And now, as the train followed the line of the victorious army, our young men took out their maps and eagerly pointed out to us these, now almost sacred, landmarks. Their father, at the same time, explained many technical details—why such and such a position could not be maintained, where the Greek strategy had failed, how General Trécoupis (now thankful, no doubt, to be in the Turks’ hands at Eski-Chéir) had surrendered to a mere lieutenant.
By way of return for all this interesting information, I told a few simple stories about the Royal Family of Great Britain, which I have always found interest these people far more than my “grander,” or more romantic, reminiscences from the Courts of Europe.
They are never tired of hearing that our Edward VII. only required one “gentleman in waiting” at a time at Marienbad; whereas the Czar (Ferdinand) of Bulgaria was always accompanied by a suite of eight or nine. Sir Edward Goschen was instructed to dress, like his royal master, in a green Tyrolese hat with its little shooting feather. He was sent to sit on “the king’s bench” until the crowd had satisfied their natural desires for “a good view,” and gone home to breakfast. Then Edward VII. himself arrived.
I went on to tell of a Wagner concert, so crowded that a certain little American lady of about seventy quietly settled into the only empty seat that the King’s attendant just happened to have vacated. She simply “refused to believe” the scandalised authorities when they told her that she was sitting beside the King of England. Edward enjoyed the joke, would not allow “his friend,” to be disturbed, and chattered merrily to her between the music to the end of the programme.
Her countrywomen, in Ascot gowns, driving their four-horse carriages up to the golf-course at Marienbad, in search of an introduction, did not find His Majesty so easy to approach. The most determined of them all (up against something that “money” could not buy) was driven to use her scissors to cut off a few hairs from his dog’s tail. “At least,” she said, “if I have no souvenir of the King of England, I have a bit of his dog,” and she mounted the hairs in a locket and wore it until she died.
“You see,” I concluded, “how much these ‘democrats’ admire a king. Will the fever, I wonder, ever take root in the East?”
When we reached the Sakharia, the eyes of the general were filled with tears, and it was some time before he managed to speak of what had been. It seemed, indeed, too good to be true. The Greeks had penetrated to Sakharia; and now they were driven out of the whole country!
“Without our Pasha,” said he, “we should still be slaves. To-day, none dare fail in duty to our Fatherland!”
They were all this man’s pupils, these Nationalist leaders. To his fine, upright character they owe an example they are proud to acknowledge. His sons told me that he was in exile for six years, and they had no idea where he was! It was easy to see how they admired him and how devoted he was to them; and now his work at Teheran will not be easy; such men give their whole lives to service!