I was told by way of reply, that “the first qualification for ‘entering diplomacy’ is to be twenty-one!” This, of course, excludes a woman over thirty; a fact that may serve for answer to many bitter attacks upon my “Disadvantage of Being a Woman.” A man of threescore is seldom considered too old for diplomacy; a woman of thirty-five is fourteen years beyond the limit.
“What would you do with the old men?” I was asked.
“Teach them golf,” was my prompt retort.
At the Front in a French uniform, speaking French to my own compatriots, I was always unwilling to confess my nationality. So long as they thought I was French, they forgot the lady, and made a friend of the woman! Shedding their “own” uniform, as it were, they “let go” in homage and devotion; giving, being, and appealing for themselves. But the moment it came out that I was English, the open oyster closed down and hid its pearl. From these spruce, upright, and tightly-buttoned uniforms I could never get through the politeness.
As an interpreter in the Guards once explained it: “When one of your Generals asks me to buy him a Vie Parisienne, he never forgets to add, ‘but don’t give it to me in front of my officers.’” It must be the same with women. The Englishman will allow a French woman to “have a peep” at his soul. To his compatriot he offers his dignity and his prestige—which are no better than a bag of bones!
What I have always known, has been brought home more forcibly than ever during this trip. In matrimony, at his office, and in the home, the Englishman must be master. We can, if we must, accept a good master. Who will help us against the bad? Do the Laws of England?
It sometimes seems indiscreet for an Englishwoman to visit the British Embassies in foreign capitals, but I rarely omit to call on the French; and there are, of course, certain advantages, under some circumstances, in a twin-nationality. I have been invited to their Christmas lunch by General and Madame Pellé.
Mr. Neville Henderson, the British chargé d’affaires at Constantinople, though certainly not pro-Turk, does not hesitate to criticise the Greeks. An ideal sense of balance for a diplomat.
The Turks like Mr. Henderson; and when I remarked on the apparent anomaly that “one can be popular in Turkey without being pro-Turk,” I was met by the astounding retort that “he succeeds because he knows how to talk”—a strong argument against “silent” diplomacy!