collection of Turkish ladies. Americans are very much liked by the
Turks and many of the younger Turkish generation have been educated
at Robert College or at the Constantinople College, the two American
educational institutions of Constantinople where young men and young
women are educated according to an American program. It was at one
of the teas given at the American Embassy that we met one of the
principals of Robert College, and he and his wife having asked us to
tea the following week and having promised to take us through the
college we were delighted to accept their invitation.
XI
ROBERT COLLEGE
Robert College is situated at the most picturesque spot on the
Bosphorus. It dominates the narrowest part of the waterway and its many
buildings are on a hill, above the very place which was selected by the
Turks nearly six centuries ago as the strategic spot to build their
first fort for the conquest of Constantinople. The ruins of the old
fort are still there.
Although the electric cars run from the city almost to the very door of
the college, we took an automobile, both because we wanted to time our
arrival and because we did not desire to climb through the park of the
College up the hill where its principal buildings are. We left Stamboul
with some American friends who had also been asked and, at times
skirting the quays, at times taking the road behind the old palaces, we
followed the winding contour of the Bosphorus. All the villages here
constitute the real suburbs of Constantinople and follow each other
almost uninterruptedly nearly to the shores of the Black Sea. One of
the first things that attracted our attention soon after we had left
the city proper were the buildings of the American Naval Base where
are kept all the stores for the United States warships. The principal
nations keep such stores at present in Constantinople, the harbour
being used as a base for their warships engaged in the international
control of the straits. America maintains only a few small craft in the
Near East; therefore, its naval base is much smaller than those of the
other nations but it is nevertheless quite an extensive organization
where are stored canned products of all kind, fresh food, as well as
deck and engine-room supplies. A few squares from the American Naval
Base is the Imperial Palace of Dolma Baghtshe, the official residence
of the Sultan.
It is an elaborate and large palace in stone and marble, within a
beautiful garden surrounded with high walls and wrought-iron gates.
I remember having entered it during the reign of the late Sultan. I
was struck by the enormous size of its halls and rooms, by the luxury
of its priceless carpets, rugs and hangings, and by its gallery of
pictures which includes the most important collection of paintings of
the famous Russian artist, Aivazowsky. It had been collected by Sultan
Abdul Aziz and is now greedily coveted by many European museums, who
will, however, have to be satisfied just to covet it as Turkey does not
sell its national art possessions. Passing before the Imperial Palace
I could not help comparing mentally its present appearance to the way
it looked when I had previously visited it. At that time the place was
full of life, the large gates were wide opened, and the gardens were
crowded with military aides and chamberlains busily going and coming.
Now the gates were closed, a lonely Turkish sentry was pacing up and
down, guarding the empty palace, and through the wrought-iron bars I
could get only glimpses of its forsaken gardens. My American friends
asked me why the palace was now so tightly closed and easily understood
the reason when I called their attention to the fact that most of
the largest foreign warships had to be anchored in the Bosphorus
right in front of the Palace as the inner harbour of Constantinople
is too congested with trade to make it practical for battleships to
stay there. No wonder, therefore, that the Sultan prefers to live
temporarily in the summer palace of Yildiz Kiosk which is located
outside the city, on a hill far away from the sight of foreign warships
whose propinquity would be too vivid a reminder to the sovereign of the
plight of his nation.
A little further on we passed before the gates of another old palace
which has now been converted into an orphan asylum, where hundreds of
Turkish war orphans are being cared for by the Committee of Turkish
Ladies for the Relief of Orphans. Poor little boys, ranging from six to
fourteen years and uniformly dressed in khaki tunics and long trousers,
were pitifully standing and watching the passers-by. They did not even
seem to have any desire to pass their few minutes of recreation in
playing and running in the gardens, as all other children of their age
do in all other countries. Truly Sherman was right in his definition of
war, and he would have even forged a stronger word if he had seen the
consequences of war in Turkey!
Finally we arrived at Bebek, with its pretty little public garden, its
tiny harbour where small yachts and skiffs are peacefully lying covered
with tarpaulin for their winter sleep. From here to the lower gate of
Robert College is only a very short distance and within a few minutes
our car swung through the gate and up the road winding its way to the
top of the hill. The climb is pretty steep and I pity the day pupils
who have to negotiate it every morning on foot. Of course the teachers
claim that this is good exercise for the boys. There is a building
at the foot of the hill, right near the entrance gate, which was
originally meant as an abode for some of the teachers and principals of
the college. It has perfectly splendid accommodations, but few of the
teachers live here as they naturally prefer to live on top of the hill.
Our hosts had their domicile in the hospital building which is right
below the large terrace at the very summit. So before we reached this
terrace our car swerved around and stopped at the door of the hospital.
We were directed to an apartment on the ground floor where our
hosts received us and, after the usual greetings, served us tea
and some delicious American homemade cakes. All the furniture in
this apartment--as throughout the whole college--is imported from
America, even to the window frames. Provided one does not look out
of the windows one could easily believe oneself to be in an American
home of the standardized “bourgeois” type. Everything, even to the
mahogany-finished mantelpiece and the book-cases to match, speaks of
America, the middle class America cut out of immovable patterns. The
furniture itself is also American and reminds you of pictures you see
in the anniversary sales periodically advertised in newspapers. The
eternal rocking-chair is, of course there, and on the center-table the
latest _Ladies' Home Companion_ rests peacefully side by side with the
latest _Saturday Evening Post_. Truly this is a little corner of America,
possibly not a corner of the progressive America which leads the world
in things artistic, intellectual, scientific and political--possibly
not a corner of the good old consistent America, puritan in her tastes,
but which has for generations given to the great Western Republic
millions and millions of hard-working farmers, traders and navigators,
Empire builders--but a corner of the average America which abides
faithfully to standardized taste.
The general conversation started naturally by talking about America,
the land of the free, and how everyone wished to be there; how much
comfort one had in America and how little of it one had in Europe,
especially in Constantinople; how the American colony in Constantinople
had increased since the war, and what a blessing it was to have now so
many Americans whom one could visit and whom one could talk to; how the
American colony was sufficient to itself and how one could pleasantly
and interestingly pass away the time by seeing only people of one's
own kind with whom one could speak without the necessity of employing
an interpreter or without being obliged to watch oneself continuously
so as not to make a break. Of course this question of language is a
serious consideration to the Americans; as most of them speak only
English they have comparatively few people they can talk to in foreign
countries. Our host, however, remarked that through the good work done
by Robert College and the Constantinople College for Girls, who were
both striving to spread education and the light of truth, the number of
English-speaking “natives” had greatly increased. Our hostess pointed
out how bright the young “native” children were and how easily they
picked up language, education and religion. They suggested showing us
through the college grounds and buildings and so we all got up.
Our tour started by stepping out of the French windows into the little
terrace, where an old fashioned New England flower garden had been
transplanted on these distant shores. The hedges were not high enough
to completely mask the gorgeous Oriental view. Seeing we were so much
interested in the panorama, our hosts suggested our going on the roof
of the Hospital Building where we could see it without any obstruction.
As we passed through the drawing-room our hostess pointed out to us
the genuine Turkish and Persian carpets she had been lucky enough to
purchase through the uncle of one of the pupils who had a shop in the
Bazaar. She considered them as a real bargain and she proudly told
us the price she had paid. Of course we did not say anything, but
my conscience was only set at rest after I found, through skilful
investigation, that the pupil whose uncle had a shop in the Bazaar
was an Armenian “and one of the cleverest little fellows we have.”
Our hostess showed us also, hidden in a corner near the door and
patiently awaiting the eventual return of its owners to America where
it could be shown to friends from Michigan or Wisconsin as exhibit A
of a quaint collection of Turkish antiques, a brass brazero, another
bargain purchased from the Armenian uncle of the clever little pupil.
It seemed that this man through his good services to our hosts had
been recommended by them to many of their friends and had furnished
to several of them similar bargains. No wonder that the family of the
little boy prodigy could afford to send him to Robert College.
We climbed the stairs of the building and stopped on our way in the
hospital room, a perfectly equipped place with all the comforts devised
by modern science and kept immaculately clean and as we climbed one
more flight we reached the door of the roof, a spacious flat place with
an indented parapet built according to the best principles of American
neo-mediaeval suburban architecture. Here we had the view, and words
fail me to depict its gorgeousness. Imagine if you can a limitless
horizon extending far into the transparent azure of a limpid Eastern
sky, deep into the snow-covered mountains of Anatolia, which are,
however, so far away that they almost seem at this distance to be below
your level. All around in the country are little bouquets of trees
which, with each slender minaret, represent the location of a small
village. Nearer, but still on the Asiatic shores, are the green hills
of the Bosphorus with their summer residences and their uninterrupted
line of homes by the water, while below are the green hills of the
European shore. With the blue water in between and the blue sky
overhead, the picture is unforgettable. We admired it in silence while
our hosts told us of their little country house in America, near a
little pond whose waters are as blue as the waters of the Bosphorus.
We descend from the terrace and we are taken to the principal buildings
of the college through its splendid grounds. The park is beautiful and
well kept and is crowned with an enormous terrace, facing East, from
where we have another view totally different but fully as gorgeous
as the one we had from the Hospital Building. That is the beauty of
the Bosphorus: its aspect changes from any spot that you stand on,
its every hill, its every house, its every nook and every corner
has a different outlook, each one more beautiful than the other. It
completely does away with the monotony that any panorama, no matter how
beautiful, generally has.
Right behind the terrace are the playgrounds of the college, large
lawns with special accommodations for all kinds of games: football,
tennis, croquet, and of course basket-ball and baseball. Around these
grounds and facing the Bosphorus in a semi-circle are the principal
buildings of the College where the class-rooms, the dormitories, the
dining-rooms, laboratories, gymnasiums, etc. are located. We go through
some of them. They are all spacious, well-ventilated and bright rooms,
and each is equipped according to the latest dictates of hygiene and
science. It really is perfect in every detail and no modern college in
the United States can muster any better accommodation
Our host is justly proud when we compliment him on the College. As
they are taking us back to our motor he walks with me and expresses his
personal disappointment in not having a larger number of Turkish pupils.
“We have pupils from all the nations of the Near East,” he says, “but
the largest quota is provided by the Armenians. We have, however, quite
a few Greeks, we have even Bulgarians and Roumanians who come here from
their distant countries, we have Caucasians and Russians, but barely a
few Turks. I do not understand why more Turkish families do not send
their children to be educated and brought up by us. The Turks desire
to acquire modern education, they are unquestionably good workers and
progressive. Ours is, I believe, the best College in the Near East, we
have excellent teachers and our courses are as complete as any of the
American Colleges back home. Still the Turks don't seem to care to send
us their children. They seem to admire the Americans, they desire to
know us better, to make themselves better known to us. They seem to be
sincere in their wish to understand us better and to have themselves
better understood in America. Still only a very few of them send their
sons to the only American College here and they prefer to send them
to Galata Serai which is a college run by the French and where French
education is imparted.”
On our way back in the car, I was thinking over these parting
remarks of our host and as I noticed that the American friends who
accompanied us had been impressed by them I decided to tell them of my
own experience, when years ago I was called to choose between Robert
College and Galata Serai as the educational institution to which to
send my younger brother.
To appreciate the full meaning of my action at that time and of the
reasons that induced me to act that way, I must first say that as
my father was in the diplomatic service I have grown up in foreign
countries and have myself received a foreign education. My childhood
and early youth, I passed in Rome, where French, Italian and English
teachers prepared me for taking my French degrees. I also had a
Turkish teacher who taught me my own language. As far as religious
education is concerned although I studied the Koran, being a Muslim
born, I also studied the Bible and other Holy Books. My religious
education was therefore most liberal and according to the true Muslim
principles, which as I understand them and as they are interpreted by
all broadminded Muslims, are all-inclusive of all other religions.
And recognizing the one Almighty God and all His prophets, I never
hesitated to go into any church of any denomination and therein raise
my thoughts in prayer. In fact, having passed the greater part of my
life in foreign countries I have more often prayed in churches than in
mosques.
Well about fifteen years ago, and after I had finished my studies,
I was engaged in business in Constantinople while my father was
transferred from Rome to Vienna. My father was obliged to choose
between either having my younger brother start again his studies,
with German this time as a basis, or else sending him somewhere where
he could continue his studies either in French or in English, both
of which he knew. Naturally my father preferred this last course and
decided to send my younger brother to Constantinople where he could
follow either the course of Robert College or that of Galata Serai, and
he asked me to investigate both colleges and to make arrangements with
the one I recommended the most.
I went first to Galata Serai, the program of which I already knew,
having myself taken the official French degrees. I knew that the
education one received in French schools was somewhat too theoretical
and I personally was not therefore in favour of my brother following
it. But to have a clear conscience I visited the college and had a talk
with the principal. Of course I found the class-rooms and dormitories
good enough if not very modern, and, as I expected, I found that
athletics and sports were much neglected. As for the program of studies
I found it as cumbersome as the one I had taken.
My next step was to go to Robert College where I was received by
the then Dean, who very courteously showed me all around. I was most
favourably impressed by the great attention given to athletics and
sports as well as by the most modern and hygienic buildings, the
working quarters and the living quarters. As for the program of studies
it did not take me long to realize how much more practical it was
than the French program, how boys graduated from an American College
stepped into life better equipped to face all modern problems than
those graduated from European Colleges. I therefore made up my mind
and told the Dean that I would most forcibly advocate the sending of
my younger brother to Robert College in preference to Galata Serai. As
a last word, and so as to make everything clear, I asked the Dean if,
seeing that there were no classes from Saturday noon to Monday morning,
the College would object to allowing my brother to visit his family
from Saturday to Sunday evening. The Dean replied that while he had
no objection to my brother's visiting his family on Sunday afternoons
it would not be possible for him to go home on Saturdays, as one of
the few unbreakable rules of the College was that all pupils should be
present at Sunday service. Despite all my arguments to the effect that
my brother was a Muslim and that, to be fair, he should at least not be
obliged to attend any religious functions until he had reached the age
of reason and could then choose freely the creed he wanted to follow,
the Dean informed me that he was very sorry but Muslim or no Muslim it
was an unbreakable rule that all pupils should go to church on Sundays
and he could not possibly make an exception in favour of any Muslim
pupil.
This rule seemed to me so narrow-minded, and apparently such an
unjustifiable attempt to try to force, to coerce young children into
the fold of one church and one creed in preference to any other, that
I was struck by its narrowness in comparison with the broadness of
my own education. As a result my brother went to Galata Serai and
hundreds, possibly thousands of other Turkish boys are sent yearly to
Galata Serai in preference to Robert College for this very reason.
Americans should not take the lack of participation of the Turks in
the educational campaign they lead in Turkey as a reason to doubt of
the desire of the Turks to acquire modern education or as a proof that
they are not sincere when they claim that they want to be better known
by the Americans and want to know them better. This lack of response
on the part of the Turks should be rather attributed to the fact that
all Turks like any civilized nation, resent the activities of foreign
missionaries especially when these missionaries try to impose on their
children a religion which is not their own, and try to mold young minds
into accepting the dogma of an alien church.
When I explained the foregoing to our American friends they understood
exactly the situation and they agreed with me that the greatest
handicap for the spread of American interests in the Near East
is the fact that all of the American educational enterprises are
conducted by missionaries, who, under the guise of offering modern
education, endeavour to convert people to their own denominations.
The Constantinople College for Girls is conducted on identical lines,
as far as religion is concerned, with Robert College and there is no
doubt that if instead of having Colleges for Girls and Boys conducted
by missionaries the Americans maintained non-sectarian schools where
modern science was taught and education imparted without consideration
of religion they would render a far greater service to humanity and
culture. Irrespective of religion, creed or denomination they would
help in forming in the Near East new generations of modern men and
women.
Unfortunately the Constantinople College for Girls has become, since
the armistice, more unpopular among the Turks also for another reason,
and that is that despite the fact that the United States was never
at war with Turkey, despite the fact that the Turks had treated all
American institutions most correctly and in a friendly manner during
the war, all the teachers and American employees of the College did not
hesitate to manifest openly their pleasure at the sight of the arrival
of the Franco-British fleet in the harbour of Constantinople. Together
with Greek and Armenian pupils they waved flags and handkerchiefs,
they cheered from the windows of the College the battleships of the
then enemies of Turkey without consideration of the feelings of their
Turkish pupils. To all the Turkish girls the sight of the entrance of
the Franco-British fleet in the Bosphorus meant the realization of the
defeat of their country, and they still resent the fact that their
teachers, whom they had until then considered as friendly Americans,
cheered with joy in celebration of the defeat of Turkey, the country
which had extended them a most courteous hospitality during the worst
years of the war.
It is, of course, true that, fortunately for both countries, there
are in Turkey quite a few Americans and American institutions or
enterprises which are moved by truly American broadmindedness and are
imbued with a true spirit of fair play. Those are the business and
Governmental institutions, and it is most remarkable that all of the
Americans who do not have to depend for their living on the continuance
of an anti-Turkish campaign, are out and out friendly to the Turks and
openly in their favour. The Turks see this and can discriminate between
the two groups. They are duly grateful to those of their American
guests who show rectitude and fairness in their judgment. They are
especially grateful to the American High Commissioner and to his
assistants who are more liked than any other foreigner in Turkey. The
other Americans are also very much liked, even the missionaries, but it
would unquestionably better serve the interests of America in the Near
East, and civilization as a whole, if there were less missionary and
more non-sectarian American enterprises.
I believe that the American friends who were with us and who had been
in Constantinople on business for quite a while realized perfectly well
what I meant when I said that in my opinion the most desirable thing
in the interest of the two countries would be the appearance of an
American Pierre Loti. It can be said that the indestructible friendship
between France and Turkey, and especially the fact that it has survived
the war, has been cemented by the work of this great French writer.
He has taken the trouble to study the Turks, he has come and lived
with them--not in Pera, but in Stamboul, in the heart of Turkey. He
has lived as one of them for years and has learned thoroughly their
qualities and their faults. He has knocked and has been admitted, he
has opened his heart and all hearts have opened to him and after having
thus equipped himself he has gone back to France and has endeavoured to
impart his knowledge of the Turks to his countrymen by writing unbiased
novels and books. He has, as all novelists, romanticized his message.
As the real poet that he is, he has shown Turkey and the Turks through
the coloured glasses of poetry. He has perhaps added a few things here
and erased a few other things there. But he has made the heart of
Turkey talk to the heart of France and they both have come to know and
love each other, without prejudice, without religious thought.