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.