CHAPTER XII
turkish women
In the appearance and lot of Turkish women we see, perhaps, more distinctly than in any other feature of life in Constantinople the perpetuation of the ideas and usages which give to Turkish society its peculiar character and physiognomy. The assertion is often made that, according to the Moslem creed, woman has no soul. This is a mistake. While man, indeed, is considered to be woman’s superior on the ground of his higher natural endowments and of his services as bread-winner, the Koran, at the same time, recognises her spiritual nature and religious capacity. “Verily,” says that authority, “the resigned men and the resigned women, the believing men and the believing women, the devout men and the devout women, the truthful men and the truthful women, the patient men and the patient women, the humble men and the humble women, the charitable men and the charitable women, the fasting men and the fasting women, the chaste men and the chaste women, and the men and women who oft remember God, for them hath God prepared forgiveness and a mighty recompense.” Although the female companionship which forms one of the delights of the Mohammedan Paradise will be furnished by the houris, still earth-born women are also present in the abodes of bliss. Hence a Turkish mother, mourning the loss of her little girl, can find comfort in putting over the child’s grave this epitaph:—“The bird of my heart has flown from its cage to find a place in the gardens of Paradise.” If Moslem women do not attend public worship in the mosques, the reason is not any spiritual disqualification, but the idea that the sexes should associate as little as possible. Yet elderly women may be seen at their devotions in a mosque out of the hours of public worship, while during the religious season of Ramazan special services for women are held in some of the great mosques of the city, as well as in the imperial harem and in the harems of wealthy personages, such services being conducted by popular preachers. But after all is said that can be said to prove that honourable views concerning woman are cherished in a society constituted by Moslem thought, it remains true that the fundamental conception underlying the organisation of that society and forming its dominant spirit is of an opposite character. That conception, we should in justice remember, is not peculiar to Islam. On the contrary, it has prevailed outside the Mohammedan world; it has contaminated even the life of Christendom. Nevertheless, the view that man and woman are not equals, that the latter is chiefly made to minister to the pleasure of the former, and that they are morally dangerous to each other, has nowhere been applied so consistently, on so large a scale, and for so long a period in the very presence of a higher civilisation, as in Moslem society. Such a view demands naturally and necessarily that men and women should be kept apart as much as the conditions of human existence permit. Where polygamy, concubinage, and easy divorce are lawful social arrangements, woman must be put behind the shelter of a jealous protection. She must be placed out of sight, secluded, guarded, and, when she appears in public, veiled and forbidden to display her ornaments. Men, on the other hand, must avoid looking at a woman they meet abroad, remembering that “God will reward the Muslim who, having beheld the beauties of a woman, shuts his eyes,” and that, though the first look is excusable, because often unavoidable, the next is unlawful. The outward manifestations of these ideas are seen on every hand in the Turkish life of Constantinople. Hence the division of a Turkish home into apartments for men (selamlik) and apartments for women (harem), into the former of which no Turkish lady enters, and into the latter of which only the nearest male relatives are admitted. Hence also the two doors leading from the street respectively to these divisions of the house; hence the latticed screens outside the windows of the harem to conceal the inmates from even the hurried glance of passers-by. If you have occasion to call upon a Turk who keeps no man-servant, and a woman comes to answer the door, she will, before opening it, inquire who has knocked. If the caller is a man, and the master of the house is out, she will refuse admittance in a tone which makes you feel happy to depart; if the master is in, she will open the door ajar, leaving you to open it wide, after you have given her time to announce your visit, and retire from view. There is no such thing in Turkish life as a mixed social gathering of ladies and gentlemen. For husband and wife to walk, or drive, or boat together was unknown until quite recent times, and when such proceedings occur they are regarded with disfavour. In tramway cars, in trains, on steamers, in waiting-rooms, men and women occupy different compartments. Should the ladies’ cabin on the steamers which ply between the city and the suburbs on the Bosporus or the Marmora be unoccupied at starting by Turkish women, gentlemen are permitted to seat themselves in it, and to keep their places so long as Moslem women do not appear. But if a Turkish lady embarks at a station on the way, the cabin must be forthwith vacated by its male occupants, who do not present the air of the lords of creation as they wander to find other seats. On one occasion a foreign lady and gentleman reached a certain pier on the Bosporus some time before the arrival of the steamer, which was to convey them to the city, and, finding the ladies’ waiting-room empty, seated themselves in it. Presently an elderly Turkish woman, belonging to a somewhat humble class of society, appeared, accompanied by her son, a lad some fourteen years old. According to strict etiquette the gentleman should have left the room. But, as the lady he was escorting wished him to remain, and as the Turkish woman looked a motherly person and had her boy with her, he kept his seat, forgetful of use and wont. Suddenly the lad in the hanum’s company went out. As the event proved, it was to bring the man in charge of the pier upon the scene. The latter approached the gentleman, whom he knew well, and in the politest possible manner whispered the information that the Turkish woman opposite objected to the presence of a man. There was nothing to be done but for the intruder to withdraw with as little awkwardness as the situation admitted, and the matter seemed settled to the satisfaction of all concerned. But the indignation of the foreign lady at the discomfiture of her escort was too great for the troubled waters to be calmed so easily. Rushing out after him, she begged him to protest on her behalf against the presence of the Turkish lad in the ladies’ room when she was there. So the faithful man in charge of the pier proceeded to eject the youth likewise, while the fair complainant resumed her seat in order to maintain her point until the steamer came up. How her Turkish sister felt under the circumstances does not appear, but the incident illustrates the influence upon the native mind of the idea that men and women should be kept strictly apart.
For a woman’s hair to be exposed to public view is considered an extreme humiliation. A poor Turkish woman on her way to an asylum threw herself in a fit of wild excitement upon the ground, and, in doing so, threw off the veil which covered her head. “Alas, alas,” screamed the female friends who accompanied her, “she is showing her hair!” as though that exposure was the worst feature of the case.
It would be a mistake, however, to infer from what has been said that the seclusion to which Turkish women are consigned deprives them of all freedom and social influence. The reverse is true. Wealthy ladies control their own property even after their marriage. Furthermore, if seclusion denies women certain privileges, it wins for them certain rights—the right, above all, to have their seclusion respected. It secures for them the regard cherished for those who have a great public duty to perform, and entitles them to all the support requisite for the discharge of that duty. A highly educated Turk, upon hearing of the annoyance given to some Turkish ladies by the inquisitive gaze of certain foreigners, expressed his indignation in the following curious fashion: “Such conduct towards European ladies would not be strange, for they exhibit themselves to public view, and must take the consequences; but to treat Turkish ladies thus, when they have the right to enjoy perfect privacy, was intolerable impertinence.” Although it is not becoming for a Turkish lady to go out by herself, a company of Turkish women may go anywhere, not only without fear of molestation, but without attracting the slightest notice. Even the police shrink from interfering with them. Sometimes Turkish women will refuse to pay toll for crossing the bridges which span the Golden Horn, and defy all the attempts of the toll-men to enforce payment. One has seen Turkish women embark on a Bosporus steamer without tickets, and when challenged for doing so, take off a slipper, strike the ticket-collector, and proceed on their way none the poorer. Like a famous thistle, a Turkish woman cannot be touched with impunity. Nor is it strange that a man’s female relatives should influence him in Turkey, as much as they do in other countries and in similar ways. After all, men and women are everywhere much the same, and no artificial arrangements can altogether prevent the operation of natural forces. Indeed, a man is, perhaps, more liable to be swayed by his female relatives when they are the only women he meets. But be that as it may, women related to the great officers of State exercise considerable political influence. The mother of the Sultan, known as the Validé Sultana, is the first lady in the land, and, if a woman of capacity, is a power behind the throne. It is reported that the famous British ambassador, Sir Stratford Canning, had once occasion to suggest to the Sultan of his day that in taking a certain course of action the sovereign of the Empire was yielding to a mother’s counsels. “True,” replied the monarch, “but she is the only friend I can perfectly trust as sincerely devoted to me.” Several years ago, delay in the payment of salaries, no unfrequent occurrence in Constantinople, caused great suffering among the humbler employees of the Government. Other methods of redress having failed, the aggrieved parties betook themselves to the weapon of female force. Accordingly, a large body of women, mostly the wives of the poor men, but including professional female agitators, invaded the offices of the Minister of Finance. They filled every corridor, swarmed upon every stairway, blocked every door they could find, and made the building resound with lamentations and clamours for payment. The Minister managed to escape by a back entrance. But the women would not budge. It was vain to call in the police or soldiers to intervene. The indecorum of a public application of force in dealing with the women would have created too great a scandal, and so the authorities bowed before “the might of weakness,” and made the best terms they could induce the victors to accept. A more recent experience of the power of Turkish women to interfere, in spite of their seclusion, with the affairs of the outer world, may be added. The owners of a piece of land adjoining a Turkish village on the Bosporus decided to enclose their property with a substantial wall of stone and mortar. As the ground had long been a pleasant resort for the women and children of the village, especially on Fridays, where sitting on the ground under the shade of trees they enjoyed the fresh air and the beautiful views on every side, the villagers very naturally regretted the loss which the erection of the wall would involve, and they determined to prevent the execution of the work to the utmost of their power. The opposition first assumed a legal form. It was urged that the wall would interfere with the water-course which supplied the village fountain, and furthermore, would include a piece of land belonging to the community. Both objections were shown to be without foundation, and building operations were begun. No difficulties were raised until the wall approached the fountain and the land in dispute, when it became evident that if the work proceeded farther the opposition would resort to violent measures. In the hope of coming to a friendly understanding with the villagers by additional explanations, work was suspended for some time, but the negotiations to establish peace having failed, the erection of the wall was continued. The work had not gone far, when a band of women appeared, led by the principal female personage in the community, who enjoyed the distinction of being both the widow of the late imaum of the village mosque and the mother of the present incumbent of that office; a dark-visaged dame, with a sharp tongue. Not a single man accompanied the women. Armed with sticks and stones, the band of Amazons rushed upon the workmen and drove them off. The intervention of the police obliged the women to retreat, but, when the masons returned next morning to their work, they found the women already upon the scene of action. The imaum’s widow with another woman had seated themselves in the trench and defied the erection of the wall over their bodies! Again the police interfered, and, after all methods of gentle moral suasion had proved useless, they actually lifted the imaum’s widow somewhat forcibly out of the trench. She took the affront so much to heart that she kept her bed for several days. There was a consequent lull in the storm. But soon the women resumed the struggle, coming in the dark and tearing down a considerable portion of the building. The wall had therefore to be guarded by the police during the day, and by watchmen during the night. Still the women would not abandon the contest, and, as a supreme effort, sent a long telegram to the Palace, invoking the sovereign’s aid and protection. In reply, they were invited to send a deputation to the Police Court connected with the imperial residence. The pasha of the Court was a veteran official who, though he could not read, and knew to write only his own name, had reached his responsible position by force of character and the possession of common sense. He expounded the law to the women before him, informed them that he intended to enforce it, and gave them a tremendous scolding for the manner in which they and their sisters had behaved; seasoning justice, however, with mercy, to the extent of presenting them a small sum of money wherewith to meet the expense of their visit to him and of their telegram.
The young imaum of the village was also summoned, and made to understand that, unless his mother’s influence was employed to keep the peace, he should lose his place. Accordingly, the war stopped, but there were threats that the two persons most concerned with the erection of the wall would be stoned to death. The threats were so serious that even a brave Croat, in the service of the proprietors of the enclosed ground, advised the superintendent of the works to avoid a road which would expose him to assault. “I am an old man,” replied the latter, a Briton, “it will not matter much if I am stoned to death.” “But,” answered the Croat, “will it not be a shame to be killed by women?” It was an ungallant remark to make, in view of the spirit displayed by the women, yet a characteristic expression of that poor estimate of womanhood against which the weaker sex has still to contend in the East—the estimate which led Abimelech, long ago, when at the point of death by a blow from a woman’s hand, to beseech his armour-bearer to kill him, lest men should say “a woman slew him.”
THE SWEET WATERS OF EUROPE
A pleasure resort near the upper end of the Golden Horn much in favour in the spring, when every Friday afternoon crowds of Turkish ladies with their children flock there for recreation by the water-side.