But the world moves, and Turkish women move with it. The last generation has witnessed remarkable changes in their habits both in the capital and in other great cities of the Empire. For one thing, there has been a striking change in the matter of dress. The time was, when a Turkish woman brought vivid colouring into every scene she adorned. Her yashmak, enveloping head and face and neck in white gauze; her feredjé enfolding her form down to the feet in red, green, blue, pink, or any other hue she fancied; her yellow boots and yellow overshoes, worn like slippers, made her as gay and bright as a butterfly or a flower. What wonderful pictures did groups of women thus attired form, as they squatted on a red rug spread on the green grass under the shade of cypresses or plane-trees, beside the Sweet Waters of Europe and the Heavenly Waters of Asia; or as they sat in long rows by the shores of the Bosporus to drink in the salt air, to watch the blue waters and the hurrying to and fro of boats and sails and steamers; or as they floated in a caïque over the quiet sea. What a fantasia of colour they made as they went slowly past, seated in a long, narrow wagon (arabah), its high sides bright with painted flowers and gilded arabesque, under a scarlet awning edged with gold fringe, drawn by white oxen, over whose heads heavy red tassels, attached to rods fixed in the yoke, waved with every motion of the creaking wheels!
THE YASHMAK
The veil is sometimes so transparent that it scarcely conceals the features at all.
But this feast of colour has ended, and the world of Turkish womanhood has exchanged the brightness of summer for the sober tints of autumn. The yashmak is now universally discarded, except by the ladies of the imperial household who are still required to wear it, as well as a black feredjé; the only bit of bright colour permitted being in the matter of the headkerchief of tulle they wear under the yashmak. In the costume of the mass of Turkish women, the feredjé has been replaced by the charshaf, a mantle worn over the head and about the body down to the feet, drawn in slightly at the waist. The material and the colour of the garment differ according to the means and taste of the wearer, but the colour is always quiet and subdued. To the portion of the charshaf above the eyes a dark veil is attached, and this can be worn over the face, or thrown back over the head, as the wearer pleases. When thrown back, a Turkish lady’s face is seen as plainly as that of her European sister. The charshaf may also be made of two pieces of cloth in order to secure a better fit, and although the garb might seem to defy artistic arrangement and effect, it is often very becoming and graceful. It would appear that the charshaf was the original dress of Turkish women, with the important difference from the present fashion that the veil could not be thrown back, and was furnished with two holes for the eyes, as among Moslem women to-day in Persia and India. The yashmak, it is said, came into vogue at the time of the Conquest, being an adaptation of the veil worn then by women of the Christian peoples of the land. Its abandonment for the sake of a style which permits greater freedom is a sign of progress. But the change, which was made some thirty years ago, roused considerable opposition. Merchants in the bazaars objected to it, because a charshaf required less material to be made up than a feredjé, and consequently injured trade. Others found fault with it simply because it was an innovation; while others feared that when worn with the veil down it might facilitate disguise in carrying on social or political intrigues. Nay, imperial iradès denounced and forbade the new mode. But all was in vain, for even in Turkey it is possible for women to have their own way. Nor is it only in their out-door dress that Turkish women have introduced alterations. They have done so likewise in their dress when at home. The baggy trousers, the embroidered vest and jacket, which constituted the costume in which a Turkish hanum reclined upon her divan, have been replaced, in the progressive section of Turkish female society, by garments after European fashions. A Turkish bride belonging to a wealthy family wears a wedding dress like that which adorns a young lady under similar circumstances in Western lands, the only difference being that the former allows her hair to hang down, and decorates it with long narrow streamers of tinsel, pieces of which she presents to her young friends for good luck. Elegant tea-gowns and the latest Parisian robes are worn in wealthy harems. Turkish ladies, indeed, have yet to adopt the low-necked dress, but, not to be altogether behind the times, they make their servant-maids don that attire on great occasions. When the maids are dark-skinned daughters of Africa, the effect is not flattering to the costume. But after all, these changes are interesting chiefly as indications of the fact that the spirit of Turkish women has come, to some degree, under the influence of new ideas. Polygamy is on the decline. Greater attention is now paid to the education of girls among all classes of the community. In wealthy families it is common for the daughters to have English or French or German governesses, and to be instructed in the ordinary branches of education, even to the extent of doing something so foreign as to learn to ride. In a few instances, Turkish girls attend foreign schools, and it is a most significant sign of the times to see the female relatives of such girls present at the public proceedings of these institutions. Periodicals providing special literature for ladies have appeared, and there are Turkish authoresses, some of whom enjoy a great reputation among their countrywomen. As might be expected, this upward movement meets with opposition, as upward movements always meet wherever they occur. Such a thing has been known as an imperial iradè, commanding all foreign governesses to be dismissed from Turkish homes, because of teachers pernicious ideas. On the eve of Ramazan it is usual to issue strict orders for Turkish ladies to keep their veils down. A Turkish lady once attended, with her husband, an “At Home” in a foreign house. Shortly thereafter, the police called upon the gentleman, late in the evening, as the custom is in this part of the world, and informed him that he was wanted at the police-court next morning on important business. What that business was the police did not condescend to say, preferring to make night uncomfortable for the couple, by keeping them in suspense. Upon appearing at the court the husband learned that the visit of his wife to a foreign house, on the occasion referred to, had been noticed and duly reported to the authorities, and he was warned (under threat of severe penalty) not to allow the offence to be repeated. At public gatherings at the Sweet Waters of Europe and Asia, the police watch the behaviour of Turkish ladies as though so many naughty or helpless children were abroad. One has seen a policeman order a lady to put up the window of her carriage, because she attracted too much admiration. At another time, one has seen a company of respectable Turkish ladies, who were enjoying a moonlight row on the Bosporus, packed home by the police. The life of educated Turkish women is rendered hard and humiliating by such restrictions. On the occasion of a visit to a Turkish gentleman in his garden, it so happened that two of his nieces, not knowing that any one was calling, came to greet their uncle. Surprised at seeing a man with him, the young ladies started back, as gazelles might start at the sight of a hunter. Their uncle, however, summoned them to return, and with extreme courtesy introduced them to his visitor, with the information that one of the young ladies could speak English. Conversation in that language had not gone far, when another gentleman was announced. Instantly the girls sprang to their feet and darted away as for dear life. “See,” said the uncle in tones of mingled vexation and sorrow, “See what it is to be an educated Turkish lady!”
THE SWEET WATERS OF ASIA