IT was very easy to assist my friends in the investigation they wanted to conduct for their own private information on Turkish schools and the educational system of Turkey. My father had been twice Minister of Public Education and he was in a position to give all the information desired. My first step was, therefore, to take our friends to him and have him explain the present educational system in our country.
Contrary to what is generally believed in foreign countries education is obligatory in Turkey and there are fewer illiterates among the Turks than, for instance, among Russians and other Near Eastern people. This is principally due to the fact that all Muslims have considered it their duty ever since the time of the Prophet Mahomed to learn how to read the Koran. Unfortunately, however, this religious principle was taken too literally by the average Muslim who, for centuries was satisfied to learn just the alphabet, as he imagined that as long as he could read the Holy Book he was accomplishing his religious duty. In the course of time, therefore, when other nationsbesides the Arabs embraced the Muslim faith, the people who did not know Arabic were also perfectly contented to be able to read the Koran even if they did not understand its meaning. All Muslim countries having adopted the Arabic alphabet this very elementary education placed even the greatest majority of non-Arab Muslims in a position to read their own language. But it was only a very restricted higher class which took the trouble of studying its grammar. Thus for centuries only a limited number of Turks—as was the case with the Muslims of other nations—were learned enough to read and write fluently their own languages, although the greatest majority knew enough of the alphabet to be able to read the Koran and to sign their names.
Of course this restricted knowledge of reading cannot count as education, but when it is considered that the science of reading was so neglected among the nations of the West that practically up to the period of Louis XIV very few of the Western nobles knew even how to sign their names or to decipher the simplest document, it will be admitted that anyhow the rudimentary knowledge of the East was preferable to the almost total ignorance of the West.
However, as in everything else, Turkey made very little progress in this matter of education during the nineteenth century with the result that while the percentage of people who had acquireda high school education had increased in a very large proportion in the West, the past generation in Turkey had still only the same proportion of educated people as it had a century ago. The number of people who knew the elementary principals of the alphabet was as considerable as before, and was proportionately much larger than the number of people who had this elementary knowledge in Western countries. But the percentage of really educated people was proportionately much smaller in Turkey than in the progressive Western countries. In other words, although complete illiteracy was almost nonexistent in Turkey, education was the property of a comparatively small number of people. The educational level of the people at large was, and still is, much lower than the educational level of the people of Western European nations.
This explains the reason why one can see even to-day in the streets of Constantinople, generally in the courtyard of the mosques, public secretaries taking letters from old men and women of the lower classes, poor people who do not know grammar enough to write their own letters but who nevertheless are able to spell their names or to laboriously decipher a printed document and it is no wonder that foreigners are generally sceptical when told that the number of total illiterates is very small in Turkey.
Much has been done, however, during the lastgeneration to spread education in Turkey and a new system of schools has been grafted upon the old system which consisted almost exclusively in small public schools—“Mahalle Mektebi” or District Schools as they are called—where small children are taught the rudimentary principles of the alphabet.
These District Schools exist by the millions all over Turkey, in cities as well as in the country. Each mosque—and there are millions of them—has its own private District School where the imam or clergyman teaches the children of his district, boys and girls, how to read the Koran. The classes, if they might be called by that name, are mostly held in summer in the courtyard of the mosques and in winter in a room which, for lack of a better name, we will describe as the vestry. It is obligatory for every family living in the district and it has been obligatory for centuries, to send their children to these schools if they cannot afford to give them a private education. Needless to say that these schools are absolutely gratis.
The District Schools of Turkey are a sort of primitive community Kindergarten from which games and plays are strictly banned. Their purpose is to teach children how to read the Koran, and reading the Koran is a very serious matter. So, for two hours every day except Fridays little boys and little girls from five to about eight years old go to the mosque of their district wherethe classes are held. Sitting on the ground in summer and in winter on straw mats, they form a circle around their teacher, the imam of the district, who teaches them in a monotonous chant the secrets of the alphabet They squat on their knees, these little boys and girls, and repeat the chant of their teacher, keeping time with their little bodies which they swing slowly backwards and forwards and beware of a mistake! The little pupil who makes one, who indulges in a childish prank or who does not behave according to the severe discipline which must be respected by everyone who is learning how to read the Koran or who is in the exhalted presence of an imam, is reminded of his misdeed by the swift application of a long, willowy stick on his hands or on some other part of his anatomy. The teacher keeps this stick right next to him, right under his hand, and is very quick to use it.
The alphabet is first memorized, each letter being accurately described. Of course the Turkish alphabet is different from the Latin alphabet, but the system could be applied to the Latin alphabet more or less as follows: “A is a triangle with a bar in the middle”—“B is a vertical bar with two circles on the right”—“C is a crescent facing to the right.” Thus the whole alphabet is described in a monotonous chant for days and months until the pupils can visualize it thoroughly. Then the sounds of syllables are memorized according tothe same system and it is only after this has been done thoroughly that the children are permitted to apply the knowledge they have thus acquired by memory. They are each furnished with a Koran and they are taught to read it aloud. Of course, as the understanding of the text of the Koran requires a thorough knowledge of Arabic, they do not understand what they read and those who desire to acquire this knowledge have to go to the Medressé or theological schools, of which we will talk later. The purpose of the district schools is exclusively to teach them how to read, and when this is done the course of the district school is finished.
In the old days obligatory education only extended as far as the district school. This is not so any more. During the past twenty-five or thirty years the Government has created high schools in the principal cities and towns of the country where modern education is imparted as well as the restricted means of the impoverished nation allows. The courses of these high schools are also free and their program is meant to prepare the pupils for college studies. They are obligatory only for boys. The system is good enough, but for lack of funds and for lack of peace the Government has not been able to apply it thoroughly and to extend it as much as it was originally expected. The study of foreign languages is only optional and very theoretic in these schoolswhere only the elements of arithmetic, grammar, literature and history are taught.
The next grade is the college which corresponds to the French Lycée and which is an absolute adaptation to Turkey of the French program. The first college of this kind in Turkey was Galata Serai which was organized nearly half a century ago and has ever since kept pace with the French Lycées. As its diploma is recognized by the French Government as equivalent to that of any Governmental French College this institution is a sort of joint Turco-French enterprise and is used as pattern by the other Turkish Colleges. Upon the invitation of the Turkish Government the French Ministry of Public Education organized Galata Serai and the French cooperation in this non-sectarian and exclusively educational institution has continued ever since its formation, regardless of wars or political entanglements. The French language is of course obligatory and the study of another foreign language is encouraged. The principal courses are given during the first three years in Turkish and during the last two years before graduation in French. An institution of this kind, but with the cooperation of America and where American teachers and principals should take the place of French teachers and principals, would do more for the spreading of modern education on practical lines, for the advancement of civilization by bringing up futureTurkish generations capable of rationally adapting to the Near East the principles of democracy as conceived by the Americans than many missionary schools.
The other Turkish Colleges are modelled after Galata Serai, with the difference that while French or one other foreign language is obligatory all courses are given in Turkish, and their teachers and principals are Turks. Although these institutions are not free the tuition fees are so nominal that the Government is obliged to subzidize them. At present the fees for the yearly courses are equivalent to about a hundred and fifty dollars, including lodging and food, and for the purpose of making it easier to the very much impoverished population the Government consents to a substantial discount on these fees to the children and relatives of Government employees.
Here also lack of funds has greatly hampered the organization of these colleges throughout Turkey. While it was the original program to open one such college in every city, the Government has been able to organize and maintain only about five of them throughout the country, and as only three are for boys and two for girls it can readily be seen that they do not suffice for the requirements of Turkey.
In addition to these schools and colleges there are in Turkey many academies and universities where college graduates are able to specialize inthe different branches they have selected. Most of these academies and universities are in Constantinople, and while the greatest majority are supported by the Government some of them owe their existence to private endowments.
In late years, that is up to the Armistice, the Government had given special attention principally to two institutions: the Naval Academy and the Medical Academy. The signing of the Armistice with the consequent dismantling of the Turkish navy brought, of course, a great setback to the Naval Academy which is now fighting for its life against tremendous odds. Naturally the navy of Turkey being reduced to practically nothing very few families desire to send their children to the Academy. In addition the foreigners who control Constantinople do not look with a very favourable eye upon the maintenance of this Academy for fear of its keeping alive a militaristic spirit. They do their utmost to encourage its closing. This is the more regrettable that in the last fifteen years the Academy had been reorganized so thoroughly that it was in all points comparable to any of the best high-grade educational institutions of the world. As its manager told me once, the purpose of the Academy was to form real men so that the cadets who had graduated would be in a position to enter into any branch of modern activity in case they decided, after their graduation, to quit the navy. The best proof that the Academy hasmost efficiently lived up to this principle is that after the Armistice and when the fleet was dismantled all the naval officers who were obliged to leave the navy succeeded in making a living, and many of them have been most successful in their new activities as business men. It would be a shame if an institution which had so markedly succeeded in forming a generation of real men was obliged to close its doors. An institution for forming generations of real men should not be allowed to die just because of the dismantlement of the fleet.
The Medical Academy is another institution which has done a most efficient work of civilization in Modern Turkey. It can be said that the Turkish “intelligentsia” consists mostly of doctors and medical students. The generation of Turkish physicians which the Medical Academy has formed has taken a lead among European medical circles and many are the Turkish doctors whose knowledge, activities and discoveries in medical science have earned them professorships in France and Germany. The Medical Academy, which is situated in a large modern building near the station of Haidar Pasha, the headline of the Bagdad Railroad, is completely equipped with all the requirements of modern science. It also maintains special courses for nurses, which are now very popular among Turkish women.
It would be tedious to talk at length of all theindustrial schools that have been organized in the past ten or fifteen years in Turkey. Suffice it to say that quite a number of them are in existence. But a special mention should be made of the two universities of Constantinople as they are up to date in every respect. One of these universities is exclusively for women, the other is open to both sexes, and any one who has seen a mixed course where young Turkish women, in their becoming tcharshaf, sit on the same benches and study side by side with men students can only wonder how the legend of the seclusion of Turkish women can still receive credence in foreign countries.
In concluding His rapid outline of Turkish schools and the Turkish educational system, my father mentioned the different art schools which are now prospering in Turkey as well as the medressés or theological schools where the Muslim religion is taught. I could see that our American friends were especially interested in these two subjects and as we were leaving my father's house I was not surprised to have my impression confirmed. They wanted to know more about Turkish art and they wanted to learn something about the Muslim religion. Of course I cannot say that this surprised me.
Whenever the word “art” is pronounced in connection with Turkey, it awakens in the mind of the westerners, especially the Americans, only carpets,embroideries and laces, and dark-skinned, thick-eyebrowed Armenian merchants trying to sell at exorbitant prices these dainty art works of the Orient—purchased by them for a song generally from some poor women who have used their eyes, their health and their time for the ultimate purpose of bringing some soothing touch of colour into the modern homes of Europe and America, and many many dollars, pound sterlings, or napoleons, as the case may be, into the bank accounts of the dark-skinned, thick-eyebrowed merchants. Even to an American or a westerner who has been in Turkey as a tourist the word “Turkish art” does not convey much more. In addition to carpets, embroideries and laces he may visualize some musty copper brazero, some delicate handwritings with painted arabesques of flowers, some richly painted porcelains or embossed leather bindings. All things which spell old age. In modern art he would only visualize some Oriental jewels—made in Germany! Few are the foreigners who think of Turkish art in the light of regular paintings, architecture or music and when they hear of art schools their curiosity is excited.
As far as the Muslim religion is concerned westerners are, as a rule, even more ignorant on this subject than on that of art. They think of the Muslims as unbelievers, as pagans who deny God and the Christ, as fatalists who calmly await the fulfilment of the prophecies withouthaving enough sense to get out of the rain even when it pours. The only activities they give the Muslims credit for are massacres and atrocities. They believe that theirs alone is a religion of love and mercy while that of the Muslim is one of fire and blood. I remember that an American from Pittsburg, upon hearing that I was a Muslim, asked me what god I adored, and absolutely refused to believe that I adored the One Almighty God. He had heard that we prayed to Allah. Say what I would I could not at first explain to him that “Allah” in Arabic means God in English, and he was only half convinced when I told him that at that rate the French were also unbelievers as they prayed to “Dieu.”
But the request of our American friends was not one that could be immediately satisfied as I had to make the necessary arrangements to visit the art schools and medressés and I had to await an opportunity to put them in contact with people who could tell them more of Turkish art and of the Muslim religion than I could. It was therefore only a few days later that I could arrange to take them to the Academy of Art of Constantinople, the principal school of its kind in the Near East, where no other city—not even Athens, which is still considered as the cradle of art—can boast of as complete and progressive an art academy.
The academy is located in the Park of the Old Seraglio, right next to the Imperial Museum.They are both under the same management, and as we arrived on the large plaza, shaded by old trees, we were received by the secretary of the manager, a cousin of mine, whom I had asked to show us through the place so as to give all available information to our friends.
He took us through the building where different classes for drawing, painting and modelling were being held in different rooms. The class-rooms are large, all whitewashed and lighted by skylights and big windows. The whole place is kept immaculately clean. The students are quite numerous and our American friends were surprised to see that there were as many Turkish girls studying art as men. “We always thought of Turkish women as hot-house flowers,” they said, “and we were very much surprised to see when we arrived here how many of them take an active part in business and in the every-day life of the community. We imagined that those who were thus active were doing it out of necessity because they had to earn a living. We could not conceive that Turkish women would work of their own choice, and especially would spend time in studying art which, after all, is a luxury.”
Kadry Bey, the secretary of the manager, smiled and said: “Woman is the materialization of art: is it surprising that, now that Turkish women have acquired their entire emancipation, they should desire to study a science the knowledge of whichgives a better appreciation of their own attribute, beauty? As soon as these classes were opened to Turkish women only a few years ago, they flocked in great number to take full advantage of the opportunity and you can judge for yourself how hard they are working. Some of them have already acquired a certain renown, and one of them, a former pupil of this academy, Moukbile Hanoum, has just written us from Switzerland where she is visiting, that one of her pictures had been awarded a medal at an international exhibition in Berne.”
As our guests wanted to know if there were no galleries or exhibitions where the work of Turkish artists could be seen, Kadry Bey told them of the bi-yearly exhibitions which are regularly held in Galata Serai under the auspices of the Turkish Crown Prince. “His Highness Prince Abdul Medjid Effendi, heir to the throne of the Sultans and future Calif of the Muslims, is an accomplished artist himself,” said Kadry. “He is one of our most active leaders and enjoys a reputation as a painter even in France. His pictures have been often exhibited at the Paris Salon and there also a Turkish artist has received the highest recognition for his work. Only a, short time after the armistice one of the pictures of our Crown Prince received the gold medal. This is unquestionably a palpable proof of the artistic value of His Highness's work as theCommittee of the Paris Salon is composed of the greatest living artists in the world. It is also a splendid illustration of the saying that art has no country as French artists did not hesitate to recognize publicly the value of this painting by our Crown Prince so shortly after the war. If you are in town when the next exhibition is held at Galata Serai I strongly advise you to visit it. You would see there pictures by our most prominent artists, as O. Hikmet, M. Refet, Tchalizade Ibrahim and others, whose works are as good as any of the modern artists. Most of them follow the classical school and very few indeed are the Turkish artists who practise post-impressionism and other extreme styles. You probably would have an opportunity of seeing at the exhibition the Crown Prince himself as His Highness goes there practically every day and you would surely be interested in seeing the democratic way in which he talks and jokes with the other artists." Our friends wanted to know something more about the Crown Prince. So my wife and I told them of the time we had the privilege of hearing a few of his compositions played by the orchestra of the Imperial Palace. It was at a charity concert given for the benefit of the Turkish refugees of Anatolia. Prince Abdul Medjid Effendi was there personally and although his compositions were not included in the program, the audience asked and insisted on having them, much to HisHighness's embarrassment. As a true artist the Prince hates publicity and his activities as a painter or as a composer are not at all meant for public consumption—as were those of the Kaiser—but simply for his own satisfaction and for the pleasure of a few privileged friends.
Thus talking, we were visiting the different class-rooms of the academy. Kadry Bey introduced us to some of the teachers and to one or two of the most advanced pupils and as we finished our visit he asked us into the reception room of the manager who, being absent for the day, had asked him to have us to tea in his place.
As we had to cross the Museum we stopped on our way to admire once more the famous sarcophagus of Alexander, which is said to have contained the remains of Alexander the Great of Macedonia and which is the pride not only of the Museum but also of all Turks. Hamdi Bey, the founder of the Museum, unearthed it himself in the plains of Anatolia, not far from Smyrna, and I remember his telling me personally that he was so excited and exhilarated when he discovered this peerless jewel of antique art that for two days and one night he and his assistants worked consecutively without sleep, without food. Finally the second night arrived and as the delicate work was not yet finished Hamdi Bey fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, but lying close to the sarcophagus, in the earth that had hidden it for so many centuries, so that he could at least feel his priceless find during his sleep.
The present manager of the Imperial Museum is Hamdi Bey's brother and succeeded him after his death. I had an occasion of meeting him only a few days ago and the sight of the Sarcophagus of Alexander brings back to me the recollection of this meeting. I was coming out of the Sublime Porte with Izzet Pasha, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, when we met the manager of the Museum, Halil Bey. Izzet Pasha stopped and addressed him: “I have bad news to give you,” said he, “a powerful foreign group has approached me to-day and has informed me that it was willing to pay any price the Government wanted for the Sarcophagus of Alexander.” Halil Bey was dumbfounded. The prospect of losing the most cherished possession of his Museum, discovered by his own brother, was too momentous, too enormous a blow. But his fears were put at rest by Izzet Pasha when the Minister added with a smile. “I have answered them that the loss of the Sarcophagus would be considered by the Imperial Government as great a loss as that of the wealthiest province of the Empire, Mesopotamia, the historic City of Bagdad and its rich oil fields not excepted, and that therefore it could never entertain even the possibility of selling the sarcophagus. No matter how poor we might be the price to be paid for the possession of the sarcophagus will alwayshave to be reckoned in corpses on battlefields and not in money on a counter"! This little incident gives a graphic idea of the degree of appreciation in which the Turks hold their art treasures.
As we were having tea in the reception room of Halil Bey we talked of his family and of how much the art renaissance in Turkey owed to them all. Besides Hamdi Bey, who has left an undying name in the annals of Turkish history both as the founder of the Imperial Museum and as the creator of the Art Academy, besides the fact that his brother, Halil Bey, has followed in his path and is continuing the work undertaken by him, it is worth mentioning that Hamdi Bey's son is a distinguished architect to whom is due the beautiful buildings of the Museum and of the Academy. This distinguished family has unquestionably done more for the revival of art in Turkey than any one family has done for art in any other country and it was almost a pleasure that Halil Bey was not present as we could more freely talk of his services and of those of his family within the very walls which had been erected by them and filled by them with treasures discovered through their own initiative and work.
Our American friends admitted that this visit had thrown a different light on their conception of art in Turkey and its appreciation by the Turks, but as they were not satisfied until they had seen some other art school I took them next dayto the Darul-Elhan, the Turkish School of Music for Girls and we had the good fortune to assist in a most interesting concert. This school was founded and is being managed by Senator Zia Pasha, who was Turkish Ambassador in Washington a few years before the war. It is located in an old palace in the very heart of Stamboul. Our American friends were quite impressed by the knowledge that they were to hear and see, in the proper setting where their ancestors had been recluses, free and emancipated Turkish girls playing and singing for the benefit of strangers.
To the accompaniment of violins, lutes and longstemmed “tambours” these Turkish girls with the full knowledge possessed only by accomplished artists and with the soft, velvety voices so typical of the Orient, sang and played a selection of the most complicated, classical music as well as charming little folksongs. Zia Pasha was there himself and as I introduced him to our friends he expressed the wish that more foreigners would make it a point, when in Constantinople, to assist at such concerts: “Perhaps,” said he, “if foreigners studied our music better its reputation for weirdness and monotony would give place to one of softness and melody. Perhaps foreigners would even be able to detect in our music all the accords and measures they relish so much in modern Russian music such as that of Rimsky Korsakoff, which after all is nothing more or less than the orchestration of our Oriental music.”
THE week following our visit to the Darul-Elhan and the concert which was given there, I had an opportunity to arrange a meeting for our American friends with the leader of one of our Muslim sects, Hassan Effendi, who had been described to me as one of the most advanced and broadminded theologians of Islam. A friend of mine who was a follower of Hassan Effendi was to take us to his house and we were to go there from our own home in Stamboul, as that was the most convenient place where we could all meet.
On the appointed day and about an hour before the time fixed for our audience with Hassan Effendi our American friends arrived. My wife was delighted to see the genuine interest they were taking in the Turks and in the Muslim religion and encouraged them in asking questions. She believes, and I think rightly, that the more intimately the Turks are known, the less credence foreigners can attach to all the malicious accounts which are being circulated by interested propagandists. She believes that the best way tofind out if the Turks are really terrible is to take the trouble to know them, the best way to prove that they are not “unspeakable” is to speak about them.
Our friends were especially at a loss to explain why, as long as there was such an active revival of art in Turkey, so few foreigners knew about it, even among those who are in Constantinople. My wife explained this:
“The trouble is,” she said, “that most foreigners who live in Constantinople band together and will not mix with the people of the country. They do not take the trouble to learn the language, they do not bother to make friends with the people. They live in small, self-sufficient groups. I am sure that if they only knew how much they miss by doing this, they would revise their mode of living, and they would find out that instead of its being a trouble or a bother to learn Turkish and to make friends with the Turks it is, on the contrary, a real pleasure. Of course the Turks are also somewhat to blame as they—at least those who are not over-westernized, and they are the best—do not make an effort to mix with foreigners or to Turkicize the foreign elements who are established in their country. But after all I understand their point of view as I know how we feel in America about the foreigners who come to the States and do not assimilate and as for “Turkicizing” even the foreign elements who are established here, we mustnot forget that in all matters the world has two standards, one for the western nations and the other for Turkey. When we, in the States, endeavour to Americanize foreigners who have come to live with us, the world admires us and calls America “the melting-pot”—but if the Turks ever dare to try to apply the principles of equality of all Ottoman citizens without distinction of race or creed, the whole world jumps on them and claims that they are endeavouring to destroy the rights of minorities. Anyhow, the reason why the revival of art in Turkey is not much known by foreigners is because they have not, so far, investigated with open heart and open mind the intellectual activities now under way in Turkey. As soon as foreigners will give up their self-sufficiency, as soon as they will mingle with the people and will be willing to consider themselves as guests in the country, they will be received with open arms in Turkish communities and then probably someone will “discover” Turkish art and it will become fashionable throughout the West, just as some years ago Russian art was discovered and became fashionable in Europe and in America.”
Our friends wanted also to know how it was that, although Turkish culture did after all antedate modern European culture, as it was the continuation of the Arabic civilization of the middle ages, art—with the exception of applied art—wasonly of a recent origin in Turkey. I was glad to answer to this question, as it took us into the subject which we wanted to investigate to-day, that of religion.
“Nearly seven hundred years before Protestant leaders forbade the use of pictures and sculptures in their Church, the Prophet Mohamed had similarly prohibited the reproduction of any human or animal form within the walls of mosques. Ignorant people praying before the image of a saint or of a prophet are liable to adore the material picture or sculpture rather than the spirit it represents. I believe that idolatry is a direct outcome of this human tendency. The worship of idols in antiquity and of images in certain ignorant modern communities is a deterioration of originally spiritual teachings. Therefore, to prevent the repetition of a similar deterioration by his followers Mohamed ruled that they should banish all images from places where they prayed. But this restriction was originally placed on the use and not on the production of images: silver money coined at the time of Mohamed bears the effigy of the prophet. However, in the course of time his successors went so far beyond his teachings and his example that they altogether forbade even the creation of images. Thus the coins of all Muslim rulers were made to bear their names instead of their likeness, and for centuries Muslim artists, including the Turks, devoted their geniusto creating exclusively decorative art representing writings, arabesque designs, or flowers. It was, therefore, only as education spread among the people of all classes, it was only after even the masses began to understand the true purpose of the restriction placed on the use of reproductions of living beings, it was only about ten or fifteen years ago that Turkish artists branched out into these heretofore forbidden fields of art. Thus the delay in the development of art in Turkey is due to religious reasons. But even at that I consider it salutory; after all it is much better to have in its infancy that branch of art which reproduces living beings than to have religion stained by idolatry—especially as the other branches of art were permitted to follow their natural development. No one can say that the Muslims, the Orientals, have not a keen appreciation of colour and design, no one can say that the restriction placed on art has atrophied their sense of beauty." As I was finishing these remarks, my friend Emin Bey, who was to take us to Hassan Effendi, arrived and we started on our way. Emin Bey speaks perfect French. He is one of the high employees of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but he does not know English and told us that neither Hassan Effendi nor probably any one that we might meet at his house would speak English. So we decided that I should be the translator and I told our American friendsto ask without reticence any question they might wish.
Hassan Effendi lives in Stamboul not far from the Mosque of Sultan Soliman, but on a side street. So when we reached the square—in the center of which has been built in recent years a monument to two “aces” of the Turkish Aerial Fleet who died on the battlefield—we turned to the right and entered a narrow street. We passed under the arches of the old Roman Aqueduct, at the foot of which were built little wooden shacks covered with tin plates which had been in other days Standard Oil cans. These shacks are the temporary abode of many Turkish refugees in Constantinople, people who have been left homeless either by the war or by the numerous fires which have devastated the city in recent years. Soon we reached the barren sides of a hill covered with ruins, the very center of one of these fires. On the top of the hill and a little to the left was a small group of houses clustering about each other, a little mosque and a very old mausoleum. Here also was the house of Hassan Effendi, on what used to be the corner of a street, a tiny house with whitewashed bricks, an arched porch and a covered gallery which gave on a miniature garden. Through the columns of this gallery one could see two old trees—a fig tree and a cypress—two giants which, with the climbing vines onthe old walls, gave to the whole place the aspect of the inner yard of a mediaeval cloister.
The inside of the house was meticulously clean. All the walls are whitewashed and the floors are covered with white straw matting, with no rugs or carpets, except in the corner of the central hall, where was a folded prayer rug. Probably the master prays here when he does not go to the mosque. On the windows are little curtains of white muslin, hanging loose and straight. On the walls only a few framed writings beautifully decorated. I translated them for the benefit of our friends; one says: “Only God is eternal, all else is temporary"; the other asked for Divine guidance, a third proclaimed the Oneness of God. All around and against the walls are low divans, with pillows, covered with silks of soft hues. This is the only furniture, the only luxury, the only touch of colour in the room.
We were announced and immediately ushered into Hassan Effendi's room, a room similar to the one we left. He advanced to greet us at the door. He is an old man, a patriarch with a white beard and blue eyes which have contemplated the infinite. He wore a white turban and a long flowing robe of black silk. He shook hands with all of us and as I tried to kiss his hand in sign of respect, he withdrew it hastily and placed it on his breast, a token of gratitude. He asked us to sit down and took himself a place in a corner, near the windowfrom where he could see the endless sky, the hills of Stamboul with all their mosques and a strip of blue water, the Golden Horn. Under his windows are the ruins of man-made buildings, ephemeral homes which were destroyed in one night of terror, leaving their inhabitants without any earthly possessions—their whole having been devoured by the flames. After every one was seated the master saluted us with his hand, each one separately: “Selamu' Aleykum—Peace be with you"!
Coffee was served and to make us feel at home Hassan Effendi asked us to smoke. He does not smoke himself. He asked how our American friends liked the Orient and what had interested them in Turkey. Upon my telling him, at their request, that they were mostly interested in education, especially religious education, and that they wanted to know something about our religion, he turned to me and said:
“Tell them, my son, that education is one of the principal bases of Islam. The Holy Book makes it obligatory for all Muslims to know at least how to read and says that those who serve science, serve God. The early Muslims practised this teaching so thoroughly that only a few generations after the Prophet all the Arab nations of the world, united under Islam, became the center of science and civilization. Algebra, chemistry, astronomy and many other modern sciences still bear the names given to them by their Muslimdiscoverers. The schools of the Muslim world were so far advanced that even to-day the West resounds with the fame of the great teachers of the Universities of Bagdad, Cairo and Granada. The West had its dark age before it came in touch with the East, and the European Renaissance started after the first contact Europe had with the Orient. Whereas the East had its dark age after it came into touch with the West, and decadence in the Orient set in after its first contact with Europe. The crusaders took away our knowledge together with the riches of Haroun-El-Rashid and of Saladin and left us discouraged, despondent and demoralized. That it has taken us such a long time to shake ourselves free from the evil consequences of the invasions we suffered is of course a little our own fault. But this is especially due to the fact that the crusades, that is, the rush of the West into the East, has continued throughout all these centuries, giving us no peace, no rest. Now that the Holy Lands have been conquered by the West, let us hope that at last we will have peace, let us hope that East and West will at last be able to work out together the misunderstanding they have had for hundreds of years and that they will be able to establish once for all the principles of unity: Oneness of God, oneness of nature, oneness of mankind—without which the basis of solid democracy in this world cannot be established.
“But tell our friends that they must not think that during all these centuries the Muslim world has remained absolutely stationary and has completely neglected education. The original Muslim educational system has continued even if the teachers were not as learned, even if a smaller proportion of people frequented the schools and universities.
“The Muslim educational system is based upon the Medressés or theological colleges. There is no Muslim community in the world which has not its own Medressé. These institutions are supported by perpetual endowments which have been made from time to time by the wealthy Muslims of the community, endowments representing mostly real estate and properties whose income is used to keep up the Medressés where students are housed and fed during all the years it takes them to finish their courses in theological science. The Medressés are absolutely free and their endowments are administered by the Evkaf which is, after all, nothing else than an enormous trust company whose duty is to take care of and develop the properties which have been perpetually donated for all religious and charitable purposes. Each deed of trust has been made for a special purpose and its beneficiary is clearly mentioned. In this way all Medressés have their own particular source of income as well as all the hospitals and orphan asylums of the Evkaf. The system is excellentand could not be improved. What could and what should be improved is first the administration of the Evkaf trusts, which will thus allow the modernization of all beneficiary institutions, and second after the needed funds have been made available by such a reorganization, the educational program of the Medressés.”
Our friends wanted to know if it would be possible to give the reorganization of the Evkaf to some American business men whose organizing skill had been demonstrated.
“In principle there would be nothing against this,” said Hassan Effendi, “but I am afraid that in practise it would be impossible. Despite all their profession of Christian love, westerners have never undertaken anything in the East without its becoming soon apparent that they had an ulterior motive. Look at all the different foreign educational institutions in the Orient. Are they here just for the love of spreading education or for trying to convert our children to their own creed"?
As he was asked about the program of studies followed in the Medressés Hassan Effendi explained that while the principal aim was the study of religion Medressés were originally meant to teach all sciences. The Koran contains not only the principles on which the laws and the economic structure of Muslim countries have been built, but also the principles of astronomy—which necessitates a deep knowledge of higher mathematics—of natural history leading to the research of the species, and of ancient history. Therefore, students of the Koran have also to study all these sciences and, as the Holy Book orders them to go as deeply as possible into all the subjects it mentions, the courses of Medressés should really be equivalent to those of the highest universities. We were all very much interested to hear that the Koran explicitly states that the earth is round and that together with other planets it revolves around the sun, that other solar systems are in existence in the universe, that life originally started in water. Many other theories which have been scientifically ascertained since the time of the Prophet are also stated in the Koran although the theories commonly accepted at that time were absolutely contrary to them.
Our American friends took advantage of the turn the conversation had taken to ask a few questions on the Muslim religion. They wanted to know the difference, if any, between Mahommedans and Muslims, what the Muslim creed was, and what the title of Calif meant. Hassan Effendi answered in detail all these questions and I will try to give below if not word for word at least the summary of his answers.
“To begin with,” said he, “the appellation of “Mahomedan” does not exist in the East. It is only the westerners who, having called themselves Christians, or followers of Christ, have named Mohamedans, the followers of Mohamed. This, however, is as wrong and misleading as if the Hebrew were to be called “Moseans.” The Hebrews do not follow only Moses, they believe also in all their other prophets, beginning with Israel. Therefore, if they were to be called Moseans it would imply that they only believed in Moses and would not be correct. This applies also to the Muslims and to call them Mahomedan is absolutely misleading. The Muslims believe in all prophets, including all the Israelite prophets and the Christ. So the term Mahomedan is wrong and is not used in the East.
“We call ourselves “Muslims” which means in Arabic, followers of Islam or followers of the Road of Salvation. This is a better appellation and I often wish that instead of calling themselves by names which convey to the average people, only an idea of a person or of a race, the different churches had chosen to translate into their own language the exact meaning of their appellation. Then there would be less difference and therefore less antagonism between religions. Take for instance the Christians and the Muslims. If when speaking a common language they both translated the meaning of their appellation into it instead of using words of Arabic and Greek origin, they would soon realize that their creed was identical. “Christ” means “Saviour.” A Christiantherefore is a “follower of the Saviour.” Doesn't this term alone bring him nearer to his brother, the “follower of the Road of Salvation"?
“In the Koran there is absolutely no difference between all people who believe in the One Almighty God, all inclusive and powerful, no matter by what name they call themselves. The only difference that is made between human beings is that all those who believe in one God are placed in one group and all those who deny the oneness of God, the Pagans or Idolaters, are placed in another. It is said that God has sent from time to time prophets to bring the people into the path of truth, that all these prophets came with a book within which the immutable principles of truth were clearly enunciated, and that as truth can only be one all the books of the prophets were the same. Therefore, all the followers of these different prophets are called “people of the Book" and they are all brothers to the Muslims. They should be treated as such and only the Pagans and Idolaters should be, if necessary, coerced into recognizing the oneness of God. That this principle was most firmly established is evidenced by the early history of Islam. In the army of the Prophet, the army which conquered Mecca and destroyed the idols of the Temple, Christian and Hebrew soldiers were fighting side by side with their Muslim brothers for the purpose of having the oneness of God recognized by Pagans andthe Muslims never fought the Christians until the ignorant people of the mediaeval West, roused by lords and barons in quest of rich spoils and adventure, embarked on the Crusades for the purpose of “liberating” the Holy Sepulchres from the Muslims. That might have been all right for the ignorant people of the Middle Ages, but isn't it now time for the Christian to realize that despite the fact that the Holy Sepulchres have been “liberated" only within the last few years from the Muslims, despite the fact that for more than a thousand years Jerusalem has been under the rule of Islam, the Holy Sepulchres have fared as well under the Muslims as the Cathedral of Saint Peter in Rome has under Christians?
“The Muslims have always guarded the Holy Places in Jerusalem with as much loving care and veneration as they have guarded the Holy Places in Mecca or in Medina. Why shouldn't they? The Koran has taught us to venerate Jesus Christ. We believe in His divine mission as much as we believe in the divine mission of Mohamed. We consider Him as much our prophet as the prophet of the Christians. Our creed is based on this belief and on the recognition of all the past prophets. So there is really no difference between us and the Christians as far as we are concerned. The only differences that exist are dogmatic differences such as those which might exist even between two churches of the same religion and in oureyes a Christian who follows the principles of Christ and who does not deny the prophethood of Mohamed is as much a Muslim as any one of us.
“Of course we do not consider as Christians those who adore images. The Russian who expects an icon to perform a miracle is as much an idolater to our eyes as any one who adores the stone or the paint with which the statue or the picture of a saint is made. There is no difference between them and the pagans of yore.
“We Muslims go even farther than some Christians in our belief in Christ. We are taught that the Virgin Mary, in her religious ardor, was praying the Almighty to give her a son who would bring back into the fold his erring sheep and that the people upon hearing this prayer criticized and shamed her: a virgin praying for a child! 'But how little they knew the ways of God,' says the Koran. 'In answer to the Virgin's prayer the Almighty sent her one of His Angels in the likeness of a human and she begot the Christ,'
“For us, God is not material. He is the All-Inclusive Spirit which permeates all nature and the whole universe. He is the Supreme Conscious Force, endowed with all the attributes, who rules the universe. He is Eternal: He never begot and never was begotten. We believe in Him and He only do we adore. We believe in His Angels, His Holy Books, His Prophets, and in the future life. We believe that He ordains everything, ourrecompenses as well as our punishments, and that there is no God but He and we believe that Mohamed is His Messenger—who revived on this earth, as all prophets before Him, the true religion as taught by Abraham, and by Moses and by Christ.”
The master was silent for a few minutes. His words which I had been translating sentence by sentence as he delivered them, had impressed us all so much that we kept quiet and awaited patiently for more. He looked out from the window into the blueness of the sky. Then, turning again to me he said with an infinite smile: “How simple it all is, and how foolish humanity is not to understand"!
He passed his hand over his forehead in an effort to concentrate on more material subjects, he sighed and said:
“These are the fundamental principles of Islam. It does not claim to be the religion of one prophet, but the Religion of God and therefore of all prophets. Truth can only be one, and religion is truth. It is the fault of men if they have divided it into different religions, sects and churches. It is the sin of men that they have, in doing so, turned religion from its most useful earthly purpose: that of establishing the oneness of humanity, the brotherhood of all believers.
“The Muslim religion succeeded in doing this during the first centuries of its inception. Itformed the first true democracy, the first republic of modern times: the Caliphs, the chief executives of the Muslim world were chosen by election. But it went even further: it created the first League of Nations in the world—all the Muslim states, although keeping their entire independence, became a federation under the administration of a single elected Caliph and extended their borders from the Himalayas to the Atlantic and within their borders all those who believed in one God lived in peace, every one prospered, science, industry and commerce flourished. Freedom of conscience, freedom of creeds, was meticulously observed and Christians and Jews lived and prospered side by side with their Muslim brothers. The millenium would have truly arrived had the western nations only applied these same principles within their own borders. But they were not yet mature, they were not yet ready for liberty, democracy and unity. So gradually they undermined our own institutions. Through centuries of continuous contact and of incessant wars they spread discord within our own ranks. We became divided first into separate Caliphates, then into different nations and finally into different sects. Internal strife having set in, we were condemned to fall sooner or later under the conquering heel of the West. Decadence crept on the Muslim world slowly but surely until Turkey was left alone to face the repeated assault of the different western nations.and the tragedy of the long agony of Turkey which has lasted ever since the sixteenth century is too well known by all of you to make it necessary for me to repeat it
“This agony has culminated with the general war and let us hope that now that the western nations have at last obtained what they wanted—the administration of the Holy Land by a Christian power—they will settle down to work and find out if they have any real difference of principles with the Muslim world. Islam has passed through its darkest days and now it is gradually reawakening, it is becoming again conscious of the basic truth it had reached during its first years and sooner or later the Almighty will find humanity ready to reflect His own oneness. The time is near when all believers, irrespective of denominations, creeds or sects will establish throughout the world a real League of Nations where Christians, Jews and Muslims will live in peace, a real League of all followers of Salvation based on the only possible true democracy: the brotherhood, the unity of men.”
Hassan Effendi stopped again and looked at our American friends who seemed to be very much surprised. “How little do we of the West know of the religions, the ideals and the hopes of the East,” they said; “but are we alone to blame? Why doesn't the East send us some of its teachers, some of its leaders to explain to us its creed and its belief?”
Hassan Effendi smiled: “We have sent you the message of our best leader, of our best teacher and you have had it with you for nearly two thousand years,” he said. “We have sent you the message of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, the Apostle of Love and of Mercy, the greatest antagonist of riches and of materialism. In later years we have sent you in person the greatest living messenger of the East, Abdul Baha, who warned the world years before the beginning of the war of the great cataclysm toward which humanity was headed and who preached unity and oneness as the only salvation. What good did it do? The West has always coveted the East for the possession of the Holy Land—forgetting that Palestine is an Eastern Land. Up to the last century the West has always coveted the riches of the East, forgetting that after all if the East had all these riches it was because it had worked for them. Since then, and taking advantage of the decadence into which we have fallen, the West has looked down upon the East for its lack of ambition for the possession of material things and has tried to prove its inferiority by claiming that it had not contributed to modern scientific discoveries, forgetting that while the West has discovered the telephone, the telegram, electricity and steam—all things which make material life worth living—it is the East which discovered God, His Prophets and His Holy Books—all things whichmake spiritual life worth expecting and contrary to the custom of the West, the East has not commercialized its discoveries; it has given them as a free gift to humanity. Christ was an Easterner and He gave freely His knowledge to the West and now that the West has acquired our riches and our lands we hope that it will soon recognize that it has also our God.
“This recognition, this knowledge must, however, come to the West from within. No matter how loud we claimed it, it would not be believed. Westerners will have to come to our country and see for themselves. They will have to investigate, even as you are investigating. They will have to convince themselves that the religion taught by the Prophet Mohamed is one and the same with the religion taught by Christ. They will have to realize that any one who follows either of them is following the Road of Salvation. And then, only then, will the peace of God descend upon a redeemed humanity. I pray the Almighty that this day may come soon.”
And so saying Hassan Effendi rose from his seat next to the window. It was the signal that our audience was at an end, and we all got up. We took leave from the master who accompanied us to the door where he shook hands with every one of us.
And as the door was closing we could hear his soft voice like a blessing: “Peace be with you"!
NO matter how short and succinct it is, an account of the Turks as they really are and of the Turkey of to-day would not be complete without a description of the Turks who are now so successfully engaged in fighting the supreme battle of their country on the plains of Anatolia. The foregoing pages have been devoted almost entirely to the Turks of Constantinople, to their mode of living, their ideals and ideas. But after all Constantinople is only one city of Turkey and Anatolia is the real backbone of the country.
From the shores of the Black Sea down to Broussa and Smyrna, Anatolia is an armed camp, bristling with activity. That much every one knows. How well organized these activities are is evidenced by the success the Turks have secured against such great odds. But behind the guns and bayonets, behind the steel wall which has stemmed the invasion of foreigners, there is a whole country whose borders extend as far as Caucasia and whose influence extends beyond, to the arid steppes of Turkestan and the snow-covered mountains of Afghanistan. Withinthis country there are millions of Turks who, besides their military activities, the immediate needs of their armies and the political requirements of their country are living a life throbbing with enthusiasm and hopes. This is the rejuvenated Turkey, not intent in imitating, like a monkey, the customs of the West or in adopting wholesale the now antiquated political structure of Europe. It is a Turkey which realizes fully the harm that too indiscriminating a copying of western customs has brought and is liable to bring to nations whose temperament and moral standards are different, a Turkey which is well aware that its past greatness in history was due exclusively to its own unadulterated racial qualities, a Turkey which is convinced that by reviving its own customs and modernizing them to fit the requirements of the time it will better and more quickly revive its racial qualities and the grandeur of the East than by imitating aliens; a Turkey convinced that it should adapt and not adopt those of the western customs which make for modern progress and culture.
The heart and brains of this Turkey have been set up in a small village on top of the fertile plains which dominate the rugged mountains of Anatolia.
Thrice presumptuous enemies have tried with machine guns, tanks and aeroplanes, with all the destructive paraphernalia of modern armies, to seize and destroy this village in the hope thatunder its ruins would be smothered the new Turkey. Thrice the Turks of Anatolia have answered: “Thou shalt not pass,” and have preserved intact the sanctity of their mountains, their plains and their country from the desecration of its western foes and despite all, thousands of Turks, leaders of the Anatolian movement, continue to live, hope and work in Angora, the village on top of the plains dominating the rugged mountains, the free capital of a free and independent new Turkey which ever since its inception has been progressing in leaps and bounds toward the leadership of the East.
An account of modern Turkey and of the modern Turks would not be complete without an account of these Turks, their mode of living, their ideals and ideas and to obtain first-hand information on them I have written to a childhood friend of mine, Djemil Haidar Bey, who is now visiting Angora. I have received a letter from him and for fear of omitting the smallest detail or detracting from its vivid pictures vibrating with youthful vitality, I am giving here its textual translation. I have only left out those parts which had to do with matters of personal interest.
“I will now endeavour to give you the description you have asked of the Angora of to-day and of the people who are living here. I believe you visited Angora before the war. Anyhow you know that it was nothing but a village whichcould boast of no more than about fifteen thousand inhabitants living in wooden shacks and mud huts, good Anatolian peasants and their families, satisfied with leading a good, peaceful life, working in their fields during the day and meeting in prayer at night.
“The general war came and as in every other village of Anatolia it drained Angora of all its male inhabitants who could bear arms and with the signing of the armistice those of the surviving inhabitants who were lucky enough to come back found nearly half of their village destroyed by fire. “It was written,” they said with a sigh, and settled down to their usual life. Little did they know that soon the most momentous events in the Near East were to make of their unknown little village the powerful center of a whole nation in open rebellion against the imperialistic desires of powerful enemies.
“But somewhere in the limitless space of the infinite the powers that rule the destinies of the world were silently acting. Events were taking shape. Turkish patriots, practically all members of the House of Representatives duly elected by the people, winced on reading the terms of the treaty of peace which the enemies of Turkey wanted to impose on their country. To accept them would have been to sign the death warrant of the country. But to refuse them and remain in Constantinople was not to be thought of. Severalof their leaders who had openly given vent to their feelings in Constantinople had been arrested and exiled to a little island in the Mediterranean where they could leisurely think over the emptiness of war formulas such as the one which enunciated as inalienable the rights of small nationalities. To organize an open rebellion in Constantinople would have been impossible; the guns of the most powerful fleets of the world were turned on the city.
“But the purpose of the Turkish patriots representing the will of the people was already fixed. One by one and unostentatiously they went as far away as possible from Constantinople, to Erzeroum on the borders of Caucasia, and assembling here a National Assembly, flung to the face of the surprised world the slogan of the great American patriots of 1776: “Give us Liberty, or give us Death"!
“However, events proved that the selection they had made for their capital was not a wise one. The Russian Colossus now ruled by the Bolsheviki was shivering under a new fever of imperialism as acute as the endemic one it had under the Tzars. It stretched its blood-stained claws to the South, and gripping the independent Turkish republic of Caucasia, implanted its Soviets too dangerously near Erzeroum. The Turks of Anatolia, the Nationalist Turks as they now called themselves, saw the danger and shivered in dismay. Their organization was as yet nil, the Turkish armies had been disbanded, the Turkish fleet had been dismantled, and their capital—the brains of New Turkey whose double national purpose was naturally to protect Europe from a Southeastern Bolshevik invasion and the Near East from western domination—was without guns, without cannons and without bayonets, at the mercy of Russia. The dismay in the Turkish camp was, however, of short duration. From Constantinople had arrived a great man, a great leader, a great general whose genius had already once saved Turkey at the Dardanelles. Mustapha Kemal Pasha appeared in Erzeroum and the National Assembly unanimously elected him at once to its presidency. He gave immediate orders and all the members of the National Assembly, numbering nearly seven hundred, all the civilian and military chiefs accompanied by their staffs, all the employees of the temporary Government packed up their baggage and trudged their weary way to the great Anatolian plateau accessible only through easily defensible mountain passes where the Sakaria river winds its way.
“Here, at the head of one of the very few railroad lines in Asia Minor, practically at the same distance from the Black Sea shores, the Russian Soviet's borders, Mesopotamia occupied by the British and Cilicia then occupied by the French—all places from which an attack could have beenexpected on the rear of the Nationalist armies fighting against the Greeks on the Smyrna and the Broussa front—was a small, dilapidated, half-burned village, Angora. But it was the natural center from whence the Turkish struggle for freedom could be better launched and could be defended with the greatest probability of success.
“The Turkish Nationalists wanted to build up their country for efficiency, not for luxury. They had not sought and obtained power for selfish reasons of comfort and enjoyment. So what did they care if their capital was to be a small, uncomfortable village! They had left their homes, their property and their families in Constantinople and had come to Asia Minor to put into execution lofty ideals. Their purpose was to set up in Anatolia a new state, a new democracy, a new Government of the people and for the people, free and independent—and they were firmly determined to do this against any odds. They were firmly determined not only to maintain but even to extend the new Turkey to its proper racial and economic limits so as to include, in fact as well as in name, all countries and cities peopled by a Turkish majority such as Constantinople and the districts of Thrace and Smyrna. To attain this object they had already sacrificed their personal comfort and their wealth. They were now ready to lead a truly Spartan life to secure the success of their undertaking and they did not object to selectingAngora and to setting up here the headquarters of their fight for liberty.
“So one fine day this half-destroyed, quiet little village of Angora, celebrated only for its cats and goats, was awakened by the influx of several thousands of active, energetic and progressive men who had decided to make of it the center of their activities, a place destined to pass into history as the capital of a nation capable of “getting the goat” of the most prominent statesmen of the age who thought—or hoped—that Turkey was dead. Like the Phœnix of mythology, the Turks were reborn from the ashes of this burnt down village.
“The village was swamped by the newcomers who lodged as best they could in shacks and mud huts. As long as they could settle down to assisting the painful travail of the birth of a new government and of a new administration conforming to the wishes of the people, and of an army capable of defending the very home and the very hearth of the nation, the newcomers did not mind. The most prominent and influential statesmen and military leaders were only too glad to “pile up" under any kind of roof which could offer them shelter.
“I purposely use the expression “pile up” as it accurately describes what took place. As I have said before half of the village had been destroyed by fire so that there was barely enough place to lodge normally about two-thirds of its own inhabitants and the newcomers numbered from six to eight thousand. You can well imagine the difficulties to contend with in order to lodge all these newcomers when you realize that even now—after nearly three years and the hasty erection of many temporary buildings—the place is so overcrowded that it is common to find four or five of the most prominent citizens sharing the same room.
“You can easily realize that under these conditions there is very little social life. Besides, the work undertaken is too strenuous, the people here are too much occupied with their duties—and really in earnest about accomplishing them as well as they can—to indulge in social life. Furthermore there are very few representatives of the fair sex in Angora, and social life without ladies is not possible. Most of the women here are villagers or else nurses of the Red Crescent, Turkish relief workers and ladies otherwise occupied in assisting their husbands, fathers or brothers in the patriotic task they have undertaken. There are no women of leisure, no hostess who has enough time to entertain. It can be truthfully said that every Turkish woman now in Angora is a little Joan of Arc and the quarters being so inadequate most of the women live together and sleep together just as their men are obliged to live and sleep together. Everyone here works grimly with a definite purpose and faces therealities confronting the Cyclopean work of recreating a Nation.
“The lack of social intercourse does not however detract from the interest of the place. The sight of the streets alone is most interesting and edifying. Everyone is so busy and there are so many people here that it is hardly possible to walk leisurely in the streets during the rush hours of the day. One is taken up and carried by the crowd. And the crowd is the most diversified and picturesque that one can see in any place, not even barring the proverbial bridge in Constantinople. You see, volunteers of all kinds have rushed here not only from Anatolia, but from every Turkish country, every Turkish village of the world and even from the most diversified Muslim countries of Asia and Africa. It is a real Babel, but of costumes not of languages: every one speaks Turkish. Turkish Anatolian peasants, with baggy trousers, wide blue belts and thin turbans over their fez, fraternize with Tartars and Kirghiz of Turkestan. Azerbeidjanian and Caucasian Turks, with tight-fitting black coats and enormous black astrakan kolpaks on their heads—runaways from Bolshevik Russia—are discussing the principles of real democracy as applied to Nationalist Turkey and comparing them with the so-called democracy of Soviet lands. Muslim Chinamen and Hindoos are talking over the future of Turkey and Islam. All the nations of Asia intermingle here and mostof them have official missions in Angora: Embassies from Afghanistan, Beluchistan, Bokhara, Khiva and from the different new Republics of Turkestan, duly accredited representatives from Persia and Azerbeidjan. The quota from Africa is also very large and while there are no diplomatic missions from African countries—for the simple reason that all African countries are colonies—many are the Fellahs from Egypt, the Algerians and Moroccans and even the Muslim negroes of North Africa who can be seen in the streets.
“And all this crowd is active and busy. Everybody talks and gesticulates and rushes through the streets to accomplish some purpose.
“The modern European touch is brought by the Turks from the big centers, Nationalist leaders who have come here from Constantinople and other large cities, clad in sack suits or in uniforms cut on western patterns, but all wearing the black fur kolpak which has replaced throughout the country the red felt fez as national headgear.
“In the village proper there is not a house which does not shelter more people than it has rooms. So quite a few of the people who now live in Angora have been quartered in small farmhouses around the country and are obliged to commute every day to and from their business. There are of course no suburban trains or street cars and the “commuters” are obliged to use carriages asall the automobiles—mostly Fords—are being used for military purposes or for transporting travellers and goods from villages to villages. The carriage is therefore the only means of conveyance in Angora. “Carriage” is, of course, a rather complimentary term: true that they have four wheels and are drawn by horses, but they generally have no springs, and two boards running parallel to each other and facing the horse are used as seats. From their wooden roofs hang coloured curtains and the occupants are vigourously shaken over the uneven pavement of the streets.