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 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