of her life, the Turkish woman has evolved a philosophy of her own, and
one that is not limited to the orthodox Muslim view of woman; those who
know life and humanity best know also that this could never have come
to her past the impenetrable barriers of caste and orthodox religious
doctrine, had she not attuned her life to some, at least, of the higher
notes of Life Universal. And it is the teaching of Theosophy that this
can only be done by those with whom duty is the highest ideal--duty,
for ever and ever, _duty_. In a heroic determination to do her whole
duty to husband and family, to nation and to home, the Turkish woman
may well be commended to that ultra-modern type who leaves husband
and children to their own devices while she is away, chasing some
will-o'-the-wisp or fad. Of this type Turkey is yet as destitute as
certain strata of European and American life are prolific.
The Turkish woman is wise enough to wait in trust the day of her
complete emancipation, and she feels it is approaching--but she also
knows that to push or hurry it forward would invoke a reaction that
might ruin her country and defeat her hopes. She knows that methods
even approaching those of the modern "suffragette" would only blot
the golden dawn and put back until a later cycle the glorious day. We
see now why the members of this deputation wore the orthodox veil, or
partly why, for no Turkish woman of the educated class is unaware that
to needlessly offend the conservative element is to fetter the Young
Turk movement, that evolving drama of national life in which woman
played so heroic a part. Says a current writer:
Everybody agrees that the most remarkable change in social conditions
caused by the revolution in Turkey has occurred among the feminine
portion of the population, and it is conceded that the wives and
mothers of the Young Turk party had a powerful influence in bringing
it about. During the anxious months of conspiracy and preparation
many high-born Turkish ladies worked with courage, enthusiasm
and intelligence for the cause of liberty. Some of them acted as
messengers, carrying concealed about their persons papers which,
if discovered, would have been their death; others afforded the
revolutionary committees opportunities for holding their meetings, and
furnished those who were in danger means of escape. Twelve thousand
spies in the employ of Abdul Hamid were unable to outwit the women of
Turkey in this work, and the leaders of the Young Turk party concede
that they owe their success largely to the assistance of their wives
and sisters and mothers.
In that intimate blending of heroic self-abnegation and of wisdom
which characterizes the efforts and the daily life of the typical
high-caste Turkish woman, the world has offered for its reading a great
lesson. The Ottoman woman possibly has found her intuition, which is
the soul's own voice, and her will, which is "the soul at work." Pain,
misunderstanding, oppression, and heartache, have opened many doors in
the chambers of her being, and in wrestling with the angel of untoward
circumstance she has found the inner power that enables one to turn
the leaden fetters about one's feet into the golden sandals of Hermes
himself. If this has come about, and those who know the Ottoman woman
best declare that it has, then we know that it is because she has
striven to attune her life to that which must be the keynote of all
lasting feministic reform--womanliness--true womanliness, with its
overtones of tenderness, compassion and aspiration, and its deepening
undertones of solid attainment, of patriotism, of courage, of loyalty
to one's ideal, and of faithfulness to duty.
AN ENGLISH LADY'S LETTER: by F. D. Udall (London)
Pevensey Castle is one of the most interesting of all the ancient and
historic castles of old England. It was seized by William the Conqueror
immediately he landed in the bay close by, and he left a garrison to
hold it while he pushed on to Hastings and subsequently to the country
round about the "hoar apple tree" mentioned in the Saxon Chronicle,
where the decisive engagement with Harold and his army took place. This
spot, ever since commemorated in the name of the village--Battle--is
some seven miles inland. Harold had taken care to leave a garrison,
too, at Pevensey, while he went north, but according to Freeman,
William found the place wholly undefended or else with a force totally
inadequate to resist the Normans. At all events there appears to have
been no resistance offered to the invaders, on that fateful Michael's
Eve. The castle and land for miles around eventually became the
property of the Conqueror's half-brother.
How old the castle is nobody knows. British coins have been discovered
at Pevensey, and it is thought that the place was an ancient British
settlement. As to the castle itself, the general opinion is that it was
built by the Romans, and the many Roman coins found in its precincts,
chiefly of the Constantine family, give support to the theory. In the
days of the venerable Bede there was a great forest in these parts,
the forest of Anderida, roamed by herds of deer and swine. Pevensey
is first mentioned in historical documents in the year 792, when its
owner--generous man!--gave it away, together with Hastings, to the
Abbey of St. Denis at Paris. Sir John Pelham was appointed Constable
of the Castle in the reign of Edward III, and his courageous wife held
it during a siege in her husband's absence, in the following reign,
in 1399. This lady gives the old ruins an interest of quite another
character from their warlike associations by reason of a letter she
dispatched to her husband during that siege. He was up in Yorkshire
at the time. The letter has come down through the centuries--a brave,
sweet, womanly, wifely relic of those early days in "our rough island
story." It enjoys the honor of being enshrined in Hallam's _Literature
of Europe_, and well it deserves the distinction. Here is what the lady
wrote while the enemy was at the gate.
MY DEAR LORD:
I recommend me to your high lordship with heart and body and all my
poor might, and with all this I thank you as my dear lord, dearest
and best beloved of all earthly lords, I say for me, and thank you,
my dear lord, with all this that I say before of your comfortable
letter that ye sent me from Pontefract, that come to me on Mary
Magdalene day (July 22); for by my troth I was never so glad as when I
heard by your letter that ye were strong enough with the grace of God
for to keep you from the malice of your enemies. And, dear lord, if it
like to your high lordship that as soon as ye might that I might hear
of your gracious speed; which God Almighty continue and increase. And,
my dear lord, if it like you for to know of my fare, I am here by laid
in manner of a siege with the county of Sussex, Surrey, and a great
parcel of Kent, so that I may nought out, nor none victuals get me but
with much hard. Wherefore, my dear, if it like you by the advice of
your wise counsel for to set remedy of the salvation of your castle,
and withstand the malice of the shires aforesaid. And also that ye be
fully informed of their great malice workers in these shires, which
that haves so despitefully wrought to you, and to your castle, to your
men, and to your tenants for this country, have yai (sic) wasted for
a great while. Farewell, my dear lord; the Holy Trinity you keep from
your enemies, and soon send me good tidings of you.
Written at Pevensey in the Castle on St. Jacob day (St. James, July
25) last past,
By your own poor,
J. Pelham.
To my true lord.
[Illustration: Lomaland Photo. and Engraving Dept. RUINS OF PEVENSEY
CASTLE]
[Illustration: IN THE FOREST]
A MAGIC PLACE: A Forest Idyll for Young Folks: by M. Ginevra Munson
Who has not felt the inspiring and soothing influence of certain quiet
spots? as though the jarring and restless forces of nature were there
rendered impotent and the soul could commune freely with the great
heart-life of all. The conflicting vibrations of human thought are
annulled and nature speaks in whatever language you choose: in song or
verse, art or science. How it draws one up to the heights of infinitude
to sit in solitude, with eye on the expanse of ocean in which is
mirrored all the gorgeous tints and cloud-forms in the sky at sunset;
or on mountain heights where no sounds or sights except the blue dome
overhead and the distant landscape beneath, can distract the mind from
the sense of the invisible Presence that fills all space; or in the
depths of a noble forest where the foot of man seldom comes.
It was in such a place as this, surrounded by the elves and fairies of
the wood, that Helena, in the company of her father and a few other
artist spirits, pitched their tents for summer work in the stillness
of the forest; sculptors, painters, poets, musical composers, and
writers on various themes, each lived in the quiet and privacy of his
own domicile, out of sight or hearing of any other.
Helena was the daughter of a poet and inherited that keen sense of
communion with and understanding of nature's moods and voices, but had
never before been in such a place as this, having been born near a
thriving city. She was devoted to her father, and though only yet in
her early teens, showed such appreciation of her father's work that
he brought her along with him as a sort of mentor when reading his
poems over. Then too, her mother was dead, and he felt it his duty to
keep Helena under his own care as much as possible, as she was an only
child. Nothing could have made her happier or have been better for
her than this forest air and odor of fragrant wood, and her spirits
and health responded to it gratefully. While her father was busy she
wandered about, making companions of the birds, trees, and other
forest-life. The inspiration and magic of the place was so great that
she was seized with the desire to express the joy and budding knowledge
that stirred within her soul; so without saying anything to her father,
she would take out tablet and pencil and sit on a fallen log near the
singing brook that ran close by, and write down the daily dialog she
heard going on around her. Overhead the trees said to the birds: "Are
you happy my pretty ones, fluttering and hopping from twig to branch,
pluming your feathers as I sway and swing you about?" "Oh yes, dear
trees," twittered the birds, "and we will be diligent in destroying
the worms that prey on your beautiful leaves, while we sing to you our
thanks for the lacy bowers and secret hiding-places for our nests of
young birdlings, who take their first lessons in song from the music of
the breeze through your branches"; and then they poured forth a chorus
in greater glee than ever.
Up in a high fork of the great spreading top of an oak was a huge nest
of dead leaves, from one edge of which peered a pair of bright eyes in
a furry gray head, over which curled a bushy gray and white tail. A
chattering voice chimed in with the birds: "Dear trees, I too love you,
for with your leaves for my nest you provide me a home out of reach of
all harm, and you feed me with lovely acorns in such abundance that
I can store up enough for the whole round year; but I'm sorry I can
return so little back to you, save a grateful heart."
"Oh, thanks, I am safe home," said a bounding cotton-tail rabbit, as he
shot into the protecting walls of a hollow log. "What would I do if
it were not for the deserted trunk of a tree; and even the live ones
sometimes give me a home in a hole in their bodies, quite low enough
down for me to jump into, yet too small and deep for intruders to poke
their noses in very far."
"Yes, yes, I too," chirped a striped ground squirrel, "owe all my
comforts to the trees, and no one can find my cosy nest of pine
needles, so fragrant and clean."
An old sly fox ran swiftly by, saying: "O shelter me in your depths,
dark forest, for I hear the bay of a hound on the scent of my track,"
then he jumped the purling stream to cut off the lead of the dog, and
sped away.
As Helena glanced down the stream she saw a beaver working away on a
pile of logs and heard him murmur: "What would I do if the trees did
not furnish me logs for my dam? Nothing else would serve me so well, I
am sure, and I only cut down young saplings where they are too crowded
to thrive. In turn for the favor I will make the stream deeper so the
water will not dry away in hot weather, but will give drink to the tree
roots all the year through."
Away in the distance Helena spied the red-brown coat of a deer and
heard its call to the fawn. Out from a tangled mass of vines and low
swaying branches bounded the spotted young beauty, and answered back:
"Here mother-deer, the forest has safely sheltered me, and fed me too
on sweet young sassafras shoots. May I now take a run with you?"
Then Helena gazed in the stream at the fishes, who answered her
thought: "Yes, we too would perish were it not for the shady pools that
reflect the lacy network of the trees that draw down the rain from
heaven to fill the stream and keep the water fresh."
Filled with wonder at these voices of the woods, Helena realized that
though it seemed so silent it was full of song and happy life, but that
the love and harmony of these beings made the magic of the place and
filled it with peace and soul-inspiring influences. While she meditated
and watched the bees gathering sweets from the fragrant wood-violets
and wild-plum blossoms, she heard a voice so startlingly loud that
she jumped with surprise. It said "Who? Who? Who----o?" and seemed to
come from the very tree tops. While looking up in wonder, Helena saw
a great, fluffy cream-colored bird with brownish bars on its wings
and a big round head with two enormous yellow eyes, float noiselessly
away through the forest. Could that voice have come from the bird?
"What did he say 'Who? Who? Who----?' It seemed to question me, asking
to whom were all these creatures, as well as myself, beholden? Why,
yes, every voice spoke of love for and indebtedness to the trees. They
stand here so silently and majestically through ages, affording food,
shelter, shade, and protection, for all these other beings whose very
lives depend upon them. The dear trees are monarchs over all, yet
serve all, standing here with their roots fast in the soil and their
heads touching the sun-bright heavens. To us people too, though we may
live in cities and never know or think of the forest trees, we could
scarcely live without them. Our houses, our furniture, and almost
everything that is of use or convenience to us have some wood about
them; and then we enjoy the nuts, the fruit, and other kinds of food
produced by the trees as much as the squirrels and birds, no doubt.
Perhaps these trees bring down from higher regions other forces that
feed our souls also--Who? Who Who----o knows?"
"Yes, now I understand," thought Helena, "why the great Initiates,
Masters and Saviors of the world, were called '_Trees_.' Jesus was
called 'the Tree of Life,' and the Initiates spoken of in the Bible,
'the Cedars of Lebanon.' They stand and serve and protect."
Then Helena remembered that she had read in her Scandinavian Mythology
that trees were formed from the hair of the giant Ymir, in the creation
of the world. "His blood formed the oceans and rivers; his bones the
mountains; his teeth the rocks and cliffs; and his hair, the trees."
Also that "the universe springs from beneath the branches of the
world-tree Yggdrasil, the tree with three roots."
Helena must certainly have been sitting on a branch or root of the tree
of wisdom when getting into such a deep strain of thought. The spirit
of the forest had awakened her soul to the realization of the fact of
Brotherhood in Nature too, the give and take, the unity and inseparable
life of the denizens of the wood that made it such a magic place. She
also saw why the tree was made a symbol of universal life, for all
other life in the world is really somewhat dependable upon the trees.
"No wonder," Helena thought, as she walked back to her father's
bungalow, "no wonder there is such magic in the depth of the forest,
and that father comes here to get in touch with the _soul of things_.
That is why 'tis said that 'Poetry is the true language of the soul.'"
[Illustration: THE SCREEN OF TIME]
CURRENT TOPICS: by Observer
The recent theft of the famous _Mona Lisa_ of Leonardo da Vinci from
the Louvre, which is such a loss to the artistic world, has brought to
light the fact that many other valuable works of art have been stolen
from the Louvre and other public museums without any arrests following.
One thief is reported as having admitted that he lately stole many
small pieces of sculpture from the Phoenician gallery in the Louvre
and sold them for trifling sums. He lately returned a statuette to
the museum in return for a payment, and the authorities admitted that
it was actually one from their collection. Three years ago there were
forty sculptured heads in one of the cases; now there are about twenty!
There seems to be no hope of regaining the _Mona Lisa_ at present, but,
just as the famous _Duchess of Devonshire_ of Gainsborough was restored
after many years upon the payment of heavy blackmail, it is possible
that the robbers will take some favorable opportunity of realizing a
large sum by the return of Leonardo's masterpiece.
* * * * *
FOR the first time since the creation of the French Academy at Rome,
a woman has been admitted as a student at the Villa Medici. Mlle.
Lucienne Heuvelmans, the successful winner of the famous "Prix de Rome"
for sculpture, had to compete against nine other contestants, but her
remarkable ability compelled the judges to decide in her favor and to
establish an entirely new precedent. Her subject was _The Sister of
Orestes Guarding her Brother's Sleep_.
* * * * *
THE Norwegian Academy of Sciences has just recognized the claim of
woman to admission to that body for the first time, by admitting Miss
Kristine Bonnevin of Christiania, a doctor of philosophy and an eminent
zoologist. She is Conservator of the Zoological laboratory of the
Christiania University, and has produced several interesting scientific
works in Norway, Germany, and the United States.
* * * * *
A COMPLETE revision of the rules of the road is being made in France.
Instead of vehicles keeping to the right, as has hitherto been the
custom, they will now have to travel on the left side of the road. This
will bring France into line with Great Britain and most other European
countries, and will be a great advantage for many automobilists and
cyclists touring in France, for the difficulty of breaking through the
automatic habit of turning to the left when another vehicle approaches
is very great to those who have been accustomed to keeping on that
side. Americans, who obey the rule of keeping to the right, will
however find the new French regulation irksome. It is claimed that the
rule of the left is more sensible for many reasons.
* * * * *
THE French people seem very quick to modify old-established customs
when something they consider better is offered. They lately adopted
Greenwich Observatory (England) as the place of first meridian for
time and nautical calculations, as it was shown to be practically
advantageous; they did not let an exaggerated patriotism stand in the
way, though it may be questioned whether the change would have been
made a few years ago, before the _entente cordiale_ between France and
England had been established, to which the indefatigable efforts of
King Edward VII so largely contributed.
* * * * *
EVERYONE who has read Irving's _Alhambra_ and has felt the charm of
that delightfully romantic account of the celebrated Moorish palace in
Granada, will be glad to hear that the Spanish Government is taking
active measures to remove the débris which has collected during the
last several centuries and to clear out the watercourses, and otherwise
prevent the famous masterpiece of Moorish architecture from falling to
ruin. Many interesting antiquities have been discovered and the finds
have been removed to the old palace of the Emperor Charles V, which is
being turned into a museum. Beautiful arabesque decorations have been
discovered in unexpected places, and a hitherto unknown staircase has
been laid bare, leading to a large system of underground vaults.
* * * * *
IT is difficult to realize that it is only six years ago since the
Wrights made their first flight of eleven miles in a power-driven
aeroplane, and now we are reading of attempts to fly across the United
States from ocean to ocean, and speeds of over a hundred miles an hour
for long distances are continually being made. The days of racing and
sensational exhibitions are apparently nearing an end, for a demand is
arising for less flimsy aeroplanes which can be used for practical
purposes. It will certainly be many years before the art of aviation
arrives at perfection, and before it becomes as safe and practicable to
travel by air-line as by train or automobile. Nothing but careful and
scientific experimenting, free from the sensational element, can bring
this about. The days of the big gas-bag type of flying machine, the
dirigible, seem to be numbered, for the numerous accidents which have
happened to these machines, even when directed with the greatest skill
and caution, have greatly disappointed their supporters. A mere puff
of wind, which would have presented no terrors to a heavier-than-air
machine, destroyed the British naval dirigible lately. Its cost--about
$400,000--would have paid for eighty of the best aeroplanes of the
heavier-than-air-type.
The lifting power of the air is being utilized in man-carrying kites
for war-scouting purposes, and they have proved quite practicable.
They have been adopted by the British navy and are now being tried in
that of the United States. Large six-sided box-kites are used; the
total pull of fifteen of these, carrying a man in a boatswain's chair,
is more than two thousand pounds. At the height of four hundred feet
observations covering a range of some forty miles can be made.
* * * * *
THE celebrated Boston Symphony Orchestra completed its thirtieth
year of existence and uninterrupted success on Oct. 22. At the last
Symphony Concert of the Harvard Musical Association in Boston, in
March, 1881, a Concert Overture was conducted by the composer, Georg
Henschel, whose brilliant performance attracted the attention of Major
H. L. Higginson, a music-lover who had for several years been maturing
a new scheme of symphony concerts, and who was willing and able to
subsidize it out of his own pocket. He was only waiting to find the
orchestral conductor in whom he could have sufficient confidence. The
Harvard Musical Association, then more than twenty years old, had been
gradually declining in popularity, and he saw that there was an opening
for a really first-class orchestra in Boston. Large audiences were
attracted from the very first, and the Boston Symphony Orchestra has
advanced from success to success. Its twenty-four annual performances
now fill a very large place in the musical life of Boston, and the
orchestra has now a double fame and a double audience, for it gives
ten concerts yearly in New York, where it is equally popular. Of the
original seventy members four are still playing in the orchestra, which
at present numbers one hundred and one.
* * * * *
IT is surprising that there is so much misapprehension in Western
lands about the real character of the Turkish people. During the
present difficulty with Italy many most exaggerated charges have been
made against the Turks, which those who know them best deny with
indignation. A writer in _The Boston Transcript_ has just published
an article which is unusually fair and which is marked with a due
appreciation of the weakness of our frenzied manner of life which we
call civilization. A few quotations will be of interest to all who are
not prejudiced against the "heathen." Mr. Cobb, the writer, says:
No people in the world are more likeable than the Turks. They are
kindly, honest, and generous-hearted.... The English and Americans who
live among the Turks like them--come to feel a real affection for them.
To the charge that they are cruel, he assents, but he says that
the reason is that they possess to a marked degree the Oriental
indifference to physical pain, and that, above all, they are still in
the condition we were during the later middle ages.