CHAPTER X

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.