and cost have been lavished upon it unsparingly: it is a favourite toy of the Sultan—a subject of ceaseless thought and interest to Achmet Pasha, to whose immediate control it has been entrusted—the one engrossing object of Azmi Bey’s solicitude—the Great National Scholastic Establishment—the nursery for the Imperial Army. But, alas! despite all these advantages, it is like the Statue of Pygmalion ere it was warmed to life—a body without a soul—matter without mind—a splendid machine, without a competent and practised hand to call forth its powers, and to work out its effects!
To the courtesy of the several individuals immediately connected with the Institution, I have already borne testimony; nor does a doubt exist in my own mind of their sincere zeal for its welfare and prosperity. But, unhappily, the best intentions, and the most earnest enthusiasm, must fail to compensate the painful deficiency of that talent and experience necessary to its success. Could sentiment be deepened into science, and inclination be wrought into ability, the Military College would take high ground; for the students are eager in the pursuit of knowledge, but, where the means are limited, the effects must be comparatively inconsequent: and it is a melancholy truth that the untiring application, the admirable docility, and the promising talents of the pupils, can only conduct them to a certain point, beyond which their best efforts will not enable them to progress unassisted. This is more particularly the fact as regards the youth of Turkey, from the circumstance of their being by nature imitative rather than inventive; and, moreover, not possessing those opportunities of observation and individual research which lead the students of Europe to rely in no trifling degree upon their own mental resources.
In our western world the wings of Genius are never clipped—the sunny path of Talent is never overshadowed—the calm brow of Science is never clouded—by a deficiency in the means of further improvement, encouragement, and support. But Education, as we comprehend the term, is yet in its first infancy in Turkey; and should the same evil influence which is now blighting with its Upas breath the Ottoman atmosphere be long suffered to exhale its poisonous properties, it is certain to annihilate all power of improvement.
Perhaps, with the single exception of Great Britain, there exists not in the world a more reading nation than Turkey. I have no doubt that this assertion will startle many individuals in Europe, who have been accustomed, and, indeed, led to believe, that the natives of the East are, as a people, plunged in the profoundest ignorance. It is, nevertheless, a fact that nearly every man throughout the Empire can read and write, and that there are at this moment upwards of eight thousand children scattered through the different schools of the capital. But the studies of the Osmanlis of both sexes have, with some few exceptions, hitherto been confined to the Koran, and to works of an inconsequent and useless description; the mere plaything of an idle hour, incapable of inspiring one novel idea, or of leaving upon the mind impressions calculated to exalt or to enlighten it.
The object of such an Institution as a Public School was undoubtedly to widen the mental views, and to enlarge the tastes of the youth of Turkey. But, in order to effect this very desirable end, it was requisite that the soundest judgment should be exercised in the selection of the individuals to whom were committed its different departments of literature and science, and this was unfortunately far from being the case; the internal economy of the Establishment having been entrusted to persons so decidedly incompetent that, with every desire to do their duty, they have erred, from their utter ignorance of the extent of the task which they have undertaken, or which has been forced upon them.
As far as the different Professors are capable of so doing, they have directed the studies and formed the tastes of the students; but the young and ardent mind, thirsting after knowledge, and earnest in its acquirement, demands assistance as progressive as its own advancement. The fresh and buoyant spirit requires external aid, at once able and judicious, to support its vigour, and to strengthen its yet unpractised wing. And where these fail, where the shadow is alone furnished, while the substance is wanting, what can be expected from the comparatively unassisted efforts of young and unformed intellects, that have not simply to struggle onward towards a goal to be attained only by their best energies; but also to contend against, and to cast from them, a crowd of early prejudices and associations—while they are destitute of the assistance of more experienced and mature talents, upon which to fall back, when they have themselves just acquired sufficient knowledge to feel their own deficiencies?
Let it not be believed for an instant that the Turks, had they been left to the free exercise of their own good sense and reflection, are so obtuse as not to have made the discovery that the progress of the pupils was necessarily retarded by the inexperience and incompetency of the preceptors. He who judges thus hastily will wrong them. Already had the suspicion sprung up in their minds—already did those on whom the authority for so doing more particularly devolved suggest the expediency of procuring, from Europe, men of talent, science, and judgment, capable of sustaining the credit of the Establishment. But the project was crushed in the bud; negatived on its first suggestion; set aside by a single sentence; that sentence which has become all-powerful in Constantinople—and thus the ruin of the Institution is already sealed by the incapacity of its professors, the prejudices of its enemies, and the lavish and deceitful encomiums of its false friends.
Achmet Pasha has been told that never did establishment prosper like the Military College of Constantinople. A foreign minister has declared it perfect; and obsequious secretaries and attachés have raised their hands and eyes in almost religious wonder. Compliments have been lavished on the meagre talents of the masters, and smiles have veiled their deficiencies. And thus, flattered into a belief of their own sufficiency on the one hand, and misled by misstatements on the other, the influential individuals connected with the unhappy College have abandoned it to the ruin which must ultimately, and at no distant period, overtake it; from the hopeless incapacity of a set of men, who, familiar with the name of every science under Heaven, are most of them profoundly ignorant of all save the first rudiments of each; and who are, consequently, ill calculated to work that great moral change so ardently desired by all the true friends of Turkey.
I put forth this assertion boldly, because I have convinced myself of its justice; and if—after having stated the eagerness with which the students seek to acquire information, the care and cost that have been lavished on the College itself, and the zeal and untiring watchfulness of those to whose charge it has been intrusted—I am asked the simple question of wherefore this great National Institution is crippled in so senseless and ruinous a manner by the appointment of inefficient individuals to its most important and responsible posts, the answer is ready—It is the will of Russia!
The growth of knowledge is the destruction of tyranny and oppression: it is the moral axe struck to the core of the wide-spreading Banian of usurpation and encroachment—it is the light of mind, dispelling the darkness of prejudice and falsehood.
Were Turkey once roused to a perfect estimate of her own moral power, she must inevitably cast off the web that has been slowly and craftily woven about her; and which, should no friendly hand disentangle its intricate threads ere it be yet too late, must ultimately fetter her strength beyond all power of resuscitation. To do this she must take an enlarged and correct view of her position—she must be able to appreciate her just value among the nations—she must be capable of combating sophistry with caution, and craft with calculative wisdom. This power she can only acquire by placing herself upon a mental equality with more civilized Europe; by training up her youth to habits of reflection and scientific research; by awakening within their breasts the generous emulation of excellence; and by opening before them paths of honour and advancement, no longer to be trodden by the weak foot of chance, but sacred to superior merit and superior genius.
All this must Turkey accomplish ere she can once again be great and free. And it is to prevent this that the subtle policy of her archenemy, Russia, strains every nerve, and exerts every energy—the blandishments of a flattery, to which she is constitutionally too susceptible for her real welfare—the threats of a strength beneath which she is unfortunately already bowed almost to the dust—for should some generous spark of honour be aroused to resistance, there is the
