EDUCATION AMONG THE MOSLEMS.
_Home Education._—Influence of the Mother—Disrespect of
Children—Toys—No Bath nor any Exercise—Bad Influence of Servants—No
Discipline—Dirtiness—Dress—Food—Conversation—Tutors—Nurses—Immoral
Influence of the Dadi—The Lala—Turkish Girls and Education—An
Exceptional Family—Turks “educated” at Paris—Religious Shackles.
_Moslem Schools._—_Mektebs_, or National Schools—Dogmatic
Theology taught—Reforms—_Rushdiyés_—_Idadiyés_—Teachers’
School—Reforms of Ali and Fouad Pasha—The Schools of
Salonika—State of Education in these Schools—Moslem View of
Natural Science—The Dulmé Girls’ School—The Turkish Girls’
School—The _Lyceum_: its Design, Temporary Success, and
Present Abandonment—The _Medressés_—Education of the Upper
Classes—Official Ignorance.
The absence of any approach to sound education of the most rudimentary
kind throughout the country is among the prime causes of the present
degraded condition of the Turks. Both at home and at school the Moslem
learns almost nothing that will serve him in good stead in after life.
Worse than this, in those early years spent at home, when the child ought
to have instilled into him some germ of those principles of conduct by
which men must walk in the world if they are to hold up their heads among
civilized nations, the Turkish child is only taught the first steps
towards those vicious habits of mind and body which have made his race
what it is. The root of the evil is partly found in the harem system. So
long as that system keeps Turkish women in their present degraded state,
so long will Turkish boys and girls be vicious and ignorant.
Turkish mothers have not the slightest control over their children. They
are left to do very much as they like, become wayward, disobedient, and
unbearably tyrannical. I have often noticed young children, especially
boys, strike, abuse, and even curse their mothers, who, helpless to
restrain them, either respond by a torrent of foul invective, or, in
their maternal weakness, indulgently put up with it, saying, “_Jahil
chojuk, né belir?_” (“Innocent child! what does it know?”)
I was once visiting at a Pasha’s house, where, among the numerous company
present, a shrivelled-up old lady made herself painfully conspicuous by
the amount of rouge on her cheeks. The son of my hostess, an impudent
little scamp of ten years, independently marched in, and, roughly pulling
his mother by her skirt, demanded a _beshlik_ (shilling); she attempted
a compromise, and offered half the sum, when the young rascal, casting
side glances at the painted old lady, said, “A whole _beshlik_, or I will
out with all you said about that _hanoum_ and her rouged cheeks, as well
as that other one’s big nose!” My friend, exceedingly embarrassed, under
this pressure, acceded to her son’s demand, the only way she could see of
getting rid of his troublesome company.
As a general rule the manner in which children use their mothers among
the lower classes is still worse, and quite painful to witness. When
these youngsters are not at school they may be seen playing in the
street, paddling in the water near some fountain, making mud-pies, or
playing with walnuts and stones, at times varying their amusements, in
some retired quarter, by annoying Christian passers-by, calling out
_Giaour gepek!_ (“Infidel dog”), and throwing stones at them. Under
the parental roof they express their desires in an authoritative tone,
calling out disrespectful exclamations to their mothers.
Should their requests meet with the slightest resistance, they will
sit stamping with their feet, pounding with their hands, clamoring and
screaming, till they obtain the desired object. The mothers, who have as
little control over themselves as over their children, quickly lose their
temper, and begin vituperating their children in language of which a very
mild but general form is, _Yerin dibiné batasen!_ (“May you sink under
the earth!”)[35]
Turkish children are not favored with the possession of any of the
instructive books, toy-tools, games, etc., that European ingenuity
has invented for the amusement of children, and which may be obtained
at Constantinople and other cities of Turkey; the only playthings
they possess are rattles, trumpets, a rude species of doll (made of
rag-bundles), cradles, and a kind of _polichinello_, fashioned, in the
most primitive manner, of wood, and decorated with a coarse daub of
bright-colored paint, applied without any regard to artistic effect.
These are sometimes sold in the chandlers’ shops, but are only exposed
for sale in large quantities during the Bairams, when they make their
appearance, piled in heaps on a mat, in the thoroughfares nearest the
mosques.
A Turkish child is never known to take a cold bath in the morning; is
never made to take a constitutional walk, or to have his limbs developed
by the healthy exercise of gymnastics. No children’s libraries exist,
to stimulate the desire for study—for which, it is true, little taste
is displayed. Among the higher classes an unnaturally sedate deportment
is expected from children when in the presence of their father and his
guests, before whom they present themselves with the serious look and
demeanor of old men, make a deep salaam, and sit at the end of the
room with folded hands, answering with extreme deference the questions
addressed to them. Out of sight, and in the company of menials, they have
no restraint placed upon them, use the most licentious language, and play
nasty practical jokes; or indulge in teasing the women of the harem to
any extent; receiving all the time the most indecent encouragement, both
by word and action, from the parasites, slaves, and dependants hanging
about the house. No regular hours are kept for getting up and going to
bed. The children, even when sleepy, obstinately refuse to go to their
beds, and prefer to stretch themselves on a sofa, whence they are carried
fast asleep. On rising, no systematic attention is paid either to their
food, ablutions, or dressing. A wash is given to their faces and hands;
but their heads, not regularly or daily combed, generally afford shelter
to creeping guests, that can only be partially dislodged at the _Hammam_.
Their dress, much neglected, is baggy and slovenly at all times; but it
becomes a ridiculous caricature when copied from the European fashion;
shoes and stockings are not much used in the house, but when worn, the
former are unfastened, and the latter kept up by rags hanging down
their legs. A _gedjlik_ (night-dress) of printed calico, an _intari_
(dressing-gown), _ayak-kab_ (trousers), and a _libardé_ (quilted jacket),
worn in the house, do duty both by night and day.
Children are allowed to breakfast on anything they find in the larder or
buy from the hawkers of cakes in the streets.
No person exercising the functions of governess, nursery governess, or
head nurse, exists in harems. There is no reserve of language observed
before young girls, who are allowed to listen to conversations in which
spades are very decidedly called spades. The absence of refined subjects
naturally leads the tone of these conversations, at times, to so low
a level as to render its sense quite unintelligible to the European
listener, though it is perfectly understanded of the Turkish maiden.
Turks sometimes have _hodjas_ as tutors for their sons; but these are
not always professional instructors of youth, and their supervision over
their pupils seldom extends beyond the hours of study. The _hodjas_,
belonging to religious orders, are grave, sanctimonious persons; having
little in common with their pupils, who find it difficult to exchange
ideas with them, and thus to benefit in a general way by their teaching.
Poor _effendis_ or _kyatibs_ are sometimes engaged to fill the office
of tutors, but their inferior position in the house deprives them of
any serious control over their charges. The _dadi_, appointed to attend
upon the child from its earliest infancy, plays a great part during its
youthful career; her charge, seldom separated from her, will, if she be
good and respectable, benefit by her care; but if she be the reverse,
her influence cannot be anything but prejudicial, especially to boys,
whose moral education, entirely neglected at this stage, receives a
vicious impulse from this associate. The fact that the _dadi’s_ being
the property of his parents gives him certain rights over her is early
understood and often abused by the boy.
I have seen an instance of the results of these boyish connections in the
house of a Pasha, who, as a child, had formed a strong attachment for his
_dadi_, and, yielding to her influence, had later been induced to marry
her, although at the time she must have been more than double his age.
When I made her acquaintance she was an old woman, superseded by four
young companions, whose lives she made as uncomfortable as she could by
way of retaliation for the pain her husband’s neglect was causing her.
The fourth and youngest of these wives, naturally the favorite, nearly
paid with her life for the affection she was supposed to have diverted
from the _Bash Kadin_ (first wife); for the quondam _dadi_, taking
advantage of her rival’s unconsciousness whilst indulging in a siesta,
tried to pour quicksilver into her ears. The fair slumberer fortunately
awoke in time; and the attempted crime was passed over in consideration
of the culprit’s past maternal services, and of the position she then
held.
Next to the important functions of _dadi_ those of _lala_ must be
mentioned. He is a male slave into whose care the children of both sexes
are intrusted when out of the harem. He has to amuse them, take them out
walking, and to school and back. His rank, however, does not separate
him from his fellow servants, with whom he still lives in common; and
when the children come to him, he takes them generally first to their
father’s apartment, and then into the servants’ hall, where they are
allowed to witness the most obscene practical jokes, often played upon
the children themselves; and to listen to conversations of the most
revolting nature, only to be matched I should think in western Europe
among the most degraded inhabitants of the lowest slums. This is one of
those evil customs that cannot be other than ruinous to the morality of
Turkish children, who thus from an early age get initiated into subjects
and learn language of which they should for years be entirely ignorant.
The girls are allowed free access into the _selamlik_ up to the time
they are considered old enough to wear the veil; which, once adopted,
must exclude a female from further intercourse with the men’s side of
the house. The shameful neglect girls experience during childhood leaves
them alone to follow their own instincts; alternately spoiled and rudely
chastened by uneducated mothers, they grow up in hopeless ignorance of
every branch of study that might develop their mental or moral faculties
and fit them to fulfil the duties that must in time devolve upon them.
I am glad to say that, in this respect, a change for the better is taking
place at Constantinople: the education of the girls among the higher
classes is much improved; elementary teaching, besides instruction in
music and needlework, is given to them; and a few are even so highly
favored as to have European governesses, who find their pupils wanting
neither in intelligence nor in good-will to profit by their instruction.
I have known Turkish girls speak foreign languages, but the number of
such accomplished young ladies is limited, owing partly to the dislike
which even the most enlightened Turks feel to allowing their daughters
any rational independence; for the girls, they say, are destined to
a life of harem restraint with which they would hardly feel better
satisfied if they had once tasted of liberty; their life would only be
less happy, instead of happier; ignorance in their case being bliss, it
would be folly to make them wise!—If true, only another argument for the
overthrow of the system.
Some time ago, when at Constantinople, I visited an old friend, a
Christian by birth, but the wife of a Pasha. This lady, little known to
the _beau monde_ of Stamboul, a most ladylike, sweet woman, was married
when her husband was a student in Europe and she a school-girl. She has
held fast to her religion, and her enlightened husband has never denied
her the rights of her European liberty; though, when in the capital, she
wears the _yashmak_, out of _convenance_. Her children are Mohammedans.
The daughter, now a young lady of eighteen, a most charming, accomplished
girl, is justly named “The Budding Rose of the Bosphorus.” Some Turkish
ladies acquainted with this family spoke of it to me as an example of
perfection worthy of study and imitation. A truly poetical attachment
binds the mother and daughter together, and finding no congeniality in
their Mohammedan acquaintances, in the simplicity of their retired life
they have become all in all to each other, and are doted upon by the
father and brother. It was very pleasant to look upon the harmony that
existed in this family, notwithstanding the wide differences in the
customs and religions of its members. For many years I had lost sight of
my friends, and at length found them caged up in one of the lovely villas
on the Bosphorus; the mother now a woman of forty, the daughter a slim,
bright fairy.
After the surprise caused by my visit and the friendly greetings were
over, Madame B⸺, full of delight and happiness, related to me the
engagement of her daughter to one of the wealthiest and most promising
grandees of _La Jeune Turquie_, who, having just completed his studies
in Paris, was expected in a few days to come and claim her as his bride.
She was to dwell beneath the paternal roof, and I was taken to visit the
apartments that had been prepared for the young couple. They were most
exquisitely furnished, with draperies of straw-colored satin, richly
embroidered by the deft fingers of the ladies. The mother, her face
beaming with joy, said to me, “Am I not happy in marrying my daughter to
an enlightened young Turk, who, there is every reason to expect, will
prove as good and affectionate a husband to her as mine has been to me?”
The young lady had known her affianced before his departure for Paris;
full of faith and hope, she nourished a deep love for him, and, in the
innocent purity of her heart, felt sure he responded to it.
I have not seen these ladies since, but a short time after my visit I was
deeply grieved to hear that this seemingly well-adapted match was broken
off in consequence of the young Bey having returned accompanied by a
French ballet-dancer, whom he declared he did not intend to give up.
I have heard that, generally speaking, Paris is not the most profitable
school for young Turks. Attracted by the immense amount of pleasure and
amusement there afforded to strangers, they become negligent students,
waste their time and money in profitless pursuits, keep company of the
most doubtful kind, are led to contract some of the worst Parisian
habits, and return to their country, having acquired little more than a
superficial varnish of European manners. These they proudly display; but
at heart they profoundly despise the nation whose virtues they failed
to acquire, whilst they plunged freely into those vices which were more
congenial to their habits and nature.
Those who are acquainted with Stamboul life may remember the sensation
caused in 1873 by a band of young Turkish ruffians, who bore the name of
_Tussun_, whose declared object was to initiate the youth of both sexes
into those dark practices of the Asiatics still so prevalent among the
upper classes. This abominable society was so strong that the police
were, for a time, powerless against it. The chief of these vagabonds
was stated to be the son of a member of the Sultan’s household, and the
other young men were connected with some high Turkish families. It was
only by the most active interference of the minister of justice that this
fraternity was finally put down.
One of the great drawbacks the progress of education meets with among the
Turks is the insurmountable repulsion Mohammedans feel to freeing this
movement from the fetters of religion. The most enlightened of Turks will
be found wanting in good-will and assistance when the question is that
of promoting the current of liberal ideas at the cost of the religious
dogmas which regulate all his social habits; and these retrograde notions
cannot be openly repudiated even by those who profess no belief in the
religion upon which they are supposed to be founded. These sceptical
Turks, possessing no distinct conception of any philosophical school
whose aim should be to replace prejudice and superstition by the
propagation of free thought, based upon morality and scientific research,
merely become reckless and unprincipled, but are of no more use than
the bigoted party in helping forward an undenominational movement in
education.
Until quite recent times the only public institutions for the education
of the Turkish youth were those common to all Moslem countries,
the _Mahallé Mektebs_, or primary schools, and the _Medressés_, or
Mosque-Colleges. The _Mektebs_ are to Turkey, though in a still more
inefficient way, what the old National Schools were to England. They
are the universal, and till recently the only existing, instruments of
rudimentary education for the children of both sexes of all classes.
Like the old-fashioned National Schools, religion is the main thing
taught; only in the Turkish Mektebs religion is pretty nearly the one
thing taught. The little Turkish boys and girls are sent to these
schools at a very early age, and pay for their instruction the nominal
fee of one piastre (2¼_d._) a month. Great ceremony attends the child’s
first entrance. Its hands are dyed with henna; its head decorated with
jewels; and it is furnished with a new suit of clothes, and an expensive
bag called _Soupara_, in which the _Mus-haf_, or copy of the Koran,
is carried. The father of the child leads it to the Mekteb, where it
recites the Moslem creed to the Hodja, kisses his hand, and joins the
class. The other children, after the recital of prayers, lead the novice
home, headed by the Hodja, who chants prayers all the way along, the
children joining in the response of _Amin! Amin!_ Refreshments and ten
paras (a halfpenny) are offered to each child by the parents of the new
scholar, on receipt of which they make a rush into the street and throng
round the trays of the numerous hawkers who collect round the door on
such occasions. This ceremony is repeated on the first examination, for
which the Hodja receives £1 and a suit of linen. The teaching in these
schools was, until recently, strictly limited to lessons from the Koran.
The scholars, amounting in number sometimes to one or two hundred,
are closely packed together in a school-room which is generally the
dependence of the Mosque. Kneeling in rows, divided into tens by monitors
who superintend their lessons, they learn partly from the book and
partly by rote, all reading out the lesson at the same time, and swaying
their bodies backwards and forwards. An old Hodja, with his assistant,
sits cross-legged on a mat at one end of the room, before the chest
which serves the double purpose of desk and bookcase. With the cane of
discipline in one hand, a pipe in the other, and the Koran before him,
the old pedagogue listens to and directs the proceedings of the pupils.
Unruly children are subjected to the punishment of the cane and the
_Falakka_, a kind of wooden hobble passed over the ankle of the culprit,
who sometimes has to return home wearing this mark of disgrace. The Koran
lessons, delivered in Arabic, are gibberish to the children, unless
explained by the master; and the characters used in Koran writing are not
well adapted for teaching ordinary Turkish handwriting.
It is easily seen what ample room for improvement there is in these
establishments, where Moslems spend the best part of their childhood.
Religion, taught in every-day language, simplified and adapted to the
understanding of children, together with the rudiments of ordinary
knowledge, would lay the foundation of a wiser and more profitable system
of education than all these many years lost in poring over theological
abstractions, comprehensible glimpses of which can only be conveyed to
such young minds by the explanations of the Hodja, who is sure to dwell
upon the most dogmatic and consequently the most intolerant points of
Islam, and thus sows among the children ready-made ideas, the pernicious
seed of that fanaticism which finds its early utterance in the words
_Kafir_ and _Giaour_ (infidel), and prompts the little baby to measure
himself with his gray-bearded Christian neighbor, and in the assurance
of superior election raise his hand to cast the stone of ineradicable
contempt.
The finished scholars from these institutions may become Hodjas
themselves, acquiring, if they choose, a knowledge of writing. Such is
the system of primary education which has existed in Turkey ever since
the Conquest. Happily this century has seen some improvements, not so
much in the Mektebs as in the introduction among them of Government (so
to say, Board) Schools on improved principles.
No era of the Ottoman history presents a more dismal picture of ignorance
and incapacity than the close of the last century. The country appeared
to be crumbling to pieces; and the nation seemed lost in the two extremes
of apathy and fanaticism. Sultan Mahmoud’s sagacious mind saw wherein
the evil lay, and attempted to remedy it by establishing schools more
after the European model, and by this means spreading among his people
the liberal ideas that alone could civilize and regenerate them. The
difficulties he encountered in his praiseworthy and untiring efforts to
bring about this change were great and varied. Nevertheless, he succeeded
in establishing a few schools in the capital, which have served as bases
to those that were instituted by his son and successor Abdul-Medjid.
These latter consisted first of _Rushdiyés_, or preparatory schools,
where boys of all classes are admitted on leaving the Mektebs, and are
gratuitously taught Turkish, elementary arithmetic, the history of their
country, and geography.
Next to these establishments come the _Idadiyés_, or more advanced
preparatory schools, where boys are also admitted gratuitously, and
remain from three to five years; they are instructed in the studies
adapted to the careers they are destined to follow in the finishing
medical, military, marine, and artillery schools to which they gain
admittance on leaving the Idadiyés.
Besides these schools the capital contains some others of equal
importance, such as a school for forming professors for the Rushdiyés, a
school teaching foreign languages to some of the _employés_ of the Porte,
a forest school, and one for mechanics.
The original organization of all these institutions is said to be good,
but unfortunately the regulations are not carried out. The absence of a
proper system of control and strict discipline, a want of attention on
the part of the students, and of competence on that of the professors,
are the chief characteristics of most of them.
In addition to the educational establishments of the capital, Rushdiyés
have also been opened in all large country towns, and in some even
Idadiyés. It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to state that there are no
schools of any kind in country villages; the three R’s are there regarded
as wholly superfluous luxuries.
Had the Turks followed up more systematically the movement thus happily
begun; had it become general throughout the country, and been marked by
proper care and perseverance, many of the evils which now beset Turkey
might perhaps have been avoided. The contempt for the Christian generally
displayed by the Moslem, engendered through ignorance and fanaticism,
might have been softened into tolerance, and a more friendly feeling
might have been created between them.
Education, however, received another impetus during the administration of
Ali and Fouad Pashas, who by their united efforts succeeded in creating
new schools and slightly improving those already existing.
Most of these institutions, excepting the medical college, were formerly
open to Christian children only in name; under Ali and Fouad they became
open in reality to a few, who took their places by the side of the
Mohammedan boys.
The following is a list of the Turkish schools in the town of Salonika,
which contains about 15,000 Mohammedan inhabitants, including 2500
_Dulmés_, or Jews converted to the faith of the Prophet:—seven _Mahallé
Mektebs_, or “National” schools; one _Mekteb Rushdiyé_, or Government
school; one small private school for Turkish girls, established about
twelve mouths ago; and two special schools for the Dulmés, one for
girls and another for boys. The _Mekteb Rushdiyé_ is supported by the
Government, and has one superintendent and two masters, and is attended
by 219 children, all day pupils. Teaching is divided into four classes;
the first comprises poetry, the Turkish, Arabic, and Persian languages;
the second, logic, mathematics, elementary arithmetic, and the rudiments
of geography; the third, cosmography, Ottoman and universal history,
writing; the fourth, preparatory lessons for beginners.
The mathematical and historical teaching is very deficient, and the
whole system of instruction needs much improvement. Students on leaving
this school may enter the Harbiyé, or military school, at Monastir,
or continue their studies at the _Medressé_, where the Softas and
Ulema graduate, or may attach themselves to some Government office as
unsalaried Kyatibs, or scribes, called _Chaouch_, until a vacancy or some
other chance helps them to a lucrative post.
The Dulmés, who are found in large numbers only at Salonika, have of late
years shown a great desire to promote education among both sexes of their
small but thriving community. The course of study followed in their boys’
school is similar to that of the _Rushdiyé_, and, of course, includes the
very elementary curriculum of the National schools. It has four classes,
subdivided each into three forms; three masters, aided by monitors,
superintend the studies. I visited this school, and found a great
lack of order and discipline. First-class boys, seated on benches and
before desks, were mixed up with the little ones, who, I was told, were
placed there in order to be broken in to the school routine—a strange
arrangement, unlikely to benefit either; at least it had been better for
these mere infants to be placed in a class where lessons and exercises
suited to their years were taught. Some of the big boys were examined,
and, as far as I was able to judge, seemed well advanced in writing and
in the knowledge of the Turkish language, but they did not appear equally
well versed in mathematics or the scientific branches of study, which
were evidently taught in a very elementary form, if one might judge by
the simple questions put by the masters. This examination was concluded
by the senior boys chanting in chorus the names of the days of the week
and the months of the year! It must be borne in mind, however, that this
establishment, which is said to be the best in the town, was opened only
eighteen months ago.
With regard to the higher branches of study, I was far more edified
during an examination of the _Rushdiyé_ and _Harbiyé_ schools at
Adrianople, where some of the pupils had produced well-executed maps
and drawings, and had also distinguished themselves in mathematics;
the schools of that town seemed to be of a higher standard than those
of Salonika, although, like all Turkish schools, they left much to be
desired in good principles, refinement, and general enlightenment, to all
of which a marked disregard is universally displayed. The comparative
progress made in the above-mentioned subjects should not, however,
be considered a criterion of the cultivation of art and science in
general. In spite of the simplicity with which these various branches of
science and of art may now be taught, they are not likely to make much
advancement among the Mohammedans. These people display an astonishing
apathy and a total absence of the spirit of inquiry and research with
regard to everything. They confide the secrets of nature, to the supreme
care of Allah, and deem it superfluous to trouble themselves with such
subjects beyond the extent required for their common wants. All mental
effort is in direct opposition to the listless habits of the Turk, and,
since he is not the man to run against the will of Providence, who
fashioned his disposition, is therefore seldom attempted. Professional
men are rare among them, and such as there are can only be ranged in the
class of imitative mediocrities, who have not the genius to improve or
develop any useful branch of science.
The Dulmé girls’ school of Salonika was held in a house containing a
number of small rooms, in which the pupils were huddled together. One
of these rooms was fitted up with desks and benches that might have
accommodated about thirty children; when I entered all the pupils
were doing needlework; Shemshi Effendi, the director, a young man of
some enterprise and capacity and a good deal of intelligence, led the
way and ordered all to stand up and salaam; a lesson I hope they will
condescendingly bear in mind and practise later on in life in their
intercourse with Christians. They were learning plain sewing, crochet,
tapestry, and other ornamental work, taught by a neat-looking Greek
schoolmistress. A good many of the pupils were grown-up girls, who sat
with veils on. The master pointed them out to me, saying that most of
those young ladies were engaged to be married; “I have not, therefore,
attempted to teach them reading or writing, as they are too old to learn,
and their time here is very short, but with the little ones I hope in
time to do more.” Some of the latter were examined before me in reading,
writing, and arithmetic, in which they seemed to have got on very fairly
considering the short time they had attended the school and the utter
want of order and system prevailing in it.
The general appearance of the girls was that of negligent untidiness;
their hair was uncombed, and most of them were seated on the ground
working, with a total absence of that good breeding which was to be
expected in a well-regulated school for girls of their age and condition.
Defective as this establishment is, it is deserving of praise and
encouragement as a first attempt which may lead to a higher standard
of education among Turkish women. Perhaps some of the institutions at
Stamboul, though now greatly improved, had no higher origin. Conversing
lately about these with an intelligent Turk, I was assured that some
of the young Turkish girls had so much profited by the education
afforded in them as to have made great progress in composition and even
novel-writing, an unprecedented event in the lives of the ladies of this
nation! Some have devoted themselves to the study of French, and have
translated one or two little French works into Turkish. One of these
institutions has now become a training college for teachers, who are sent
as mistresses into other schools.
The Turkish girls’ school of Salonika is attended by forty-eight pupils,
superintended by one master, and a Greek schoolmistress for needlework.
It is hardly necessary to say that the instruction afforded is very
defective, and can be of little practical use to young girls who often,
after a few years of childhood, leave when they attain the age of ten
or eleven, just when their young minds are beginning to take in what is
taught them. However, a little is always better than nothing, and it is
to be hoped that the Salonika girls’ schools will pave the way to more
effective means of teaching.
Excepting one or two schools founded by Midhat Pasha, in the vilayet
of the Danube, no other Moslem girls’ schools but these at Stamboul
and Salonika exist in Turkey. It must be the vegetating existence of
these few establishments that has caused the flowing pen of one writer
on Bulgaria to scatter girls’ schools profusely all over the country,
placing one even in the remotest village of the Balkans; in all these
schools, according to him, girls are everywhere taught to read and write!
The statement is, unfortunately, only another proof of the accuracy of
the saying, that a thing may be too good to be true.
The foundation of the _Lyceum_ at Constantinople, decided upon in 1868,
was due to Ali and Fouad Pashas. The object of this institute was to
spread knowledge and education throughout the country, irrespective
of creed and nationality, and thus to attempt to break through the
mischievous routine of separate education, and to bring together all the
youth of Turkey with the view to establishing better relations between
the different races, creeds, and parties. The task was not an easy one.
The history of the opposition encountered by the director and professors
at the opening of the college will give a slight idea of the difficulties
and obstacles the Government itself meets with in the management of its
subjects.
One hundred and fifty purses were voted for the Lyceum, to be expended
for the benefit of all Ottoman subjects, whether Moslems, Catholic or
Gregorian Armenians, Roman Catholics, Greeks, Bulgarians, or Jews.
Foreign subjects were only admitted on the payment of fees.
It was intended to establish branches of the Lyceum in the principal
towns, but this project was soon given up. The administration, as well as
the direction of the greater part of the studies, was confided to French
functionaries, chosen by the Minister of Public Instruction in France,
subject to the approval of the Turkish Minister of the same department.
The lessons were to be given in French, and comprised literature,
history, geography, elementary mathematics, and physical science. The
Arabic, Persian, and Turkish languages were to be taught by Turkish
professors. Greek and Latin were to be taught, partly to facilitate the
acquisition of a knowledge of scientific terms, and partly because Greek
was of daily utility to the greater part of the students.
The Mohammedan religious instruction was confided to an _Imam_, but
the spirit of tolerance had gained sufficient ground in the customs
of the establishment to allow its members to practise their different
creeds at will amidst their comrades, and it is said to have been a most
interesting sight to witness their devotions.
In spite of (or rather on account of) the liberality and tolerance of
the original bases of this institute, and the constant endeavor of the
directors to accommodate these bases as much as possible to the habits
and ideas of the members of the different races there represented, none
seemed to feel the satisfaction and content that was expected. The
Mohammedans naturally demanded that the Koran laws and its exhortations
regarding prayer, ablutions, the fasting of Ramazan by day and the
feasting by night, should be respected. The Jews, rigid observers of
their traditions, rebelled against the idea of their children being
placed in an institute directed by Christians, and of their partaking
in common of food that was Tourfa, or unlawful. The Greeks followed,
complaining that their language was not sufficiently admitted into the
course of studies; and the well-to-do members of that community abstained
from sending their children there. The Roman Catholics had religious
scruples caused by a special prohibition of the Pope, and were under pain
of deprivation of the sacraments if they placed their children in an
infidel institution. Armenian pretension required that special attention
should be paid to the children belonging to that community, and the
Bulgarians demanded that a strict line should be drawn between their
children and those of the Greeks.
Next to this came the difficulty about the Day of Rest: the Turks
claiming Friday, the Jews Saturday, and the Christians Sunday; allied
to this point of dispute was that of the observance of the religious
and national festivals, all falling on different days. Even the masters
themselves, Turks, Armenians, English and French men, Greeks and
Italians, by the variety of nationalities they represented, still further
complicated the matter.
On the other hand, in a country where education is so expensive and
so difficult to obtain as it is in Turkey, there were not wanting
liberal-minded people who were willing to pass over these niceties for
the sake or the counterbalancing advantages; and at the opening of the
Lyceum, 147 Mohammedan, 48 Gregorian Armenian, 86 Greek, 34 Jew, 34
Bulgarian, 23 Roman Catholic, and 19 Armenian Catholic students applied
for admission, forming a total of 341.
At the end of two years their numbers were almost doubled, for as long
as Ali and Fouad Pashas had the direction the institution continued to
prosper and to give satisfaction to those who had placed their children
in it; but after the death of these true benefactors of Turkey everything
changed for the worse.
The French director, disgusted with the intrigues that surrounded him and
the interference he then met with in the performance of his functions,
sent in his resignation and returned to Villa Franca; and within a month
109 pupils were withdrawn.
The post of director was successively filled by men whose mismanagement
provoked so much discontent as to cause the still greater reduction in
the number of students from 640 to 382.
The following extract from an article by M. de Salve in the _Revue des
Deux Mondes_, 15th Oct., 1874, contains a pretty correct estimate of the
talent, capacity, and general good conduct of the pupils that attended
the Lyceum:
“After three years in the month of June, 1871, eight pupils of the Lyceum
received the French decree of _Bachelier des Sciences_ before a French
Commission, and in the following years similar results were obtained.
“When the starting-point is considered and the progress made reflected
upon, it will be admitted that it was impossible to foresee, or hardly to
hope, for success. The degree that was attained bears testimony to the
value and devotion of the masters as much as to the persevering industry
and good-will of the pupils. In general, the progress made in the various
branches of study, and particularly in that of the French language, and
in the imitative art, has surpassed all our hopes, and in this struggle
of emulation between pupils of such varied extractions, the most laudable
results have been accomplished.
“We should then be wrong in looking upon the Eastern races as having
become incapable of receiving a serious intellectual culture, and
condemning them to final and fatal inaction. It may be interesting
to know which nationalities have produced the most intelligent and
best-conducted pupils. In these respects the Bulgarians have always held
the first rank, and after them the Armenians, then the Turks and Jews,
and lastly, I regret to say, the Roman Catholics. The Greeks, in addition
to some good characters, presented a great many bad ones.”
The supremacy of the Bulgarians is a fine augury for the coming state of
things; and that the Greeks and Roman Catholics should not have greatly
distinguished themselves need not surprise us; for all the children of
the better classes of these communities are educated in schools kept by
professors of their own persuasion. One of the reasons why the Lyceum
has been abandoned by the majority of the Christian pupils is its
removal to Stamboul, which made it very difficult for their children to
attend, together with the radical changes which have taken place in its
administration and in the tone, which has now become quite Turkish.
In describing the improvements effected by Ali and Fouad Pashas upon
the old Moslem Mekteb, we have been led away from the other primeval
Moslem institution, the _Medressé_, or Mosque College. These Medressés,
supported by the funds of the mosques to which they are attached, are
the universities where the Softas and Ulema, and lower down the Imams
and Kyatibs, study, and, so to speak, graduate. The subjects taught are
much the same as in the Medressés of other Mohammedan countries. Language
and theology are the main things in the eye of the Ulema (or Dons) of a
Medressé. Language means grammar, rhetoric, poetry, calligraphy, and what
not, in Arabic, and (though less essentially) in Persian and Turkish.
Theology includes the interpretation of the Koran and traditions; and
when we have said that we have said enough for one lifetime, as every
one knows who knows anything of Arab commentators and traditionists and
recommentators and traditionists commentated. Theology, it should however
be added, of course includes Moslem law, since both are bound together
in the Koran and the traditions of Mohammed. It may easily be conceived
that the instruction in these Medressés was and is always of a stiff
conservative sort, not likely to advance in any great degree the cause
of general enlightenment in Turkey. Still, since all the scholars and
statesmen of the country were, until quite lately, invariably educated at
the Medressés, it cannot be denied that they have done service in their
time. Whatever historians, poets, or literary men Turkey can boast of
more than a generation back, to the Medressés be the credit! In the case
of statesmen the result of this training has not always been very happy.
It is not satisfactory to know that in quite recent times a Minister of
Public Instruction (of the old school), sitting upon a commission for
looking into the state of the schools of Turkey, on being shown some maps
and some mathematical problems executed by the pupils, appeared entirely
ignorant of their meaning, and exclaimed, “Life of me! Mathematics,
geography, this, that, and the other, what use is such rubbish to us?”
Now, however, the highest classes send their sons to Paris and elsewhere
to be educated. The effect of this training upon La Jeune Turquie I have
already noticed. In some cases it must, nevertheless, be admitted that
the Turk educated in Europe has really made good use of his time, and has
raised himself, as near as his nature permits, to the level of the more
civilized nations he has associated with.
Such is the general state of education in Turkey. Brought up, first by an
ignorant mother, then by the little less ignorant Hodja of the Mekteb,
or, in rarer cases, by the well-meaning but still incompetent masters of
the Government schools, it is not surprising that the ordinary Turk is
crafty, ignorant, and correspondingly fanatical. Yet dark as the present
position is, it is better than it was a few years ago. The efforts of
Ali and Fouad Pashas have certainly given education a forward impulse.
The advance has been slow, but it has been forward, not backward. In
this advance the Turks have shared far less than the subject races.
Were things as they were two years ago, this could hardly be taken as a
hopeful sign; but, looking at it from the opposite point of view, that
the Bulgarians and Greeks have advanced more than the Turks, it must be
admitted, in the new arrangement of the provinces now negotiating, that
the fact carries a bright ray of hope.