Chapter II: Part 2

This people is made up of many breeds: we saw thin, bandy-legged Arabs, fat, burly Turks, ramrod-like Bedouins; Kalougis, with a complexion suggesting old sole leather; Greeks, with frilled petticoats; Romans, of course with the toga; Kabeles, with black hair and wearing a robe like a big gas-bag; Moors, with the Duke's nose and spindle shanks; Mohammedans, carrying bannocks with holes in them; and dragomans, with "_bakshish_" stamped on every department of their anatomy. But beneath the furtive glance and in the wicked eyes you see the cut-throat still lurking, awaiting the first opportunity to embark again in the trade that is close to their hearts, although the only active pirates here now are the cab drivers.

Every breed has its own outlandish costume with a large range of startling colors in robes, turbans and slippers, but their shanks are bare, thin and brick red, an easy mark for flies. A considerable percentage of their time is devoted to stamping their feet to shake off these pests, which somehow do not seem to know they are not wanted and keep the lazy rascals busy, thus preventing them from devoting the entire day to sleep and the worship of Allah.

To round out the picture we must not forget the French Zouave regiment--fine-looking men, with their elaborately frogged jackets, and trousers like big red bags, large enough to make balloons if filled with gas, and the whole topped off with a scarlet, "swagger" fez with a tassel hanging down to the waist.

Algeria has a population of about 5,000,000, while the town of Algiers contains 140,000 people. The climate is tropical with plenty of rain. Oranges, lemons, pineapples, dates, figs, cocoanuts and spices are seen everywhere. There is a fine, tropical, public garden-park, and the Governor's Palace with its grounds makes a handsome showing in flowers and fruits. French officialdom strikes a gay and festive note everywhere, and the very latest Parisian novelties are seen on the streets. They have motor cars, but it must be confessed that these do not as yet class with a Studebaker "Limousine."

The passengers slept on the _Cork_ at the wharf. They tried one meal at the hotel, with the ship's stewards assisting, but did not essay a second. Seven hundred in two relays would have tested the ability of Mr. Boldt, but still when the battle was over we had all had enough; in fact, the management came out with flying colors in this severe test.

Perhaps at this point it might be interesting to report on the progress that the Alley had made since it was last mentioned. The development of ship characters takes time, and the big men and women do not pop at once into the lime-light. There were other alleys and some of them contained hidden stars. It was our business to lasso these (just as base-ball players are "signed"), and annex them to the Alley, so with this in mind and hat in hand we approached the haughty but accomplished Purser (with a big P), the man who is covered with gold lace and clothed with vast responsibility; who, in fact, holds the destinies of the ship in the hollow of his hand. We laid our case before him and said we wanted "Gassigaloopi" from Alley No. 9, the two "Condensed Milkmaids" with their chaperon from the midship flats, and "Fumigalli," who bunked near the condenser. The great man of course frowned and pulled his "walrus"--the kind that has hanging, hairy selvages on it, such as serve as warnings for "low bridge" on the railroads--smote his desk firmly, and said it would never do! However, we could clearly see that beneath the mask of his importance he was jubilant over the knowledge of his power, and that if we could only pull some other string we would gain our object; so we inveigled the queen of the poop-deck into joining hands with us, and the day was won without further effort. Then with joy and gladness we informed the new people whom we had delighted to honor of their social elevation, and with willing hands we carried their belongings down in triumph to Harp Alley. Two of the staterooms had been vacated at Gibraltar, and so all difficulties connected with the transfer were easily overcome. "Gassigaloopi" was a tower of strength in himself; he was a retired Italian politician and spoke so many languages that when he got excited he mixed them thoroughly, utterly routing all contestants in any arguments that might come up. He was a human geyser, and when his linguistic power got under full headway he fairly tore up all the tongues by their roots and trampled them under foot in the rush of his stinging invective. Although of Italian origin, "Gassy" was born near the site of the Tower of Babel, and its propinquity and influence gave him that varied volubility in expressing fine shades of meaning in many languages that made him the pride of the profession of which he was a distinguished light. His ebullitions were frequently hurled at the "boots" for neglecting his oxfords, placed outside his stateroom door, but soon afterward he became himself again, much to the general joy of the Alley.

"Fumigalli" smoked so much that he gave all his time to thought, and we used him to plan future triumphs for us. Though he thought much he produced but little. We all knew that he was evolving great projects mentally, but somehow he could not get them out in front of the spot-light. His one great achievement was calling a meeting of protest against the Señor's boredom in the smoking-room. The meeting was held and two resolutions were drafted to be read at dinner in the saloon; but somehow no one liked to hurt the Señor's feelings, and they were never read.

The "Condensed Milkmaids" were a pair of small, temperamental, clever girls, so trim and smart that one would think they had just left the Trianon Dairy Farm in Versailles Park, after having milked a pint of cream for the Queen, or for the royal favorite, Comtesse Du Barry. They wore Louis the XIV. (Street) high-heeled slippers, and were purely decorative. Having no part in the executive management they knew their place and kept it.

A young lady and her mother from New England (both members), gave the Alley a boost at the last concert. The daughter played a violin solo, accompanied by her mother, with such attack, feeling and technique that if Paganini had been on earth he would have taken off his hat to her.

It is perhaps true that the Alley had no tremendous personages in its membership, but its innate strength lay in this weakness for it represented the very embodiment of what is known as the concrete social spirit, "one for all, all for one," and with this motto it might have--and really did--stand against the entire ship. Neither the Purser, the Captain nor the crew dared oppose its opinions or wishes; in fact, the Alley thought of running down to Zanzibar and taking a whack at the lions before "Bwana Tumbo" even saw them. We don't like to brag, but one of our members could, with one eye shut, hit any button on the metal man's coat in the shooting gallery, and with both shut could bring down a wildebeeste. The mission of the Alley and its fate now lie in the "womb of time," and we must not hustle its destiny but calmly await developments.

MALTA

We left for Malta, which was reached in two days, and cast anchor in the harbor of Valetta, the capital. The island is celebrated as the home of the Knights of Malta, the original birth-place of the Maltese cat, and the spot where the Maltese cross was invented--but not patented. This island was conquered by the Romans 259 B.C.; afterward by Napoleon, from whom it was taken by England in 1800, and now indeed it's "quite English, you know." Oh my! how English it is, to be sure! It's nothing but Tommy Atkins here, and Files-on-parade there; battle-ships "beyant," and cruisers in the "offin'," mixed up with gunboats and bumboats and "gund_u_las," till you would think you were standing on the pier at "Suthampton."

The marine bands mostly play _Rule Britannia_, but some of them essay _Annie Laurie_, and when these airs get mixed, it would try the soul of Richard Wagner to stand the discord without resorting to profanity. Anyway, Mr. Bull has this island all to himself. Its fortifications and harbor are the finest to be found on the globe, but how sad to think they have been rendered useless by the modern battle-ship with the long guns. (I was going to say the "long greens," as they and battle-ships always go together, no matter who pays the taxes.) But still it charms the visitor with its fine climate and gay people. It was Carnival Day when we arrived, and the motley crowds in the street, in variegated raiment, pelted the "Corks" with all kinds of flowers with the utmost good humor.

There is a church on the water-front that is lined with the skulls and bones of the various armies of defenders: its name is "Old Bones," which certainly bears out its character.

A whole lot might be written about how the Knights of Malta became very great, then very small and degenerate, and finally were pushed into the discard by the relentless hands of time and public opinion. Valetta has quite a number of people living there besides the soldiers and sailors, some 80,000 I believe, but most of them are tired of climbing the steep streets, many of which contain stairs. Lord Byron, having a game foot, got angry at them when he wrote:

"Adieu, ye cursèd streets of stairs,
How surely he who mounts you swears!"

We were shown the spot where St. Paul was ship-wrecked. The Maltese erected a colossal statue to Paul on Selmoon Island about fifty years ago. They hold an annual feast there on February 10th, the alleged date of his shipwreck, and as they have two hundred additional feast days they have just one hundred and sixty-four days left for their regular business--loafing. They have novel names for their hotels and saloons,--the "Sea and Land Hotel," "The Pirates' Roost" saloon, the "Quick Fire" lunch-room, "The Englishers' Chop-House," and "The Camel's Drink," are some examples. Not from greed, but purely out of curiosity, mind you, we tested the latter, and it would have taken three of what they gave us to make a regular "Waldorf highball." Thus does the retributive principle of temperance put the rod in pickle for those who would fool with its beneficent laws.

GREECE

We left Malta and had Greece before us, which we reached in two days. Lord Byron aptly describes it in his famous poem which opens with:

"The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,--
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set."

ATHENS

The Acropolis, or rocky mountain on which the celebrated group of buildings is found, was fortified more than a thousand years before Christ. It is the central spot of all that is greatest in art, letters, history, statecraft and philosophy since time began. This has been the undisputed opinion of critics and historians for about three thousand years and stands uncontradicted to-day as it did in the very beginning of things learned and artistic.

You are met toward the top of the ascent by the Propylaea that "brilliant jewel set on the rocky coronet of the Acropolis" as a kind of introductory vestibule to further greatness. It is the most important secular work in Athens, consisting of a central gateway and two wings. It was begun in 439 B.C. It contains a wealth of Doric marble columns, beautiful, carved friezes and metopes, with five gateways spanned by great marble beams twenty feet long. All these wonders compel the stranger to stand spellbound at the magnificence of their combined effect.

Near by stands the Temple of Athena Nike, and close at hand is the site of Phidias' colossal statue of Athena Promachos, the "fighter of the van," made of the spoils taken from the Persians at the battle of Marathon; sixty-six feet high, in full armor, her poised lance was always a landmark for those approaching Athens.

We now reach the temple, attached to which is the Portico of the Maidens, the Caryatides, and containing the shrine of Athena Polias.

Next comes the great Parthenon, "the most impressive monument of ancient art," built by Pericles in 438 B.C. It was adorned by statues and monuments by Praxiteles, Phidias and Myron. It had fifty statues, one hundred Doric columns, ninety-two metopes, and five hundred and twenty-four feet of bas-relief frieze, thus realizing the highest dream of plastic art and the immortality of constructive genius. Within the inner sanctuary Phidias placed his chryselephantine figure of Athena Parthenos, the virgin, thirty-nine feet high, the flesh parts being in ivory and the garments of fine gold. It is estimated that this gold was worth almost 200,000 pounds. For more than six centuries the virgin goddess received here the worship of her devoted votaries. In the fifth century the Parthenon became a Christian church; when the Turks came they made it a mosque. The edifice remained in good preservation till the seventeenth century. In 1687 the Venetian, Morosini, besieged Athens and a shell from one of his guns ignited the powder which the Turks had stored in the Parthenon. A destructive explosion followed and thus the most magnificent structure of the ages, which twenty-one centuries had spared, was reduced to ruins. What remains of it is still most majestic and when seen by moonlight inspires the greatest reverence. There is no speculative guess-work in these statements, for in 1674 Jacques Carrey made a series of one hundred careful drawings of the Parthenon, which were confirmed by two English travellers, Messrs. Spon and Wheler, in 1675. These were the last visitors who saw it before its destruction.

The Acropolis Museum is also built on the hill. It contains many interesting things that could not be allowed to remain exposed to the weather.

The vast Theatre of Dionysius, which held 30,000 people, is also here.

There are many other fine buildings, statues and temples on the Acropolis, but space will not permit of their description.

We descend to a lower plateau and there find the remains of the vast Temple of Zeus Olympus, called by Aristotle, "a work of despotic grandeur," "in accordance," as Livy adds, "with the greatness of the god." It contained an immense statue of Zeus. Originally it had more than one hundred imposing marble Corinthian columns, arranged in double rows of twenty each on the north and south sides, and triple rows of eight each at the ends. Its size was three hundred and fifty-three by one hundred and thirty-four feet, which was exceeded only by the Temple of Diana. To its left is the Arch of Hadrian. Looking east is seen the Stadium or racecourse. Here the Pan-Athenian games were held in olden times. It was laid out in 330 B.C., and has been restored in solid white marble by a rich Greek. It cost a large sum of money and will accommodate a multitude of spectators. The first year in which the revival of the games took place the Greek youths won twelve out of twenty-seven prizes, the others going to various nationalities.

Beyond in the suburbs lies the public park owned by Academus in the fifth century before Christ. Plato and many other philosophers taught their pupils here, and from the name of the owner is derived the word academy.

These are but a few of the commanding sights of Athens. No attempt will be made to speak of the men and the wars that made her the _multum in parvo_ of human history. The modern Greeks are a serious and decent people; they seem to be impressed with the fact that their ancestors were the salt of the earth, and at least try to be worthy of them. There is no begging in the streets (the Greeks being too proud to beg), and the people are quite respectable for their opportunities. Their city is well laid out and built in modern style; it is prospering, having had only 45,000 inhabitants in 1870, while the population is now 150,000. One cannot afford to treat either the Greeks or Athens flippantly; they are worthy of the highest praise and respect.

TURKEY

CONSTANTINOPLE

After leaving Greece we threaded our way through the islands of the Aegean Sea, the Dardanelles, the Sea of Marmora and the Bosphorus, to Constantinople, where we anchored at the mouth of the Golden Horn. I must leave to the historian the dramatic and sensational history of the capital of Turkey in its various shifts of ownership; perhaps no other city has surpassed it as a factor in European affairs for a period of two thousand years. It was named after Constantine, the Roman Emperor, who was its chief builder. He tried to call it New Rome, but this title would not stick. On the Galata Bridge that leads to Stamboul, a racial panorama may be seen that embraces all the peoples of the Orient, and everywhere signs appeal in half a dozen languages. The private histories of its rulers have also been of the most absorbing and exciting character, and were they described by a pen of authority and with the necessary inside knowledge and information they would still further shock and astonish the uninformed.

The city was founded by the Dorian Greeks some seven hundred years before the beginning of the Christian era; later the Persians captured it, then the Romans came and took charge. The Goths were the next men in possession, followed by Basil of Macedonia, who became Dictator. Then Mohammed was the man of destiny: the city fell into his hands and from that day to this the "unspeakable Turk" has ruled it. All these changes were brought about by battles at sea and on land, by sieges and through treachery, and with great loss of life, treasure and time.

We employed a guide to take us to the Mosque of Sancta Sophia and the other principal show places. This man had formerly called himself "Teddy Roosevelt," but he changed his name to "George Washington Taft," in honor of our worthy President, thus making his cognomen thoroughly American and bringing it up to date at a stroke of the pen; but we told him this was no kind of a name for a guide in Turkey, and then and there changed it to "Muley-Molech;" he was much pleased with his new historical title. "Muley-Molech" had a nose of vast proportions--while not so large as the _Lusitania's_ helm, yet it was exactly the same shape; and he wore a moustache that ended in large, hirsutical corkscrews; his teeth were like small bits of marble stained with tobacco juice, and they had the effect of an arc made from the spear of a sword fish, grim and terrible. Altogether he was a remarkable man--one to be feared at night when near the Bosphorus; although, if the bitter truth must be told, he avoided impartially both salt water and fresh, whenever possible. My word! "Muley" was no ordinary, amateur Munchhausen! he was full of exact statements which he encrusted with legends that were utterly bare-faced. After hearing one of his flights of fancy, a fat brewer from the West remarked:

"It's better not to believe so much or to know so many facts that aren't so; but this is the devil of a place, anyhow; that's right!"

Muley looked at him with fine scorn and went on at his usual gait. Later I told him (Muley), the story of the Irish judge who once said to a prisoner whom he was about to sentence:

"We don't want anything from you but silence--and very little of that!"

This hint had a depressing effect, and Muley lost his nerve and the character he had enjoyed with us of being a picturesque and fearless liar.

Sancta Sophia was built in Stamboul across the Golden Horn by the Emperor Justinian in 537 A.D. (fire having destroyed the edifice originally erected by Constantine and replaced by the church built by Theodosia, which was also burned). The dome is one hundred and eighty feet from the floor. To adorn it, the Temple of Diana at Ephesus was ravaged of eight serpentine columns, and eight more of porphyry were taken from the Temple of the Sun at Baalbek to add to its beauty. It is alleged that its cost approached $64,000,000, including the "graft." Its artistic value is greatly depreciated by the squalor of its environment. Looking at this great pile, a speculative wag remarked, with a twinkle in his eye:

"It's all a question of money. Give me the financial assistance of J. D. R., and with one of the big American construction companies to take the contract I can produce a building fully equal to this in less time and for very much less money."

He was right. It would be only a question of deciding to do it. The Landis' comic-opera fine would be sufficient.

The Sultan's Palace and the ancient Hippodrome are also places of great interest. In the latter were deposited the four gilded bronze horses, supposed to have been brought from Scio, once mounted on Trajan's Arch at Rome, brought here by Constantine. They were taken to Venice by Dandolo, then Napoleon gave them to Paris, and finally after Waterloo they were restored again to St. Mark's at Venice.

In Constantinople we also saw three or four other Mosques of great size, and the Seraglio grounds and Palace. In the latter we saw the gates through which the odalisks who had lost the sultan's favor passed beyond to be executed. The passage of this gate made our flesh creep when we thought of all it meant to the unfortunates; but near by, in agreeable contrast, is the "Gate of Felicity," which is the entrance to the sultan's harem. Through this the new favorites entered and remained till they had grown old and lost their charm.

The Imperial Ottoman Museum is full of good things purloined from other art centres. It contains many fine examples of Greco-Roman sculptures, statues and reliefs, in marbles, terra-cotta and bronze. The figures of dancing women have a swing and their draperies a palpable swish--as if a breeze were stirring them--seen only in this school of art. It also contains Alexander the Great's sarcophagus, which is regarded as one of the finest examples of Greek art in existence.

The Grand Bazaar is both a sight and a town in itself, full of streets, entries, lanes and alleys, covered here and there as an arcade, into which the sun never penetrates. The dim light, the great crowds of strangely costumed people,--veiled women with their children in hand, attended by eunuchs, some chattering, some silent and aloof--but all intent on bargaining and eager for the fray. This novel and engrossing picture is made possible and is enhanced by the bewildering variety and display of Oriental goods and wares--rugs, perfumes, cosmetics, weapons, shawls, embroideries, inlaid tables, porcelains, brassware, silks, fans, jewels, laces, gold and silver ornaments of infinite variety--all piled up and strewn about as if they had been pitchforked by some magician into an enchanted market-place, with the god of greed and chance presiding.

Limited space forbids the further description of things that are wonderful and interesting, but a few words must be said in regard to facts we would rather not think about. The population is about 1,125,000, and most visitors think there is a mangy, flea-bitten dog for each inhabitant; but the official dog census has placed the canine population at about 125,000. The dogs of Stamboul and Constantinople are a necessity and a book might be written about them alone, as they have ruled these cities from a sanitary point of view for over a thousand years. If they did not set out at night and partially clean up the town, Heaven only knows what it would be like! Their sway is undisputed, and woe betide him who either hurts or kills them--he is a marked man, not only by the Moslems but by the followers of other religions. They have no distinctive owners and just live by their wits, which are keen to an advanced degree; they have rules of the road of their own making, and the luckless cur that breaks them is put out of business in the twinkling of an eye. No one likes them, but they are a thoroughly protected nuisance, for that protection means life to the people. Without their services as devourers the population would die like flies, from epidemics and pestilence. All attempts at doing away with the dogs have resulted in riots and bloodshed: when Mehemet II. rounded them up and exiled them to an island, a great epidemic immediately set in and the rioters compelled the Sultan at the point of the sword to bring them back again. A later attempt was made by an Ottoman chief-of-police to deport these canine "white wings" to Asia Minor: he threw them overboard when out of sight of land, and when this was made public the mob literally tore him limb from limb. So it does not pay to monkey with the Sultan's pets in the home of their nativity. Although no one would suspect it, they have a high order of intelligence and an acute instinct for local government. By some unwritten law they divide the town into districts with sharply defined boundaries invisible to the human eye, yet plainly apparent to the animal. If an intruder crosses this line he is sorry for it before he reaches his first bone. The neighboring dogs pounce on him from all directions, biting his legs, tail and ears, but stopping short when they in turn reach the line, for fear they may also get into trouble for trespassing. When one of the members of a district becomes sick and helpless his comrades do not wait for him to die; they just eat him up and have done with it. So no one ever sees a dead dog in Stamboul: professional pride and _esprit de corps_ step in, and the victim is wafted to the happy hunting grounds in less time than it takes to tell of it.

The porters are celebrated for their great strength and the big loads they can carry. To see them do their work is a most interesting sight: four of them will carry a great cask filled with fluid and suspended from two poles placed on their shoulders--a fair load for a team of horses. They carry these loads with the aid of ingenious appliances and harness, and the amount of lumber, coal, dressed beef and live animals they transport for short distances is simply incredible.

Soldiers are drilling everywhere and a raw lot they are. The treasury is empty, and many of them have only one shoe, and some none at all, only a coarse stocking bound round with rags. They may be experts at killing women and children, but they would make a sorry showing against trained soldiers. And then there are the "battleships:" fierce, devilish-looking bulldogs that could demolish any tin-lined fort in existence if they could only hit it, or even if the sailors could manage to fire the guns--or in fact, if only the guns could be fired by any one--which is exceedingly doubtful.

In smells, the vilest of the vile, including the acrid variety that cuts the nostrils like a razor, Constantinople stands forever and alone on a plinth of infamy, and no language that can be dragged into the arena of expression can be utilized to describe them. They paralyze the intellect and dull the sense of punishment and acute agony. No gladiator could enter the lists with them in deadly combat and live to tell the tale. They arise in part from the debris and remnants of cheese whose position in the flight of time was contemporaneous with that of Alexander the Great; from fish that must have darted beneath the keels of the ships at the battle of Salamis; from tallow, used to grease the chariot wheels at the battle of Marathon (now sold as butter); and from the embalmed beef that was left over from the Crimean War. These with many powerful additions supply the main force and foundation of all this pervading "sweetness;" but the distinguishing "high lights" come from minor causes, such as the onions of last year rotting in nets hanging in the sun, strings of garlic returned to circulation by the Argonauts when they came back from hunting the golden fleece, but now hung as a badge of trade on the door-jambs; and the frying of eggs, that have long lost their market value, with Bombay _ghee_ and young garlic, the whole mellowed and perhaps refined by the continual vapors from open sewers. One fragrance that perhaps tickles the olfactory nerve with more delicacy than all others and might be called a perfumed "dream," comes from baking a garlic pie piping hot in the open, with Turkish Limburger as a substantial ingredient. This zephyr when in full action sets at naught the vain attempt of asafoetida to hold its place in the history of smells that used to rank with Araby the Blest. If Alexander had inhaled one whiff of this combination in its full purity it would have floored him in Constantinople and he could not have lived to conquer the world. One of the "Corks" fainted when he hit the embalmed beef zone and was taken to the rear in a red cross ambulance.

The sights in these places are too dreadful for publication, and as for the taste--well, I tried a speck of fried sausage and thought I had touched a live wire! it left a scar on my tongue. We made a special excursion to see these sights and experience the smells. The driver of our carriage took advantage of a stop to take a drink at a Turkish _café_; the procession of vehicles began to move, and as we were in the middle of it our horses had to move too. This left us without a driver and I had to mount his seat and drive half a mile at a walk before our man caught up with us. In the crowded, narrow streets this experience was not a pleasant one, but I did the best I could and nothing happened of note excepting that in turning a sharp corner the team ran up on the sidewalk, from which I was chased with wild gestures and eastern profanity by a Turkish son of a wooden gun, much to the amusement of the natives and the rest of the procession. Still, the Turks, who are steeped in these conditions, seem to enjoy them: they laugh and joke at the unsuccessful attempts of the outlander to acquire their tastes. If they are happy, why should we object?

The costumes of the Turk are without number: there is no cut nor pattern of garment that is not embraced in their fashion plates and the colors run riot through all the gamut of the rainbow. But, seriously, they beat all other nations in the arrangement of their head-dress; no Turk is too poor or too low in caste to devote his time and attention to what he wears on his head. Of course, the rich ones have immense turbans, woven with stranded ropes of cloth in bright parti-colors, placed on the head as a finish to the toilet with as much care as a wedding cake is posed on a table; but the _poor_ Turk takes a red fez as a basis to build on, and will, with cheese-cloth, or a strip of old toweling, or a wisp of worn-out silk and some feathers, turn out an effect that it is almost impossible to imitate even where ample facilities are at hand. Some of them wear their turbans well back on the head, some pitched forward, many with a rake to the side; but all with the artistic instinct that compels instant admiration. They are the "old masters" of headgear and their masterpieces may be seen by the thousand in any crowded street.

About the time we were in Constantinople, the new Turkish political force known the world over as the "Young Turks' movement," was just springing into life. The members of this body were eager to meet and mix with visitors and obtain their views and opinions of the probabilities of success, and a general endorsement of their work; so it was no trouble to have them visit us on the _Cork_, as she lay at anchor at the mouth of the Golden Horn. We conversed with them freely and listened to the recital of their wrongs and how they proposed to right and correct them. Political corruption and "graft," they said, were rampant everywhere, destroying the country and blighting every enterprise and industry. A Young Turk told me that many manufactories would be started were it not that the rapacity of the horde of petty officials was such that all must get a share of the spoils before a license could be granted, and that paying this toll would amount to much more than the cost of the factory. From the sultan down to the smallest custom house official, all must get a squeeze out of the victim whom they meet in any kind of business. The appellation, "The Sick Man of the East," presents in brief the picture of an unwholesome looking man, who is allowed to sit tight on his throne and plunder his people because the Powers can't agree on the division of his empire. When one looks at Abdul in his carriage one sees at a glance a coffee-colored knave who, when he gazes at the crowd from behind the mask of his face, is simply engaged in scheming a new twist in "graft," and wondering whether or not they can stand it and live. The Sultan is an expert pistol-shot and has killed many native visitors without the slightest proof that they were about to do him harm; if they made a suspicious movement of any kind he shot them down in cold blood and had them thrown into the Bosphorus. Abdul had an eye on the main chance and did not consider it wise to have all his eggs in one basket, so he deposited the hundred million dollars he wrung from his people--what is called his "private fortune"--in banks all over the world. The Young Turks are after this "pile," and he is not likely to retain it all and save his neck from the rope. Perhaps his most horrible crime was instigating the annihilation of 360,000 Armenians: this act alone places him on the pedestal of infamy for all time. But the pedestal is rocking, and his hour is near at hand. His territory in Europe has shrunk from 230,000 to 60,000 square miles. In a little while there won't be much left to divide, but there are other forces at work, and these serious natives tell you that nothing can now stop the progress of the task they are engaged in and that the days of the sultan are numbered. We believed in their sincerity and determination, and wished them every success. As a wind-up it will perhaps amuse the reader to note the high-sounding list of titles that the sultan--this "cutpurse and king of shreds and patches"--has given to himself. Here they are, all fresh roasted, with a few added words to fill in the interstices of his portrait:

THE SULTAN'S TITLES

"Abdul Hamid, Beloved Sultan of Sultans, Emperor of Emperors;"

"The Shadow of God upon the Earth;"

"Brother of the Sun"--(_Times_ and _Tribune_);

"Dispenser of Crowns"--(half-crowns and tu'penny-bits)--"to Those who Sit upon Thrones"--(and gunny-bags);

"Sovereign of Constantinople"--(and of all its mangy, flea-bitten dogs);

Easy Boss of Broussa, as well as Damascus, which is the "Scent of Paradise;"

"King of Kings"--(and two-spots); whose army is the asylum of "graft" and dummy guns; at the foot of whose throne sits Justice with the bandage off one eye so she can watch the coin!

SMYRNA

We left Constantinople without regret and steamed up into the Black Sea, making a circle in it, and then returned down into the Sea of Marmora, so as to get a good view of both the Asiatic and European sides of the city; then out, through the Dardanelles and on to Smyrna. This passage was all over classic ground, and every mile of it has made history for thousands of years.

Smyrna has 225,000 people, and is the cleanest and most respectable city the Turks own. In ancient times Croesus lived here after he had made his pile, and at the present day great numbers of wealthy men make it their home, and there is a good deal of luxury seen in the suburbs. It has the trade from Asia Minor. Homer was born here, and wrote and sang his immortal poetry along its rocky shores. It was conquered by Alexander the Great, and after he had destroyed it he ordered it rebuilt a few miles farther off so as not to forget it, and it became very prosperous. The Knights of Malta and the Arabs fought the Turks for many years for its possession, but the Turks have held it against all comers up to date. It was shaken down to ruins by an earthquake in 180 A.D., and this was followed by disastrous shocks in 1688, 1788, and 1880.

Its great trade is in figs, dates, sponges, silks, and rugs; but the greatest of these is the rug. These stuffs come in loaded on long trains of camels. I may say that no one has any idea of what this animal is like if he has only seen it in a zoo or in a circus parade. I watched the trains by the hour with absorbing interest. The professional, business camel is a big, fine, intelligent animal, who carries himself with the utmost dignity and strides along looking neither to the right nor the left, refusing to take notice of any noise or disturbance that would--and often does--upset his owners, whom he follows with implicit confidence. He is willing to make an honest and prompt return for his food and the care that is given him. I could not help thinking that if a man from Mars came down and did not know the conditions here, he would think the camel was master, and not the noisy crowd that surrounded him.

St. Polycarp, the second Bishop of Smyrna, was executed here because he would not recant his faith; he was a disciple of the Apostle John, and this incident shows the antiquity of the place.

The trade of Smyrna exceeds that of Constantinople: five thousand people are engaged in making rugs, but the best ones are brought in on camel back from seven hundred miles away. They have a curious way of selling the rugs that arrive from the interior: the dealer must buy the unopened bales with no opportunity to examine the rugs, so it is really a lottery and feeds the desire for gambling that prevails in business dealings in the Orient.

Smyrna is a beautiful, oriental city; it produces nothing, but exchanges everything and gets a shave for doing it: it is the home of Eastern luxury and of the finest women in Asia. Much more could be written about this city with a guide-book as a basis of information, but it would not be interesting produced in this way.

We heard a native "ragtime" band, playing tom-tomic strains--the lyric style of dinner-gong music that tears holes in the air. The leader was an imitator of Sousa and had his gymnastic eccentricities down to a fine point. He executed a fantasia on his horn of plenty that brought a shower of silver on the stage. We were told that the members of the orchestra were called the "Flowers of Music from Stamboul," and were working their passage to the "halls" of the European capitals. May the hat never be returned empty nor the charm of their work grow less!

THE HOLY LAND

JAFFA

Our next stopping place was Jaffa, the port of Jerusalem. The water at the landing is very rough, but the sturdy natives jump into the boats and show rare skill in handling the passengers, tossing them round like sheep into safe spots of vantage in the large boats used for disembarkation.

Jaffa has a population of 35,000. It is celebrated for its fine oranges, which grow in profusion about the city to the extent of 8,000,000 oranges every year. It has fine trains of camels, and 15,000 pilgrims to the Holy Land pass through it annually, many of them Russian pilgrims. It costs them about $60 to make the trip, and many of them spend their lives in saving this money for the purpose. The railroad to Jerusalem is fifty-four miles long. Simon the tanner was born here; his house was supposed to be on the hillside, but another house farther down the hill at the water-front was agreed on by those financially interested, so as to have something notable to show the visitor just as he stepped from the gang-plank. A guide said to us, pointing out a thirty-year old fig tree:

"Dar is de feeg tree de great man preech under all dose years ago; long time, ain't it?"

The streets are narrow and crooked, no room for vehicles, so we had to trek about two miles to the railroad station, the baggage being sent there by teams. After getting on the train we ran through orange, fig, olive, lemon, pomegranate and date groves, then over a great flat, fertile plain, the Plain of Sharon, fifty miles long and averaging eight miles wide, ploughed by camels, oxen and horses. This gave way to lands not so good, but covered by a great variety of flowers, followed by stony patches, and finally by ranges of bare, rocky mountains with but little vegetation on them and quite forbidding and desolate in their appearance; but every mile was historic ground. We were shown the town said to be the Arimathea of the New Testament, and the Crusaders' Tower, one hundred and twenty feet high. Here Samuel was a judge and Israel asked for a king. Then the Hill of Gezer, with ruins of the old city presented to Solomon by Pharaoh as a dowry for his daughter. Now we see Zorah, the birthplace of Samson, where the Ark was held up by the Philistines before they returned it to the Israelites, fearing it would bring a curse on them, and also where he tied burning brands to the foxes' tails so as to set fire to the ripening crops.

Farther along we come to Bittir, so strongly fortified that it took the Romans three years to capture it, costing them the lives lost in the horrible massacre described in the Talmud--one of the largest in all history.

And now the train stops at Jerusalem. This railroad is a tiny affair, and the officials marked up the class of some of its carriages by painting out one numeral from "II," leaving it a "I" class carriage, thus turning a second into a first just to keep up the spirit of deception that is the potent atmosphere of the Holy Land. But we were in Jerusalem and didn't care a rap, even though the varnish on the seats was wet and we were stuck to them like limpets to a rock in the sea.

It was quite a strain on the Holy City to take care of such a crowd, but all was well managed and we were comfortably stowed away somewhere (many in convents), and only the most confirmed "kickers" could offer any fair objection to the arrangements.

JERUSALEM

Very few writers and hardly any lecturers and speakers who have visited Jerusalem have told the truth about it, or if some of them have, they told only the pleasant part of it. In fact, it has usually been given a treble coat of whitewash, entirely misleading to those who are to follow them. When the writer holds Jerusalem to be the greatest of historical cities with all the reverence due to it, and yet finds it in the hands of the Turkish government--which does not know the meaning of truth nor of honesty; which by its example prostitutes every decent feeling in the minds of the people to its own base ends, and permits the barefaced robbery and oppression, not only of the visitor but of its own citizens--then I say the modern writer has a delicate task to perform in describing it, for in relating the facts he might seem to be railing and scoffing at religion and biblical history, whereas nothing is farther from his mind or his intention. Everything is so interwoven that it is hard to separate the serious and truthful from the ridiculous and fraudulent. This deceit is not alone of to-day; it goes back to the times when landmarks and historic evidences were obliterated by wars, earthquakes and revolutions, and when all traces of locations during these upheavals of centuries were lost and covered with _débris_ sometimes one hundred and fifty feet deep, the city of Jerusalem itself not having a single inhabitant for over fifty years in one period of its history. Then the "holy men" of those old days saw at once their opportunity to make religion both popular and paying, as well as the necessity for doing so, and they therefore invented a system of "pious frauds" by selecting bogus sites on particular spots for this, that, and the other incident which occurred in the great religious dramas in the Holy Land. These selections gave the ignorant, to whom they wholly appealed, some material, practical object on which to lay hold--something to worship which they could see and feel; and this was where the profit lay. Thus we find that there are crowded in the rooms of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre over thirty "sacred sites." There is the exact spot where the clay was found to make Adam; Adam's grave; the tears of the Virgin petrified in the form of a cross. Then there is the Stone of Unction; near by the Chapel of the Parted Raiment, where Christ's clothes were gambled for; again, the spot where He was crowned with thorns; the place where they scourged Him; that spot beyond is where they nailed Him to the cross--and the hole for the cross has been carefully cut out, no doubt by the best local stone-cutter not so many years ago. Then there is the long story of the finding of the true cross--but why further speak of these absurd fictions, intended to fool and work upon the poor Greek, Armenian, Syrian, Latin, Copt, Abyssinian and Russian pilgrims--in fact, all who are ignorant and credulous and will give _bakshish_ to these fat and sleek bandits, who never did an honest day's work in their lives and who couldn't be driven with a shotgun to do any kind of labor! At birth they are dedicated to organized robbery and oppression and they have no thought of disturbing this dedication--not if they know it! For fees, they show the "Cradle," a heavy, marble bath tub that would take many men to rock it with a crowbar. They exhibit the "Manger," also in marble (!), that never had a straw in it, and if you seem credulous they will tell you anything they think you will swallow. I pretended to believe them, and in consequence got a load of lies that would have made Ananias clap his hands with joy. And so on _ad infinitum_! By one "holy" pretence and another they rob these poor victims of their money till it is all gone, when they are allowed to go home as best they may. All religions, including the Roman Catholic and the Protestant, should combine to form a universal commission, which should be supplied with funds raised by public subscription the world over for the purpose of regulating Jerusalem. The objectionable buildings and "fake" objects should be razed to the ground, and it should be the duty of this commission to set forth and establish the authentic, historical sites and locations as nearly as reasoning and induction can locate them, and it should also be its province to see that proper treatment, protection and accommodation are given the poor pilgrims who go there annually; the rich and educated can take care of themselves.

The whole city is in a most disgusting state--unclean, vile and unspeakable in almost every respect; it is the sink of Christendom and its condition is a disgrace to humanity and to all sects of religion.

Jerusalem is a very old city: Abraham lived there and it was David's capital. When Solomon was king it was one of the mighty and magnificent cities of the world. Sixteen sieges have destroyed it, and the city of to-day is really built on the ruins of its seven predecessors. How utterly preposterous, then, is it for any one to attempt to identify the sacred places! The present population is 60,000. It is a walled city and has eleven gates. The Mosque of Omar is its principal feature; this was completed by Solyman the Magnificent in 1561; parts of the construction were done by the Crusaders. It has a noble dome and is a masterpiece of architectural beauty; it is said to be one of the finest buildings in Asia.

In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre the various sects have certain portions allotted to them for worship; the lines between them are guarded by armed soldiers, and if even an unintentional trespass is committed, a bloody riot usually ensues. In one of these three men were killed and many wounded a few days before we arrived, and the defeated sects were planning reprisals when we were leaving. This is Christianity at high pressure, and is characteristic of the whole place.

We saw Mount Zion, the Mount of Olives, the Damascus Gate, Calvary, the Garden of Gethsemane, the Pool of Siloam, the Pool of Bethesda, and the other celebrated places mentioned in the Bible. These were fairly authentic, as they were not "spots," but wide places of considerable dimensions, and not gathered under one roof.

The condition of the "Wall of Wailing"--which, by the way, is an open, paved court--is particularly offensive in a sanitary sense and no self-respecting person should enter it. Some writers have spoken plainly about these things. Here is a quotation from an eminent writer on the East, Dr. D. E. Lorenz, who knows his subject thoroughly, and to whom I am indebted for other data herewith:

"The moral degeneracy of the people as a whole is incredible. Profanity and obscenity are said to be mingled in the speech of the common people to an extent unknown among almost any other people on earth. Filthy homes and utter uncleanliness of person are the general rule. Sanitation is almost wholly disregarded, and it is a wonder that a plague does not sweep away all the inhabitants. . . . Dishonesty is reduced to a fine art. . . . The crowded streets with their Babel of confusion--the shouts of the donkey boys, the loud cries of the camel drivers, and the calls of those who would sell their wares to every passer-by, together with the hurly-burly of people in strange garb and speaking in strange tongues--all this tends to destroy . . . the religious glamour."

The "puller-in" and the "barker" of Baxter Street and the Bowery are mere sucking doves compared with the vendors of Jerusalem: they will get in front of you and pull you into their shops, and the only way you can prevent an assault is to jump to the other side of the street or dive into an alley. If you do not buy from them they will guy you and tell you to your face that they wish Americans would stay at home unless they will spend their money like the gentlemen they pretend to be. If at the end you buy nothing, they will shout derisively, "Skidoo! twenty-three! no good!" and other slang of a more or less complimentary nature. The English rule them with a rod of iron; they thrash them with a cane or whip which they carry for the purpose, and consequently the natives do not bother Johnnie Bull but allow him to pass in silence. The Emperor William was here a short time since, and they opened a new gate to let him in and removed the small boulders from the road so that his Imperial Majesty might not be jolted in driving about the country. William wants to be friendly and get a big slice of the "melon" at the cutting. Lady Burdett-Coutts, noticing the dangerous character of the water, offered to equip a fine, free system for the city, taking the supply from the head waters of the Jordan, but the sultan refused the offer unless he did the building. This proposal Lady Coutts declined, well knowing that if she accepted it there would be no works, but that the "Brother of the Sun" would keep the money.