A NATION IN SORROW.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1329, 5 January 1912, Page 6

A NATION IN SORROW.

(By a Turkish Lady.)

[The writer of this article has been a prominent contributor to the leading Turkish Liberal newspaper, and has won recognition for herself as a fearless critic of Turkish wrongdoing whether under the old or tho new regime. After the massacre at Adana she stood alone among her countrymen as champion of the Armenians. Her unusually good knowledge of English is due to the fact-that her father, in the face of public opinion, had. her educated at the American College for Girls at Scutari.] In talking to an English audience about Stamboul I am always inclined to begin with a time that is "far off in the past. This land of minarets, mosques, and beautiful hills and seas is a land of memories. We have lived so long in reminiscences—personal and historical—that even tho life of feverish action of tho last few years pales when one wants to speak of this land and people as they now are. Yet many tragic and dramatic things have happened to us during tho last few years, nnd the Italian war has been the most surprising and horrible. When it was first announced it seemed too big to cause any movement. It seemed as though this robbing of one nation by another in such an open way was not understood at first. I went out on the day after war was declared in order to study the faces of tho people. There were few people in the street*. The Bridge was almost deserted for tho first time in recent years.- In former times it was natural to see deserted streets and a few people walking silently, but since tho Revolution there has been an ever-in-creasing life and movement. Yet on that day it seemed to mo that some' such calamity as hurts people to the core and yet dumbs them—like Sultan Hamid's reign—had come to the citv.

In two days the reaction" came. The streets were crowded, and everywhere indignation found an outlet. In a shop 1 heard a young naval officer giving his views of defeating Italy to a Greek shophoy. He got so excited and talked so loud that the people gathered round him; and when I heard tho next day that a naval officer had gone mad with shame and pain because the fleet could not fight I thought of tho man in the shop. But qf all the war-talks I have been listening to, tho ono that impressed me most was that of an old Turkish woman in tho ferry-boat to the islands.

It was rather late, and night means more to the women of tho' East than to those of the West. We were only three in the cabin—a yonng brilliant woman who talked politics because her family belongs to the diplomatic world, myself, and the quiet old woman, who came iii with that look of seeking for sympathy and understanding that has come- into tho. eyes of all of us lately. Tho young woman talked with a great, many French word?, and the old. one listened with a simple, eager smile. Then she began to talk herself. It is a rare thing for an old Turkish lady to travel in Europe, but she had done so, probably with a son. And what she had noticed was not theatres, electricity, hat.?, or shops, but the other intangible something that can hardly be named—tho power of the West that comes from its many-sided achievements of science. Sho talked of the possibilities of tho West from the military and naval point of view. She had a very clear idea of these'possibilities, and.-all were things that we lacked, roads —but above all road builders; railways— but. above all the engineers to make them; ships—but above all trained officers and expert sailors to man them. She talked mostly of fortifications, aud one felt that, there was a gap in her weary old heart where the defenceless shores of Tripoli were.' Yet none of us said a word about Tripoli. We were feeling Tripoli. • • • "Why do tho Turkish womeu wear jewels as long as we lack all these, my daughters?" said she. "I looked at the young woman to see if she had any jewels. Her cheeks wero blazing. Sho spoke words that had no connection with the other's sentence yet connected us all in one moment of pain. "Each time I eoino back from Europe there is a littla wound'in my heart that opens, and each time tho wound gets bigger, aud bigger." She imjde the sign of the wound with her white fingers, and unconsciously the old lady and I carried our hands to our hearts.

Those days were the first <lays of sorrow. It shows itself now in the form of not eating macaroni because, it is Italian; in tho former pupils of the. now closed Italian schools. not speaking- Italian, ami all forming tho 'league nf eternal hoyoot't ajjailift Italy. This great sorrow lias had ono good p.fftrt. Jlijii. , woinoii of all <:lar?eo and standing hare formed a. union of an invisible sort—a lininn against Italy. And the remark of I lie old lady must hare been felt, in so many solitary women's hearts. for \vnm?n are giving their jewellery for tho - building of the duct.. —From the "Manchester Guardian."