I GO TO CONSTANTINOPLE AND PURSUE MY STUDIES.
The discomforts of travelling--Precautions against
brigands--Village hospitality--Bad condition of inns
and hotels--Broussa, the first capital of the Ottoman
Empire--Constantinople--The 'parish' of the conqueror--
First impressions of the European quarter--The question
of my education--Seats of learning, old and new--I am
forced to choose the old--I become a sort of monk--The
distinctive dress--Description of the old-fashioned
colleges--The Ulema--Their position and influence.
MY residence in my uncle's home in Asia Minor did not last very long
after my removal from his harem, as he decided to go to Constantinople
to live there again. Of course I was to go with his family, so that
I might continue my education. Everyone in my uncle's house began to
pack, and my mother prepared new clothes and all kinds of eatables
for me for the journey, which would take seven days. My uncle did
not permit me to go to my mother's house and spend my few remaining
days with her. I only went to see her during the daytime, when I
found her always in deep distress at the thought of our approaching
separation. She had only one son remaining, a child of two years, my
elder brother having been sent to the same place to which I was going
for the same purpose two years previously. In those days there was no
railway line between my native town and the Asiatic coast of the Sea
of Marmora, so our journey had to be made in a kind of a four-wheeled
travelling carriage, which was introduced into Turkey by the emigrant
Crimean Tartars, and which much resembles the big vans employed for
carrying parcels in London. Travelling in these coaches is an extremely
uncomfortable proceeding. To guard against the jolting caused by the
lack of adequate springs the floor of the vehicle is covered with
mattresses, but even then the shaking is quite insufferable. In those
days it was made worse by the primitive condition of the roads, which
indeed are little better now. Some fifteen years ago the Government
promulgated a law ordering every able-bodied male throughout the
country to work four days a year at making public roads between towns,
or to pay a workman's wage for four days in default. Some well-meaning
governors did their best to improve the roads, but officials nominated
by the palace, who form the majority of officialdom, abused this law
and pocketed the funds raised, and so a great part of the public roads
were ultimately left unfinished, and no care was taken to keep in
repair even the portions that were completed. Good roads, like other
means of easy travelling, would facilitate the incursion of visitors
and tourists into the interior of Asiatic Turkey, and nothing would
be more repugnant to the Sultan than to see this; and again, nothing
would be more undesirable for the Sultan and his entourage than to
see parties of Englishmen and Americans wondering at the unopened,
undeveloped spots of the country, coming directly into contact with his
subjects, and contrasting their poverty-stricken and wretched condition
with the natural beauty and richness of the land in which they live.
The appointed day at last arrived, and we started for Constantinople
in the jolting van-like coaches, of which we hired twelve, seven being
assigned to the ladies and their luggage, and five to the men. As is
necessary for travellers of position who may carry valuables with them,
we had three gendarmes put at our disposal by the local authorities.
This was a precaution against brigands, who are to be met with every
now and then in the thinly inhabited and mountainous regions of Asiatic
Turkey. It hardly ever happens, however, that these brigands are Turks.
Ever since the days of the Crusaders the ill-informed section of the
European public has manifested a prejudice against the Turks, and as
one result of this prejudice therefore, when reports are heard in
Europe of cases of brigandage occurring in Turkey, it is unhesitatingly
concluded that the brigands must be Turks. As a matter of fact, the
provincial Turk is generally an honest fellow. It was not the Turkish
villagers that we feared; nor did we fear the Kurds, who mostly infest
the Eastern portion of Asia Minor; or the Greeks, of whom the provinces
through which we had to pass were fairly clear. Our precautions were
directed against any possible attack from the emigrant settlers, the
majority of whom are Circassians.
According to our day's itinerary, we had to pass the first night in a
small town which we expected to reach after thirteen hours' travelling.
But before we had got half-way our drivers said that they did not
want to over-fatigue their horses, and as the ladies expressed a wish
not to journey after nightfall, we stopped at a small village. We
found it difficult to get a sufficient number of rooms there, and we
were too numerous to be the guests of any of the village dignitaries,
who, though invariably hospitable, were not sufficiently well-off to
maintain so large a party.
Hospitality is an inborn instinct in most of the Turkish villagers.
They love entertaining passing strangers, and they expect nothing
in return for the trouble they take on their visitors' behalf. This
fact has often been mentioned by Europeans who have travelled in Asia
Minor. But the inhabitants of the village where we passed our first
night did not show us much sympathy. People in these parts, however,
have good reason for not being very hospitable. All officials who are
appointed to this province by the Sultan--and they have usually large
families--claim hospitality for themselves and for their families as
they travel to and fro from Constantinople, and they imagine that by so
doing they force the "loyal slave-subjects" of the Sultan to perform
their duty. Although my uncle was an official, he would not have dreamt
of imposing any obligation upon poor villagers, for he was himself
a native of Asia Minor, and naturally did not wish to inconvenience
his compatriots. We induced, however, some of the villagers to spare
a few rooms in their mud huts. I and three other men had to sleep in
a dimly-lighted loft above a stable in which were several bullocks,
calves, and donkeys. I think some English travellers have had the same
experience before now in Asia Minor, and they generally complain of
the unpleasantness of these lofts, and of the noise and effluvia from
the animals. I did not object to these things much, as I was used to
farm life; moreover, I have heard and almost believe that sleeping in
stables is good for the health. Tired to death by journeying in a shaky
van, I was ready to fall asleep at once, but hundreds of fleas, coming
perhaps from the dusty floor of the loft or falling from the thatch
above, made an assault on me, and rendered sleep impossible. I wanted
to go out to our van, taking a carpet with me to lie on, but when I got
out I saw three huge shepherd's dogs lying near the vans, so I did not
dare to leave the stable door.
These fierce dogs are especially trained to be savage in order to guard
the sheep and mohair goats against thieves and wolves. They would tear
to pieces any stranger who might walk through the village at night.
They are powerfully built animals, mostly light-yellow and grey in
colour, with long silky coats. Mohair goat breeders always fasten
round the neck of these dogs chain collars studded with sharp nails,
because when wolves attack them they invariably try to seize the dogs
by the neck or throat, and the studded collars act as preventive armour
against the teeth of the assailant.
After passing the night in that most uncomfortable village, we started
for the next town. We followed the travellers' custom in quartering at
the house of one of the notables, and enjoying the national hospitality
I have mentioned. In towns this sort of hospitality to travellers can
only be given when host and guest are personally acquainted, or when
the latter can produce letters of introduction from some friends of the
host.
On the third night of our journey we had arranged to stay in a Turcoman
village, but we found that the people of the village had shut up their
huts, and had removed, with all their belongings, to some high pasture
land in the vicinity, where there were several lovely springs. We went
to this spot and spent the night there under three tents, which were
woven from the hair of black goats, and which were lent to us by these
quasi-nomadic people for the night. In return for this we tendered them
money, but they were affronted by this offer, so we gave them 'some
presents from town.'
We spent the fourth night in a large inn, for there was nothing there
worthy of the name of hotel. As a matter of fact, except in a few big
towns on the coasts and on the existing railway lines, there are no
hotels where it is possible to be tolerably comfortable. The average
houses calling themselves hotels, of which many are being built in the
crowded centres, and conducted by native Christians, are in reality
nothing more than taverns, where the appearance of drunkards is a
continual shock to the feelings of sober Ottoman families who may need
to put up at these places when travelling. If they cannot secure a
letter of introduction to some dignitary of a town for the night, they
would rather go to an old-fashioned khan, or inn, than to one of these
modern taverns. Rooms in these inns are unfurnished, and usually filthy
beyond description. All kinds of vermin may be expected, and even the
visit of an occasional scorpion.
After passing two more nights on our journey, on the sixth evening
we reached the town of Broussa, which is situated at the foot of the
Asiatic Olympus. We stopped in Broussa several days, as the town is
full of pretty mosques, shrines, and mausoleums, and large baths built
over thermal springs, which are well worth seeing. Broussa is one of
the largest towns in the Turkish empire. It served as capital for the
first three Ottoman Sultans. It is said that when the Sultan Mohammed
II. conquered Constantinople he brought nearly 50,000 Turkish families
from Broussa to settle in the new capital. From Broussa we went down
to the shore of Marmora, and there took boat for Constantinople.
The part of Stamboul in which my uncle took up his residence was in the
neighbourhood of the great mosque of Mohammed II., the conqueror of
Constantinople. This is the centre of the locality which is exclusively
inhabited by Turkish families of the old-fashioned type. My cousins
and I were given two weeks' holiday by my uncle in which to explore
the city and see the sights. One day we were allowed to go over the
Golden Horn to visit Pera, the European quarter of the capital, where
we were amazed at the evident signs of the prosperity and richness
of its population. While we were enviously imagining how happy these
people must be, an old man, who was guiding our little party, warned
us that to set our ambitions on such worldly progress was not in
accordance with the ideals of contentment of the faithful, and reminded
us that "This world is the heaven of infidels." This saying, which is
wrongly attributed to the Prophet, is one of the principles of that
fatalism, the firm belief in which is one of the chief reasons for
the stationary condition and want of progress which distinguish the
majority of Orientals. On coming back from Pera, however, we received
quite a different impression, for we witnessed the seamy side of
European life. The larger portion of the European quarter is inhabited
by Greeks, Poles, Levantines, Italians and Maltese. Here may be seen
dirty cut-throats with crime written large on their faces, and, above
all, many an habitual drunkard, whose face tells the tale of his
debauched life. Here, too, we saw disreputable houses, with half-naked
and painted creatures sitting on their balconies or standing on the
thresholds of their doors, and calling out invitations to all who
passed by. Here we saw countless drink and dram shops, all filled with
rough sailors, Greek thieves, quarrelsome Maltese, and the dregs of
European society. They were all more or less drunk, most of them openly
armed with daggers and revolvers. None of these ruffians would dream
of obeying the law of the country and its police, for each of them
enjoys his capitulation privileges, and thus is under the protection of
the Embassy and Consulate of his country, whatever it may be. We were
disgusted with such an exhibition of what most Moslems believe to be
"Christian life." It is unfortunately a fact that all the bad points
of European civilisation spread with ease and rapidity, while its good
and useful points seem seldom to have any effect on life in Oriental
countries.
[Illustration: TURKISH CEMETERY]
After this excursion I was not permitted to revisit the European
quarter of the capital for a considerable time. I had to resume the
course of my education.
In what way my cousins and I should be educated in Constantinople was
a question which had to be considered by my uncle. There are two kinds
of higher education in Turkey. One of them is to receive instruction
in the old-fashioned colleges or _madrasseh_, of which I have made
mention before, and of which I will in this chapter give some further
description. The other form of education is that now carried on in the
modern schools and colleges. Of these there are many in Constantinople.
They are modelled on the system of the educational institutions of some
of the European countries. In these places of learning, unlike the
old-fashioned _madrasseh_, all kinds of what I may call utilitarian
subjects, necessitated by modern requirements, are taught In addition
to the great military academy and preparatory military colleges, naval
college, civil and military medical institutions, and the Imperial
lycée, some of which are fifty or sixty years old, there are civil
servants', law, civil-engineering, and several minor colleges of
recent foundation. Two years ago an official project was in the air
for creating a regular University in Constantinople. But the present
Sultan is not likely to favour in earnest such a scheme, which would
necessarily result in the increased popularity of European culture.
Formerly those colleges of modern creation turned out men of marked
ability in all branches of literature and science which existed in
the country. But, unhappily, Abd-ul-Hamid's inflexible determination
to suppress at any cost what are called 'young-Turkish ideas,' or
liberalism, has seriously interfered with and paralysed the progress of
these seminaries of culture and education.
My desire was to join one of these colleges, after having been prepared
by private tuition to pass the obligatory entrance examination. But
since my elder brother had already entered one of the modern colleges,
my uncle urged me to affiliate myself to one of the old-fashioned
_madrassehs_. As we had yet some hope of recovering our confiscated
property, and as the right of holding the estates depended on the
heir's following our grandfather's semi-theological profession, my
uncle insisted that I should continue my studies in one of these
quasi-theological _madrassehs_. Although I was most reluctant, I
had to fall in with his wishes, so I prepared to go and live with a
tutor who had his room in the _madrasseh_ which is attached to the
mosque of little St Sophia,[3] a Byzantine building, which is as much
visited by European tourists as the great St. Sophia. When one becomes
a member of these old-fashioned institutions of learning, one must
wear a professional turban and a long cloak, let the beard grow, if
one is old enough to have one, and shave the hair off one's head.
They procured for me a turban and cloak, and my uncle sent me with a
manservant to a barber's shop to get my head shaved. The shaving of a
thick head of hair is a most painful thing, and tears filled my eyes,
partly from the pain caused by the razor on my unaccustomed head,
and partly, I think, from the anticipation of the terrible monk-like
existence I was about to pass in the _madrasseh_. Next day I went with
my luggage to the school, but did not begin my studies until several
months had passed away, as I caught cold by being shaved, and suffered
in consequence from headache and ophthalmia. I shall never forget the
miserable life I passed in that school. It will perhaps be of some
interest if I give a description of a _madrasseh_, and the mode of life
and study therein.
There are in Constantinople over a hundred of these theological
colleges, or _madrassehs_. In the provinces each important town
is provided with several. These seminaries of old Moslem culture
are not peculiar to Turkey--they exist also in Egypt, Persia, and
some other Oriental countries, and at one time they were the only
places of instruction. They served not only as schools for religious
teaching when they were originally founded in past days, but all
branches of human knowledge known in the East were to be taught in
them. In Constantinople some of them still retain their original
names--'_Madrasseh_ of Medicine,' 'Madrasseh of History,' and so on.
The Moslem people were formerly divided into two distinct classes--the
great illiterate mass, and the learned hierarchy known as _Ulema_.
Although all instruction given in the _madrasseh_ was formed on the
basis of the faith of Islam, the _Ulema_ were certainly not entirely
theologians. They were certainly not priests, as Islam recognises no
spiritual authority. Mohammed has stated distinctly that "there is no
priesthood in Islam." With the lapse of time human knowledge advanced,
and the high culture which existed among Moslems in mediæval times
decayed; but still the _Ulema_ continued to teach the Arabic language,
with its literature and law, secular and spiritual. Ultimately
countries like Turkey and Egypt felt the necessity of learning
something from the progressive nations of Europe, and, in imitation
of their educational institutions, began to establish schools and
colleges for modern learning and science. In the Ottoman empire the
_Ulema_, having nearly lost their occupations as professors and judges,
now hold a peculiar position, which somewhat resembles a sort of
priesthood. Of course, this class still retains its old professional
titles, receives pensions, and lives on the revenues accruing from
charitable endowments. Moreover, its members still have a greater
influence over the ignorant masses than persons of modern education,
but they are not now of much service to the State. The _madrassehs_
are, notwithstanding, still full of students who wish to become members
of that body, but the more intelligent of them, instead of attending
the old course of lectures in the mosques, go to some modern college in
order to qualify themselves for professions which will be of practical
use to them. Many of them spend their time in the _madrassehs_ idly, or
simply live in them till they have passed an examination by which they
are exempted from military service, and then return to their towns and
villages. Again, some of these students who are really working, instead
of attending one of the modern colleges, go to an institution founded
for the training of the _Kadis_ or semi-religious magistrates. These
students are all called _Softas_. All the affairs of the _madrassehs_
are under the control of the office of the Sheikh-ul-Islam,
which, though it still forms a distinct ministry, and though the
Sheikh-ul-Islam is still a member of the Cabinet of the Porte, has lost
many of the important official functions it once had. The position of
the Sheikh-ul-Islam, the head of the _Ulema_, at present resembles
that of the ecclesiastical head of a Christian country, though, as I
stated before, no ecclesiastics could be recognised as such in Islam.
The number of the students in the _madrassehs_ of Constantinople is
estimated to be something between five and seven thousand.
Originally the _madrassehs_ were founded on a system much resembling
that of the colleges of the English Universities. They were built by
the munificence of the Sultans and of private persons, and most of
them were situated near mosques, to which they were attached, and
were supported from the same endowments as the mosques themselves,
for the charitable founders of these endowments aimed particularly at
increasing the congregations that attend public worship, and devised
that the students should also use the mosques as their lecture-halls.
Even nowadays most lectures are given in the mosques. Each _madrasseh_
was self-governing, and the principals, or, so to say, the 'fellows,'
used to look after its interests and decide its rules. All the
students used to be regularly supplied with soup, bread, and, on
certain days, with cooked rice, and a kind of sweet made of saffron,
and also with olive oil for their lamps, from a sort of kitchen endowed
for the purpose. Free 'commons' of this sort for students are supplied
only occasionally and sparsely nowadays, as the revenues of the endowed
estates and properties have long been put under the care and control
of officialdom, and the income from charities is now abused and
illegally appropriated by the corrupt and impious hands through which
it passes. In consequence, members of the _madrassehs_ now can often
not even raise funds to save their buildings from complete ruin. These
buildings are mostly square in shape, with a courtyard in the middle,
and have one and sometimes two stories. They are unhealthy, and cannot
be properly ventilated. The students take their baths behind the doors
of their rooms, cook their meals in the fireplace, and, as a rule, two
or three sleep in one room, on the floor. The damp, fœtid smell in most
of the rooms is terrible. My hard fate made me live five years in such
a place, and they were the years which ought to be the best of one's
youth.
The life of the students of these _madrassehs_ resembles that of monks
in monasteries of the Eastern Church. They prepare their own modest
food, clean their own rooms, make their own beds, and wash their own
clothes. A new student not only does all this for himself, but he has
also to do it for the fellow or tutor of the _madrasseh_ in whose room
he is placed. Most of the students are very poor. They go every year
during the _ramadan_--the month of fasting--to different provincial
towns and villages to preach, to teach, and to do some writing for the
illiterate villagers and provincials, and, after securing what fees,
alms, and provisions they can get, they return to their respective
madrassehs to resume their work.
The _Softas_ played a conspicuous part in some of the revolutions,
for if once they were roused and egged on by politicians, they would
assemble in the courtyards of the great mosques, bearing yataghans
and heavy clubs under their long cloaks, and numberless common people
would follow them. The viziers who deposed the late Sultan Aziz had
to get the support of the _Softas_. Midhat Pasha had to secure their
assistance when he was urging the present Sultan to sanction the
scheme for the new constitution. A certain Suavi Effendi, one of the
founders of the young-Turkish movement, who had himself been a _Softa_,
twenty-five years ago made an armed attack on the Sultan's palace; with
him fought and fell many of the _Softas_. The Sultan, whose marvellous
power and success in crushing everything which might endanger his
despotic personal rule is undeniable, has paralysed the collective
influence of the Softas, so that they can no longer be the political
tools of any power that may arise to oppose him.
During my residence in the _madrasseh_ my uncle used to give me as
pocket-money twenty piastres (about 3s. 5d.) a month, and to the tutor
of the _madrasseh_, in whose room I was a novice-disciple, eighty
piastres, to cover the expenses of my maintenance. This was quite
enough for a man who has to live as abstemiously and simply as a monk.
Moreover, provisions in Constantinople are very cheap, a fact which
is not known to European visitors, who are invariably cheated by the
Levantine and Greek hotel-keepers and tradesmen. Secretly, however,
I received further support from my affectionate mother, through an
Armenian merchant who came from Angora.