My guide, Vely Nedjdat Bey, understands what will interest me most; and the efforts of the Red Crescent, disclosed on our round of the hospitals, have given me a most agreeable surprise. The sanitation leaves much to be desired from our Western standards, but progressive Turks have now learnt the importance of such matters, and are determined to change their old ways, after the peace. It would be a formidable undertaking, at the moment impossible, to carry out the drastic alterations that are essential in these primitive buildings, with no modern heating apparatus, and so few well-trained professional nurses. Under such conditions they have done marvels with serum, and have actually kept down cholera, typhus, typhoid, and small-pox with extraordinary success. It is only unfortunate that they have adopted the French method of typhoid-inoculation right into the breast, which, though often effective, is certainly dangerous for women.
The military hospital at Broussa—formerly the Splendid Hotel, overlooking a magnificent stretch of landscape—is excellently organised; and though asked for criticism by Dr. Nazoum, head of the Army Medical Service, I could not think of any improvement to suggest.
We spent a morning at the Lycée for Girls, which was interesting, though I could not, of course, follow any of the classes in detail. Here, again, one can obtain the most charming views of the town of Angora, and I told the headmistress how I longed to carry away their wonderful front door. She was, evidently, pleased by the sincerity of my compliment, and had no fear lest I should follow the example of the Ambassador at Constantinople. His wife had so greatly admired a superb Byzantine fountain in our garden, that my host promptly gave orders for it to be dug up and sent to the Embassy, where it still remains!
Young as she seemed, the headmistress clearly recognised the responsibilities of her position, which were—at once so hampered and so increased—in a state of war. At many of the Lycées in Anatolia there was a man as headmaster, his wife being the headmistress; during the war the men, of course, had all gone! Education, after all, can do nothing if there is no Fatherland—no one to educate!
One class was being instructed by a hodja on the meaning of their prayers and the general principles of the Faith; and I also heard classes in history and geography, literature and hygiene. I was told that, in hygiene, the subject that morning was the evils of alcohol as a beverage. They were taught, however, in what ways alcohol can be used actually to benefit mankind. All honour to those who teach their children, from the first, the terrible curse of drink!
The girls recited patriotic poems for my benefit which sounded very beautiful to the foreign ear. It is, I suppose, the sequence of even and uneven syllables which produce this musical effect. They were taught, apparently, in all subjects to stand up and answer questions in a short speech: surely an admirable training, likely to ensure their knowing how to use the language in writing and speaking with far more correctness, elegance, and effect than most of our young people ever attempt.
I peeped into the dormitories, which, like the class-rooms, seemed in excellent order. Coffee and tea were laid out for us in the recreation-room; and before we left the head-girl expressed their pleasure and thanks in what was—evidently—a neat and charming little speech.
I felt, however, that, like the headmistress of Broussa College, my hostess no doubt regretted that there were now neither Greeks nor Armenians at the school. There had been no more difficulty in the class-rooms than elsewhere through life, as to maintaining perfect harmony between Moslem and Christian. I was told that, though the latter were generally supposed to be the cleverer, Turkish girls were, in a way, more keen and quick to learn. They had, at any rate, a quite friendly desire not to be beaten, and now they miss the valuable competition.
In olden days, though women even attained to fame in politics and literature, the general standard for education was elementary, and no public provision for it had been made.
Primary schools were started about sixty years ago; secondary and professional schools soon followed. There are now girls’ schools wherever one for boys has been established; in most towns also a Lycée for Girls, and Normal Colleges in many counties of Asia Minor. There is a Training College at Constantinople, from which the senior students also attend lectures at the Women’s University, which shares laboratories and lectures—in science and medicine—with the University for men. I suspect, sometimes, Mustapha Kemal Pasha may introduce co-education throughout!