We may hope, too, that its official position in the State may soon have the indirect result of diminishing our foolish jealousies of French influence. France asks, and deserves, some gratitude for her courage in admitting the error of her ways at Sèvres, but she has no ambition to undermine British interests.
Turkey needs capital, and American help involves interference from men too far away for understanding. Anglo-French capital, the more the better, means good terms in the East between us, and real friendship towards Turkey, for “where their treasure is, there is the heart also.”
CHAPTER XXIV
HALIDÉ EDIB HANOUM, AUTHOR AND PATRIOT—A WOMAN DOWERED WITH THE ALL-CONQUERING GIFTS OF THE TRULY BRAVE
There can scarcely be a worse misinterpretation of the Turks to-day than the common assumption that they do not value their women. As an example to prove this we turn to the charming writer and patriot, Halidé Edib Hanoum. Not only well known for her work in England and America, she is respected and honoured throughout the length and breadth of her own country, trusted with positions of responsibility, consulted and, above all, listened to, by those at the helm of affairs.
As one of their brilliant journalists once said in the ante-room of the Assembly: “We gave her a place in the army. She would have gone with the delegates to Lausanne had her health permitted. She was elected a Member of the Assembly, and now we realise the Constitution does not yet admit women, we shall remove all such restrictions.”
Strong evidence of eager homage to a brilliant woman emphatically expressed! I had met this famous lady in the old days, when we were friends with Turkey, and am naturally anxious to renew the acquaintance, if only to talk over the terrible happenings that have transformed her, alas! into one of the bitterest of England’s enemies. I am sure that, like Mustapha Kemal, she will be rejoiced to come back to us when we both change.
Her little farmhouse, most charming of rustic homes, stands on a rough road, at this time of year inches deep in mud, about an hour’s drive from Angora. A clear stream runs by the way, and all around is silent and calm, save for the very occasional noise of a passing carriage. In summer, with the sun shining on the grazing cows, it would seem an ideal spot for this untiring worker.
A voracious reader of the Continental Press, Halidé Hanoum has told me of her great amusement at the report that her flight into Anatolia had been “promoted by a desire to flee from harems and veils.” It is, of course, in Constantinople that the women have so largely cast off the old customs, whereas in far-away Anatolia most are still rigorously kept in seclusion. “People in Europe simply cannot grasp what our civilisation means,” she said; “that is what makes it so difficult for us to come to an understanding.”