March 3, 1919

Yesterday Sir William Wiseman of the British Intelligence Service: dropped in and it was evident he had something on his mind. He often acts as a messenger for Lloyd George and not seldom he comes, on missions that are evidently self-imposed. During the war, when he served in New York, Wiseman had many contacts with the Colonel, who thinks that they were to his advantage. On this point we of his staff are not in complete agreement. After beating about the bush for some minutes, Wiseman came to the point.

“I wonder if you could tell me, and through me, the P.M., confidentially of course, when the President is planning to bring the Armenian question before the Council for final adjustment.”

I answered I could not, and then suggested that the President, perhaps, would not intervene in the matter at all. Wiseman registered surprise and then, “Why not?”

“Of course I do not know, but possibly he thinks he should not interfere with the British plans in this quarter.”

Wiseman registered even more complete surprise and asked me to be more explicit. I then showed him a copy of the Prime Minister’s speech made at the Guild Hall in 1916, which with malicious, purpose I had held on my desk for some weeks. As he seemed to* shy away, I read it aloud: “ ‘Britain is resolved to liberate the Armenians from the Turkish yoke and to restore them to the religious and political freedom they deserve and of which they have been so long deprived.’

“It seems to have been your job, and you accepted it at least a year before we entered the war. Why should the President barge in? Après vous, messieurs les Anglais/”

Wiseman scurried away with a bee in his bonnet, perhaps even a hornet, and doubtless reported my discourtesy in exalted quarters. If bad temper ever can be justified, I think mine was on this occasion. Among the things that the deplorable treatment of the Armenians reveals is the skill of the Powers with whom we are associated in “passing the buck.” Both England and France before we entered the war officially announced that they would re-establish the Armenian people in their ancient rights and within their traditional boundaries, but as the extreme difficulty of their task becomes more and more apparent, they have earmarked the ugly job for Simple Simon, that is, for Uncle Sam.

As a matter of fact, the Armenian problem is a hard nut to crack and the anxiety expressed by their delegates here, and by Lord Bryce, their sponsor, is fully justified. The survivors of the massacres that have raged almost without interruption for four decades are hemmed in by enemies and the few localities that they still defend are difficult of access. Should a rescuing force be sent for their protection, the losses would be heavy, and it is quite apparent that none of the Powers who promised protection and rehabilitation for these unfortunate people have stomach for any further expense or casualties.

Indeed, we are hearing with increasing frequency of another and, what seems to me, a most faint-hearted solution of the problem. It is to transfer the remnant of this unfortunate nation to the once Turkish province of Cilicia. These regions border on the eastern Mediterranean and the naval powers that rule the midland sea could extend protection. The Armenians do not wish to move. They prefer the mountains and the caves of their ancient territory which, as their delegates explain, they have defended against all comers for twenty-four hundred years.

There is another and, T fear, a more potent reason why this plan will not prosper. It is increasingly apparent that both France and Italy have other plans for Cilicia. They do not harmonize with the new doctrine of self-determination and the rights of people to control their destiny. These plans clearly reveal a relapse into the practices of imperialism that brought about the present world disaster. And Cilicia? Well, we can find it on the map, but further than that even the most voluble of the ethnic experts maintain a discreet silence. I have a vague idea it is the country which Cicero, as pro-consul, looted so that he might have the means to build his villas and his fish ponds and where he received those charming gossipy letters with which his good friend Atticus enlivened his months of exile from Rome.