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diff --git a/old/50540-0.txt b/old/50540-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e044099..0000000 --- a/old/50540-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4631 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A Turkish Woman's European Impressions, by Zeyneb Hanoum - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: A Turkish Woman's European Impressions - -Author: Zeyneb Hanoum - -Editor: Grace Ellison - -Illustrator: Auguste Rodin - -Release Date: November 23, 2015 [EBook #50540] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TURKISH WOMAN'S EUROPEAN *** - - - - -Produced by Turgut Dincer and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by the -Library of Congress) - - - - - - - -A TURKISH WOMAN’S EUROPEAN IMPRESSIONS - -[Illustration: ZEYNEB IN HER PARIS DRAWING-ROOM - -She is wearing the Yashmak and Feradjé, or cloak.] - - - - - A TURKISH WOMAN’S - EUROPEAN IMPRESSIONS - - BY - - ZEYNEB HANOUM - - (HEROINE OF PIERRE LOTI’S NOVEL - “LES DÉSENCHANTÉES”) - - EDITED & WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY - - GRACE ELLISON - - WITH 23 ILLUSTRATIONS - FROM PHOTOGRAPHS & A DRAWING BY - AUGUSTE RODIN - - PHILADELPHIA - - J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - - LONDON: SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LTD. - - 1913 - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. A DASH FOR FREEDOM 21 - - II. ZEYNEB’S GIRLHOOD 31 - - III. BEWILDERING EUROPE 47 - - IV. SCULPTURE’S FORBIDDEN JOY 57 - - V. THE ALPS AND ARTIFICIALITY 63 - - VI. FREEDOM’S DOUBTFUL ENCHANTMENT 73 - - VII. GOOD-BYE TO YOUTH—TAKING THE - VEIL 83 - - VIII. A MISFIT EDUCATION 93 - - IX. “SMART WOMEN” THROUGH THE - VEIL 105 - - X. THE TRUE DEMOCRACY 111 - - XI. A COUNTRY PICTURE 125 - - XII. THE STAR FROM THE WEST—THE EMPRESS - EUGÉNIE 131 - - XIII. TURKISH HOSPITALITY—A REVOLUTION - FOR CHILDREN 137 - - XIV. A STUDY IN CONTRASTS 145 - - XV. DREAMS AND REALITIES 153 - - XVI. THE MOON OF RAMAZAN 169 - - XVII. AND IS THIS REALLY FREEDOM? 179 - - XVIII. THE CLASH OF CREEDS 201 - - XIX. IN THE ENEMY’S LAND 217 - - XX. THE END OF THE DREAM 233 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - Zeyneb in her Paris Drawing-room _Frontispiece_ - - A Turkish Child with a Slave _To face page_ 34 - - A Turkish House ” 34 - - “Les Désenchantées” (_by_ M. Rodin) ” 60 - - A Turkish Dancer ” 70 - - A Turkish Lady dressed as a Greek - Dancer ” 70 - - Turkish Lady in Tcharchoff (outdoor - costume) ” 88 - - Silent Gossip of a Group of Turkish - Women ” 102 - - Turkish Ladies in their Garden with - their Children’s Governesses ” 102 - - Yashmak and Mantle ” 134 - - Melek in Yashmak ” 140 - - Zeyneb in her Western Drawing-room ” 160 - - Turkish Ladies paying a Visit ” 172 - - Zeyneb with a black Face-veil thrown - back ” 184 - - A Corner of a Turkish Harem of to-day ” 192 - - Turkish Women and Children in the - Country ” 192 - - The Balcony at the Back of Zeyneb’s - House ” 206 - - Zeyneb and Melek ” 206 - - The Drawing-room of a Harem showing - the Bridal Throne ” 214 - - A Corner of the Harem ” 214 - - A Caïque on the Bosphorus ” 222 - - Turkish Women in the Country ” 222 - - Melek on the Verandah at Fontainebleau ” 228 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -In the preface of his famous novel, _Les Désenchantées_, M. Pierre Loti -writes: “This novel is pure fiction; those who take the trouble to find -real names for Zeyneb, Melek, or André will be wasting their energy, -for they never existed.” - -These words were written to protect the two women, Zeyneb and Melek, -who were mainly responsible for the information contained in that book, -from the possibility of having to endure the terror of the Hamidian -régime as a consequence of their indiscretion. This precaution was -unnecessary, however, seeing that the two heroines, understanding the -impossibility of escaping the Hamidian vigilance, had fled to Europe, -at great peril to their lives, before even the novel appeared. - -Although it is not unusual to find Turkish women who can speak fluently -two or three European languages (and this was very striking to me when -I stayed in a Turkish harem), and although M. Loti has in his novel -taken the precaution to let Melek die, yet it would still have been an -easy task to discover the identity of the two heroines of his book. - -Granddaughters of a Frenchman who for _les beaux yeux_ of a Circassian -became a Turk and embraced Mahometanism, they had been signalled out -from amongst the enlightened women who are a danger to the State, and -were carefully watched. - -For a long time many cultured Turkish women had met to discuss what -could be done for the betterment of their social status; and when it -was finally decided to make an appeal to the sympathy of the world in -the form of a novel, who better than Pierre Loti, with his magic pen -and keen appreciation of Turkish life, could be found to plead the -cause of the women of what he calls his “second fatherland”? - -In one of my letters written to Zeyneb from Constantinople, I hinted -that the Young Turks met in a disused cistern to discuss the Revolution -which led Europe to expect great things of them. The women, too, met in -strange places to plot and plan—they were full of energetic intentions, -but, with the Turkish woman’s difficulty of bringing thought into -action, they did little more than plot and plan, and but for Zeyneb -and Melek, _Les Désenchantées_ would never have been written. - -At the conclusion of his preface, M. Loti says: “What is true in -my story is the culture allowed to Turkish women and the suffering -which must necessarily follow. This suffering, which to my foreign -eyes appeared perhaps more intense, is also giving anxiety to my dear -friends the Turks themselves, and they would like to alleviate it. -The remedy for this evil I do not claim to have discovered, since the -greatest thinkers of the East are still diligently working to find it.” - -Like M. Loti I, too, own my inability to come any nearer a solution -of this problem. I, who through the veil have studied the aimless, -unhealthy existences of these pampered women, am nevertheless convinced -that the civilisation of Western Europe for Turkish women is a case -of exchanging the frying-pan for the fire. Zeyneb in her letters to -me, written between 1906-1912, shows that, if her disenchantment with -her harem existence was bitter, she could never appreciate our Western -civilisation. - -Turkish women are clamouring for a more solid education and freedom. -They would cast aside the hated veil; progress demands they should—but -do they know for what they are asking? - -“Be warned by us, you Turkish women,” I said to them, painting the -consequences of our freedom in its blackest colours, “and do not pull -up your anchor till you can safely steer your ship. My own countrymen -have become too callous to the bitter struggles of women; civilisation -was never meant to be run on these lines, therefore hold fast to the -protection of your harems till you can stand alone.” - -Since my return to London, I have sometimes spoken on Turkish life, -and have been asked those very naïve questions which wounded the pride -of Zeyneb Hanoum. When I said I had actually stayed in an harem, I -could see the male portion of my audience, as it were, passing round -the wink. “You must not put the word ‘harem’ on the title of your -lecture,” said the secretary of a certain society. “Many who might come -to hear you would stay away for fear of hearing improper revelations, -and others would come hoping to hear those revelations and go away -disappointed.” - -In one of her letters to me, Zeyneb complains that the right kind of -governess is not sent to Constantinople. The wonder to me is, when -one hears what a harem is supposed to be, that European women have the -courage to go there at all. - -The word harem comes from the Arabic “Maharem,” which means “sacred or -forbidden,” and no Oriental word has been more misunderstood. It does -not mean a collection of wives; it is simply applied to those rooms in -a Turkish house exclusively reserved for the use of the women. Only a -blood relation may come there to visit the lady of the house, and in -many cases even cousins are not admitted. There is as much sense in -asking an Englishman if he has a boudoir as in asking a Turk if he has -a harem; and to think that when I stayed in Turkey, our afternoon’s -impropriety consisted of looking through the latticed windows! The -first Bey who passed was to be for me, the second for Fathma, and the -third for Selma; this was one of our favourite games in the harem. One -day I remember in the country we waited an hour for my Bey to pass, and -after all he was not a Bey, but a fat old man carrying water. - -The time has not yet come for the Turkish woman to vindicate her right -to freedom; it cannot come by a mere change of law, and it is a cruelty -on the part of Europeans to encourage them to adopt Western habits -which are a part of a general system derived from a totally different -process of evolution. - -In the development of modern Turkey, the Turkish woman has already -played a great part, and she has a great part still to play in the -creation of a new civilisation; but present experience has shown that -no servile imitation of the West will redeem Turkey from the evils of -centuries of patriarchal servitude. - - * * * * * - -By a strange irony of fate, it was at Fontainebleau that I first -made the acquaintance of Pierre Loti’s heroines. To me every inch of -Fontainebleau was instinct with memories of happiness and liberty. -It was here that Francis I. practised a magnificence which dazzled -Europe; here, too, is the wonderful wide forest of trees which are -still there to listen to the same old story.... From a Turkish harem to -Fontainebleau. What a change indeed! - -The two sisters were sitting on the verandah of their villa when I -arrived. Zeyneb had been at death’s door; she looked as if she were -there still. - -“Why did you not come to lunch?” asked Melek. - -“I was not invited,” I answered. - -“Well, you might have come all the same.” - -“Is that the custom in Turkey?” - -“Why, of course, when you are invited to lunch you can come to -breakfast instead, or the meal after, or not at all. Whenever our -guests arrive, it is we who are under obligations to them for coming.” - -“What a comforting civilisation; I am sure I should love to be in -Turkey.” - -I wanted to ask indiscreet questions. - -“Have you large trees in Turkey with hollows big enough to seat two -persons?” I began. - -Melek saw through the trick at once. - -“Ah!” she answered, “now you are treading on dangerous ground; next -time you come to see us we shall speak about these things. In the -meanwhile learn that the charming side of life to which you have -referred, and about which we have read so much in English novels, does -not exist for us Turkish women. Nothing in our life can be compared -to yours, and in a short time you will see this. We have no right to -vary ever so little the programme arranged for us by the customs of our -country; an adventure of any kind generally ends in disaster. As you -may know, we women never see our husbands till we are married, and an -unhappy marriage is none the less awful to bear when it is the work of -some one else.” - -“Do tell me more,” I persisted. - -“The marriage of a Turkish woman is an intensely interesting subject to -anyone but a Turkish woman....” - - * * * * * - -I left my new friends with reluctance, but after that visit began the -correspondence which forms the subject matter of this book. - - - GRACE ELLISON. - - -A TURKISH WOMAN’S EUROPEAN IMPRESSIONS - - - - -CHAPTER I - -A DASH FOR FREEDOM - - -A few days after my visit to the Désenchantées at Fontainebleau, which -is described in the Introduction, I received the following letter from -Zeyneb: - - - FONTAINEBLEAU, _Sept._ 1906. - -You will never know, my dear and latest friend, the pleasure your visit -has given us. It was such a new experience, and all the more to be -appreciated, because we were firmly convinced we had come to the end of -new experiences. - -For almost a quarter of a century, in our dear Turkey, we longed above -all for something new; we would have welcomed death even as a change, -but everything, everything was always the same. - -And now, in the space of eight short months, what have we not seen and -done! Every day has brought some new impressions, new faces, new joys, -new difficulties, new disappointments, new surprises and new friends; -it seemed to both of us that we must have drunk the cup of novelty to -its very dregs. - -On Sunday, after you had left us, we talked for a long time of you and -the many subjects we had discussed together. - -Sympathy and interest so rarely go hand in hand—interest engenders -curiosity, sympathy produces many chords in the key of affection, but -the sympathetic interest you felt for us has given birth on our side to -a sincere friendship, which I know will stand the test of time. - -We felt a few minutes after you had been with us, how great was your -comprehension, not only of our actions, but of all the private reasons, -alas! so tragic, which made them necessary. You understood so much -without our having to speak, and you guessed a great deal of what could -not be put into words. That is what a Turkish woman appreciates more -than anything else. - -We, who are not even credited with the possession of a soul, yet guard -our souls as our most priceless treasures. Those who try to force our -confidence in any way, we never forgive. Between friend and friend -the highest form of sympathy is silence. For hours we Turkish women -sit and commune with one another without speaking. You would, I know, -understand this beautiful side of our life. - -Since our departure from our own country, and during these few months -we have been in France, from all sides we have received kindness. We -were ready to face yet once more unjust criticism, blame, scandal -even; but instead, ever since we left Belgrade till we arrived here, -everything has been quite the opposite. All the European papers have -judged us impartially, some have even defended and praised us, but not -one censured us for doing with our lives what it pleased us. - -But in Turkey what a difference! No Constantinople paper spoke of our -flight. They were clever enough to know that by giving vent to any -ill-feeling, saying what they really thought of our “disgraceful” -conduct, they would draw still more attention to the women’s cause; so -we were left by the Press of our country severely alone. - -The Sultan Hamid, who interested himself a little too much in our -welfare, became very anxious about us. Having left no stone unturned -to force us to return (he had us arrested in the middle of the night -on our arrival at Belgrade on the plea that my sister was a minor, and -that both of us had been tricked away by an elderly lady for illicit -purposes) he next ordered that all those European papers in which we -were mentioned should be sent to him. As our flight drew forth bitter -criticism of his autocratic government, he must, had he really taken -the trouble to read about us, have found some very uncomfortable truths -about himself. But that was no new régime. For years he has fed himself -on these indigestible viands, and his mechanism is used to them by now. - -I need not tell you that in Constantinople, for weeks, these forbidden -papers were sold at a high price. Regardless of the risk they were -running, everyone wanted to have news of the two women who had had -the audacity to escape from their homes and the tyranny of the Sultan -Hamid. In the harems, we were the one topic of conversation. At first -no one seemed to grasp the fact that we had actually gone, but when at -last the truth slowly dawned upon them, the men naturally had not a -kind word to say of us, and we did not expect it would be otherwise. -But the women, alas! Many were obliged officially to disapprove of our -action. There were a few, however, who had the courage to defend us -openly; they have our deepest and sincerest gratitude. But do not think -for a moment that we blame or feel unkindly towards the others. Have -not we, like them, had all our lives to suffer and fear and pretend -as captives always must do? Could they be expected to find in one day -the strength of character to defend a cause however just, and not only -just, but _their own_—their freedom. - -Yes, my friend, we ourselves have lived that life of constant fear and -dissimulation, of hopes continually shattered, and revolt we dared not -put into words. - -Yet never did the thought occur to us that we might adapt ourselves to -this existence we were forced to lead. We spent our life in striving -for one thing only—the means of changing it. - -Could we, like the women of the West, we thought, devote our leisure to -working for the poor, that would at least be some amusement to break -the monotony. We also arranged to meet and discuss with intelligent -women the question of organising charity, but the Sultan came down -upon us with a heavy hand. He saw the danger of allowing thinking women -to meet and talk together, and the only result of this experiment was -that the number of spies set to watch the houses of “dangerous women” -was doubled. - -Then it was that we made up our minds, after continual failure, that -as long as we remained in our country under the degrading supervision -of the Hamidian régime, we could do nothing, however insignificant, to -help forward the cause of freedom for women. - -I need not tell you again all the story of our escape; it is like -a nightmare to me still, and every detail of that horrible journey -will remain clearly fixed in my mind until death. Shall I tell you -all that has happened to us since? But so much has been said about us -by all sorts and conditions of men and women, that you will no doubt -have already had an overdose. Yet I thought I understood, from the -sympathetic interest you showed us the other afternoon, that there was -much you would still like to hear. Have I guessed rightly? Then there -is nothing you shall not know.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - -What a long and interesting letter! and from a Turkish woman too! -Several times I read and re-read it, then I felt that I could not give -my new friend a better proof of the pleasure that it had given me, than -by writing her at once to beg for more. But I waited till the next day, -and finally sent a telegram—“Please send another letter.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -ZEYNEB’S GIRLHOOD - - - FONTAINEBLEAU, _Sept._ 1906. - -When I was quite young I loved to read the history of my country told -in the Arabian Nights style. The stories are so vivid and picturesque, -that even to-day, I remember the impression my readings made on me. -[Alas! the profession of _conteur_ or _raconteur_ is one which has -been left behind in the march of time.] Formerly every Pasha had a -_conteur_, who dwelt in the house, and friends were invited from all -around to come and listen to his Arabian Nights stories. The tales that -were most appreciated were those which touched on tragic events. But -the stories contained also a certain amount of moral reflection, and -were told in a style which, if ever I write, I will try to adopt. The -sentences are long, but the rhythm of the well-chosen language is so -perfect that it is almost like a song. - -What a powerful imagination had these men! And how their stories -delighted me! There were stories of Sultans who poisoned, Ministers -who were strangled, Palace intrigues which ended in bloodshed, and -descriptions of battles where conqueror and conquered were both crowned -with the laurels of a hero. But I never for a moment thought of these -tales but as fiction! Could the history of any country be so awful! Yet -was not the story of the reign in which I was living even worse, only -I was too young to know it? Were not the awful Armenian massacres more -dreadful than anything the _conteurs_ had ever described? Was not the -bare awful truth around us more ghastly than any fiction? Indeed, it -was. - -How can I impress upon your mind the anguish of our everyday life; our -continual and haunting dread of what was coming; no one could imagine -what it means except those Turkish women who, like ourselves, have -experienced that life. - -Had we possessed the blind fatalism of our grandmothers, we should -probably have suffered less, but with culture, as so often happens, -we began to doubt the wisdom of the Faith which should have been our -consolation. - -[Illustration: A TURKISH CHILD WITH A SLAVE - -Until a Turkish girl is veiled, she leads the life of an ordinary -European child. She even goes to Embassy balls. This is a great -mistake, as it gives her a taste for a life which after she is veiled -must cease.] - -[Illustration: A TURKISH HOUSE - -The Harem windows are on the top floor to the right.] - -You will say, that I am sad—morbid even; but how can I be otherwise -when the best years of my life have been poisoned by the horrors of the -Hamidian régime. There are some sentiments which, when transplanted, -make me suffer even as they did in the land of my birth. I am thinking -particularly of the agony of waiting. - -Do you think there is in any language a sentence stronger and more -beautiful than that which terminates in Loti’s _Pêcheurs d’Islande_—the -tragedy of waiting—with these words, “Il ne revint jamais”? - -I mention this to you because my whole youth had been so closely allied -with this very anguish of waiting. - -Imagine for a moment a little Turkish Yali[1] on the shores of the -Bosphorus. It is dark, it is still, and for hours the capital of Turkey -has been deep in slumber. Scarcely a star is in the sky, scarcely a -light can be seen in the narrow and badly-paved streets of the town. - -I had been reading until very late—reading and thinking, thinking and -reading to deaden the uneasiness I always felt when something was going -to happen. What was coming this time? - -By a curious irony of fate, I had been reading in the Bible[2] of -Christ’s apostles whose eyes were heavy with sleep. But I could not -sleep, and after a time I could not even read. This weary, weary -waiting! - -So I rose from my bed and looked through my latticed windows at the -beautiful Bosphorus, so calm and still, whilst my very soul was being -torn with anguish. But what is that noise? What is that dim light -slowly sailing up the Bosphorus? My heart begins to beat quickly, I try -to call out, my voice chokes me. The caïque has stopped at our Yali. - -Now I know what it is. Four discreet taps at my father’s window, and -his answer “I am coming.” Like a physician called to a dying patient, -he dresses and hastily leaves the house. It is three o’clock in the -morning _à la Franque_,[3] but his master is not sleeping. Away yonder, -in his fortress of Yildiz, the dreaded Sultan trembles even more than -I. What does he want with my father? Will he be pacified this time as -he has often been before? What if my father should have incurred the -wrath of this terrible Sultan? The caïque moves away as silently as it -came. Will my beloved father ever return? There is nothing to do but to -go on waiting, waiting. - - * * * * * - -Let us change the scene. A Turkish official has arrived at our house, -he has dared to come as far as the very door of the harem. He is -speaking to my mother. - -“I am only doing my duty in seeing if your husband is here? I have -every right to go up those harem stairs which you are guarding so -carefully, look in all your rooms and cupboards. My duty is to find out -where your husband is, and to report to his Majesty at once.” - -This little incident may sound insignificant to you, yet what a tragedy -to us! What was to happen to the bread-winner of our family? What had -my beloved father done? - -The explanation of it was simple enough. A certain Pasha had maligned -him to the Sultan in a most disgraceful manner. And the Sultan might -have believed it, had he not, by the merest chance, discovered that my -father was at the Palace when the Pasha so emphatically said he was -elsewhere. On such slender evidence, the fate of our family was to be -weighed! Would it mean exile for our father? Would we ever see him any -more? Again I say, there was nothing to do but wait. - - * * * * * - -As we told you on Sunday, we Turkish women read a great deal of foreign -literature, and this does not tend to make us any more satisfied with -our lot. - -Amongst my favourite English books were Beatrice Harraden’s _Ships that -Pass in the Night_,[4] passages of which I know by heart, and Lady -Mary Montagu’s _Letters_. Over and over again, and always with fresh -interest, I read those charming and clever letters. Although they are -the letters of another century, there is nothing in them to shock or -surprise a Turkish woman of to-day in their criticism of our life. It -is curious to notice, when reading Lady Mary’s _Letters_, how little -the Turkey of to-day differs from the Turkey of her time; only, Turkey, -the child that Lady Mary knew, has grown into a big person. - -There are two great ways, however, in which we have become too modern -for Lady Mary’s book. In costume we are on a level with Paris, seeing -we buy our clothes there; and as regards culture, we are perhaps more -advanced than is the West, since we have so much leisure for study, and -are not hampered with your Western methods. And yet how little we are -known by the European critics! - -The people of the West still think of us women as requiring the -services of the public letter-writer! They think of us also—we, who -have so great an admiration for them, and interest ourselves in all -they are doing—as one amongst many wives. Yet Polygamy (and here I say -a _Bismillah_[5] or prayer of thankfulness) has almost ceased to exist -in Turkey. - -I know even you are longing to make the acquaintance of a harem, -where there is more than one wife, but to-day the number of these -establishments can be counted on five fingers. We knew intimately the -wife of a Pasha who had more than one wife. He was forty years old, a -well-known and important personage, and in his Palace beside his first -wife were many slave-wives; the number increased from year to year. -But again I repeat this is an exception. - -We used often to visit the poor wife, who since her marriage had never -left her home, her husband being jealous of her, as he was of all the -others; they were _his possessions_, and in order to err on the safe -side, he never let them out. - -Our friend, the first wife, was very beautiful, though always ailing. -Every time we went to see her, she was so grateful to us for coming, -thanked us over and over again for our visit, and offered us flowers -and presents of no mean value. And she looked so happy, continually -smiling, and was so gentle and kind to all her _entourage_. - -She told our mother, however, of the sorrow that was gnawing at her -heart-strings, and when she spoke of the Pasha she owned how much she -had suffered from not being the favourite. She treated her rivals with -the greatest courtesy. “It would be easy to forgive,” she said, “the -physical empire that each in turn has over my husband, but what I feel -most is that he does not consult me in preference to the others.” - -She had a son fifteen years old, whom she loved very dearly, but she -seemed to care for the fourteen other children of the Pasha quite as -much, and spoke of them all as “our children.” Although her husband had -bought her as a slave, she had a certain amount of knowledge too, and -she read a great deal in the evenings when she was alone, alas! only -too often. - -The view of the Bosphorus, with the ships coming and going, was a great -consolation to her, as it has been to many a captive. And she thanked -Allah over and over again that she at least had this pleasure in life. - -I have often thought of this dear, sweet woman in my many moments of -revolt, as one admires and reverences a saint, but I have never been -able to imitate her calm resignation. - -Unlike our grandmothers, who accepted without criticism their “written -fate,” we analysed our life, and discovered nothing but injustice and -cruel, unnecessary sorrow. Resignation and culture cannot go together. -Resignation has been the ruin of our country. There never would have -been all this suffering, this perpetual injustice, but for resignation; -and resignation was no longer possible for us, for our Faith was -tottering. - -But I am not really pitying women more than men under the Hamidian -régime. A man’s life is always in danger. Do you know, the Sultan was -informed when your friend Kathleen came to see us? Every time our -mother invited guests to the house, she was obliged to send the list -to his Majesty, who, by every means, tried to prevent friends from -meeting. Two or three Turks meeting together in a café were eyed with -suspicion, and reported at head-quarters, so that rather than run risks -they spent the evenings in the harems with their wives. One result, -however, of this awful tyranny, was that it made the bonds which unite -a Turkish family together stronger than anywhere else in the world. - -Can you imagine what it is to have detectives watching your house day -and night? Can you imagine the exasperation one feels to think that -one’s life is at the mercy of a wretched individual who has only to -invent any story he likes and you are lost? Every calumny, however -stupid and impossible, is listened to at head-quarters. The Sultan’s -life-work (what a glorious record for posterity!) has been to have -his poor subjects watched and punished. What his spies tell him he -believes. No trial is necessary, he passes sentence according to his -temper at the moment—either he has the culprit poisoned, or exiles him -to the most unhealthy part of Arabia, or far away into the desert of -Tripoli, and often the unfortunate being who is thus punished has no -idea why he has been condemned. - -I shall always remember the awful impression I felt, when told with -great caution that a certain family had disappeared. The family -consisted of the father, the mother, son and daughter, and a valet. -They were my neighbours—quiet, unobtrusive people—and I thought all the -more of them for that reason. - -One morning, when I looked out of my window, I saw my neighbour’s house -was closed as if no one lived there. Without knowing what had happened -to them, I became anxious, and discreetly questioned my eunuch, who -advised me not to speak about them. It appeared, however, that in -the night the police had made an inspection of the house, and no one -has since then heard of its occupants, or dared to ask, for fear of -themselves becoming “suspect.” - -I found out long after, from a cutting sent me from a foreign friend -in Constantinople, that H. Bey’s house had been searched, and the -police—and this in spite of the fact that he had been forbidden to -write—had found there several volumes of verses, and he was condemned -to ten years’ seclusion in a fortified castle at Bassarah. - -This will perhaps give you some idea of the conditions under which we -were living. Constant fear, anguish without hope of compensation, or -little chance of ever having anything better. - -That we preferred to escape from this life, in spite of the terrible -risks we were running, and the most tragic consequences of our action, -is surely comprehensible. - -If we had been captured it would only have meant death, and was the -life we were leading worth while? We had taken loaded revolvers with -us, to end our lives if necessary, remembering the example of one of -our childhood friends, who tried to escape, but was captured and taken -back to her husband, who shut her up till the end of her days in a -house on the shores of the Marmora. - -You have paid a very pretty compliment to our courage. Yet, after all, -does it require very much to risk one’s life when life is of so little -value? In Turkey our existence is so long, so intolerably long, that -the temptation to drop a little deadly poison in our coffee is often -too great to withstand. Death cannot be worse than life, let us try -death.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -BEWILDERING EUROPE - - -What a curious thing it was I found so much difficulty in answering -Zeyneb’s letters. To send anything _banal_ to my new friend I felt -certain was to run the risk of ending the correspondence. - -She knew I was in sympathy with her; she knew I could understand, as -well as any one, how awful her life must have been, but to have told -her so would have offended her. Most of the reasons for her escape, -every argument that could justify her action, she had given me, except -one; and it was probably that “one” reason that had most influenced her. - -In due time probably she would tell me all, but if she did not, -nothing I could do or say would make her, for Turkish women will -not be cross-examined. One of them, when asked one day in a Western -drawing-room “how many wives has your father?” answered, without -hesitation, “as many as your husband, Madame.” - -Zeyneb had once told me that I succeeded in guessing so much the truth -of what could not be put into words. She had on one occasion said -“we never see our husbands until we are married,” and a little later -“sometimes the being whose existence we have to share inspires us with -a horror that can never be overcome.” Putting these two statements -together, I was able to draw my own conclusions as to the “one” -reason.... Poor little Zeyneb! - -It seemed to me from the end of her letter, that Zeyneb would have been -grateful had I said that I approved of her action in leaving her own -country. To have told her the contrary would not have helped matters in -the least, and sooner or later she was sure to find out her mistake for -herself. - -And who that noticed her enthusiasm for all she saw would have dreamt -of the tragedy that was in her life? The innocent delight she had -when riding on the top of a bus, and her jubilation at discovering an -Egyptian Princess indulging in the same form of amusement! - -Zeyneb told me that _economy_ was a word for which there was no -equivalent in the Turkish language, so how could she be expected to -practise an art which did not exist in her country? It was from her -I had learnt the habit of answering her letters by telegram, and the -result had been satisfactory. “Eagerly waiting for another letter,” I -wired her. The following letter arrived: - - - FONTAINEBLEAU, _Oct._ 1906. - -A few days after our arrival began in earnest a new experience for -us. The “demands” for interviews from journalists—every post brought -a letter. Many reporters, it is true, called without even asking -permission; wanted to know our impressions of West Europe after eight -days; the reasons why we had left Turkey; and other questions still -more ignorant and extraordinary about harem life. - -When, however, we had conquered the absurd Oriental habit of being -polite, we changed our address, and called ourselves by Servian names. - -What an extraordinary lack of intelligence, it seemed, to suppose that -in a few phrases could be related the history of the Turkish woman’s -evolution; and the psychology of a state of mind which forces such and -such a decision explained. How would it have been possible to give the -one thousand and one private reasons connected with our action! And -what would be the use of explaining all this to persons one hoped -never to see again—persons by whom you are treated as a spectacle, a -living spectacle, whose adventures will be retailed in a certain lady’s -boudoir to make her “five o’clock” less dull? - -“What made you think of running away from Turkey?” asked one of these -press detectives. He might as well have been saying to me, “You had -on a blue dress the last time I saw you, why are you not wearing it -to-day?” - -“Weren’t you sorry to leave your parents?” asked another. Did he -suppose because we were Turks that we had hearts of stone. How could -anyone, a complete stranger too, dare to ask such a question? And yet, -angry as I was, this indiscretion brought tears to my eyes, as it -always does when I think of that good-bye. - -“Good night, little girl,” said my father, on the eve of our departure. -“Don’t be so long in coming to dine with us again. Promise that you -will come one day next week.” - -I almost staggered. “I’ll try,” I answered. Every minute I felt that I -must fling myself in his arms and tell him what I intended to do, but -when I thought of our years and years of suffering, my mind was made -up, and I kept back my tears. - -Do you see now, dear Englishwoman, why we appreciated your discreet -interest in us, and how we looked forward to a friendship with you -who have understood so well, that there can be tears behind eyes -that smile, that a daughter’s heart is not necessarily hard because -she breaks away from the family circle, nor is one’s love for the -Fatherland any the less great because one has left it forever? All this -we feel you have understood, and again and again we thank you.—Your -affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - FONTAINEBLEAU, _Oct._ 1906. - -You ask me to give you my first impression of France (wrote Zeyneb), -but it is not so much an impression of France, as the impression of -being free, that I am going to write. What I would like to describe to -you is the sensation of intense joy I felt as I stood for the first -time before a window wide open that had neither lattice-work nor iron -bars. - -It was at Nice. We had just arrived from our terrible journey. We had -gone from hotel to hotel, but no one would give us shelter even for -a few hours. Was that Christian charity, to refuse a room because I -was thought to be dying? I cannot understand this sentiment. A friend -explained that a death in an hotel would keep other people away. Why -should the Christians be so frightened of death? - -I was too ill at the moment to take in our awful situation, and quite -indifferent to the prospect of dying on the street. Useless it was, -however, our going to any more hotels; it was waste of time and waste -of breath, and I had none of either to spare. No one advised us, and no -one seemed to care to help us, until, by the merest chance, my sister -remembered our friends in Belgrade had given us a doctor’s address. -We determined to find him if we possibly could. In half an hour’s -time we found our doctor, who sent us at once to a sanatorium. There -they could not say, “You are too ill to come in,” seeing illness was -a qualification for admittance. But I shall not linger on those first -moments in Europe: they were sad beyond words. - -It must have been early when I awoke the next morning, to find the sun -forcing its way through the white curtains, and flooding the whole room -with gold. Ill as I was, the scene was so beautiful that I got out -of bed and opened wide the window, and what was my surprise to find -that there was no lattice-work between me and the blue sky, and the -orange trees, and the hills of Nice covered with cypress and olives? -The sanatorium garden was just one mass of flowers, and their sweet -perfume filled the room. With my eyes I drank in the scene before me, -the hills, and the sea, and the sky that never seemed to end. - -A short while after, my sister came in. She also from her window had -been watching at the same time as I. But no explanation was necessary. -For the first time in our lives we could look freely into space—no -veil, no iron bars. It was worth the price we had paid, just to have -the joy of being before that open window. I sign myself in Turkish -terms of affection.—Your carnation and your mouse, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -SCULPTURE’S FORBIDDEN JOY—M. RODIN AT HOME - - -Zeyneb and Melek left Fontainebleau and travelled to Switzerland by -short stages; their first halting-place was Paris. - -They stayed for a week in the gay capital, and during that time Melek -and I visited some of the principal churches and monuments. - -“Sight-seeing” was what the Hanoums[6] then called “freedom.” To them -it meant being out of the cage; tasting those pleasures which for so -many years had been forbidden. Their lesson was yet to be learnt. - -We went one afternoon to see M. Rodin. Rising, summer and winter, at a -very early hour, the sculptor had finished the greater part of his work -for the day when we arrived; the model was resting, and he was talking -with the students, who had come to discuss their difficulties with him. - - -To me this opportunity given to young talent of actually seeing a -master at work was such a happy idea, I made the remark to M. Rodin. - -“If only those who succeed,” he said, “be it in the difficult -accomplishment of their daily task, or in the pursuit of some glorious -end, had the courage to speak of their continual efforts, their -struggles, and their suffering, what a glorious lesson in energy it -would be for those who were striving for a place amongst the workers. - -“Those who have arrived should say to those who are starting: At each -corner, there is suffering; at each turning some fresh struggle begins, -and there is sorrow all the time. We who have conquered have passed by -that road, you can go no other way. - -“But when once they have got to their destination, the successful men -are silent. And they who are still on the way get tired of the daily -toil, knowing not that they who have arrived, have had the very same -experience.” - -[Illustration: LES DÉSENCHANTÉES - -From a sketch by Auguste Rodin.] - -Many beautiful works attracted our attention that afternoon, the most -striking being Mary Magdalene, in repentant anguish at the feet of -her Master, Jesus; the Prodigal Son with his hands clasped in useless -regret towards a wasted and ill-spent life. Then there was a nude (I -forget the name by which she will be immortalised), her wonderful arms -in a movement of supplication, so grand, that the Eastern woman and I -together stretched out our hands towards it in appreciation. - -The sculptor saw our movement, understood and thanked us; a few moments -later, conscious of our action, we blushed. What had we done? - -I, the Scotch puritan, had actually admired one of those beautiful -nudes before which we, as children, shut our eyes. But the Oriental? - -“In my country these marble figures are not seen,” she explained, “‘the -face and form created by God must not be copied by man,’ said our -Prophet, and for centuries all good Moslems have obeyed this command.” - -“Do you know the legend of the Prophet’s son-in-law Osman?” she said. - -“No,” I answered, “please tell me.” - -“One day, long, long ago,” related Melek, “when the followers of Christ -had left their church, Osman entered and broke all the sacred images -except one. Then when he had finished his work of destruction, he -placed his axe at the foot of the figure he had left intact. - -“The next day, the Christians discovering what had happened, tried to -find the guilty person. Osman’s air of calm triumph betrayed him. - -“‘What have you done?’ they cried, rushing towards him. - -“‘Nothing,’ he answered, ‘I am innocent; it is your Divinity who has -destroyed everything.’ - -“‘Our Divinity cannot move.’ - -“‘If your Divinity is lifeless,’ answered Osman, ‘why do you pray to a -God of stone?’[7] - - * * * * * - -“In the Meandre valley in Asia,” went on Melek, “the sculptured heads -on the tombs are cursed. At Ephesus and Herapolis the Turcomans turn -away in horror from the faces that are engraven in marble; and never -are to be seen these Western pictures in stone, and statues erected to -the immortal memory of heroes.” - - * * * * * - -The two Hanoums left for Switzerland. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE ALPS AND ARTIFICIALITY - - - TERRITET, _Dec._ 1906. - -I wonder if you know what life is like in a big _caravanserai_ -on the shores of Lake Leman in December. This _hotel_ is filled from -the ground to the sixth floor, and from east to west with people of all -ages, who have a horror of being where they ought to be—that is to say, -in their own homes—and who have come to the Swiss mountains with but -one idea—that of enjoying themselves. What can be the matter with their -homes, that they are all so anxious to get away? - -I have been more than a month in this place, and cannot get used to -it. After the calm of the Forest of Fontainebleau and the quiet little -house where, for the first time, we tasted the joys of real rest, this -existence seems to me strange and even unpleasant. Indeed, it makes me -tired even to think of the life these people lead and their expense of -muscular force to no purpose. - -But the doctor wished me to come here, and I, who long above everything -else to be strong, am hoping the pure air will cure me. - -On the terrace which overlooks the lake I usually take my walks, but -when I have taken about a hundred steps I have to sit down and rest. -Certainly I would be no Alpinist. - -One thing to which I never seem to accustom myself is my hat. It is -always falling off. Sometimes, too, I forget that I am wearing a hat -and lean back in my chair; and what an absurd fashion—to lunch in a -hat! Still, hats seem to play a very important rôle in Western life. -Guess how many I possess at present—twenty. - -I cannot tell whom I have to thank, since the parcels come anonymously, -but several kind friends, hearing of our escape, have had the -thoughtfulness and the same original idea of providing us with hats. -Hardly a day passes but someone sends us a hat; it is curious, but -charming all the same. Do they think we are too shy to order hats -for ourselves, and are still wandering about Switzerland in our -_tcharchafs_?[8] - - * * * * * - -Every morning the people here row on the lake, or play tennis—tennis -being one of their favourite forms of amusement. I watch them with -interest, yet even were I able I should not indulge in this unfeminine -sport. - -Women rush about the court, from left to right, up and down, forwards -and backwards. Their hair is all out of curl, often it comes down; and -they wear unbecoming flat shoes and men’s shirts and collars and ties. - -The ball comes scarcely over the net, a woman rushes forward, her leg -is bared to the sight of all; by almost throwing herself on the ground, -she hits it back over the net, and then her favourite man (not her -husband, I may mention), with whom she waltzes and rows and climbs, -chooses this moment to take a snapshot of her most hideous attitude. -What an unpleasant idea to think a man should possess such a souvenir! - -And yet after tennis these people do not rest—on they go, walking and -climbing; and what is the use of it all?—they only come back and eat -four persons’ share of lunch. - -At meal-time, the conversation is tennis and climbing, and climbing and -tennis; and again I say, I cannot understand why they employ all this -muscular force to no higher end than to give themselves an unnatural -appetite. - -A friend of my father’s, who is staying here, tells me the wonderful -climbing he has accomplished. He explains to me that he has faced death -over and over again, and only by the extraordinary pluck of his guide -has his life been spared. - -“And did you at last reach your friend?” I asked. - -“What friend?” - -“Was it not to rescue some friend that you faced death?” - -“No,” he said, “for pleasure.” - -“For pleasure,” I repeated, and he burst out laughing. - -He spoke of this as if it were something of which to be proud, “and -his oft-repeated encounters with death,” he said, “only whetted his -appetite for more.” Was life then of so little value to this man that -he could risk it so easily? - -Naturally in trying to explain this curious existence I compare it with -our life in the harem, and the more I think the more am I astonished. -What I should like to ask these people, if I dared, is, are they really -satisfied with their lot, or are they only pretending to be happy, as -we in Turkey pretended to be happy? Are they not tired of flirting and -enjoying themselves so uselessly? - -We in Turkey used to envy the women of the West. We, who were denied -the rights of taking part in charitable works, imagined that the -European women not only dared to think, but carry their schemes into -action for the betterment of their fellow-creatures. - -But are these women here an exception? Do they think, or do they not? -I wonder myself whether they have not found life so empty that they -are endeavouring to crush out their better selves by using up their -physical energy. How is it possible, I ask myself, that, after all this -exercise, they have strength enough to dance till midnight. Life to me -at present is all out of focus; in time perhaps I shall see it in its -proper proportions. - -We go down sometimes to see the dancing. Since I have been here, -I perfectly understand why you never find time to go to balls, if -dancing in your country is anything like it is here. When we were -children of twelve, before we were veiled, we were invited to dances -given in Constantinople. I have danced with young attachés at the -British Embassy, yet, child though I was, I saw nothing clever in their -performance. - -All the people at this dance are grown up, not one is under twenty—some -are old gentlemen of fifty—yet they romp like children all through the -evening till deep into the night, using up their energy and killing -time, as if their life depended on the rapidity with which they hopped -round the room without sitting down or feeling ill. - -The waltz is to my mind senseless enough, but the lancers? “The ring of -roses” the little English girls play is more dignified. - -It seems to me that women must forfeit a little of the respect that men -owe to them when they have romped with them at lancers. - -To-night, I have found out, dancing here is after all an excuse for -flirting. In a very short while couples who were quite unacquainted -with one another become very intimate. “Oh! I could not wish for a -better death than to die waltzing,” I heard one young woman say to her -partner. His wishes were the same. Surely the air of Switzerland does -not engender ambition! - -[Illustration: A TURKISH DANCER] - -[Illustration: A TURKISH LADY DRESSED AS A GREEK DANCER - -Turkish women spend much of their time dressing up.] - -One gentleman came and asked me if I could dance. I said, “Yes, I -can _dance_,” laying particular emphasis on the word _dance_. But I do -not think he understood. - -“Will you dance with me?” he asked. - -“No,” I replied, “I _dance_ by myself.” He stared at me as if I were -mad—probably he took me for a professional dancer. - - * * * * * - -When you come to stay with us at Nice, after we have had enough of this -pure air to justify our leaving Switzerland and these commonplace and -unsympathetic people, and we are in our own villa again and free to -do as we will, then we will teach you Turkish dances, and you will no -longer be surprised at my criticisms. - -Dancing with us is a fine art. In the Imperial Harem more attention -is paid to the teaching of dancing than to any other learning. When -the Sultan is worn out with cares of state and the thousand and one -other worries for which his autocratic rule is responsible, his dancing -girls are called into his presence, and there with veils and graceful -movements they soothe his tired nerves till he almost forgets the -atrocities which have been committed in his name. - -A Turkish woman who dances well is seen to very great advantage; a -dancing woman may become a favourite, a Sultana, a Sultan’s mother, -the queen of the Imperial Harem. - -I can assure you a Western woman is not seen at her best when she -dances the lancers.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -FREEDOM’S DOUBTFUL ENCHANTMENT - - - TERRITET, _Dec._ 1906. - -I am conservative in my habits, as you will find out when you know me -better, although Turkish women are generally supposed to be capricious -and changeable. - -Every day you can picture me sitting on the same terrace, in the same -chair, looking at the same reposeful Lake Leman and writing to the same -sympathetic friends. - -The sea before me is so blue and silent and calm! Does it know, I -wonder, the despair which at times fills my soul! or is its blue there -to remind me of our home over yonder! - -In the spring the Bosphorus had such sweet, sad tints. As children when -we walked near its surface my little Turkish friends said to me, “Don’t -throw stones at the Bosphorus—you will hurt it.” - -Lake Leman also has ships which destroy the limpid blue of its surface -and remind me of those which passed under my lattice windows and -sailed so far away that my thoughts could not follow them. - -Here I might almost imagine I was looking at the Bosphorus, and yet, is -the reflection of snow-clad peaks what I ought to find in the blue sea -away yonder? Where are the domes and minarets of our mosques? Is not -this the hour when the Muezzins[9] lift up their voices, and solemnly -call the faithful to prayer? - -On such an autumn evening as this in Stamboul, I should be walking in -a quiet garden where chrysanthemums would be growing in profusion. -The garden would be surrounded by high walls, giant trees would throw -around us a damp and refreshing shade, and the red rays of the dying -sun would find their way through the leaves, and my companions’ white -dresses would all be stained with its roseate hues. - -But suddenly we remember the sun is setting. To the cries of the -frightened birds we hurry back quickly through the trees. How can a - -Turkish woman dare to be out after sunset?... Ah! I see it all again -now—those garden walls, those knotted trees, those jealous lattice-work -windows which give it all an impression of distress! and I am looking -at it without a veil and eyes that are free! - - * * * * * - -Even as I write to you, young men and maidens pass and repass before -me, and I wonder more than ever whether they are happy—yet what do they -know of life and all its sorrows; sorrow belongs to the Turks—they have -bought its exclusive rights. - -In spite of our efforts not to have ourselves spoken about, the Sultan -still interests himself in us. In all probability, he has had us -reported as “dangerous revolutionists” whom the Swiss Government would -do well to watch. And perhaps the Swiss authorities, having had so many -disagreeable experiences of anarchists of late, are keeping their eyes -on us! Yet why should we care? All our lives have we not been thus -situated? We ought to be used to it by this time. - -Around me I see people breathing in the pure air, going out and coming -in, and no government watches their movements. Why should _Fate_ -have chosen certain persons rather than others to place under such -intolerable conditions? Why should we have been born Turks rather than -these free women who are here enjoying life? I ask myself this question -again and again, and all to no purpose; it only makes me bitter. - -Do you know, I begin to regret that I ever came in contact with your -Western education and culture! But if I begin writing of Western -culture, this letter will not be finished for weeks, and I want news of -you very soon.—Au revoir, petite chérie, - - ZEYNEB. - - * * * * * - - TERRITET, _Jan._ 1907. - -Your letter of yesterday annoys me. You are “changing your _pension_,” -you say, “because you are not free to come in to meals when you like.” - -What an awful grievance! If only you English women knew how you are to -be envied! Come, follow me to Turkey, and I will make you thank Allah -for your liberty. - -Ever since I can remember, I have had a passion for writing, but this -is rather the exception than the rule for a Turkish woman. At one time -of my life, I exchanged picture postcards with unknown correspondents, -who sent me, to a _poste restante_ address, views of places and people -I hoped some day to visit. - -This correspondence was for us the DREAM SIDE of our existence. In -times of unhappiness (extra unhappiness, for we were always unhappy), -discouragement, and, above all, revolt, it was in this existence that -we tried to find refuge. The idea that friends were thinking of us, -however unknown they were, made us look upon life with a little more -resignation—and you, my friend, who complain that “you are not free to -have your meals when you like,” should know that _this correspondence -had to be hidden with as much care, as if it had been a plot to kill -the Imperial Majesty himself_. - - * * * * * - -When our correspondence was sent to us direct, it had to pass through -the hands of three different persons before we had the pleasure of -receiving it ourselves. All the letters we sent out and received were -read not only by my father and his secretary, but by the officials of -the Ottoman Post. - -One day, I remember, the daughter of an ex-American minister sent me a -long account of her sister’s marriage, and she stopped short at the -fourth page. I was just going to write to her for an explanation, when -the remaining sheets were sent on to me by the police, whose duty it -was to read the letters, and who had simply forgotten to put the sheets -in with the others. - -You could never imagine the plotting and intriguing necessary to -receive the most ordinary letters; not even the simplest action could -be done in a straightforward manner; we had to perjure our souls by -constantly pretending, in order to enjoy the most innocent pleasures—it -mattered little to us, I do assure you, “whether we had our meals at -the time we liked” or not. - - * * * * * - -All around me little girls are playing. They wear their hair loose -or in long plaits, their dresses are short. Up the steps they climb; -they play at hide-and-seek with their brothers and their brothers’ -friends. They laugh, they romp, their eyes are full of joy, and their -complexions are fresh—surely this is the life children should lead? - -I close my eyes, and I see the children of my own country who at their -age are veiled. Their childhood has passed before they know it. They do -not experience the delight of playing in the sun, and when they go out -they wear thick black veils which separate them from all the joys of -youth. - -I was scarcely ten years old when I saw one of my little friends taking -the veil, and from that day she could no longer play with us. That -incident created such an impression on us that for days we could hardly -speak. Poor little Suate! No longer could she dance with us at the -Christians’ balls nor go to the circus. Her life had nothing more in -common with ours, and we cried for her as if she had died. - -But we were happy not to be in her place, and I remember saying to my -sister, “Well, at least I have two years before me; perhaps in a short -time our customs will have changed. What is the use of worrying so long -beforehand?” - -“I am still more certain to escape, for I have four years before me,” -she answered. - -Little Suate was veiled at a time when those delightful volumes of the -_Bibliothèque Rose_ were almost part of our lives. From them we learnt -to believe that some good fairy must come, and with the touch of her -magic wand all our destinies would be changed. - -But to-day, when I am no longer a child, I ask myself whether my -great-great-grandchildren can ever free themselves from this hideous -bondage. - -Melek is writing for you her impressions of taking the veil. They are -more recent than mine.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -GOOD-BYE TO YOUTH—TAKING THE VEIL - - - TERRITET, _Jan._ 1907. - -I am thinking of a sad spring morning of long ago. I was twelve years -old, but the constant terror in which I had lived had increased my -tendency towards uneasiness and melancholy. The life I was forced to -lead had nothing in common with my nature. Ever since I can remember, I -had loved the bright light, open horizons, galloping on horses against -the wind, and all my surroundings were calm and monotonous. - -As time went on, I put off every day the moment for wakening, because -I had to open my eyes in the same room, and the same white muslin -curtains were always there to greet me. - -How can I explain to you my jealousy at seeing how contentedly all the -furniture lay in the soft light which filtered through the latticed -windows of our harems? A heavy weight was pressing on my spirit! How -many times when the governess came into my room did she not find me in -tears! - -“What is the matter, my darling?” she would ask, and under the -influence of this unexpected tenderness I would sob without even -knowing the cause of my sorrow. - -Then I dressed myself slowly, so that there should be less time to -live. How was it, I wondered, that some people feared death? Death -would have been such a change—the only change to which a Turkish woman -could look forward. - -In our house there was scarcely a sound; hardly were the steps of the -young Circassian slaves heard as they passed along the corridors. - -Our mother was kind but stern, and her beautiful face had an expression -of calm resignation. She lived like a stranger amongst us, not being -able to associate herself with either our thoughts or our ideals. - -The schoolroom where we worked the greater part of the day looked on -to a garden thick with trees and perfumed with the early roses. Its -furniture consisted of a big oak table and chairs, shelves full of -books, a globe, and three busts in plaster of Paris, of Napoleon, -Dante, and Mozart. What strange thoughts have those three men, so -different and yet so interesting, not suggested to me! What a curious -influence they all three had on my child mind! - -It was in this schoolroom, twice a week, that we studied the Koran; but -before the lesson began an old servant covered up the three great men -in plaster. The _Hodja_[10] must not see these heathenish figures. - -When the Imam arrived, my sister and I went to the door to meet him, -kissing his hand as a sign of respect. Then he used to pass his bony -fingers over our hair, saying as a greeting, “May Allah protect you, my -children.” - -With the Hodja Effendi came into our schoolroom a perfume of incense of -burnt henna and sandal-wood. His green tunic and turban, which showed -he had visited the Holy Tomb at Mecca, made his beard so white and his -eyes so pale, that he seemed like a person from another world—indeed he -reminded me, not a little, of those Indian Fakirs, who live on prayers. - -From the moment he sat down at the table, my sorrows seemed to -vanish for a while, and an atmosphere of calm and blessed peace took -possession of my soul. - -“Only God is God,” he began. - -“And Mahomet is His Prophet,” we responded, as we opened the Koran at -the place he had chosen for the lesson. - -“Read, my child,” he said. - -I took the book, and began to read the prayer, which is a rhythmed -chant. The Imam read with me in a soft, low voice, and when the chapter -was finished he murmured, “You read well, Neyr; may Allah protect you.” - -Then he questioned us on the prayers we had learnt, on the good we had -to do and the evil to avoid, and his voice was so monotonous that each -sentence sounded like a prayer. - -When we had finished, he asked, as he always did, to see our governess. -I went to find her in the garden, and she came at once. - -As the Hodja could not speak English, he asked us to say to her, “You -have a fine face. Allah loves the good and the kind and those who go -the way they should go. He will be with you.” And before he went away, -taking with him the delightful perfume of incense, he shook the hand of -the Englishwoman in his. - -[Illustration: TURKISH LADY IN TCHARCHAFF. OUTDOOR COSTUME - -During the reign of Abdul Aziz (_vide_ text) Turkish ladies wore the -Yashmak in the street, now they wear a thick black veil through which -they can see and are not supposed to be seen. The women must always -wear gloves.] - -Another day he came, and after the lesson he said to me, “Neyr, you are -twelve years old; you must be veiled. You can no longer have your -hair exposed and your face uncovered—you must be veiled. Your mother -has not noticed you have grown a big girl, I therefore must. I teach -you to love Allah, you are my spiritual child, and for that reason I -must warn you of the danger henceforward of going out unveiled. Neyr, -you must be veiled.” - -I was not even listening to the Imam! An awful agony had seized and -numbed my soul; the words which he had uttered resounded in my brain, -and little by little sank into my understanding—“Neyr, you must be -veiled”—that is to say, to be forever cloistered like those who live -around you; to be a slave like your mother, and your cousins, and your -elder sister; to belong henceforth to the harem; no longer to play in -the garden unveiled; nor ride Arabian ponies in the country; to have -a veil over your eyes, and your soul; to be always silent, always -forgotten, to be always and always _a thing_. - -“Neyr, you must be veiled,” the old Hodja began again. - -I raised my head. “Yes, I know, Hodja Effendi, I shall be veiled, since -it is necessary.” Then I was silent. - -The old Imam went away, not understanding what had happened to me, and -without my having kissed his hand. I remained in the same place, my -elbows on the table. I was alone. All around was deadly still. - -Suddenly, however, Miss M. opened the door; her eyes were red. Gently -shutting the door and coming towards me, she said: - -“Neyr, I have seen the Imam, and I understand that from to-morrow you -must be veiled.” - -I saw the pain stamped on her face, but I could say nothing. Already -she had taken me in her arms and carried me into her room at the end of -the corridor, murmuring all the while, “The brutes!” - -Together we wept; I, without unnecessary complaints, she without -useless consolation. - -Once my sorrow had passed a little, I questioned my governess. - -“You are English, are you not?” - -“Yes, dear, I am English.” - -“In England are the women veiled, and the children free?” - -“The women and children are free.” - -“Then I will go to England.” - -“Silence, Neyr, silence.” - -“Take me to England.” - -“I cannot, Neyr,” she answered. - -But all that day and all that night I dreamt of dear, free England, I -longed to see. - - * * * * * - -The country house where we lived was large, with big rooms, long -corridors, and dark halls. Now and again carriages passed, bringing -excursionists to the neighbouring wood, and when we heard the wheels -rumbling over the uneven road, we rushed to the latticed windows to see -all we could. - -Sometimes we used to go with Miss M. to see Stamboul, which was on the -opposite shore. Miss M. loved the town, and used to take us there as -often as possible. Sometimes we used to ride with my brother in the -country, and I loved to feel the wind blowing through my untidy hair, -but all that would be over now. Sometimes my father would take me to -see friends of his—foreigners they were—and the girls and boys played -together, and I laughed and played with them. But I understood that I -was only on the margin of their great life, that each day part of my -right to existence would be taken from me, a veil would soon cover my -face, and I would only be a Moslem woman, whose every aspiration and -emotion would be trampled under foot. - -That moment had come. - - * * * * * - -We were to go out with mother that afternoon. On my bed in the -monotonous room I disliked so much, a black mantle, a cape, and a veil -were placed. - -Several persons had come to see me veiled for the first time. Awkwardly -I placed the pleated skirt round my waist, the cape over my shoulders, -and the veil over my face; but, in order that the tears which were -falling should not be seen, I did not lift it up again. - -“Neyr,” asked mother, “are you ready?” - -“Yes,” I answered, and followed her with my head up in spite of this -mourning. And from that day, from that moment, I had determined on -revolt. - - MELEK (N. NEYR-EL-NIRSA). - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A MISFIT EDUCATION - - - TERRITET, _Jan._ 1907. - -I began to write to you the other day of the influence which Western -culture has had on the lives of Turkish women. - -If you only knew the disastrous consequences of that learning and the -suffering for which it is responsible! From complete ignorance, we were -plunged into the most advanced culture; there was no middle course, no -preparatory school, and, indeed, what ought to have been accomplished -in centuries we have done in three, and sometimes in two generations. - -When our grandmothers could sign their names and read the Koran, they -were known as “cultured women” compared with those who had never learnt -to read and write; when a woman could dispense with the services of a -“public letter-writer” she was looked upon as a learned woman in the -town in which she lived, and her time was fully occupied writing the -correspondence of her neighbours. - -What I call the disastrous influence was the influence of the Second -French Empire. - -One day, when I have time, I shall look up the papers which give a -description of the Empress Eugénie’s visit to the East. No doubt they -will treat her journey as a simple exchange of courtesies between two -Sovereigns. They may lay particular emphasis on the pageantry of her -reception, but few women of that time were aware of the revolution that -this visit had on the lives of the Turkish women. - -The Empress of the French was incontestably beautiful—but _she was -a woman_, and the first impression which engraved itself on the -understanding of these poor Turkish captives, was, that their master, -Abdul Aziz, was paying homage _to a woman_. - -The extraordinary beauty and charm of the Empress was enhanced by -the most magnificent reception ever offered to a Sovereign, and -even to-day, one figure stands out from all that wonderful Oriental -pageant—a slight, lovely woman before whom a Sultan bowed in all his -majesty. - -In honour of a _woman_, a jewelled palace in marble and gold was being -built, and from the opposite side of the Bosphorus the captives watched -it coming into existence with ever-increasing wonderment. - -For a _woman_, had been prepared rose and gold caïques all carpeted -with purple velvet. From a magnificent little Arabian kiosk especially -built Ottoman troops from all corners of the Empire passed in review -before a _woman_; even her bath sandals were all studded with priceless -gems; no honour was too high, no luxury too great for _this woman_. The -Sultanas could think of nothing else; in the land of Islam great honour -had been rendered to a _woman_. - -It was after the visit of the Empress Eugénie that the women of the -palace and the wives of the high functionaries copied as nearly as -they could the appearance of the beautiful Empress. They divided their -hair in the middle, and spent hours in making little bunches of curls. -High-heeled shoes replaced the coloured _babouches_;[11] they even -adopted the hideous crinolines, and abandoned forever those charming -Oriental garments, the _chalvar_[12] and _enturi_,[13] which they -considered symbols of servitude, but which no other fashion has been -able to equal in beauty. - -As might be supposed, the middle class soon followed the example of -the palace ladies and adopted Western costume. Then there was a craze -for _everything_ French. The most eccentric head-dresses and daring -costumes were copied. To these Oriental women were given more jewels -than liberty, more sensual love than pure affection, and it mattered -little, until they found out from reading the foreign papers that there -was something else except the beauty of the body—the beauty of the soul. - -The more they read and learnt, the greater was their suffering. They -read everything they could lay their hands on—history, religion, -philosophy, poetry, and even _risqué_ books. They had an indigestion of -reading, and no one was there to cure them. - -This desire for everything French lasted until our generation. No one -seemed to understand how harmful it was to exaggerate the atmosphere -of excitement in which we were living. - -With the craze for the education of the West, French governesses came -to Constantinople in great numbers; for it was soon known what high -salaries the Turks paid, and how hospitable they were. - -If you had seen the list of books that these unfortunate Turkish girls -read to get a knowledge of French literature, I think you would agree -with me they must have been endowed with double moral purity for the -books not to have done them more harm. - -For nearly thirty years this dangerous experiment went on. No parents -seemed to see the grave error of having in one’s house a woman about -whom they knew nothing, and who in a very short time could exert a very -disastrous influence over a young life. It was only when catastrophe -after catastrophe[14] had brought this to their notice, they began -to take any interest in their daughters’ governesses, and occupy -themselves a little more seriously about what they read. - -When I look back on our girlhood, I do feel bitterly towards these -women, who had not the honesty to find out that we had souls. How -they might have helped us if only they had cared! How they might have -discussed with us certain theories which we were trying to apply -disastrously to our Eastern existence! But they said to themselves, no -doubt, Let us take advantage of the high salary, for we cannot stand -this tedious existence too long. And the Turkish women went on reading -anything that came within their reach. - -Could these Turkish girls be blamed for thus unknowingly destroying -their own happiness? What was there to do but read? When all the -recognised methods of enjoyment are removed, and when few visits are -paid (and to go out every day is not considered ladylike), think what -an enormous part of the day is still left unoccupied. - -In our grandmothers’ days, the women used to assemble in the evening -and make those beautiful embroideries which you admire so much. Others -made their daughters’ trousseaux, others told stories in the Arabian -Nights style, and with that existence they were content. Not one of -them wanted to read the fashionable French novels, nor had they any -desire to play the piano. - -It was at the beginning of the reign of Abdul Hamid that this craze for -Western culture was at its height. The terrible war, and the fall of -the two beloved Sultans, woke the women from their dreams. Before the -fact that their country was in danger, they understood their duty. From -odalisques[15] they became mothers and wives determined to give their -children the education they themselves had so badly needed. - -The new monarch then endowed the Ottoman Empire with schools for little -girls. The pupils who applied themselves learnt very quickly, and soon -they could favourably be compared with their sisters of the West. - -This was the first step that Turkish women had made towards their -evolution. - - * * * * * - -At the age of ten, when I began the study of English, we were -learning at the same time French, Arabic, and Persian, as well as -Turkish. Not one of these languages is easy, but no one complained, and -every educated Turkish girl had to undergo the same torture. - -What I disliked most bitterly in my school days was the awful -regularity. My mother, rather the exception than the rule, found we -must be always occupied. As a child of twelve, I sat almost whole days -at the piano, and when I was exhausted, Mdlle. X. was told to give me -needlework. Delighted to be rid of me, she gave me slippers to work for -my father, whilst she wrote to “Mon cher Henri.” She took no notice of -me, as I stitched away, sighing all the while. In order to get finished -quickly, I applied myself to my task; the more I hurried, the more I -was given to do, and in a few weeks the drawers were full of my work. -Our education was overdone. - - * * * * * - -So we Turkish women came to a period of our existence when it was -useless to sigh for a mind that could content itself with the -embroidery evenings of our grandmothers. These gatherings, too, became -less and less frequent, for women were not allowed out after dark, -no matter what their age. - -[Illustration: “SILENT GOSSIP” OF A GROUP OF TURKISH WOMEN - -They will often spend an afternoon in silent communion.] - -[Illustration: TURKISH LADIES IN THEIR GARDEN WITH THEIR CHILDREN’S -GOVERNESSES - -Little boys remain in the Harem until they are eight, after that they -are counted as men.] - - -Then it was, however, that, in spite of its being forbidden, I -inaugurated a series of “white dinner parties”[16] for girls only. This -created a scandal throughout the town. Our parents disliked the idea -intensely, but we remained firm, and were happy to see our efforts -crowned with success. Later, when we were married, we continued those -dinners as long as we dared, and then it was we discussed what we could -do for the future of women. - -And what delightful evenings we spent together! Those _soirées_ were -moments when we could be ourselves, open our hearts to one another, and -try to brighten for a little our lives. The fourteen friends I most -loved in Turkey were all of the company of “white diners,” and all -those fourteen girls have played some special rôle in life. - - * * * * * - -I am sending you a letter, written by a friend whom I shall never see -again. - -“Since your departure,” she wrote, “we have not been allowed to go a -step out of doors, lest we should follow your example. We are living -under a régime of terror which is worse than it has ever been before. - -“I want to implore you to work for us. Tell the whole world what we -are suffering; indeed it would be a consolation, much as it hurts our -pride.” - - * * * * * - -I look around me and see all these happy children here in Switzerland -without one care, and again I say to myself, how unjust is life.—Your -affectionate friend, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -“SMART WOMEN” THROUGH THE VEIL - - -In answer to my query as to whether Caux had smart enough visitors to -justify an editor sending there a special correspondent, I had the -following letter from Zeyneb: - - - CAUX, _Jan._ 1907. - -The articles which I have written for you on the beauties of -Switzerland will possibly not appeal to the British public. - -For a long time last night, when I returned to my room, I tried to -make you understand the intense delight I had felt in watching the -good-night kiss which the lovesick moon had given to the beautiful -lake, before going away far into space. - -This moon scene reminds me more than ever of one of our magnificent -moonlights on the Bosphorus, and I am sure if you had been with me -on the Terrace you would have loved the moonlit Bosphorus for its -resemblance to Leman, and Leman for helping you to understand how -wonderful is the Bosphorus. But the poetry of moonlight does not appeal -evidently to the British soul, since they are clamouring for news of -people who are “smart.” - -I have always wondered at the eagerness with which the society ladies -here seize the paper. Now I understand—it is to see whether their names -are included amongst people “who are smart.” What a morbid taste, to -want to see one’s name in a newspaper! - -I could not tell you whether the people or the life at Caux would be -considered smart. They certainly are extraordinary, and the life they -lead seems to me to be a complete reversal of all prevailing customs. -From early in the morning till late at night they toboggan and skate. -Everything is arranged with a view to the practice of these two sports. -I cannot tell you the disagreeable impression that the women produce on -me, sitting astride of their little machines and coming down the slope -with a giddy rapidity. Their hair is all out of order, their faces -vivid scarlet, and their skirts, arranged like those of a Cambodgian -dancer, are lacking in grace. But this is not a competition for a -beauty prize; all that counts is to go more quickly down the course -than the others, no matter whether you kill yourself in the attempt. - -That there are people in England who are interested in knowing who is -staying at a Swiss Hotel, the guests they receive, and the clothes they -wear, is an unpleasant discovery for me. I thought English people were -more intelligent. - -One of the reasons for which we left Turkey was, that we could no -longer bear the degrading supervision of the Sultan’s spies. But is it -not almost the same here? Here, too, there are detectives of a kind! -Alas! Alas! there is no privacy inside or outside Turkey. - -The people who interest me most are not the smart ladies, but the Swiss -themselves. They alone in all this cosmopolitan crowd know that the -sun has flooded with its golden tints the wonderful panorama of their -mountains, the lake stretches out in a mystery of mauve and rose, and -they alone have time to bow in admiration to the Creator of Beauty and -the great Poet of Nature.—Affectionately, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE TRUE DEMOCRACY—THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF SNOBBERY IN TURKISH LIFE - - -The two fugitives left Switzerland for Nice. Melek was in perfect -health, and still delighted with her Western liberty. - -Zeyneb, although better, began more and more to see her new life lose -its glamour. But it was too late—there was no going back. - -I wonder which of the two suffers more—the person who expects much -and is disappointed; or the person of whom much is expected and feels -she has disappointed. It seemed to me so often, I could often read in -Zeyneb’s eyes, “Was it worth it?” Was she like the woman of her own -country, counting the cost when the debt had already been incurred. I, -who thought I saw this, suffered in consequence. - -Perhaps, as elder sister and ringleader in the preparations for their -flight, Zeyneb was feeling her responsibility. Would the younger -sister, when the glamour of freedom had passed, reproach her for the -step they had taken? That was a question that had to be left to the -uncertain answer of the Future. - -A little while after they were installed at Nice, Zeyneb resumed her -correspondence with me. - - - NICE, 15_th Feb._ 1907. - -For a week now we have had the sun shining almost as in the East. After -the mountains and the snow of Switzerland, how good it is to be here! -I just love to watch the blue sky, the flowers and the summer dresses! -And I am warm again for a little while. - -We are living at Cimiez, well up the hill, in a little villa surrounded -by a big garden full of flowers and exotic plants and a few cypress -trees; the only sad note in our whole surroundings, except for us its -name, the Villa Selma, for curiously enough our villa has a Turkish -name—the name of a friend for whom the sadness of life had been too -great, and who is now sleeping under the shade of the cypress in a -_comfortable cemetery_[17] in our own land. How strange that fate -should have directed our steps to a villa that bears her name, and -surrounded us with trees that remind us day and night of her past -existence. - -Hardly had we arrived at Nice, when in a restaurant we met a lady -friend from Turkey, a friend whom the Sultan, in a fit of madness, or -shall I call it prudence, allowed to come to Nice with her husband and -children for a change of air. Our departure, no doubt, has made this -great despot think, and in order to prove to all his subjects how great -was his generosity, he had allowed this woman to travel alone as she -wished. - -But we did not waste time discussing the psychology of Hamid’s -character, we were only too delighted to see one another. How many -things had we not to talk about! how many impressions had we not -in common! If only a snapshot had been taken of us and sent to -Constantinople what a very bad impression it would have made on our -poor captive friends away yonder. How they would have envied us! - -Imagine! the next day we all three lunched together at Monte Carlo, -and that _without our friend’s husband_! We were seated on the terrace -overlooking the blue sea, and the newcomer was breathing in the “free -air” for the first time, whilst we, old refugees of a year, were -pleased to see her enthusiasm. - -“When I think,” she said, “that only three of us are enjoying this -liberty compared to the thousands of poor women who have not any idea -of what they have been deprived, it makes me unhappy.” - -But the weather was too fine for such sad thoughts. Near us a Hungarian -band was playing, and it seemed so in harmony with the surroundings. -Not one of the faces round us betrayed the least suspicion of sadness. -Could they all be happy, these unknown people? It really matters so -little—we are happy as prisoners to whom liberty has been given, and it -is at a moment like this that we appreciate it most. - -At dessert, after having discussed many questions, we finally spoke of -the dear country which only she of us three would see again, and now, a -certain melancholy overshadows the table where a while ago we were so -gay. - -The Orient is like a beautiful poem which is always sad, even its very -joy is sadness. All Eastern stories end in tragedy. Even the landscape -which attracts by its beauty has its note of sorrow, and yet one of the -many women writers who was introduced to us, and welcomed as our guest, -said to me: “I never laughed anywhere as I laughed in Constantinople.” -That was quite true, for I was witness of her delightful merriment, -always caught from one of us; for no one can laugh like a Turkish woman -when she takes the trouble. - -The foundation of our character is joyous, persistently joyous, since -neither the monotony of our existence, nor the tragedy of the Hamidian -régime, nor the lamentable circumstances of our life has been able to -utterly crush laughter out of life. There is no middle course in Turkey. - -But I told you that it was from studying the customs of Western Europe -that I was beginning to better understand the land I had left. If the -joys of freedom have been denied to Turkish women, how many worries -have they been spared. Are not women to be sincerely pitied who make -“Society” the aim and object of their existence? No longer can they -do what they feel they ought for fear of compromising a “social -position.” Is not the _gaiety_ of their lives worse even than the -_monotony_ of ours? Ofttimes they have to sacrifice a noble friendship -to the higher demands of social exclusiveness. How strange and narrow -and insincere it all seems to a Turkish woman. - -I never made the acquaintance of the disease “snobbery” in my own -land. Here, for the first time, I have an opportunity of studying its -victims. There may be something wanting in my Turkish constitution -to prevent my appreciating the rare delight of a visit from a great -_personage_. Ambitious people I have often met—in what country do they -not thrive? There are many in Turkey, and that is only natural when -it is remembered the very limited number of ways for individuality -to express itself. But snobs! How childish they are! Can they really -believe I am a more desirable person to have at a tea-table since I -have been noticed by an ex-Empress? Only by inflicting their society -on people who obviously do not want them, and by “bluff”—another word -which does not exist in the Turkish language—can they be invited at -all. Not a single woman in the whole of Turkey would put so low an -estimate on her own importance! So snobbery would never get a foothold -with us. - -You cannot know how this simple black veil, which covers our faces, can -completely change the whole conditions of the life of a nation. - -What is there in common between you and us? - -“The heart,” you will say. - -But is the heart the same in the East as in the West? And what a -difference there is between our method of seeing things, even of great -importance. Ambition with us does not seek the same ends; pride with us -is wounded by such a different class of actions; and individuality in -the East seeks other gratifications than it does in the West. - -How would it be possible for “snobbery” to exist in a country where -there is no society, and where the ideal of democracy is so admirably -understood; where the poor do not envy the rich, the servant respects -his master, and the humble do not crave for the position of Grand -Vizier? - -I said there were ambitious people in my country, yes; but they are -still more fatalists. If a man has been unsuccessful, he blames his -“written destiny,” which no earthly being can alter. Is not this -resignation to the yoke of the tyrannical Sultan a proof of fatalism? -What other nation would, for thirty-one years, have put up with such a -régime? - -It is only since I have seen other Governments and other peoples that I -can fully realise the passionate fatalism of the Turks. - -Those “discontents,” whom I knew, were the true “Believers,” for -at least they knew how to distinguish between belief and useless -resignation. Their number, fortunately, grows every day. More and more -impatiently am I waiting for the result of a Revolution intelligently -arranged, the aim of which will be the Liberty of the Individual, and -the uplifting of the race. - - * * * * * - -And yet a _revoltée_ though I was, I think I envied my grandmother’s -calm happiness. - -“My poor little girls,” she used to say, “your young days are so much -sadder than mine. At your age I didn’t think of changing the face of -the world, nor working for the betterment of the human race, still less -for raising the status of women. Our mothers taught us the Koran, and -we had confidence in its laws. If one of us had less happiness than -another, we never thought of revolting; ‘it was written,’ we said, and -we had not the presumption to try to change our destiny.” - -“Grandmother,” I asked her, “is it our fault if we are unhappy? We have -read so many books which have shown us the ugly side of our life in -comparison with the lives of the women of the West. We are young. We -long for just a little joy; and, grandmother,” I added slowly, and with -emphasis, “we want to be free, to find it ourselves.” - -Did she understand? That I cannot tell, for she did not answer, but her -eyes were fixed on us in unending sadness; then suddenly she dropped -them again on to her embroidery. - -In the autumn or in the spring our darling grandmother came to fetch -us to stay with her in her lovely home at Smyrna. I must add, to point -out to you another beautiful feature of our Turkish life, that this -woman was not my father’s own mother. She was my late grandfather’s -seventh and only living widow, but she treated all my grandfather’s -children with equal tenderness. Rarely is it otherwise in Turkey. She -loved us, this dear, dear woman, quite as much, if not more, than the -children of her own daughter, and we never supposed till we came to -the West there was anything exceptional in this attachment. Just as a -woman loves her own children, she cares for the children of a former -wife, confident, when her time comes to die, her children will be well -treated by her successor. - -In our grandmother’s home life was just a lovely long dream; a life of -peace unceasing—the life of a Turkish woman before the régime of Hamid -and thoughts of Revolution haunted our existence. Every evening young -women and girls brought musical instruments. First, there was singing, -then one after another we danced, and the one who danced the best was -applauded and made to dance until she almost fell exhausted. - -Towards midnight we supped by the light of the moon, either in our -garden or at friends’ houses; and we talked and danced and laughed, all -so happy in one another’s society, and none of us remembering we were -subjects of a Mighty Tyrant, who, had we been at Constantinople, would -have stopped those festivities by order of the police. - -The gatherings in this house, covered with wisteria and roses, and -surrounded by an old-world garden, where flowers were allowed to -grow with a liberty of which we were jealous, were moments of joy -indescribable. It was good for us to be in a garden not trimmed and -pruned and spoilt as are the gardens of the West, but whose greatest -charm is that it can be its own dear natural self; to live in peace -when the meaning of terror had been learnt, and comparative freedom -when we had known captivity. - -If ever you have a chance find out for yourself the difference between -the harems in the town and those of the country, then I know you will -understand the few really happy moments of my life.—Your affectionate -friend - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A COUNTRY PICTURE - - -Sometimes in the summer afternoons, in large parties, and in big -springless waggons, we drove to the olive woods or the vineyards near -the seashore. In spite of our veils, we just revelled in the beauty -of the sky and the scenery all round. Sometimes we spent all day in -the country, lunching on the grass, and playing like children, happy, -though not free. Then we went for excursions—wonderful excursions to -the ruins of Ephesus and Hierapolis and Parganu. Those women who had -learnt Ancient History explained the ruins to the others, and all that -mass of crumbling stones took life and breath for us captives. - -Many times, too, we stayed with the country people, who divided up -their rooms for us, and we lived their life for a time. Those were the -moments when I learnt to know and appreciate our fine, trustworthy, -primitive Turks. With what kindness they took care of us, paying -particular attention to our beds, our meals, our horses, even our -attendant eunuchs! Whole families put themselves at our disposal, and -very often they would not let us pay for anything we had had during our -stay. In no country in the world, I am sure, could such hospitality -and such cordial generosity be found, being as we were to them perfect -strangers. - -One day at Gondjeli, after having visited the ruins of Taacheer, we -lost the last train home. One of our attendants, however, called on the -Imam, who was known throughout the village for his kindness. He and -his wife, a delightful woman whom I shall never forget, not only gave -us food and lodging for the night, but the next day begged us to stay -longer. - -We were five women and three attendants. The meals offered us were -abundant; the beds, simple mattresses thrown on the floor, were -spotlessly clean, and ever so daintily arranged; and the next morning, -early, before we dressed, our baths were ready. When the moment of -departure came mother wished to leave them something for all the -trouble they had taken. But the old Imam answered: “My child, there -are no poor in our village. Each man here has his own little bit of -ground to till, and enough bread to eat. Why should he ask Allah for -more?” - -I have often thought of those words. Every time I used to look at the -useless luxury of our Turkish households, the Imam’s little modest -dwelling and his kindly face rose up to reproach me.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE STAR FROM THE WEST—THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE - - - NICE, _Feb._ 1907. - -We have just returned from Cap Martin, where we have had the pleasure -and honour of being introduced to the Empress Eugénie, the person of -all persons I hoped to meet in Europe. Never will she know how much -I have appreciated seeing her to-day, and all the charming past she -called back to my memory. - -Imagine actually seeing in the flesh, the heroine of your grandmothers’ -stories; the Empress whose beauty fascinated the East, the Empress -whose clothes the women copied, whose language they learnt, the -woman who had, though perhaps she may not know it, the greatest -influence on the lives of Turkish women. It seemed to me as I looked -at the ex-Empress, that I was back in Constantinople again, but the -Constantinople that my grandmother had known, the Constantinople where -the Sultan Abdul-Aziz reigned and the life of the Turkish women was one -of independence compared to ours. - -The Empress remembered with great pleasure every detail of her visit to -the East. She spoke of the persons she had known, and asked for news of -them. Alas! so many were dead, and others scattered to the four corners -of the Empire! - -She remembered the town, the Palaces, and the marble Beylerbei which -had been built specially for her. So kindly, too, did she speak of the -Sultan Aziz, saying how welcome he had made her, and how his people -loved him. - -Was it possible without appearing unpatriotic to make her understand -that the lovely Palace in which she had stayed, the Palace which had -echoed with the sounds of Eastern music and dancing and singing, was -now being put to a very different usage? During Hamid’s reign Palaces -are not required for festivity, but captivity. Many unfortunate souls -have only known Beylerbei as the stepping stone to Eternity! - -I should have liked to remind the Empress, had I dared, of the -impression her beauty had made on the women. - -[Illustration: YASHMAK AND MANTLE (FERADJÉ)] - -She is an old lady now, but she did not seem so to me. I was looking at -the Empress my countrywomen had admired, the Empress for whom they had -sacrificed their wonderful Eastern garments; I saw the curls they had -copied, the little high-heeled shoes she wore, and even the jewels she -had liked best. - -“Are the women still as much veiled as when I was in Constantinople?” -asked the Empress; and when I told her that a thick black veil had -taken the place of the white Yachmack, she could hardly believe it. -“What a pity!” she said, “it was so pretty.” - -The home in which I saw the Empress, reminded me of one of our Turkish -Islands. The sea was as blue and the sky as clear, and the sun, which -forced her to change her place several times, was almost as intense. -With an odour of pine wood was mixed a fragrant perfume of violets, and -the more I looked at it, the more Oriental did the landscape become. - -Having spoken so much about the past and the people and the country we -have left for ever, it seemed to me that all of us had given way to the -inevitable Oriental sadness, yet we fought against it, for there were -other visitors there. - -I shall always regret not having had the opportunity of seeing the -Empress alone; it seemed to me that so much of what I might have told -her had been left unsaid, and I know she would have been so glad to -listen.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -TURKISH HOSPITALITY—A REVOLUTION FOR CHILDREN - - - NICE, _March_ 1907. - -I can assure you, I do not exaggerate our Oriental hospitality. Go -to Turkey and you will see for yourself that everywhere you will be -received like a Queen. Everyone will want to be honoured by your -presence in their home. - -The most modest household has its rooms for the _mussafirs_ or guests. -In wealthy establishments, the guest is given the choicest furniture, -the daintiest golden goblets and bon-bon dishes, the best and finest -linen and embroideries, a little trousseau for her own use, and slaves -in constant attendance. - -I never remember sitting down to a meal without guests being present. -All our rooms for the _mussafirs_ were filled, and in this matter my -family was by no means the exception; everyone received with the same -pleasure. In England, I believe, you do have guest-rooms, but here in -France they do not understand the elements of hospitality. - -You cannot imagine how it shocked me when I first heard a French son -paid his father for board, and that here in France for a meal received, -a meal must be returned. Surely this is not the case in England? - -Often have I tried to find a satisfactory explanation of this lack of -hospitality in the French. I put it down first to the cost of living, -then to the limited accommodation, then to the disobliging servants, -but I have now come to the conclusion that it is one of their national -characteristics, and it is useless to waste time trying to explain it. - -Let us know as soon as possible when you are coming. - - * * * * * - -After the description I have given you of our life in Smyrna you will -understand how sorry we were to return to Constantinople. Even the -delight of again seeing our parents could not console us. As soon as we -were back again began the same monotony and perpetual dread, and the -Hamidian régime made life more and more impossible. - -[Illustration: MELEK IN YASHMAK] - -The year that the Belgian anarchist tried to kill the Sultan Hamid, was -certainly the worst I have ever spent. Even the Armenian Massacres, -which were amongst the most haunting and horrible souvenirs of our -youth, could not be compared with what we had then to bear. Arrests -went on wholesale! Thousands were “suspect,” questioned, tortured -perhaps. And when the real culprit had declared his guilt before the -whole tribunal and had proved that it was he, and he alone, who had -thrown the bomb, the poor prisoners were not released. - -It was in the summer. Up till then in the country, a woman could go -out in the evening, if she were accompanied, but this was at once -prohibited; every Turkish boat which was not a fishing boat was -stopped; in the streets all those who could not prove the reason -for being out were arrested; no longer were visits to the Embassies -possible, no longer could the ladies from the Embassies come to see us; -no “white dinners,” no meeting of friends. There were police stationed -before the doors, and we dared not play the piano for fear of appearing -too gay, when our “Sovereign Lord’s” life had been in danger. - -Of course no letters could be received from our Western friends. The -foreign posts were searched through and through, and nearly all the -movement of the daily life was at an end. One evening my sister and I -went outside to look at the moonlit Bosphorus. Although accompanied by -a male relative, three faithful guardians of the safety of our beloved -Monarch stepped forward and asked for explanations as to why we were -gazing at the sea. Not wishing to reply, we were asked to follow them -to the nearest police station. My sister and I went in, leaving our -relative to explain matters, and I can assure you that was the last -time we dared to study moon effects. Never, I think, more than that -evening, was I so decided to leave our country, come what might! Life -was just one perpetual nightmare, and for a long time after, even now -in security, I still dream of these days of terror. - -I remember full well what importance was given to the French 1st of May -riots. When I myself saw one of the strikers throw a stone which nearly -blinded a doctor, called in haste to see a patient, and saw his motor -stopped and broken to pieces and the chauffeur thrashed, I thought -of the days of our Armenian massacres—the awful days of Hamidian -carnage—and the 1st of May riots seemed to me a Revolution arranged to -amuse little children.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A STUDY IN CONTRASTS - - - NICE, _March_ 1907. - -There are habits, my dearest friend, which cannot be lost in the -West any more than they can be acquired in the East. You know what -a terrible task it is for a Turkish woman to write a letter—even a -Turkish woman who pretends to be Western in many ways. Can you, who -belong to a race which can quietly take a decision and act upon it, -understand this fault of ours, which consists of always putting off -till the morrow what should be done the same day? Thanks to this -laziness, we Turks are where we are to-day. Some people call it -_kismet_; you can find it in almost all our actions. Since we started, -now a year ago, I have been expecting an answer to a letter sent the -day after my arrival here. It will come; Allah knows when, but it will -come. - -But I am as bad as my friend, you will say. Three weeks ago I began -this letter to you, and it is not finished yet, for all I am doing is -so strange and curious, I feel I must let you know all about it. - -It was at Monte Carlo that I first saw and heard the wonderful operas -of Wagner. When I heard they were performing _Rheingold_, in spite of -medical advice not to go into a theatre, I could not keep away. Since -my childhood, I had longed to hear an orchestral interpretation of the -works of this genius. I seemed to have a presentiment that it would be -to me an incomparable revelation, and I was not disappointed. - -Do you know what it is, to have loved music all your life and never -to have an opportunity of hearing a first-class concert? My father -used to invite the distinguished women artistes, passing through -Constantinople, to come to sing and play for us. He, too, was -passionately fond of music. But what I longed above all to hear was a -full orchestra, and Wagner! So that, when I was actually at Monte Carlo -listening to the entrancing work of this Master, it was as though I had -been blind all my days and had at last received my sight. - -It was wonderful! It was magnificent! It moved my very soul! Why -should we regret having left our country when such masterpieces as this -are yet to be heard? - -I did not want to stir. I wanted to remain under the spell of that -glorious music! But the theatre authorities thought differently, and in -a little while the beautiful performance of _Rheingold_ became one of -my most happy memories. - - * * * * * - -The scene changes. From my first beautiful impression of music I -came to look upon that most degrading spectacle of your Western -civilisation—I mean gambling. I had never realised till now that -collective robbery could be so shameful! That a poor, unintelligent, -characterless being can come to Monte Carlo, ruin himself and his -family, and kill himself without anyone taking the trouble to -pity him a little or have him treated like a sick man, is to me -incomprehensible. When I told the lady and gentleman, who accompanied -me, the impression that their gaming-tables had on me, they smiled; -indeed they made an effort not to laugh. - -I remained long enough to study that strange collection of heads round -the table with their expressions all so different, but the most hideous -which I have ever seen. - -I had received that day two new and very different impressions; one the -impression of the highest form of art and the other the impression of -perhaps the saddest of all modern vices. - -The whole night through I was torn between these two impressions. -Which would get the better of me? I tried to hum little passages of -_Rheingold_, and fix my attention on Wagner’s opera and the joy it had -been to me, but in spite of my efforts my thoughts wandered, and I was -far away in Turkey. - -In our cloistered homes I had heard vague rumours of magic games, the -players at which lost their all or made a colossal fortune according -to the caprice of fate. But I did not pay much attention to this fairy -tale. Now, however, I have seen and believe, and a feeling of terrible -anxiety comes over me whenever I think of the honest men of my own -country, who are concentrating all their energies on the acquirement -of Western civilisation. They will not accept Europeanism in moderate -doses— they will drain the cup to the very dregs—this awful vice, as -well as drunkenness and all your other weaknesses. - -In the course of time I fell asleep. I was back in Turkey enduring the -horrors of the Hamidian régime. _Rheingold_ was forgotten, and the -azure of the Mediterranean Sea, the flowers, and the summer dresses. I -went from scene to scene, one more awful than the other, but everywhere -I went and to everything I saw were attached the diabolical faces I had -seen at the Monte Carlo gaming-tables.—Your affectionate - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -DREAMS AND REALITIES - - - HENDAYE, _July_ 1907. - -What a relief! What a heart-felt relief to leave Paris! Paris with its -noise and clamour and perpetual and useless movement! Paris which is so -different from what I expected! - -We have had in Paris what you English people call a “season,” and I -shall require many months of complete rest, to get over the effects of -that awful modern whirlwind. - -What an exhausting life! What unnecessary labour! And what a contrast -to our calm harem existence away yonder. I think—yes, I almost think I -have had enough of the West now, and want to return to the East, just -to get back the old experience of calm. - -Picture to yourself the number of new faces we have seen in six weeks. -What a collection of women—chattering, irritating, inquisitive, -demonstrative, and obliging women, who invite you again and again, and -when you do go to their receptions you get nothing for your trouble but -crowding and pushing. - -All the men and women in Paris are of uncertain years. The pale girl -who serves the tea might be of any age from fifteen to thirty, and the -men with the well-trimmed fingers and timid manners are certainly not -sixty, but they might be anything up to forty. - -But where are the few _intellectuelles_? Lost between the lace and the -teacups. They look almost ashamed of being seen there at all. They -have real knowledge, and to meet them is like opening the chapter of a -valuable Encyclopedia; but hardly has one taken in the discovery, when -one is pushed along to find the conclusion of the chapter somewhere in -the crowd, if indeed it can be found. - -As you know, since our arrival from Nice we have not had one free -evening. The _Grandes Dames_ of France wanted to get a closer view of -two Turkish women, and they have all been charming to us, especially -the elder ones. - -Yes, charming is the word which best applies to all these society -ladies, young and old, and is not _to be charming_ the modern ideal of -civilisation? These women are all physically the model of a big Paris -dressmaker, and morally what society allows them to be—some one quite -inoffensive. But it is not their fault that they have all been formed -on the same pattern, and that those who have originality hide it under -the same exterior as the others, fearful lest such a blemish should -even be suspected! - -But really, am I not a little pedantic? How can I dare to come to such -a conclusion after a visit which lasts barely a quarter of an hour? - -At luncheon and dinner the favourite topics of conversation are the -pieces played at the theatres or the newest books. Marriage, too, is -always an interesting subject, and everyone seems eager to get married -in spite of the thousand and one living examples there are to warn -others of what it really is. This supreme trust in a benign Fate amuses -me. Every bride-elect imagines it is she who will be the one exception -to the general rule. Turkish women do not look forward to matrimony -with the same confidence. - -Divorce has a morbid fascination for the men and women here: so have -other people’s misfortunes. And as soon as a man or woman is down—a -woman particularly—everyone delights in giving his or her contribution -to the moral kicking. - -I must own, too, I cannot become enthusiastic about Mdlle. Cecile -Sorel’s clothes nor the grace of a certain Russian dancer. What I -would like to talk about would be some subject which could help us -two peoples to understand each other better, but such subjects are -carefully avoided as tiresome. - -Do you remember how anxious we were to hear Strauss’s _Salome_ -discussed, and what it was in all this work which interested these -Paris Society ladies?—nothing more nor less than whether it was -Trohohanova or Zambelli who was to dance the part of Salome. - -That was a disappointment for me! All my life I looked forward to -being in a town where music was given the place of honour, for in -Constantinople, as you know, there is music for everyone except the -Turkish woman. - -I had no particular desire to see the monuments of Paris, and now -I have visited them my affection for them is only lukewarm. The -Philistine I am! I wish I dared tell the Parisians what I really -thought of them and their beautiful Paris! I had come above all things -to educate myself in music, and now I find that they, with their -unbounded opportunities, have shamefully failed to avail themselves of -what to me, as a Turkish woman, is the great chance of a lifetime. - - -A WALK WITH PIERRE LOTI IN A WESTERN CEMETERY - -Yesterday afternoon, accompanied by M. Pierre Loti, we visited the -cemetery of Birreyatou. Its likeness to Turkey attracted us at once, -for all that is Eastern has a peculiar fascination for Loti. There were -the same cypress trees and plants that grow in our cemeteries, and the -tombs were cared for in a manner which is quite unusual in Western -Europe. - -To go for a walk in a burial-ground I know is exclusively an Eastern -form of amusement. But wait till you have seen our cemeteries and -compared them with your own, then you will understand better this -taste of ours. Oh, the impression of loneliness and horror I felt -when I first saw a Western cemetery! It was Père La Chaise, the most -important of them all. I went there to steal a leaf from the famous -weeping willow on Musset’s grave, and to my great surprise I found by -the Master’s tomb, amongst other tokens of respect, a Russian girl’s -visiting card with the corner turned down. But this was an exception. -How you Western people neglect your dead! - -I could not for a long time explain to myself this fear of death, but -since I have seen here the painful scenes connected with it—the terror -of Extreme Unction,[18] the visit of the relatives to the dead body, -the funeral pomp, the hideous black decorations on the horses’ heads, -and last but not least the heart-rending mourning—I, too, am terrified. - -We, like the Buddhists, have no mourning. The Angel of Death takes -our dear ones from us to a happier place, and night and morning we -pray for them. The coffin is carried out on men’s shoulders in the -simplest manner possible, and the relatives in the afternoon take their -embroidery and keep the dear ones company. It is as if they were being -watched in their sleep, and they are very, very near. - -[Illustration: ZEYNEB IN HER WESTERN DRAWING ROOM - -She is playing the oute, or Turkish guitar, which is played with a -feather. Although Turkish women are now good pianists and fond of -Western music, they generally like to play the oute at least once a -day.] - -Yet here in the West what a difference! I shudder at the thought that -some day I might have to rest in one of these untidy waste heaps, and -that idea has been preying on my mind so that I have actually written -to my father and begged him, should I die in Paris, to have me taken -home and buried in a Turkish cemetery. - - * * * * * - - -COMÉDIE FRANÇAISE - -Did I ever tell you of my visit to the Comédie Française? Alas, alas! -again I have to chronicle a disappointment. I am trying to think what I -pictured to myself I was going to see, and I am not at all clear about -it. In my childish imagination I must have thought of something I will -_never_ see. - -Naturally the piece played was _Œdipus Rex_. Every time I am invited -to the Comédie Française I see _Œdipus Rex_. It seems a particular -favourite in Paris, I am sure I cannot tell why. - -The scenery was perfect, so were the costumes, but you cannot imagine -how uncomfortable I was when I heard the actors, together or one after -the other, screaming, moaning, hissing, and calling on the whole -audience to witness a misfortune, which was only too obvious. - -All the actors were breathless, hoarse, exhausted—in sympathy I was -exhausted too, and longed for the _entr’acte_. Then when at last a -pause did come, I began to hope in the next scene a little calm would -be established and the actors take their task a little more leisurely. -But no! they cried out louder still, threw themselves about in torture, -and gesticulated with twice as much violence. - -When I heard the voice of Œdipus it reminded me of the night -watchers in my own country giving the fire alarm, and all those Turks -who have heard it are of the same opinion. As I left the theatre tired -out, I said to myself, “Surely it is not possible that this is the idea -the Greeks had of Dramatic Art.” - -What a difference to the theatre I had known in Turkey! Sometimes our -mothers organised excursions, and we were taken in long springless -carts, dragged by oxen, to the field of Conche-Dili in the valley of -Chalcedonia, where there was a kind of theatre, or caricature of a -theatre, built of unpainted wood, which held about four hundred people. - -The troop was composed of Armenian men and women who had never been -at the Paris Conservatoire, but who gave a fine interpretation of the -works of Dumas, Ohnet, Octave Feuillet, and Courteline. The stage was -small and the scenery was far from perfect, but the Moslem women were -delighted with this open-air theatre, although they had to sit in -latticed boxes and the men occupied the best seats in the stalls. - -During the _entr’acte_, there was music and singing, the orchestra -being composed of six persons who played upon stringed instruments. The -conductor beat time on a big drum, and sometimes he sang songs of such -intense sadness that we wondered almost whence they came. - -That was a dear little theatre, the theatre of my childhood. Primitive -though it was, it was very near to me as I listened to the piercing -cries of alarm sent out by Œdipus. Would they not, these rustic -actors of the Chalcedonian valley, I wonder, have given a truer and -better interpretation of the plays of Sophocles? - - -A BULL-FIGHT - -Guess, my dear, where I have been this afternoon. Guess, guess! I, -a Turkish woman, have been to a bull-fight! There were many English -people present. They are, I am told, the _habitués_ of the place, and -they come away, like the Spaniards, almost intoxicated by the spectacle. - -This is an excitement which does not in the least appeal to me. Surely -one must be either prehistoric or decadent to get into this unwholesome -condition of the Spaniards. Is the sight of a bull which is being -killed, and perhaps the death of a toreador, “_such a delightful -show_,” to quote the exact words of my American neighbour? He shouted -with frenzy whilst my sister and two Poles, unable to bear the sight of -the horses’ obtruding intestines, had to be led out of the place in an -almost fainting condition. - -As for myself, I admit to having admired two things, the suppleness of -the men and the brilliant appearance of the bull-ring. The women of -course lent a picturesque note to the _ensemble_ with their sparkling -jewels, their faces radiant as those of the men, their dark eyes -dancing with excitement, and their handsome gowns and their graceful -mantillas. But shall I ever forget the hideous sight of the poor horse -staggering out of the ring, nor the roars of the wounded bull? It was a -spectacle awful to look upon. What a strange performance for a Turkish -woman, used to the quiet of our harem life! - -Perhaps, however, for those to whom life has brought no emotion or -sorrow, no joy or love, those who have never seen the wholesale -butchery to which we, alas! had almost become accustomed—perhaps to -these people this horrible sight is a necessity. Spanish writers have -told me they have done their best work after a bullfight, and before -taking any important step in life they needed this stimulus to carry -them safely through. I can assure you, however, I heaved a sigh of -relief when the performance was over, and not for untold gold would I -ever go to see it again. - -After leaving the scene I have described to you, we followed the crowd -to a little garden planted with trees, which is situated in the Calle -Mayor and stretches along the side of the stream till it meets the -Bidassoa. This is the spot where, on cool evenings, men and maidens -meet to dance the Fandango. Basque men with red caps are seated in the -middle to supply the music. On the sandy earth, which is the ballroom, -the couples dance, in and out of the gnarled trees, to the rhythm of -dance music, that is strange and passionate and at the same time almost -languishing. - -The music played was more Arabian than anything I have yet heard in the -West, but unfortunately the modern note too was creeping into these -delightful measures. The Basques with their red caps, bronzed faces, -white teeth, and fine manly figures, the women with their passionate -and supple movements and decorated mantillas, and the almost antique -frame of Fontarabia, proud of its past, hopeful for its future, were -all so new and so different to me. - -But it is dark now, the dancing has ceased, the crowd has dispersed. -How good it is to be out at this hour of the evening. I, who am free -(or think I am), delight in the fact there are no Turkish policemen to -question me as to what I am doing. - - * * * * * - -But alas! alas! I spoke of my freedom a little too soon. Even in this -quiet city can I not pass unobserved? - -“Have you anything to declare?” a Custom House officer asks me. - -“Yes,” I replied, “my hatred of your Western ‘Customs,’ and my delight -at being alive.”—Your affectionate friend, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE MOON OF RAMAZAN - - - HENDAYE, _August_ 1907. - -You ask me to describe the life a Turkish woman leads during Ramazan. - -The evenings of Ramazan are the only evenings of the year when she -has the right to be out of doors; the time when she seizes every -opportunity of meeting her friends and arranging interesting soirées; -the time when she goes on foot or drives to the Mosques to hear the -Imams explain the Word of the Prophet. - -Need I remind you, unlike the women of the lower and middle classes, -who go out _every_ evening, the more important the family to which a -woman belongs, the more difficult is it for her to go out. - -It is for the evenings of Ramazan that most amusements are arranged, -and our husbands, fathers, and brothers usually patronise the -travelling circus, Turkish theatre, performances of Karakheuz.[19] -The women on their side have their dinners, Oriental dancing, and -conversation which lasts deep into the night. - -Amongst my most delightful remembrances of Constantinople are the -Ramazan visits to St. Sophia and the Chah-zade Mosque. From the height -of a gallery reserved for women, which is separated from the rest of -the church by a thick wooden lattice-work, hundreds of “Believers” -are to be seen, seated on the ground round the Imam, who reads and -preaches to them. All the oil lamps are lighted for the thirty days, -and the incense burning in the silver brasiers rises with the prayers -to Heaven. Not a voice is to be heard save that of the Imam (preacher), -and the most wonderful impression of all is that created by the -profound silence. - -And yet children are there—little ones asleep in their mother’s arms, -little girls in the women’s gallery, whilst boys over eight are counted -men, and sit beside their fathers on the ground, their little legs -tucked under them. - -[Illustration: TURKISH LADIES PAYING A VISIT - -Every visitor is given coffee and cigarettes on arriving. The three -ladies shown are Zeyneb, Melek, and a friend seated between them. A -verse from the Koran hangs on the wall.] - -On returning home supper is ready for three o’clock, and an hour later -the cannon announce the commencement of a fresh day of fasting. -After a short prayer in one’s own room, sleep takes possession of us -until late the next day, sometimes until almost four o’clock, when -everyone must be up and again ready for the firing of the cannon which -gives permission to eat and drink and smoke. - -With us fasting[20] is more strict than it is in the West. From sunrise -to sunset, no one would dare to touch a mouthful of food or even smoke. - -When we are lucky enough to have Ramazan during the winter months the -fasting hours are shorter, but when it comes in the month of August -“Believers” have to fast for sixteen hours, and the labourers suffer -much in consequence. - -Imagine how long a soirée can be, when you begin dinner at half-past -four! What must we not think of to amuse our guests, for no one dines -alone! The Oriental hospitality demands that every evening friends -should assemble, and acquaintances come without even letting you know. -When people are known to be rich, the poor and complete strangers come -to them to dinner. I remember being at one house which was filled to -overflowing with women of all classes, most of whom had never before -even seen the hostess. - -At the Palaces a special door is built, through which anyone who wants -to dine can enter, and after the meal money is distributed. You can -understand while this patriarchal system exists there is no reason for -the poor to envy the rich. Turkey is the only country in Europe which -in this respect lives according to Christ’s teaching, but no doubt in -the march of progress all these beautiful customs will disappear. - -I have often thought when in a Western drawing-room, where one stays -a few minutes, and eats perhaps a sandwich, how different are our -receptions in the East. We meet without being invited, talk till late -in the night, and a proper supper is served. - -It surprises me, too, in the West to meet such poor linguists. In -Turkey it is quite usual to hear discussions going on in five European -languages without one foreigner being present. - -Wait till you have taken part in some of these Ramazan gatherings, and -have seen what hospitality really is, then you will understand my -rather slighting remarks about your Western society. - - * * * * * - -I am constantly being asked how a Turkish woman amuses herself. I have -a stock answer ready: “That depends on what you call amusement.” - -It sounds futile to have to remind my questioners that amusement is -a relative quality, and depends entirely on one’s personal tastes. -The Spaniards are mad with delight at the sight of a bull-fight—to -me it was disgusting; and yet, probably, were those bull-fights to -take place in Turkey, I should enjoy them. We used to have in the -country exhibitions of wrestling at which whole families were present. -Travelling circuses were also a favourite amusement, but during the -last years of Hamid’s reign Turkish women have been forbidden the -pleasures of going to a travelling theatre and Karakheuz, the most -appreciated of all the Eastern amusements. - -Tennis, croquet, and other games are impossible for us, neither is -rowing allowed: to have indulged in that sport was to expose myself to -the criticism of the whole capital. - -Although the people of the West are so fond of walking as a recreation, -the pleasure that a _Turkish_ woman can obtain from a walk is -practically non-existent, and most of us would be insulted if asked, as -I have been in Paris, to walk for two hours. - -We are fond of swimming, but how is this taste to be indulged when -women are only allowed to swim in an enclosed place, surrounded by a -high wall? Surely the only charm of swimming is to be in the open sea. - -Those who are fond of music have either to go without, learn to play -themselves, or take the terrible risk of disguising themselves as -Europeans and go to a concert. - -Towards 1876 we began playing bezique, but that craze did not last -long, and a short time afterwards cards were considered bad form. The -_Perotes_,[21] however, still remain faithful to card-playing, and have -more than one reason to prefer this pastime to all the others in which -they might indulge. Unlike the _Perotes_, we Turkish women never played -cards for money. - -You might think from my letters that travelling in the country was -quite an ordinary event for women of our class: on the contrary, it is -quite exceptional, and perhaps only ten families in all Turkey have -travelled as we travelled in our own country. - -So you see a Turkish woman is not very ambitious for “amusement” as you -Western people understand the word. When she is allowed to travel in -foreign countries as she likes, I believe she will be more satisfied -with her lot. - -All the Turks I have met since I came to Europe are of my opinion, but -we shall see what will happen when their theories are put into practice. - -Since it has been my privilege to meet my countrymen I have found -out what fine qualities they possess. Indeed it is wrong for custom -to divide so markedly our nation into two sexes and to create such -insuperable barriers between them. We shall never be strong until we -are looked upon as one, and can mix freely together. The Turks have -all the qualities necessary to make good husbands and fathers, and yet -we have no opportunity of knowing even the men we marry until we _are_ -married. - -How I wish that nine out of every ten of the books written on Turkey -could be burned! How unjustly the Turk has been criticised! And what -nonsense has been written about the women! I cannot imagine where -the writers get their information from, or what class of women they -visited. Every book I have read has been in some way unfair to the -Turkish woman. Not one woman has really understood us! Not one woman -has credited us with the possession of a heart, a mind, or a soul.—Your -affectionate friend, - - ZEYNEB. - - * * * * * - -The year of 1908 was a year of mourning for Zeyneb and Melek. For them -began that bitter period, when a woman has the opportunity of judging -independence at its true value, without a father and a substantial -income as buffers between them and life. - - * * * * * - -During that year, too, Melek married. - -Zeyneb remained alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -AND IS THIS REALLY FREEDOM? - - - LONDON, _Nov.-Dec._ 1908. - -About a week ago,[22] whilst you were writing your first letter to me -and speaking of the beautiful Eastern sun that was shining through your -latticed window, what a different experience was mine in London. I was -walking by myself in the West End, when suddenly, the whole city was -shrouded in one of those dense fogs to which you no doubt have become -accustomed. I could not see the name of the streets nor the path at the -opposite side, so I wandered on for a little while, only to discover -that I had arrived back at the same place. - -There was no one to show me the way, and the English language that I -had spoken from infancy seemed of no use to me, since no one took any -notice of my questions. - -I looked in vain for a policeman. Your London policemen are so amiable -and clever. Whatever difficulty I have, they seem to be able to help -me, and the most curious of all curious things is, they will not accept -tips! What wonderful men! and what a difference from our policemen in -Constantinople! In Constantinople, I trembled almost at the sight of a -policeman, but here I cannot imagine what I should do without them. - -However, after losing myself and getting back always to the same point, -I finally struck out in a new direction, and walked on and on until, -when I was least expecting it, I found that just by chance I was safe -in front of my club. You can perhaps imagine my relief. It seemed to me -as if I had escaped from some terrible danger, and I wonder more and -more how you English people manage to find your way in one of these -dense fogs. - -When I got into my club, I found your letter waiting me, and the -Turkish post-mark cheered me just a little, and made me forget for a -while the hideous black mantle in which London was wrapt. - -On those evenings when I dine at “my club” (see how English I have -become!) I eat alone, studying all the time the people I see around me. -What a curious harem! and what a difference from the one in which you -are living at present. - -The first time I dined there I ordered the vegetarian dinner, expecting -to have one of those delicious meals which you are enjoying (you lucky -woman!), which consists of everything that is good. But alas! the food -in this harem has been a disappointment to me. Surely I must not accept -this menu as a sample of what English food really is. - -On a little table all to myself, I was served with, first of all, rice -which was cooked not as in Turkey, and as a second course I had carrots -cooked in water! After sprinkling on them quantities of salt and pepper -I could not even then swallow them, so I asked for pickles, but as -there were none, that dish was sent away almost untouched to join the -first. Next I was served with a compote of pears without sugar, but -that also did not come up to my expectations. I ate up, however, all -my bread and asked for more. Then the waiter kindly went from table -to table to see how much he could collect, brought just a handful, and -informed me he really could not give me any more. But I told him it was -not enough. “I want a very large piece,” I said, so finally he decided -to consult the butler, went to the kitchen, and brought me back a loaf -to myself. - -All this while, the curious people around me had been staring at me -devouring my loaf, but after a while they wearied of that exciting -entertainment, their faces again resumed their usual calm expression, -and they went on once more talking to one another. Sometimes, but not -often, they almost got interested in their neighbour’s remark, but as -soon as the last words were uttered again they adopted a manner which -seemed to me one of absolute indifference. - -As you know, I do not swear by everything Turkish, but you must now -admit from experience that when once the Danube is crossed the faces -to be seen do express some emotion, either love or hate, contentment -or disappointment, but not indifference. Since I left Belgrade, I have -tried, almost in vain, to find in the Western faces the reflection of -some personality, and so few examples have I found that their names -would not certainly fill this page. Here in London I met with the -same disappointment. Have these people really lost all interest in -life? They give me the impression that they all belong to the same -family, so much alike are they in appearance and in facial expression. - -[Illustration: ZEYNEB WITH A BLACK FACE-VEIL THROWN BACK] - -In the reading-room, where I spent my evening, I met those same people, -who spoke in whispers, wrote letters, and read the daily papers. The -silence of the room was restful, there was an atmosphere almost of -peace, but it is not the peace which follows strife, it is the peace -of apathy. Is this, then, what the Turkish women dream of becoming one -day? Is this their ideal of independence and liberty? - -Were you to show my letter to one of my race she would think that I -had a distinct aversion for progress, or that I felt obliged to be -in opposition to everything in the countries where I was travelling. -You know enough of my life, however, to know that this is not the -case. What I do feel, though, is that a _Ladies’ Club_ is not a big -enough reward for having broken away from an Eastern harem and all the -suffering that has been the consequence of that action. A club, as I -said before, is after all another kind of harem, but it has none of -the mystery and charm of the Harem of the East. - -How is one to learn and teach others what might perhaps be called “the -tact of evolution”—I mean the art of knowing when to stop even in the -realm of progress? - -I cannot yet either analyse or classify in a satisfactory way your -methods of thinking, since in changing from country to country even the -words alter their meaning. In Servia, Liberal means Conservative, and -Freemason on the Continent has quite a different meaning from what it -has here; so that the interpretation I would give to an opinion might -fail to cover my real meaning. - -Do not think that this evening’s pessimism is due to the fog nor to my -poor dinner. It is the outcome of disillusions which every day become -more complete. It seems to me that we Orientals are children to whom -fairy tales have been told for too long—fairy tales which have every -appearance of truth. You hear so much of the _mirage_ of the East, -but what is that compared to the _mirage_ of the West, to which all -Orientals are attracted? - -They tell you fairy tales, too, you women of the West—fairy tales -which, like ours, have all the appearance of truth. I wonder, when the -Englishwomen have really won their vote and the right to exercise all -the tiring professions of men, what they will have gained? Their faces -will be a little sadder, a little more weary, and they will have become -wholly disillusioned. - -Go to the root of things and you will find the more things change the -more they are the same; nothing really changes. Human nature is always -the same. We cannot stop the ebb or flow of Time, however much we try. -The great mass of mediocrity alone is happy, for it is content to swim -with the tide. Does it not seem to you, that each of us from the age -when we begin to reason feels more or less the futility and uselessness -of some of our efforts; the little good that struggling has brought -us, and the danger we necessarily run, in this awful desire to go full -speed ahead? And yet, this desire to go towards something, futile -though it be, is one of the most indestructible of Western sentiments. - -When in Turkey we met together, and spoke of the Women of England, we -imagined that they had nothing more to wish for in this world. But -we had no idea of what the struggle for life meant to them, nor how -terrible was this eternal search after happiness. Which is the harder -struggle of the two? The latter is the only struggle we know in Turkey, -and the same futile struggle goes on all the world over. - -Happiness—what a mirage! At best is it not a mere negation of pain, for -each one’s idea of happiness is so different? When I was fifteen years -old they made me a present of a little native from Central Africa. For -her there was no greater torture than to wear garments of any kind, and -her idea of happiness was to get back to the home on the borders of -Lake Chad and the possibility of eating another roasted European. - - * * * * * - -Last night I went to a banquet. It was the first time that I had ever -heard after-dinner speeches, and I admired the ease with which everyone -found something to say, and the women spoke quite as well as the men. -Afterwards I was told, however, that these speeches had all been -prepared beforehand. - -The member of Parliament who sat on my right spoilt my evening’s -enjoyment by making me believe I had to speak, and all through the -dinner I tried to find something to say, and yet I knew that, were I -actually to rise, I could not utter a sound. What most astonished me -at that banquet, however, was that all those women, who made no secret -of wanting to direct the affairs of the nation, dared not take the -responsibility of smoking until they were told. What a contradiction! - -Since I came here I have seen nothing but “Votes for Women” chalked all -over the pavements and walls of the town. These methods of propaganda -are all so new to me. - -I went to a Suffrage street corner meeting the other night, and I can -assure you I never want to go again. The speaker carried her little -stool herself, another carried a flag, and yet a third woman a bundle -of leaflets and papers to distribute to the crowd. After walking -for a little while they placed the stool outside a dirty-looking -public-house, and the lady who carried the flag boldly got on to the -stool and began to shout, not waiting till the people came to hear her, -so anxious was she to begin. Although she did not look nervous in the -least she possibly was, for her speech came abruptly to an end, and my -heart began to beat in sympathy with her. - -When the other lady began to speak quite a big crowd of men and women -assembled: degraded-looking ruffians they were, most of them, and a -class of man I had not yet seen. All the time they interrupted her, but -she went bravely on, returning their rudeness with sarcasm. What an -insult to womanhood it seemed to me, to have to bandy words with this -vulgar mob. One man told her that “she was ugly.” Another asked “if she -had done her washing,” but the most of their hateful remarks I could -not understand, so different was their English from the English I had -learned in Turkey. - -Yet how I admired the courage of that woman! No physical pain could be -more awful to me than not to be taken for a lady, and this speaker of -such remarkable eloquence and culture was not taken for a lady by the -crowd, seeing she was supposed “to do her own washing” like any women -of the people. - -The most pitiful part of it all to me is the blind faith these women -have in their cause, and the confidence they have that in explaining -their policy to the street ruffians, who cannot even understand that -they are ladies, they will further their cause by half an inch. - -I was glad when the meeting was over, but sorry that such rhetoric -should have been wasted on the half-intoxicated loungers who deigned -to come out of the public-house and listen. If this is what the women -of your country have to bear in their fight for freedom, all honour to -them, but I would rather groan in bondage. - - * * * * * - -I have been to see your famous Houses of Parliament, both the Lords -and the Commons. Like all the architecture in London, these buildings -create such an atmosphere of kingly greatness in which I, the democrat -of my own country, am revelling. The Democracy of the East is so -different from that of the West, of which I had so pitiful an example -at the street corner. - -I was invited to tea at the House of Commons, and to be invited to tea -there of all places seemed very strange to me. Is the drinking of tea -of such vital importance that the English can _never_ do without it? -I wonder if the Turks, now _their_ Parliament is opened, will drink -coffee with ladies instead of attending to the laws of the nation! - -What a long, weary wait I had before they would let me into the Houses -of Parliament. Every time I asked the policeman where the member of -Parliament was who had invited me, he smilingly told me they had gone -to fetch him. I thought he was joking at first, and threatened to go, -but he only laughed, and said, “He will come in time.” Only when I -had made up my mind that the tea-party would never come off, and had -settled myself on an uncomfortable divan to study the curious people -passing in and out, did my host appear. I thought it was only in Turkey -that appointments were kept with such laxity, but I was reminded by the -M.P. who invited me that I was three-quarters of an hour late in the -first place. - -[Illustration: A CORNER OF A TURKISH HAREM OF TO-DAY - -This photograph was taken expressly for a London paper. It was returned -with this comment: “The British public would not accept this as a -picture of a Turkish Harem.” As a matter of fact, in the smartest -Turkish houses European furniture is much in evidence.] - -[Illustration: TURKISH WOMEN AND CHILDREN IN THE COUNTRY - -They are accompanied by the negress.] - -I was conducted through a long, handsome corridor to a lobby where -all sorts of men and women were assembled, pushing one another, -gesticulating and speaking in loud, disagreeable voices like those -outside of the Paris Bourse. Just then, however, a bell rang, and I was -conducted back past the policeman to my original seat. What curious -behaviour! What did it all mean? I spoke to the friendly policeman, -but his explanation that they were “dividing” did not convey much to -my mind. As I stood there, a stray member of Parliament came and looked -at me. He must have been a great admirer of Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, for -he wore a monocle and an orchid in his buttonhole. - -“Are these suffragettes?” he asked the policeman, staring at me and the -other women. - -“No, sir,” answered the policeman, “ladies.” - -It was too late for tea when my host returned to fetch me, but the -loss of a cup of tea is no calamity to me, as I only drink it to -appear polite. I was next taken up to the Ladies’ Gallery, and was -sworn in as one of the relations of a member who had given up his -ladies’ tickets to my host. The funny part of it was, that I could -not understand the language my relation spoke, so different was his -English from the English I had learnt in Turkey. But what a fuss to -get into that Ladies’ Gallery! I had no idea of making a noise before -it was suggested to my mind by making me sign a book, and I certainly -wanted to afterwards. What unnecessary trouble! What do you call it? -Red tapeism! One might almost be in Turkey under Hamid and not in Free -England. - -But, my dear, why have you never told me that the Ladies’ Gallery is a -harem? A harem with its latticed windows! The harem of the Government! -No wonder the women cried through the windows of that harem that -they wanted to be free! I felt inclined to shout out too. “Is it in -Free England that you dare to have a harem? How inconsistent are you -English! You send your women out unprotected all over the world, and -here in the workshop where your laws are made, you cover them with a -symbol of protection.” - -The performance which I saw through the harem windows was boring -enough. The humbler members of the House had little respect for their -superiors, seeing they sat in their presence with their hats on, and -this I am told was the habit of a very ill-bred man. Still perhaps this -attitude does not astonish me since on all sides I hear complaints -of the Government. It is a bad sign for a country, my dear. Are you -following in Turkey’s footsteps? Hatred of the Government and prison an -honour! Poor England! - -I was very anxious to see the notorious Mr. Lloyd George. Since I -have been in London his name is on everyone’s lips. I have heard -very little good of him except from the ruffians at the street corner -meeting, and yet like our Hamid he seems to be all-powerful. For a -long time, I could not distinguish him in the crowd below, although my -companion spared no pains in pointing him out. I was looking for some -one with a commanding presence, some one with an eagle eye and a wicked -face like our Sultan, some one before whom a whole nation was justified -in trembling. But I still wonder whether I am thinking of the right man -when I think of Mr. Lloyd George. - -There is not much excitement in your House of Commons, is there? I -prefer the Chamber of Deputies, even though some one fired at M. Briand -the day I went there. There at least they are men of action. Here some -members were so weary of law-making, that they crossed their legs, -folded their arms, and went to sleep whilst their colleagues opposite -were speaking. I thought it would have been more polite to have gone -out and taken tea, as the other members seemed to be doing all the -time. It would have given them strength to listen to the tiresome -debate. - -To me, perhaps, the speaking would have been less unbearable if the -harem windows had not deadened the sound, which, please notice, is my -polite Turkish way of saying, they all spoke so indistinctly. - -The bell began to ring again. The members of Parliament all walked -towards the harem to this curious direction, “Eyes to the right and -nose to the left.”[23] And at last my friend took me away. - - * * * * * - -We went to see a performance of _Trilby_ at His Majesty’s Theatre the -other night. I liked the acting of the terrible Svengali, but not the -piece. As a great treat to me, my friend and her husband had us invited -to supper in the roof of the theatre with the famous Sir Herbert Tree. -I could not help saying, “I preferred not to go, for Sir Herbert Tree -frightened me.” - -However, we went all the same, and had a delightful supper-party. For -some reason or other the manager was our host, and I was thankful not -to eat with Sir Herbert Tree. As we came away my friend asked if I was -still frightened now we had eaten with him. - -“But we have not eaten with him,” I said. - -“Indeed we have,” she said. - -“Is the person with whom we had supper the horrid Svengali?” I asked. - -“Why, of course,” she answered, laughing. - -As you know, this is not my first experience of a theatre, so there is -no excuse for me. But I can assure you no one would ever dream that -Svengali was made up. What a pity it would have been for me to have -gone through life thinking of your famous actor as Svengali. I think -that when actors have to play such disagreeable parts, they should show -themselves to the public afterwards as they really are, or _not_ put -their names on the programme. - - * * * * * - -I saw another play at His Majesty’s in which the principal rôles were -played by children. You cannot imagine how delightful I found it, and -what a change it was from the eternal _pièce à thèse_ which I had -become accustomed to see in Paris. The scenery indeed was a fairy -panorama, and the piece charmingly interpreted. What astonished me was -to see that both men and women took as much delight in it as the young -folks. Only mothers in Paris would have brought their children to see -such a moral play. - -Ah, but I must tell you I have at last seen an Englishwoman who does -not look weary of life. She is Miss Ellen Terry. How good it was to see -her act. She was so natural and so full of fun, and enjoyed all she -had to say and do, that her performance was a real joy to me. I wish I -could have thanked her. - - * * * * * - -I just love your hansom cabs. If I had money enough I would buy one -for myself and drive about seeing London. You get the best view of -everything in this way. When I first stepped into one I could not -imagine where the coachman sat; he called out to me from somewhere, -but I could not find his voice, until he popped his fingers through a -little trap door and knocked off my hat, for I cannot bear to pin on my -hat. - -“Here I am,” he answered to my query, and he thought he had a mad-woman -for a fare. - - * * * * * - -One night when I returned to my club after the theatre, there was one -lonely woman seated in the reading-room near the fire. She seemed to -me to be the youngest of all the ladies, although you may say that was -no guarantee against middle age. I don’t know how it was we began -to speak, since no one had introduced us, but she imagined I was a -Frenchwoman, hence probably the explanation of the liberty she had -taken in addressing me. Yet she looked so sad. - -“You French,” she said, “are used to sitting up a good deal later than -we do here.” - -“I thought,” I said, “the protocol did not bother about such trifles.” - -“Ah, now you are in the country of protocols and etiquette,” she -answered. - -She must have been asking me questions only as an excuse to speak -herself, because she took really no interest in my answers, and she -kept on chattering and chattering because she did not want me to go -away. She spoke of America and India and China and Japan, all of which -countries she seemed to know as well as her own. Never have I met in -my travels anyone so fond of talking, and yet at the same time with a -_spleen_ which made me almost tired. - -I concluded that she was an independent woman, whose weariness must -have been the result of constant struggling. She was all alone in the -world; one of those poor creatures who might die in a top back-room -without a soul belonging to her. Her mind must have been saturated -with theories, she must have known all the uncomfortable shocks which -come from a changed position, and yet she was British enough to tremble -before Public Opinion. - -“But do you know why I travel so much?” at last I had the opportunity -of asking her. “Like Diogenes who tried to find a _Man_, I have been -trying to find a FREE woman, but have not been successful.” - -I do not think she understood in the least what I meant.—Your -affectionate friend, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE CLASH OF CREEDS - - - LONDON, _Jan._ 1909. - -I am indeed a _désenchantée_. I envy you even your reasonable illusions -about us. We are hopelessly what we are. I have lost all mine about -you, and you seem to me as hopelessly what you are. - -The only difference between the spleen of London and the spleen of -Constantinople is that the foundation of the Turkish character is dry -cynicism, whilst the Englishman’s is inane doggedness without object. -In his fatalism the Turk is a philosopher. Your Englishman calls -himself a man of action, but he is a mere empiric. - -I quite understand now, however, that you do not pity my countrywomen, -not because they do not need pity, but because for years you have -led only the life of the women of this country, women who start so -courageously to fight life’s battle and who ultimately have had to -bury all their life’s illusions. Now, I see only too well, there are -beings for whom freedom becomes too heavy a burden to bear. The women I -have met here, seem to have been striving all their lives to get away -from everything—home, family, social conventions. They want the right -to live alone, to travel as they like, to be responsible for their own -lives. Yet when their ambition is realised, the only harvest they reap -after a youth of struggle is that of disenchantment. - -Yet I ask myself, is a lonely old age worth a youth of effort? Have -they not confused individual liberty, which is the right to live as one -pleases, with true liberty, which to my Oriental mind is the right to -choose one’s own joys and forbearances? - - * * * * * - -Is it not curious that here, in a Christian country, I see nothing of -the religion of Christ? And yet commentaries are not lacking. Every -sect has the presumption to suppose its particular interpretation of -the words of Christ is the only right interpretation, and Christians -have changed the meaning of His words so much, and seen Christ through -the prism of their own minds, that I, primitive being that I am, do -not recognise in their tangled creeds the simple and beautiful teaching -of Jesus of Nazareth, Son of the carpenter Joseph. - -Sometimes it seems to me that the religion of Christ has been brought -beyond the confines of absurdity. Would it not be better to try and -follow the example of Christ than to waste time disputing whether He -would approve of eating chocolate biscuits on fast-days and whether -wild duck is a fasting diet, whilst duck of the farmyard is forbidden? -To me, all this seems profanely childish. - -The impression these numerous creeds make on me is like that of members -of the same family disputing with one another. What happens in the case -of families happens in the case of religion. From these discussions -over details follow, first mistrust, then dislike, then hatred, always -to the detriment of the best interest of them all. - -I went to a Nonconformist chapel the other evening, but I could not -bring myself to realise that I was in a chapel at all. There was -nothing divine or sacred either in the building or the service. It was -more like a lecture by an eloquent professor. Nor did the congregation -worship as we worship in the East. It seemed to me, as if it was not -to worship God that they were there, but to appease the anger of some -Northern Deity, cold, intolerant, and wrathful—an idea of the Almighty -which I shall never understand. - -It astonished me to hear the professor calling those present “miserable -sinners,” and as I was one of the congregation I was not a little hurt, -for I have nothing very serious on my conscience. But the Catholics, -in this respect, err as much as the Protestants. Why this hysteria -for sins you have not committed? Why this shame of one’s self, this -exaggerated humility, this continual fear? Why should you stand -trembling before your Maker? - -[Illustration: THE BALCONY AT THE BACK OF ZEYNEB’S HOUSE - -The house is covered with wistaria.] - -[Illustration: ZEYNEB AND MELEK - -The Yashmak is exceedingly becoming, the white tulle showing the lips -to great advantage.] - -While I was still inside the chapel, a lady came up and was introduced -to me. We walked down the street together, and in the course of -conversation she discovered I was not even a Nonconformist, nor a Roman -Catholic, but a heathen. And she at once began to pity me, and show -me the advantages of her religion. But what could she teach me about -Christ that I did not already know? Unfortunately for her she knew -nothing of the religion of Mahomet, nor how broad-minded he was, nor -with what admiration he had spoken of the crucified Jesus, and how we -all loved Christ from Mahomet’s interpretation of His life and work.[24] - - * * * * * - -As usual here, as in other Christian countries, marriage seems an -everlasting topic of interest. I was hardly seven years old when I was -taken for the first time to a non-Turkish marriage. It was the wedding -of some Greek farm-people our governess knew. We were present at the -nuptial benediction, which took place inside the house and which seemed -to me interminable. After that, everyone, including the bride, partook -of copious refreshments. Then, when we had been taken for a drive in -the country, we returned to dinner, which was served in front of the -stable. After the meal we danced on the grass to the strains of a -violin, accordion, and triangle. That is the only Christian marriage -I had seen till 1908, and I was astonished to find how different a -Christian wedding is here. - -What is the use of an organ for marrying people? And twelve -bridesmaids? The bridal pair themselves look extremely uncomfortable -at all this useless ceremonial, to which nobody pays any particular -attention. Every bride and bridegroom must know how unnecessary are -all these preparations, and how marriages bore friends. Yet they go on -putting themselves to all this useless trouble, and for what? - -Each person invited, I am told, has to bring a present. What a wicked -expense to put their friends to. Oh, vanity of vanities! - -How is it possible not to admire the primitive Circassians, who when -they love one another and wish to marry, walk off without consulting -anyone but themselves? - - * * * * * - -I am also disappointed at the manner in which divorce proceedings -are conducted in England. What a quantity of unkind words and vile -accusations! What a low handling and throwing of mud at each other, -what expense, what time and worry! And all simply to prove that two -people are not suited to live together. - -To think that, with the possibility of such a life of tragedy, there -are still people who have the courage to get married! It seems to me -there are some who take marriage too seriously, others who do not take -it seriously enough, and that others again only take it seriously when -one of the partners wants to be liberated. - -How sad it is! And what good can be said of laws, the work of human -beings, which not only do not help us in our misfortunes, but extend -neither pity nor pardon to those who try to suffer a little less. - -During the time I lived away yonder and suffered from a total absence -of liberty, I imagined that Europe respected the happiness and the -misfortunes of individuals. How horrible it is to find in the daily -papers the names of people mercilessly branded by their fellow-men for -having committed no other fault than that of trying to be less unhappy, -for having the madness to wish to repair their wrecked existence. To -publish the reports of the evidence, the sordid gossip of menials, -the calumnies, the stolen letters, written under such different -circumstances, in moments of happiness, in absolute confidence, or -extreme mental agony, in which a woman has laid her soul bare, is -loathsome. Is it not worse than perjury to exact from a friend’s lips -what he only knows in confidence? Poor imprudent beings! They have had -their moments of sincerity: for this your sad civilisation of the West -makes them pay with the rest of their broken lives. - - * * * * * - -For a long time I have wanted to make the acquaintance of Mr. W. T. -Stead, who is known and respected in the East more perhaps than any -Englishman. I had no particular reason to go and see him except that he -knew my father at the first Hague Conference. So, one day I was bold -enough to jump into a hansom and drive to his office. I was asked whom -I wanted. I asked for Mr. Stead. - -“Who wants him?” I was asked. - -“I do,” I replied. - -“Give me your card.” But as I had no card I wrote on a slip of paper: -“The daughter of a Turkish friend of the Hague Conference will be so -pleased to see you.” - -He received me at once. There was so much to talk about. He spoke so -nicely of my poor dead father, questioned me about the Sultan, about -the country I had left, about the Balkans, about Crete, and the Turks -themselves. More than an hour we talked together, and when finally I -rose to go he said to me: “Is there anything I can do for you?” - -“No,” I said, thanking him very kindly. - -“Then it was simply to see me,” he went on, “that you came.” - -“Yes,” I said, “it is a friendly visit.” He laughed heartily. - -“Do you know,” he said, “that is the first time that this has happened -in my life.” - -Then he was kind enough to send for tea, and the tray was put down on -the table among the papers and the journals, and he showed me signed -portraits which he had collected during his travels, among them the one -that my dear father had given him at The Hague. He then gave me his -own, and signed it, “To my only Turkish lady friend.” - - * * * * * - -I saw him for a little while in Paris on his return from -Constantinople, and he came back really enthusiastic. He was much in -sympathy with the Young Turks, though he had much also to find fault -with. He despised but pitied Abdul Hamid, and hoped that an _entente_ -between England and Turkey could be arranged, but his ideas were quite -unpractical. His policy was purely sentimental, and his suggestions -impossible. - - * * * * * - -I have had the pleasure, since I have been here, of seeing two -diplomatists with whose voices I was familiar for many years in -Constantinople. My father highly esteemed them both; they often came to -see him. When they had drunk their coffee, sometimes my father sent for -us to come and play and sing to them, and from behind a curtain they -courteously thanked us for our performance. - -Although I had so often heard their voices I never had an opportunity -of seeing a photo of either of them, and I can’t tell whether I was -agreeably surprised or not. Have you ever tried putting a body to a -voice? - - * * * * * - -What a magnificent city London is! If you English are not proud of -it, you ought to be. It is not only grand and magnificent but has an -aristocratic look that despises mere ornament. - -Here in London I have a feeling of security, which I have had nowhere -else in the world. It is the only capital in Europe I have so far seen -that gives me a sense of orderliness not dependent on authority. It -seems to me as if English character were expressed even in the houses -of the people. You can tell at a glance what kind of people dwell in -the house you are entering. How different is Paris! What a delight to -have no concierge, those petty potentates who, as it were, keep the key -of your daily life, and remedy there is none. - -For the first time since I left Turkey I have had here the sensation of -real home life. As you know, we have no flats in Turkey, and have room -to move about freely—room for your delightful English furniture, which -to me is the most comfortable in the whole world. - -Like ours, the houses here are made for use, and their wide doors and -broad passages seem to extend a welcome to you which French houses -hardly ever do. In France you smell economy before you even reach the -door-mat. - -You who are in Turkey can now understand what I have suffered from this -narrowness of French domestic life. You can imagine my surprise when, -the morning after my arrival here, a big tray was sent into my room -with a heavy meal of eggs, bacon, fish, toast, marmalade, and what not. -I thought I must have looked ill and as if I needed extra feeding, and -I explained to my hostess that my white skin was not a sign of anæmia -but my Oriental complexion: all the eggs and bacon in the world would -not change the colour of my skin. She was not aware that the Mahometan -never eats pork, and like so many others, seemed to forget that bacon, -like pork, came from a forbidden source. - -I do not find London noisy, but what noise there is one feels is -serving a purpose. Life seems so serious; everyone is busy crowding -into twelve hours the work of twenty-four. We Turks take no heed of the -passing hours. - -The Englishmen remind me of the Turks. They have the same grave -demeanour, the same appearance of indifference to our sex, the same -look of stubborn determination, and, like the Turk, every Englishman -is a Sultan in his own house. Like the Turk, too, he is sincere and -faithful in his friendships, but Englishmen have two qualities that -the Turks do not possess. They are extremely good business men, and in -social relations are extremely prudent, although it is difficult to say -where prudence ends and hypocrisy begins. - -[Illustration: THE DRAWING-ROOM OF A HAREM SHOWING A BRIDAL THRONE - -On the Bridal Throne the Turkish woman sits on her wedding day to -receive her friends’ good wishes. It remains the chief seat in the -harem; in the Imperial Palace it is a fine throne, in poor houses only -a glorified chair, but it is always there.] - -[Illustration: A CORNER OF THE HAREM - -This Turkish lady collected the ribbons of the battleships on the -Bosphorus, and they are hanging on the wall.] - -But if Englishmen remind me of Turks, I can find nothing in common -between English and Turkish women. They are in direct contrast to -one another in everything. Perhaps it is this marked contrast that -balances our friendship. A Turkish woman’s life is as mysterious as -an Englishwoman’s life is an open book, which all can read who care. -Before I met the suffragettes, I knew only sporting and society women. -They were all passionately absorbed in their own amusements, which -as you know do not in the least appeal to me. I suppose we Turkish -women who have so much time to devote to culture become unreasonably -exacting. But everywhere I have been—in England, Germany, France, -Italy, and Spain—I have found how little and how uselessly the women -read, and how society plays havoc with their taste for good books. - -Englishwomen are pretty, but are deficient in charm. They have no -particular desire and make no effort to please. You know the charm -of the Turkish woman. The Englishwoman is pig-headed, undiplomatic, -brutally sincere, but a good and faithful friend. The Turkish -woman—well, you must fill that in yourself! I am too near to focus her. - -But now that I have seen the women of most countries, you may want to -know which I most admire. - -Well, I will tell you frankly, the Turkish woman. An ordinary person -would answer, “Of course,” but you are not an ordinary person, so I -shall at once give you my reasons. It is not because I am a Turkish -woman myself, but because, in spite of the slavery of their existence, -Turkish women have managed to keep their minds free from prejudice. -With them it is not what people think they ought to think, but what -they think themselves. Nowhere else in Europe have I found women with -such courage in thinking. - -In every country there are women—though they may be a mere handful—who -are above class, above nationality, and dare to be themselves. -These are the people I appreciate the most. These are the people I -shall always wish to know, for to them the whole world is kin.—Your -affectionate friend, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -IN THE ENEMY’S LAND - - - VENICE, _Oct._ 1911. - -You will say perhaps I am reminded of the Bosphorus everywhere, just -as Maurice Barres is reminded of Lorraine in every land he visits. -Yet how would it be possible not to think of the Bosphorus in Venice, -especially when for so many years I have had to do without it? Here, -there is the same blue sky, the same blue carpet of sea, the same -sunset, and the same wonderful sunrise—only gondolas have taken the -place of caïques. - -All day and part of the evening I allow myself to be rowed as my -gondolier wishes from canal to canal, and I am indignant I did not -know sooner there was a place in Europe where one could come to rest. -Why do the French and Swiss doctors not send their patients here? They -would be cured certainly of that disease from which everyone suffers -nowadays, the fatigue of the big towns. - -But since so many illustrious poets have sung the praises of Venice -what is there for me to say? I prefer to glorify it as the Brahmins -worship their Deity, in silence. - -The Venetians do not appreciate Venice any more than I appreciated -Constantinople when I lived there. They have no idea how lovely Venice -is, but prefer the Lido, where they meet the people of all nations, -whose buzzing in the daytime replaces the mosquitoes at night. - -On our way here, the train went off the rails, so we had to alight for -some time: then one of the party suggested that we should visit Verona, -and I was very delighted at this happy idea. - -It was midnight. We walked along the narrow streets of the deserted -city. The town was bathed in a curious, indescribable light, and it was -more beautiful than anything we could have seen in the daylight, when -perhaps the noise would have killed its charm. I hope that fate has not -decreed that my impression of that silent sleeping city shall ever be -destroyed. - -I travelled to Venice in a compartment marked “Ladies only,” not -because I have any particular affection for those “harem” compartments, -but because there was not a seat for me with my friends. An old -English spinster was my companion. She welcomed me with a graciousness -that I did not appreciate, and at once began a very dull and -conventional conversation. - -Presently, however, two Italian officers came in, and politely excusing -themselves in their language, sat down. They said they had been up -all night, had been standing from Milan, and had to go on duty when -they reached Venice, and begged the old lady politely to allow them a -quarter of an hour’s rest. - -The spinster did not understand, so I translated. - -“Disgraceful,” she said and ordered them out. But still the officers -remained. Then turning to me she said, “You who must be Italian, please -tell them what I think of them.” - -I told her, “It was not my rôle to interpret such uncharitable -language.” - -Then the officers turning to me, said in Italian, “Although English, -you are much kinder than your companion; please tell her we only want -to stop a quarter of an hour, and there is absolutely no danger for -her.” - -Rising, the old spinster looked for the alarm signal, but finally -decided to call the guard, who ordered the officers out. Before they -went, however, they pulled out their watches and asked me to thank her -for her kind hospitality: they reminded me that they had what they -wanted, a quarter of an hour’s rest. - -Luckily our arrival at Venice meant good-bye to this disagreeable -old creature, whose type flourishes all over the Continent, even in -Constantinople, and who sacrifices on the altar of respectability -everything, even charity. - - * * * * * - -Now I understand the enthusiasm of those who have spoken of Italy. -Nothing one can say is sufficient eulogy for this land of sunshine and -poetry and tradition. - -I am told by the people of the north I shall be disappointed when I see -the south, but that does not disturb my impression of the moment. I am -worshipping Venice, and everything there pleases me. - -[Illustration: A CAÏQUE ON THE BOSPHORUS] - -[Illustration: TURKISH WOMEN IN THE COUNTRY] - -To me it seems almost as if it were the home of the ancient Greeks, -with all their artistic instincts and roguery, all their faults, and -all their primitive charm. From my open window, which looks into a -canaletto, I heard the song of a gondolier. His voice was the sweetest -I have ever heard; no opera singer ever gave me greater pleasure. -Now that I know the number of his boat, I have engaged him as my -gondolier, and every evening after dinner, instead of wasting my time -at Bridge, I go on to the canal, leaving it to the discretion of my -guide where he takes me; and when he is tired of rowing, he brings me -back. All the time he sings and sings and I dream, and his beautiful -voice takes me far, far away—away from the unfriendly West. - -Amongst its other attractions, Venice has an aristocracy. They are poor -certainly, but, with such blood in their veins, do they need riches? -And surely their charm and nobility are worth all the dollars put -together of the vulgar Transatlantics who have bought the big historic -palaces of Venice. I feel here as I felt in London, the delight of -being again in a Kingdom, and I can breathe and live. How restful it -is, after the nervous strain of the exaggerated Democracy of France. - - * * * * * - - - BRUSSELS, _Nov._ 1911. - -I have had this letter quite a fortnight in my trunk. I did not want to -send it to you. Somehow I felt ashamed to let you see how much I had -loved Italy—Turkey’s enemy. - -I left Venice the day after the Declaration of War, if such a -disgraceful proceeding would be called a Declaration of War. For a long -time I could not make up my mind that that nation of gentlemen, that -nation of poetry and music and art, that nation whose characteristics -so appealed to my Oriental nature, that nation whom I thought so -civilised in the really good sense of the word, could be capable of -such injustice. - -Even in the practice of “the rights of the strong” a little more -tact could have been exercised. Surely it is not permissible in the -twentieth century to act as savages did—at least those we thought -savages. - -In a few years from now, we shall be able to see more clearly how the -Italian Government of 1911 was able to step forward and take advantage -of a Sister State, whose whole efforts were centred on regeneration, -and no one protested. What a wonderful account of the history of our -times! - -When I think that it is in Christian Europe that such injustice passes -unheeded, and that Christian Europe dares to send us missionaries to -preach this gospel of Civilisation—I curse the Fate which has forced me -to accept the hospitality of the West. - - * * * * * - - - PARIS, _Feb._ 1912. - -Two chapters more seem necessary to my experience of the West. I submit -in silence. Kismet. - -Hardly had I returned from Brussels than I became seriously ill. Do not -ask me what was the matter with me. Science has not yet found a name -for my suffering. I have consulted doctors, many doctors, and perhaps -for this reason I have no idea as to the nature of my illness. Each -doctor wanted to operate for something different, and only when I told -them I had not the money for an operation have they found that after -all it is not necessary. I think I have internal neuralgia, but modern -science calls it “appendicitis,” and will only treat me under that -fashionable name. At Smyrna, I remember having a similar attack. My -grandmother, terrified to see me suffering, ran in for a neighbour whom -she knew only by name. The neighbour came at once, said a few prayers -over me, passed her magic hands over my body, and in a short time I was -healed. - -Here I might have knocked up all the inhabitants of Paris: not one -would have come to help me. - -“The progress of modern science” was my last illusion. Why must I -have this final disappointment? Yet what does it matter? Every cloud -has a silver lining. And this final experience has brought me to the -decision, that I shall go back to Turkey as soon as I can walk. There -at least, unless my own people have been following in the footsteps -of modern civilisation, I shall be allowed to be ill at my leisure, -without the awful spectre hovering over me of a useless operation. - -One night I was suffering so much that I thought it advisable to send -for the doctor. It was only two o’clock in the morning, but the message -the concierge sent back was, “that one risked being assassinated in -Paris at that hour,” and he refused to go. - -The next day I had a letter from my landlord requesting me not to wake -the concierge up again at two o’clock in the morning. And this is the -country of liberty, the country where one is free to die, provided only -the concierge is not awakened at two o’clock in the morning. - -This little incident seems insignificant in itself, but to me it will -be a very painful remembrance of one of the chief characteristics of -the people of this country—a total lack of hospitality. - -If our Oriental countries must one day become like these countries -of the West, if they too must inherit all the vices, with which this -civilisation is riddled through and through, then let them perish now. - -If civilisation does not teach each individual the great and supreme -quality of pity, then what use is it? What difference is there, please -tell me, between the citizens of Paris and the carnivorous inhabitants -of Darkest Africa? We Orientals imagine the word civilisation is a -synonym of many qualities, and I, like others, believed it. Is it -possible to be so primitive? Yet why should I be ashamed of believing -in the goodness of human beings? Why should I blame myself, because -these people have not come up to my expectations? - -This musing reminds me of a story which our Koran Professor used to -tell us. “There was once,” he said, “in a country of Asia Minor, a -little girl who believed all she heard. One day she looked out of her -window, and saw a chain of mountains blue in the distance. - -“‘Is that really their colour?’ she asked her comrades. - -“‘Yes,’ they answered. - -“And so delighted was she with this information that she started out to -get a nearer view of the blue mountains. - -“Day after day she walked and walked, and at last got to the summit of -the blue mountains, only to find grass just as she would have found it -anywhere else. But she would not give up. - -“‘Where are the blue mountains?’ she asked a shepherd, and he showed -another chain higher and farther away, and on and on she went until she -came to the mountains of Alti. - -[Illustration: MELEK ON THE VERANDA AT FONTAINEBLEAU] - -“All her existence she had the same hopes and the same illusions. Only -when she came to the evening of her life did she understand that it was -the distance that lent the mountains their hue—but it was too late to -go back, and she perished in the cold, biting snow.” - - * * * * * - -I do not know if there is another country in the world where -foreigners can be as badly treated as they are here; at any rate they -could not be treated worse. They are criticised, laughed at, envied, -and flattered, and they have the supreme privilege of paying for all -those people whose hobby is economy. - -Everything is done here by paradox; the foreigner who has talent is -more admired than the Frenchman, yet if he does anything wrong, there -is no forgiveness for him. - -An Englishwoman I knew quarrelled with a Frenchwoman, and the latter -reproached her with having accepted one luncheon and one dinner. The -Englishwoman (it sounds fearfully English, doesn’t it?) sent her -ex-hostess twelve francs, and the Frenchwoman not only accepted it but -sent a receipt. If I had not seen that receipt I don’t think I could -have believed the story! - -Another lady, whose dressmaker claimed from her a sum she was not -entitled to, was told by that dressmaker, unless she were paid at once, -she would inform the concierge. Tell me, I beg of you, in what other -country would this have been possible? In what other country of the -world would self-respecting people pay any attention, far less go for -information, to the vulgar harpies who preside over the destinies of -the fifteen or twenty families who occupy a Paris house? - -When I have been able to get my ideas and impressions a little into -focus, I intend to write for you, and for you only, what a woman -without any preparation for the battle of life, a foreigner, a woman -alone, and last but not least, a Turk, has had to suffer in Paris. - -You who know what our life is in Turkey, and how we have been kept -in glass cases and wrapt in cotton wool, with no knowledge of the -meaning of life, will understand what the awful change means, and how -impossible for a Turkish woman is Western life. - -Do you remember the year of my arrival? Do you remember how I wanted -to urge all my young friends away yonder to take their liberty as I -had taken mine, so that before they died they might have the doubtful -pleasure of knowing what it was to live? - -Now, I hope if ever they come to Europe they will not come to Paris -except as tourists; that they will see the beautiful things there are -to be seen, the Provence with its fine cathedrals and its historic -surroundings; that they will amuse themselves taking motor-car trips -and comparing it with their excursions on a mule’s back in Asia; that -they will see the light of Paris, but never its shade; and that they -will return, as you have returned from Constantinople, with one regret, -that you couldn’t stay longer. - -If only my experience could be of use to my compatriots who are longing -as I longed six years ago for the freedom of the West, I shall never -regret having suffered.—Your affectionate friend, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE END OF THE DREAM - - - MARSEILLES, 5_th March,_ 1912. - -It is to-morrow that I sail. In a week from to-day, I shall again be -away yonder amongst those whom I have always felt so near, and who I -know have not forgotten me. - -In just a week from to-day I shall again be one of those unrecognisible -figures who cross and recross the silent streets of our town—some one -who no longer belongs to the same world as you—some one who must not -even think as you do—some one who will have to try and forget she led -the existence of a Western woman for six long, weary years. - -What heart-breaking disappointments have I not to take away with me! -It makes me sad to think how England has changed! England with its -aristocratic buildings and kingly architecture—England with its proud -and self-respecting democracy—the England that our great Kemal Bey -taught us to know, that splendid people the world admires so much, -sailing so dangerously near the rocks. - -I do not pretend to understand the suffragettes or their -“window-smashing” policy, but I must say, I am even more surprised at -the attitude of your Government. However much these ill-advised women -have over-stepped the boundaries of their sex privileges, however -wrong they may be, surely the British Government could have found some -other means of dealing with them, given their cause the attention they -demanded, or used some diplomatic way of keeping them quiet. I cannot -tell you the horrible impression it produces on the mind of a Turkish -woman to learn that England not only imprisons but tortures women; to -me it is the cataclysm of all my most cherished faiths. Ever since I -can remember, England had been to me a kind of Paradise on earth, the -land which welcomed to its big hospitable bosom all Europe’s political -refugees. It was the land of all lands I longed to visit, and now I -hear a Liberal Government is torturing women. Somehow my mind will not -accept this statement. - -Write to me often, very often, dear girl. You know exactly where I -shall be away yonder, and exactly what I shall be doing. You know even -the day when I shall again begin my quiet, almost cloistered existence -as a Moslem woman, and how I shall long for news of that Europe which -has so interested and so disappointed me. - -Do you remember with what delight I came to France, the country of -Liberté, Egalité, and Fraternité? But now I have seen those three magic -words in practice, how the whole course of my ideas has changed! Not -only are my theories on the nature of governments no longer the same, -but my confidence in the individual happiness that each can obtain from -these governments is utterly shattered. - -But you will say, I argue like a reactionary. Let me try to explain. -Am I not now a woman of experience, a woman of six years’ experience, -which ought to count as double, for every day has brought me a double -sensation, the one of coming face to face with the reality, and the -other, the effort of driving from my mind the remembrance of what I -expected to find? - -You know how I loved the primitive soul of the people, how I sympathise -with them, and how I hoped that some scheme for the betterment of -their condition would be carried out. - -But I expected in France the same good honest Turks I knew in our -Eastern villages, and it was from the Eastern simplicity and loyalty -that I drew my conclusions about the people of the West. You know now -what they are! And do not for a moment imagine that I am the only one -to make this mistake: nine out of ten of my compatriots, men and women, -would have the same expectation of them. Until they have come to the -West to see for themselves and had some of the experiences that we -have had, they will never appreciate the calm, leisurely people of our -country. - -How dangerous it is to urge those Orientals forward, only to reduce -them in a few years to the same state of stupidity as the poor -degenerate peoples of the West, fed on unhealthy literature and -poisoned with alcohol. - -You are right: it is in the West that I have learned to appreciate my -country. Here I have studied its origin, its history (and I still know -only too little of it), but I shall take away with me very serious -knowledge about Turkey. - -But again I say, what a disappointment the West has been. Yes, taking -it all round I must own that I am again a _désenchantée_. Do you know, -I am now afraid even of a charwoman who comes to work for me. Alas! I -have learned of what she is capable—theft, hatred, vengeance, and the -greed of money, for which she would sell her soul. - -I told the editor of a Paris paper one day that I blushed at the manner -in which he encouraged dirty linen to be washed in public. “All your -papers are the same,” I said. “Take them one after the other and see if -one article can be found which is favourable to your poor country. You -give the chief place to horrible crimes. Your leading article contains -something scandalous about a minister, and from these articles France -is judged not only by her own people but by the whole world.” - -He did not contradict me, but smiling maliciously, he answered, “Les -journalistes ont _à cœur_ d’être aussi veridique que possible.” -(“Journalists must try to be as truthful as possible.”) A clever -phrase, perhaps, but worse than anything he could have written in the -six pages of his paper. - -But perhaps I am leaving you under the impression, _désenchantée_ -though I be, that nothing has pleased me in the West. Not at all! I -have many delightful impressions to take back with me, and I want to -return some day if the “Kismet” will allow it. - -Munich, Venice, the Basque Countries, the Riviera, and London I hope to -see again. Art and music, the delightful libraries, the little towns -where I have worked, thought, and discovered so many things, and a few -friends “who can understand”—surely these are attractions great enough -to bring me back to Europe again. - -The countries I have seen are beautiful enough, but civilisation has -spoiled them. To take a copy of what it was going to destroy, however, -civilisation created art—art in so many forms, art in which I had -revelled in the West. It was civilisation that collected musical -harmonies, civilisation that produced Wagner, and music to my mind is -the finest of all its works. - -But there are books too, you will say, wonderful books. Yes, but in the -heart of Asia there are quite as many masterpieces, and they are far -more reposeful. - - - _6th March._ - -This morning early I was wakened by the sun, the advance-guard of what -I expect away yonder. From my window I see a portion of the harbour, -and the curious ships which start and arrive from all corners of the -earth. Again I see the Bosphorus with its ships, which in my childish -imagination were fairy godmothers who would one day take me far, far -away ... and now they are the fairy godmothers who will take me back -again. - -I like to watch this careless, boisterous, gay crowd of Marseilles. -It is just a little like the port of Échelles du Levant with its -variegated costumes, its dirt, which the sun makes bearable, and the -continual cries and quarrelling among men of all nations. - -All my trunks are packed and ready, and it is with joy and not without -regret that I see I have no hatbox. Not that I care for that curious -and very unattractive invention, the fashionable hat, but it is the -external symbol of liberty, and now I am setting it aside for ever. -My _tchatchaff_ is ready, and once we have passed the Piræus I shall -put it on. How strange I shall feel clad again from head to foot in a -black mantle all out of fashion, for the Turks have narrowed their -_tchatchaffs_ as the Western women have tightened their skirts. It will -not be without emotion, either, that I feel a black veil over my face, -a veil between me and the sun, a veil to prevent me from seeing it as I -saw it for the first time at Nice from my wide open window. - -Yet what anguish, what terrible anguish would it not be for me to put -on that veil again, if I did not hope to see so many of those I have -really loved, the companions of my childhood, friends I know who wanted -me and have missed me. Even when I left Constantinople, you know under -what painful circumstances, I hoped to return one day. - -“The world is a big garden which belongs to us all,” said a Turkish -warrior of the past; “one must wander about and gather its most -agreeable fruits as one will.” Ah! the holy philosophy! yet how far -are we from ever attempting to understand it! Will there ever come a -personality strong enough, with a voice powerful enough to persuade us -that this philosophy is for our sovereign being, and that without it we -shall be led and lead others to disappointments? - -During the time I was away yonder, I believed in the infallibility of -new theories. I had almost completely neglected the books of our wise -men of the East, but I have read them in the libraries of the West, -where I have neglected modern literature for the pleasure of studying -that philosophy, which shows the vanity of these struggles and the -suffering that can follow. - -I am longing to see an old uncle from the Caucasus. When we were -young girls he pitied us because we were so unarmed against the -disenchantment which inevitably had to come to us. - -“You are of another century,” we said to him. “You reason with theories -you find remarkable, but we want to go forward, we want to fight for -progress, and that is only right.” - -Ah! he knew what he was talking about, that old uncle, when he spoke of -the disenchantment of life. - -“You are arguing as I argued when I was a little boy, and my father -gave me the answer that I have given to you. My children,” he -continued, “life does not consist in always asking for more: believe -me, there is more merit in living happily on as little as you can, than -in struggling to rise on the defeat of others. I have fought in all -the battles against the Russians, and had great experience of life, -but I remind you of the fact merely lest you should think me a vulgar -fatalist in the hands of destiny. I, too, have had many struggles, and -it was my duty.” - -What a lot I shall have to tell this dear old uncle! How well we shall -understand each other now, how happy he will be to see that I have -understood him! We shall speak in that language which I need to speak -again after six long years. Loving the East to fanaticism as I do, to -me it stands for all that glorious past which the younger generation -should appreciate but not blame, all the past with which I find myself -so united. - -I will tell this dear old uncle (and indeed am I not as old and -experienced as he?) that I love my country to-day as I never loved it -before, and if only I may be able to prove this I shall ask nothing -more of life. - - * * * * * - - - NAPLES. - -I can only write you a few lines to-day. The sea has been so rough that -many of the passengers have preferred to remain on board. Some one -impertinently asked me if I were afraid to go on shore, but I did not -answer, having too much to say. Around me I hear the language which -once I spoke with such delight; now it has become odious to me, as -odious as that Italy which I have buried like a friend of the past. - -Now there is a newspaper boy on board crying with rapture “Another -Italian victory.” He offers me a paper. I want to shout my hatred of -his country, I want to call from Heaven the vengeance of Allah on these -cowardly Italians, but my tongue is tied and my lips will not give -utterance to the thoughts I feel. I stand like one dazed. - -Surely these accounts of victory are false. Are not these reports -prepared beforehand to give courage to the Italian soldiers in their -glorious mission of butchering the Turks, those fine valiant men who -will stand up for their independence as long as a man remains to fight? - -At last I go and lock myself in my cabin, so as not to hear their -hateful jubilation, but they follow me even to my solitude. Some one -knocks. Reluctantly I open. It is a letter. But there must be some -error. Who can have written to me when I particularly asked that I -should have no letters until I arrived? - -But the letter came from Turkey, and the Turkish stamp almost -frightened me: for a long time I had not the courage to open it. When -at last I slowly cut the envelope of that letter, I found it contained -the cutting of a newspaper which announced the death of the dear old -uncle whom more than anyone I was longing to see again. - -Outside the conquerors were crying out, even louder than before, “More -Turkish losses, more Turkish losses.” I folded up the letter and put it -back in its envelope with a heart too bitter for tears. - - * * * * * - -What did it all mean? What was the warning that fate was sending to me -in this cruel manner? _Désenchantée_ I left Turkey, _désenchantée_ I -have left Europe. Is that rôle to be mine till the end of my days?—Your -affectionate friend, - - ZEYNEB. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [1] Yali = a little summer residence resorted to when it is - too hot to remain in Constantinople itself. - - [2] The Turkish women with whom I lived in Constantinople - read the Bible by the advice of the Imam (the Teacher of the - Koran) to help them in the better understanding of the Koran. - I may add that Zeyneb’s knowledge of our Scriptures, and her - understanding of Christ’s teaching, would put to shame many - professing Christians in our Western Churches. - - [3] French time. - - [4] When I asked a Turkish friend to write in my album, to my - surprise and pride she wrote from memory a passage from _Ships - that Pass in the Night_. - - [5] Prayer which all devout Moslems say before beginning a - work. - - [6] Hanoum = Turkish lady. - - [7] The answer to such an observation is obvious, but I prefer - to present the Hanoum’s anecdote as she gave it.—G.E. - - [8] Tcharchafs = cloak and veil worn by Turkish women when - walking out of doors. - - [9] Muezzins = the religious teachers amongst the Mohammedans, - whose duty it is five times a day to ascend the minaret and - call the faithful followers of Mohammed to prayer from the - four corners of the earth. - - [10] Hodja = teacher of the Koran. - - [11] Babouche = Turkish slippers without heels. - - [12] Chalvar = Turkish pantaloons, far more graceful than the - hideous harem skirts, which met with such scant success in - this country. - - [13] Enturi = the tunic, heavily embroidered, which almost - covered the pantaloons. - - [14] The Western governesses, in so many cases, took no - interest in their pupils’ reading, and allowed them to read - everything they could lay their hands on. With their capacity - for intrigue, they smuggled in principally French novels of - the most harmful kind. Physical exercise being impossible - to work off the evil effects of this harmful reading, the - Turkish woman, discontented with her lot, saw only two ways of - ending her unhappy existence—flight or suicide; she generally - preferred the latter method. - - [15] Slaves. - - [16] They were called “white” because they were originally - attended by unmarried women only, and they all wore white - dresses.—G. E. - - [17] It sounds strange to the Western mind to speak of a - “comfortable cemetery,” but the dead are very near to the - living Turks; the cemetery is the Turkish woman’s favourite - walk, and the greatest care is taken of the last resting-place - of the loved ones.—G. E. - - [18] The editor is not responsible for the ideas expressed in - this book, which are not necessarily her own. - - [19] Karakheuz = Turkish performance similar to our Punch and - Judy Show. - - [20] Zeyneb has forgotten that as well as Fridays and various - fast days, every Catholic receives the Holy Communion - fasting.—G. E. - - [21] Inhabitants of Pera. There is no love lost between these - ladies and the Turkish women proper. I personally found many - of them very charming.—G. E. - - [22] I received this letter in Constantinople, where I was - staying in a Turkish harem, having travelled there in order - to be present at the first debate in the newly-opened Turkish - Parliament.—G. E. - - [23] I leave my friend’s spelling unchanged—G. E. - - [24] It may be reasonably urged in reply that Zeyneb’s - criticism of our Christianity is far from adequate. But I have - preferred to present the impressions of a Turkish woman.—G. E. - - - Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - - Edinburgh & London - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Turkish Woman's European Impressions, by -Zeyneb Hanoum - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TURKISH WOMAN'S EUROPEAN *** - -***** This file should be named 50540-0.txt or 50540-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/5/4/50540/ - -Produced by Turgut Dincer and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by the -Library of Congress) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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