The New York herald., 1922-03-19

Mile. Attiyeh is the granddaughter OF
Joseph Attiyeh, the noted Syrian author,
and the daughter OF MatheU Attiyeh,
Governor ander Sultan Abdul Hdmid. Her
mother Friedd Attiyeh, translated "The
Last Days OF Pompeii" into Arabic. The
Attiyeh family is one OF the best knoton IN
Syria and traces its descent for more than
500 gears She icas raised in the shddoios
OF the Turkish hdrem and knotoS its acdys
and present status as feio other ioomen
loho hare come out OF Turkey.
LATINA the Princes lady the a1.a favor, .os
ite of the harem, emerged from the
door leading to the rose garden.
She stepped out into the path and went
toward the outer gate leading to the street
in Stamboul A colored porter opened the
barred gate. He looked brazenly at ner'
he eyed her with a smile of cynical disdain
on his thick lips.
For the fair Fatima had stepped from
the cloistered seclusion of the harem into
the limelight of life-with short skirts,
high heeled boots, stunning hat and
without the veil which is indicative OF the
Moslem modesty of all true Turkish
women
Fatima tripped down the street. hailed
one horse cab and was driven down to the
Grand Rue de Pera American, British,
French and Italian soldiers and sailors
ps.aded up and down the walks. They
gazed at Fatima for she was beautiful.
She returned their looks of admiration
calmly, as though used to public gaze since
birth.
The driver of her carriage pulled up his
horse suddenly. He began to swear in
Arabic shrill, feminine voice replied.
Fatima looked out of the window to see
to hear. She smiled and returned to her
former lackadaisical position. Why should
Fatima worry because her driver was argu-
Ing with lady street sweeper-perhaps
former favorite Of Abdul Hamid-one of
his $50 wives?
Down the street drove Fatma. Flower
girls of mature years sought to sell nose
gays to her. They, too, were Turkish-not
one of them wore veil-their skirts were
though they appeared wore European
shoes. From out the open windows of a
restaurant foated the syncopated sounds
of American jazz. Fatima signaled to her
driver and he pulled up.
Return at midnight" said Fatima, and
she alighted and entered the restaurant.
Turkish girls were mattresses; another
sold cigarettes; still another flowers Fa-
TINA was escorted to table by the head
waiter-a man.
Spirit of Old Turkey Flashes
At Demand for Cocktail
Il want an American cocktail" said
Fatima, and for once the spirit of old Tur
key asserted itself The head waiter
looked at Fatima reproachfully. He ques
toned with his eyebrows-politely, of
coursel Fatima repeated her order. The
cocktail arrived and was drunk. An allied
officer approached Fatima's table and
bowed. Would Lady Fatima honor him
with dance?
returned to her home. The colored porter
opened the gate. Fatima entered. The
porter did not salaam as had been his
won't He did not even nod. He merely
shifted in disdain!
Fatima, generic name of Turkish women,
has stepped out into the world. Through
the gigantic upheaval of the war she had
earned her freedom She is no longer
mystory no longer is she on pedestal,
worshiped -venerated-perhaps respected!
She was Fatima of the harem. Now she
is merely-a woman
Whether the change be for the better or
for the worse cannot be told as yet-it Is
too early for speculation. Personally,
though | am a Christian, | believe the
change to be for the worse but of that more
later. In order that conditions of to-day
may be compared with those of yesterday
/ must tell the story OF the Turkish women
and the harem-as | know Ii from innu-
merable visits.
Perhaps the story Of a real Fatima--
that was really her name--and of Omar,
her future husband, may point the moral
and explain somewhat the working of the
Turkish mind as regards women and mat
rmony. To begin at the beginning. no
Turkish girl ever saw the man she was