for us to have made our own terms. In that mood Turkey would have accepted—anything, but the _one thing_ we imposed on her—the Greeks at Smyrna! That policy of sheer folly has transformed the veneration of her people into fear and distrust, if not hate.

Unjustly and unreasonably as we have behaved towards our old ally, we were not, indeed, alone in this mischievous exalting of Greek aggressions. Dare we not now own our mistake? We are great enough, and strong enough, to be generous, to mend our ways!

To-day, surely, it is the duty of English patriots to pour oil on the troubled waters, to explain to Turkey what _can_ be explained, and to paint our countrymen, at least, less “black” than they have been made to seem by our rivals’ pen!

Lausanne Palace Hotel,

Lausanne,

_January, 1923_.

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