hall, where a considerable number of young men were busily engaged in colouring ground-plans of the surrounding country. The lower end of this stately apartment forms a deep bay, round which rows of seats are arranged amphitheatrically, having in the midst of them a table whereon are placed globes, charts, and all the requisites for study. The other extremity of the hall is terminated by a raised gallery, intended for the use of the Sultan, above which hangs his portrait in oils, executed by an Armenian artist, harsh, and crude, and wiry, as though it had been the production of a Chinese easel, and surmounted by a most elaborate drapery. Beneath the portrait is stretched a noble map of the Archipelago, the Sea of Marmora, and the Bosphorus. An electrifying machine, and a large map of America, an immense table, and the desks and seats of the students, made up the remainder of the furniture; and the apartment itself was by far the finest that I had yet seen in the country.
The next point of curiosity was the mosque; and I was no less surprised than gratified at the readiness with which Azmi Bey acceded to our desire of visiting it. The outer apartment, or vestibule, was covered with fine Indian matting, and before we traversed it the Bey requested my father to put off his boots, though he made no objection to my retaining my slippers. As we reached the door which opened into the body of the mosque, I perceived that we had arrived during the prayers. The High Priest sat with his arms folded above his ample robe; his dark brow surmounted by a turban of the sacred green, and his feet doubled under him, in a recess facing the entrance, chanting in a nasal and monotonous drawl; while a very slender congregation was scattered over the floor, squatted upon the rich carpets that covered it. But we no sooner made our appearance than the Mufti rose and quitted the mosque, followed by his little flock; and we were left in quiet possession of the elegant temple whence they had so hastily withdrawn.
The faith of the Musselmauns is that of love, not fear: to believe in One God, and to be charitable—and who shall deny that it is a comprehensive creed? The mosque in which we stood was the very embodiment of such a worship—the sunshine streamed through its many windows upon the most delicate fresco-painting, the brightest and richest of carpets, and the glittering lattices of the Imperial closet. The only dark object that met the eye was a curtain of olive-coloured cloth, surrounded by a bordering of flowers, delicately worked in tinted silks, which veiled the entrance of the marble steps leading to the pulpit—all beside was dazzlingly bright, and it was almost with regret that I returned into the vestibule, in order to ascend to the Sultan’s gallery.
A small hall and a handsome flight of stairs, closely covered with English carpeting, conducted us to an elegant anti-room, from which four doors, veiled by draperies of dove-coloured cloth heavily fringed, opened into as many apartments, appropriated to the Sultan and his suite.
The Imperial closet is richly hung with gold-coloured draperies, that fling a sunset glow on the surrounding objects: a magnificent sofa occupies one side of the room, and the floor is covered with a Brussels carpet. Portions of the gilded lattice open and shut at pleasure; and the whole has so perfectly Oriental an effect, that you involuntarily think of Scheherazade and her fable-loving Sultan; and forget the sanctity of the place, while contemplating the luxury of its arrangement.
The gallery appropriated to the Imperial suite adjoins the closet, and beyond this is the retiring-room of the Sultan, wherein he performs his ablutions, previously to the commencement of the service. It is less gorgeous in its general effect than the closet, but commands a noble view of the Bosphorus, and the Sea of Marmora.
On leaving the mosque, we descended by a flight of stone steps into the vaults beneath it, to visit the printing-office, where all was activity: compositors were setting the types—“devils” were guiding the rollers—lads were folding the printed sheets—and binders were stitching them into volumes. Every thing was clean, and orderly, and well conducted.
We next made a tour of the hospital; and, had not two of the beds been tenanted, I should have quitted the establishment, if not with a firm conviction, at least with a very strong suspicion, that it was intended merely for show, it was so delicately clean and so beautifully arranged.
At the head of the stairs was the receiving-room of the surgeon; and beyond this, on either side of the gallery, were the laboratory and the surgery, their doors veiled with white muslin, and every article in its place; the dormitories, which are only two in number, each capable of containing about a score of patients, were carpeted along the centre; the beds were tastefully draperied with muslin: and a small table stood near each pillow; while along the cornice of the ceiling were suspended, at regular distances, small tablets, whereon were inscribed the names of the different diseases to be treated in the ward.
The refectory was perfectly European in its aspect, surrounded by long narrow tables and benches, and well supplied with plates, spoons, forks, and soup-ladles. As we entered, Azmi Bey looked towards us confidently for applause. He had truly worked a goodly reform in Turkish habits, when he taught each boy to put his fork into his own plate, instead of plunging his fingers into the dish of the community! Nor did we fail to compliment him on the change.
By the time that we had completed our survey of the Establishment, our “tail” would have been no contemptible rival to that of Mr. O’Connell—every Professor and Officer connected with the Institution having made his bow, and joined the party. And not the least conspicuous of the number was the Professor of Fortification, who, besides being a Creole, had one of the most frightful and resolute squints I ever had the misfortune to meet with; and the Captain of the Guard, a very corpulent and consequential negro. Black officers and soldiers are, however, common in Turkey, where a man’s colour is never construed into an objection to profit by his services, nor an excuse for leaving them unrewarded.
Having described in detail the external arrangements of the Military College of Turkey, it now remains for me to advert to its moral condition, and this is truly a melancholy task; for, rich as I have shown it to be in all the outward attributes necessary to such an Establishment, it is utterly destitute of the more essential requisites for insuring the important end of its foundation.
Care 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