Mr. Schmavonian later went to Talaat and told him that I was quite serious in my intention. Talaat then sent me word that he would arrange with the Governor of Adrianople to entertain me, and that I could dismiss all thought of other preparations from my mind. I therefore contented myself with arranging to arrive in Adrianople in the morning, planning to spend a day there sightseeing, and then joining my wife on the train, which was due to come through the following morning at 3:30 o’clock. Imagine my astonishment, therefore, upon arriving at Adrianople, to find that the Governor, acting on Talaat’s orders, had transformed part of the City Hall into a hotel for my reception. The office furniture had been removed and a suite of bedrooms for myself, my son Henry (who had now joined me), and a member of my staff, had been freshly furnished, with comfortable beds and bedding specially bought for this occasion. One room had been fitted up as a kitchen; another as a dining room. Talaat’s attentions had gone so far as even to see that we were provided with pyjamas, bedroom slippers, and toothbrushes.
When I arrived at Adrianople, the Governor was at the station to meet me, accompanied by a military guard of honour. He at once took us in his automobile for a sightseeing tour of the city. I found him a man of great intelligence—some months later he became a member of the Turkish Cabinet at Constantinople. He was especially interested in the answers that my son was able to make to his numerous questions about American farm machinery, which he wished to import for use on his large estate.
After a very pleasant day we returned to the City Hall and there we were tendered a splendid dinner and reception. The Governor then told me that the express train on which my wife was travelling was reported to be several hours late, and that I had as well make myself comfortable by going to bed and resting. He promised to have me aroused in plenty of time to meet the train on its arrival. Accordingly, I made my way to my improvised bedroom and was soon asleep. At three o’clock in the morning the Governor himself awakened me. He urged me to hurry, as he said the train had now made up most of its lost time and was due any minute. We were soon driving through the chilly streets of Adrianople to the railroad station. Arriving there, we found that the report was erroneous and that the train was still two hours late. The waiting room was small, very dirty, and unheated. It was useless, however, to return to the City Hall, so we waited for those two hours in the dimly lighted and evil-smelling waiting room, beguiling the time with conversation and cups of Persian tea. He was greatly interested to find out from me the practical workings of the American system of government. Most of our time was spent in questions and answers regarding our elections, with their, to him, almost incomprehensible peaceful transitions from one group of rulers to another.
At length the express drew into the station, the military guard was mounted, and the Governor with great ceremony escorted me to the train platform. I thanked him most heartily for a day unique in my experience. Having undertaken with reluctance to facilitate this meeting of my wife, Talaat had gone to the other extreme and had given it an almost royal setting. Through his kindness I was enabled to escort my wife properly to her new home in Constantinople.
Arriving there, she entered at once into the spirit of my mission and became of invaluable assistance to me. She had looked forward to it as a dreary exile from home and friends in a dull and uncivilized community. Instead, she soon found, as I had already, that the diplomatic circle was a group of charming people, intellectually stimulating, and engaged in the fascinating game of high politics. She shared as well my intense interest in the work of the missionaries, just as she had shared in New York my interest in the Bronx House and other works of social betterment. She enjoyed, besides, a most unusual opportunity that was denied to me, namely, the opportunity to study, under the most favourable circumstances, the strangely interesting life of the Oriental woman. This life was not only very different from the life of Western women but was also very different from our preconceived ideas of it. Mrs. Morgenthau found, to be sure, that the exclusion of Turkish women from masculine society was a reality, but she was astonished on the other hand to learn the extent to which the more ambitious ones among them had been able to achieve contact with Western thought. The plight of these intelligent women was really tragical. They were the pioneers of an epochal social change in Turkey, and they were suffering the usual martyrdom of pioneering. They had been allowed to acquire the education and ideas, which have so broadened the mental outlook of Western women, but the social barrier of custom still prevented them from enjoying in practice the advantage of its possession. Their husbands sought their intellectual companions entirely among other men, and continued to regard their women as playthings of the harem. They were thus denied the stimulation and enjoyment of contact with masculine thought and were cut off of course from all active participation in practical works, where the mind exercises its acquired talents. Doubtless in the course of time women in Turkey will be freed from these ancient restrictions of custom and will join their Western sisters in a full freedom to take an active part in the life of the world, but their position during the transition period is truly pathetic.
Mrs. Morgenthau came across many cases of this anomalous condition. One of the most striking was in the home of the Persian Ambassador. He had married a very cultivated French woman. Notwithstanding the liberality of thought which had permitted him to marry a European, he had done so only on the agreement that she should become a Mohammedan; and having done so, he insisted that she live the life of a Mohammedan woman. She had thus stepped from that stirring French society of which one of the most outstanding characteristics is the almost abnormally important influence exerted by women, both in the intellectual life and in public affairs, into a society where she was debarred entirely from association with men and cut off from all practical relations with outside affairs. When Mrs. Morgenthau entertained her, or any of the native Turkish ladies, at the Embassy, even the male servants were kept below stairs and luncheon was served by the house-maids.
So much for the colour of life at the Embassy during the first months after my arrival. On the sober business side, there was much of equal interest. When the Young Turks succeeded to power they had brought with them great hope of permanent progress for their country. This hope was shared by Liberals not only in Turkey but everywhere. The Christian world without felt that at last there was a prospect that Moslem government might succeed in treating a Christian population justly. The total failure of this party proved again the impossibility of true reform among the Turks. This was evident to careful observers long before my arrival at Constantinople, but I was so ardent in my desire to help them that it took me nearly a year to become wholly disillusioned.
The Young Turks from their accession to power failed in every serious task they undertook. They made war on the Albanians, with whom the Sultans had compromised for more than four hundred years. Having been trained as professional soldiers they were accustomed to the use of force only. They had not the slightest notion of democratic political methods or of peaceful conciliation, though it was obvious that among the various peoples of Turkey peaceful conciliation was the only way of beginning a united national life. The Young Turks brought the dispute with Greece concerning the possession of Crete to a crisis. Instead of recognizing the accomplished fact in Tripoli they insisted upon retaining control of that province, and Italy declared war. Against the Armenians the massacres at Adana were conducted with all the horrors of the past. The guilty, instead of being punished by the Central Government, were exonerated. But the greatest failure of all on the part of the so-called Committee of Union and Progress was in connection with the national legislature. The revolution led the Greeks and Armenians to think that a democratic government would be established. But the Young Turks “selected” (not “elected”) the members of the Chamber of Deputies from among their own adherents.
The Committee of Union and Progress was, in truth, a desperate set of men confronted by desperate conditions. Therefore they were willing to take the most desperate means to retain “Turkey for the Turks,” and especially Turkey for themselves. Their subsequent actions were all in keeping with this resolve. I was told by my colleagues that business had to be transacted with the Grand Vizier. But I found that I could obtain the quickest results through Talaat and Enver. My somewhat democratic, business-like methods seemed to appeal to them. There were occasions on which I even went so far as to deal directly with lesser officials. Some of my experiences would, I am sure, fill a professional diplomat with dismay as regards the future of his calling.
As I became better acquainted with Talaat, who was the real head of the Government, meeting him very often at my house and sometimes at the house of the Grand Rabbi, he confided to me the great disappointment which he and his fellow revolutionists felt with their people. Having lived for so many years in a state of subjection, the masses seemed completely cowed and did not respond in the least to any suggestion of progress or improvement. He also blamed the Sheikhs and feudal chiefs who were still extorting tributes and using most exasperating methods in collecting taxes. The right to collect taxes was, in many districts, farmed out to the state bank or to the richer inhabitants. They were entitled by law to collect in kind 10 per cent. of the crops, but were never satisfied with this portion. They would go and measure the crop and leave the farms without collecting the taxes. Whereupon the poor people, not being permitted to use their food and forage, and knowing that they were in the power of the tax collector, would implore him for a prompt settlement. Often, to prevent starvation, the farmers would submit to an exaction of one third of their crop. Talaat thought that nothing less than the hanging of a number of these men would ever stop the evil practice. He seemed to have no notion that a better system of collecting the taxes could be instituted.