February 10, 1919

M. Coromilas, the No. 3 Greek delegate, came in today and “after compliments” made an open attack on my table of the languages spoken in that salad of wild tribes which is the Macedonia of today. He objected to my “mother tongue” definition as to the ethnic factors in this land of Babel and yet that is, as far as I can see, the only yardstick we have to rely on.

“The situation is not as simple as you present it,” he objected. “For instance, you leave out the Bulgaro-phone Greeks (Bulgar-speaking Greeks)—and yet they are an important factor in the complicated situation. They are of straight Attic descent and the land is full of them; but to pacify their ferocious Slav neighbors, and so that they may be understood in their daily life and pursuits, they have gotten into the habit of speaking Bulgarian and many of them have lost all knowledge of their mother tongue. What are you going to do about that?”

I did not commit myself, but I did tell him of an incident that occurred years ago when I was engaged in my early linguistic studies on the Vardar. I was walking along the noisy river with Spiridon Gopsevich, the apostle of Pan-Serbism in these parts. We met a poor peasant staggering along the path under a load of wood for his cabin fire. Thinking to do a little spot of propaganda, Gopsevich said: “My good man, what is your nationality?” “Ja sam Bougarin” (I’m a Bulgarian), the thoughtless fellow answered. Gopsevich was nettled and blazed out: “My poor fellow! you are mistaken. By the very words that come from your mouth I can see that you are a Serb.” I left them to argue it out and went on my bewildered way.

“That Gopsevich was just one of those common garden liars that were sent out by Belgrade to complicate the situation,” commented Coromilas, who from long service in Chicago spoke good American.

“Perhaps, perhaps,” I answered, “but he was not the only one.”

If truth is to be found in Macedonia, it is at the bottom of a very, very deep well. Certainly I never plumbed it.