The educational system--Long hours of study and no fresh air or
exercise--Take Jonescu, as Minister of Education, introduces
the bath-tub to the schools, and provides for walking
exercise--School-fare is never good--A water famine--Examinations
and show questions--English poetry translated literally--German
literature taught in _French_, the pupils being examined in
_Roumanian_--Lack of books in the Roumanian language--The school
fêtes--Convents and proselytising--A girl who despised all the
pleasures of the world and ran away to become a nun.
Education is free and compulsory throughout Roumania, but in many
rural districts non-attendance at school is winked at, especially at
harvest-time. The Government primary schools in the capital are chiefly
attended by the lower classes; children of the better-class families
either attend private schools or have instruction at home. But in any
case children are expected to present themselves at the Government
examinations, and to pass the first four classes.
Private schools in the capital are usually well attended, some having
as many as four hundred pupils, the children from the provinces always
being sent to Bucarest for their education. Although very much is
expected from Roumanian children, they are sadly handicapped. Their
own tongue is grossly neglected, instruction being usually given them
in French. They are, besides, taught English and German, and sometimes
Latin and Greek. A great deal of attention is devoted to music and
painting, and of late years practical training in dressmaking, cooking,
and housekeeping is given in the schools.
Naturally, with so many subjects in the curriculum, there is not much
time to lose if one is to get all one’s work done for the next day
in a certain time. Very many written exercises are demanded of the
pupils, in all languages, the consequence being that the handwriting is
atrocious, and time is too limited to allow of any improvement being
even attempted in this direction.
School begins at 8 o’clock a.m., continuing till midday, when there is
an interval for dinner and recreation till 2 o’clock. Lessons are then
resumed, and continue till 6 p.m. Of course this does not mean that
every child is continually occupied for eight hours. A pupil may have
only four classes to attend on one day, perhaps five on another day, or
sometimes only three--but the rest of the time must be devoted to the
preparation of lessons for the next day. Preparation ended, the pupil
may employ herself as she likes, provided she remains quiet, as, of
course, lessons may be going on in the class-room in which she has no
part.
These hours are very long, and when one considers that no time is given
for outdoor exercise, one cannot wonder that the children grow up puny
and stunted. In a well-known school in Bucarest outdoor exercise, fresh
air, and baths were unknown. The class-rooms were overheated, there
being a large stove in each, and windows were never opened. Once a
fortnight the children of so many classes (they were taken in rotation)
were assembled in the recreation room, where the washing of their feet
was supervised by the German governess with all due solemnity! This was
the only concession to cleanliness, as of course colds would have to be
risked if further ablutions were indulged in!
These customs were somewhat changed a few years ago (perhaps I may
be permitted to say that it was upon my representation), when Mons.
Take Jonescu became Minister of Instruction. He, as an intelligent and
enlightened man, readily saw the evils that were certain to accrue
to the youth of the country from such an upbringing. Regulations
were framed insisting upon baths being provided in all public and
private schools, and upon time being allowed for the children to
take a walk daily of at least an hour. These innovations were by no
means favourably received at the time either by heads of schools or
by the children themselves, and it would not astonish me to learn
that things have fallen back into the old way. Breakfast is served
at 7 o’clock, consisting of a cup of coffee and a _kipfel_ (small
roll) without butter. Midday is the luncheon hour, when the dishes
are generally varied, but never appetising (school-fare never is).
Sometimes meat is served stewed with quinces, potatoes, or other
vegetables, and a pudding made of maize flour liberally besprinkled
with grated cheese. At 4 o’clock a piece of dry bread is given to
each child, and at 6 o’clock comes dinner. This generally consists of
a thin soup, rarely palatable, the second course being the meat from
which the soup has been made. Surely such meat was never seen anywhere
else! It is generally perfectly white, as if it had been stewed until
every drop of nourishment had been extracted from it. This, together
with vegetables, forms the second course. If a governess cannot bring
herself to swallow it, or can plead a bad headache, she may be allowed
a _bifteck_; but as the beef-steaks are difficult to distinguish from a
bit of shoe-leather, little is gained by the exchange.
Stewed fruit, or a light pudding, ends the evening meal. The
governesses are allowed a glass of the thin red wine of the country,
but the children are obliged to slake their thirst with water. Such
water! It used to look as if a tiny drop of milk had fallen into it
by mistake, and had left it a muddy colour. The water of Bucarest was
very bad when I first went there, but of late years it has greatly
improved, as filtering-beds have been arranged for the water to pass
through before entering the capital. A scheme was mooted for bringing
water from Sinaia, but as the cost would have been very great, the plan
was not proceeded with. If it had, there would be no capital in Europe
better provided with water, as that of Sinaia is the best I have ever
tasted. Clear as crystal, and perfectly cold, as all mountain water is,
it forms a refreshing draught on a hot summer day.
But even in the mountains the supply may run short, as happened one
exceedingly hot summer. I was at Sinaia at the time, and it was the
only occasion in my whole life when I envied a queen. I heard that her
Majesty alone amongst all the people of the land was able to indulge in
the luxury of a daily bath.
But to return. The examinations are usually in the month of June, both
State examinations and those in private schools. Upon the occasion
of the first school examination at which I was present I did feel
astonished. The room in which it was held looked rather imposing,
being handsomely decorated with tall plants and plenty of flowers. The
relatives and friends of the pupils had been invited to be present,
and a goodly number responded. A class came up to be examined in
German grammar, but to my amazement only two questions were put by the
teacher. These two questions _were put alternately to every pupil in
the class_, and the first answer being correct, all the others were
of course also correct, as each pupil interrogated had just heard the
reply of the preceding pupil.
The explanation--such as it was--came later on. In preparing my own
class (for I had an engagement at this school for a short time), I
was instructed by the headmistress as to the questions to be asked.
She remarked, “It makes such a bad impression if the pupils fail to
answer correctly!” English poetry was learned by heart, first being
translated _literally_ word by word. They would have been remarkably
clever children who could have made any sense whatever out of it as so
rendered; but the headmistress decreed that it should be so, and so it
had to be.
German was even more curiously taught. Roumanian children do not like
German, so they are never very proficient in it. Not knowing the
language sufficiently well to study in it, German literature was taught
in _French_; and when the girls presented themselves for the State
examination, they were questioned in _Roumanian_!
One may wonder why they do not learn in their own tongue; the
explanation is, to a large extent, simply the lack of books.[2] There
are no advanced books in the Roumanian language dealing with foreign
subjects, so the children are obliged to use French, a language in
which they are more or less proficient.
Holidays in Roumania are much longer than in England--three weeks at
Christmas, two weeks at Easter, and from three to three and a half
months in summer, besides the numerous saints’ days, which are always
religiously kept.
Just before breaking up for the summer holidays, some of the private
schools give a little fête. The children act a short play; there are
various songs and pianoforte solos as part of the entertainment,
and then dancing is indulged in till a late hour. At one of these
entertainments I happened to be present, and was very much--shall I
merely say--amused? to find that although dancing was kept up for the
visitors (the children were sent to bed) till 3 a.m., nothing more
substantial than a _dulçeata_ was provided by way of refreshments. At
some of the schools the “names-day” of the headmistress is observed
as a holiday. Each child must perforce contribute a certain sum
towards the gift that is to be presented. I have heard some dilatory
ones admonished in class to bring their contribution not later than a
certain date, as the present had then to be bought.
A considerable sum of money is thus collected, and as the recipient of
the present is always sounded as to her wishes, a very practical as
well as a handsome gift is usually obtained. One present I remember
seeing consisted of three lovely carpets of Roumanian manufacture,
really beautiful in design.
After the presentation the children are of course free for the rest of
the day, and are regaled with bon-bons, as a slight return for their
generosity.
Roumanian children are often sent for their education to one or other
of the Roman Catholic convents scattered throughout the country, the
nuns of which invariably belong to some French sisterhood. Some years
ago there was a great stir in Bucarest, and considerable feeling
was aroused against the nuns, as they were accused of trying to
proselytise. An outcry was raised by the people that the faith of
their forefathers was in danger (not that I ever saw it religiously
adhered to), and some society ladies having leisure just then for a
new fad, banded themselves together in order to protect it. A service
was held in St George’s, one of the principal churches, after which
a procession was formed and passed through the streets to the palace
of the Metropolitan, in order to present him with an address assuring
him of the constant adherence of the people of the country to their
own religion, and protesting at the same time against any attempts to
subvert their children.
The agitation caused considerable talk for a time and then died a
natural death. But it is a fact that Roumanian girls who have been
educated in a French convent rarely retain a genuine love for their
own country, its customs, or its language. That is one reason why the
Roumanian language is so much neglected. It has happened that girls who
have been educated in France fall utterly under the influence of the
nuns, and go over to Roman Catholicism.
I remember the case of one girl who did so. She was a Greek, living in
Bucarest with her parents, who, although they were not rich, did what
they thought best for their only child in sending her to Paris to be
educated. The girl was very musical, and probably the nuns thought she
would be useful to them on that account although she had no money. She
returned to her parents in course of time, but was always restless,
wishing to return to the convent, and finally confessed to her mother
her great desire to become a nun. Her mother, being very much against
the idea, set before her all the disadvantages that would accrue from
such a course, and in order to distract her from dwelling upon it gave
her every amusement that was in her power. Balls, concerts, fêtes
followed each other in quick succession, but all proved unavailing. The
girl left home one afternoon, ostensibly to visit a friend, and the
next that was heard of her was a telegram from the frontier informing
her parents that she was on her way back to the convent. She became a
nun, and as far as I know she was lost to her parents. This was not by
any means the only case of which I had knowledge.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] I believe that, since the period--several years ago--of which I
write, this state of affairs has been remedied to a considerable extent.