We see, then, that in the days of Sultan Mahmoud (that is, in our eighteenth century), the Turkish language was largely composed of Arabic and Persian, through the influence of religion. Then, precisely as our people in the old days could not read or speak the scholar’s Latin of our great literature, the people of Turkey could not understand their own writers.
It was about 1339 (in our nineteenth century) that the cultured and intelligent Schinassi Effendi was sent to France. As other scholars and men of letters began to study Western culture in England, in her turn, Turkey was following European progress, towards desertion of any scholastic influences and academic style. Windows, that looked Westwards, were opening at last, to religion and literature alike.
Schinassi Effendi was inspired by a fine, broad-minded enthusiasm. He secured introductions to Lamartine and other great French writers; and, when he returned to Constantinople, immediately set to work upon a complete revolution of style and outlook in Turkish literature. With an ideal of most admirable and direct simplicity, he succeeded in modelling the language upon the best French, clear and logical way of construction.
Perhaps the most distinguished of his pupils were Namik Kemal Bey and Adbul Hak-Hamid; but there were many who helped to extend, and establish, his literary revolution. They did not, of course, cut away the whole traditional influence of the Arabs and the Persians; but, with orderly methods that were Western, produced almost a new Turkish language (which their own people could read and appreciate) that was perfectly adapted for the artistic and imaginative expression of modern thought and contemporary life. The European style and intellect, in its purely native setting, was, naturally, most apparent in their fiction.
Namik Kemal Bey was among those who died in exile for their ideals, leaving behind him some most touching pages in honour of the English character and constitution. When Zeyneb came to England she read some of his work to me, just at the time when some of our Liberal statesmen, to their eternal shame, had begun to declare their admiration for the Russia of the Czars. We arranged open-air meetings outside Sloane Square Station and at a big Opera House—to protest against the British M.P.’s visit to Russia. Zeyneb’s comment was simple: “What would our great Kemal say?” Constitutional England allied to Czarist Russia!
The acknowledged leader of the New literature was Abdul Hak-Hamid, for some time a member of the Turkish Embassy in London. Schinassi and Kemal stood half-way between the past and this great modern writer, representing, also, patriotism in literature, as it dominated prose, at the declaration of the Constitution.
At this time, of course, “patriotism” meant “the Revolution of 1908,” a united attack on the tyranny of Abdul Hamid, who had persecuted Turks, Greeks, and Armenians alike.