He is, as a fact, far more leniently inclined towards the Greeks and Armenians than any other Turkish statesman. He sees even their wanton destruction of Anatolia as no more than the outburst of a misguided people, the victims of bigger, intriguing Powers. He would rather welcome their return to loyalty than give their place in commerce to the Jews, from the humane conviction that they have no homes outside Turkey.
The home life of Mustapha Kemal, literally given to his country, involves severe daily self-sacrifice. From month to month he allows himself no recreation, no change of scene, no intercourse with the world’s culture. Among these lonely mountains he cannot break the monotony by going to a play or to a concert; he does not hunt or follow any kind of sport; and even Nature, at least in winter, is scarcely kind.
His life is one of continual mental and physical effort: reading, studying, and planning, seeing everyone, for they all want to see “The Pasha” and not the second in command. To me he seems like a professor, who must be forever explaining to his people what their Nationalism really means. Perhaps the nearest historical parallel to his abounding personality is that of Julius Cæsar; and one is tempted to hope that he, too, may find time to leave us the “Commentaries.” The world would know how to value what the Turks need put on record, the thought of this keen and alert mind which is able to interpret, if not supplement, the Koran for modern conditions and aspirations. They have, as it were, many centuries of progress to catch up; and, fortunately, he is no blind respecter of tyrannical religious or historic traditions that hamper advance to freedom. A commentary of great value could be compiled from his thoughtful and stirring speeches.
It may be that, as in art the highest form is simplest, we shall, after all, see the perfect Democracy in the East. The ideals of President Wilson have been discarded as impossible; Russia has signally failed to carry out the teachings of Karl Marx. Mustapha Kemal Pasha, at least, has put his doctrine in practice to the acknowledged advantage of a country in the “Slough of Despond.”
Turkish statesmen maintain to-day that any form of a Second Chamber remains only the unfit survival of decadent Monarchies and Empires, that the Single Chamber is the most perfect machine for Government, avoiding friction and delay.
Time alone can prove!
At my first interview with “The Pasha” he was wearing a big astrakhan kalpak, pushed well down over his forehead, and smoking cigarette after cigarette. Though busy receiving ministers and deputies in the Presidential Bureau, he was at the same time waiting, as it were, for the right moment to sum up the whole situation in one final and decisive reply that could not fail to end all discussion. This power to drive right through a subject, to find the way out and take it, is one of the chief sources of his unique authority.
He was ready, however, for a sociable cup of coffee, and immediately asked for news of England. Fethi Bey reminded him of a few scenes from life to which I had introduced him in London, including dinner at a Ladies’ Club. Most women would admire the picturesquely weatherbeaten tint of the Pasha’s complexion, though the piercing, almost stern, glance of the eye should remind you that you will do well to say clearly and quietly what you have to say—and go! Though so businesslike and energetic, he has a beautifully modulated voice. His French is well-chosen; in Turkish he is an orator. Here, then, are the face and the expression of a conqueror, but the voice is the voice of a cultured man of the world.