Chapter IV: Part I: The Great Turk and His Capital (3)

Ahmed, the third son, who is twenty-four years old, is his father’s favorite, and is studying military tactics under one of the most successful of Turkish generals. He is destined to be commander of the army. Burhan Eddin, who is seventeen years old, is also a favorite and has considerable musical talent. The Sultan frequently introduces him to foreign visitors, and has him perform for them upon the piano. When Emperor William of Germany was visiting Constantinople, the young prince was detailed as one of his attendants, and the members of the Kaiser’s suite took a great fancy to him. He was then only about fourteen years old, but was quite mature, and conducted himself with great dignity. All the princes are educated by French and German tutors.

The Sultan is very liberal toward his family. He is absolute master of the finances of the empire. He is not required to prepare a budget or report his expenditures. The public money belongs to him and he directs its disbursement. He gives each one of his brothers and sisters a palace fully furnished and equipped, and all their household expenses are paid from the imperial treasury. In addition to this each one of them has an allowance of $5,000 a month for pin money. But Abdul Hamid is much more economical than Abdul Aziz, his predecessor, who squandered more than $100,000,000 during his reign without a thing to show for it, and piled up a debt so big that it can never be paid. The public bonds now outstanding amount to over $750,000,000, and the revenues of the government can scarcely pay the interest. The finances of Turkey, like those of other bankrupts, are controlled by a committee representing the foreign bondholders, who receive from the treasury a certain amount of money every month and distribute it among the creditors of the nation.

A Constantinople physician who has had abundant opportunities for studying his case, told me that Abdul Hamid is a victim of neurasthenia, a nervous disease which is a form of insanity, and that his psychological condition presents a most interesting problem, for his symptoms are complex and vary materially from time to time. He is naturally very intelligent, but, living in continual terror of assassination, being afflicted with chronic insomnia, and having a naturally suspicious nature abnormally developed, he has become a monomaniac on the subject of self-preservation. His disposition is gentle, and if he had lived like an ordinary man he might have escaped the disease from which he suffers almost continual agony; but his mistrust of everyone around him has become chronic, and he has developed a cunning that is never at a loss for expedients.

He sleeps only two or three hours out of the twenty-four, and then only when somebody is reading to him, or some orchestra or musician is performing in the adjoining room. Darkness frightens him. Therefore a light is always kept burning in his chamber, and Ismet Bey, grand master of the imperial wardrobe, always sleeps in the same room. Ismet Bey is his foster brother, and probably possesses his confidence more fully than any other man. Because he resembles the Sultan so closely in appearance, it is believed among the gossips of Constantinople that he often impersonates His Majesty at ceremonies and on other occasions where the latter is likely to be exposed to the danger of assassination.

Ismet Bey carries the keys to his desk, his wardrobe and his treasury caskets, and is perhaps trusted farther and knows more secrets than any other man about the palace; but he has no influence whatever with the Sultan and would not attempt to exercise it if he did, for it would be fatal to him. By a lifetime of devotion, as unselfish as any Turk can render, he has demonstrated his loyalty and disinterestedness.

The Sultan is always restless and is awakened at the slightest sound. When he awakes he always wants somebody to talk to, and Elias Bey, second officer of the wardrobe, or Faik Bey, one of his confidential secretaries, is usually at hand for that purpose. The Sultan sleeps in a detached chamber, surrounded by corridors on all four sides, and it is a popular impression that the walls are of steel. Four or five sentinels slowly pace the corridors during the entire night, and if the regular measure of their footsteps is interrupted the Sultan will waken and inquire the cause. In addition to this guard an officer sits at each corner of the corridor, where he can see both ways. In order to prevent a conspiracy, a detail for this purpose is made from among the subalterns of the different regiments about the palace every night. The names are drawn by lot a few moments before the hour and no one knows of his selection until he receives orders to report. These officers have watches of four hours each, coming on duty at sunset and remaining until sunrise. The Sultan is such a light sleeper that he awakens every time the guard is changed.

He is extremely fond of music, and when restless, his orchestra, which is under the direction of Dussap Pasha, is required to play all night, or until orders are sent to relieve them. His Majesty is also fond of theatrical and vaudeville performances and similar diversions, finding them a relief from his perpetual fears. A theater connected with the palace has two troupes of well-paid actors for dramatic and musical performances. One of them is composed of Turkish and the other of French and Italian artists. Foreign actresses and opera singers who visit Constantinople are always anxious to appear before His Majesty, because they not only receive liberal compensation from the master of ceremonies, but, if they happen to please, His Majesty is sure to present them with valuable jewels. Few people except members of the imperial family are permitted to attend these performances. When the Sultan invites one of the ambassadors, as he sometimes does, it is considered a mark of unusual distinction.

The Sultan’s dress is extremely simple and free from extravagance. He wears a military uniform and a campaign cloak such as is worn by the ordinary officers of the army. His jewels, however, are unsurpassed by any of the sovereigns of Europe. When His Majesty requires a new suit of clothes Ismet Bey, his foster brother, is used as a model by the tailor, as he and the Sultan are almost of the same size.

His diet is also very simple. He eats very little, of the plainest food, and never touches wine nor liquors of any kind, but consumes enormous quantities of coffee, which aggravates his nervousness. Up to a few years ago a servant with a coffee pot always followed him when he went out for exercise, and while driving in the park coffee stations were placed at frequent intervals, where he could stop and refresh himself. By the advice of his physicians he now limits himself to five or six cups of his favorite beverage a day, and it is said that he has himself noticed an improvement in his health. He is not so nervous and sleeps better. General Porter, the American ambassador to Paris, told me of a dinner at the Yildiz Kiosk, when the Sultan ate little but American corn bread and soup. His meals are cooked separately from those served to his family and guests, and the same man always prepares them in a little room, like a laboratory, not bigger than an ordinary bathroom. During their preparation an inspector always watches the cook for fear of poison. The food purchased for the Sultan’s use is kept in a huge safe to which his private chef alone has the key. Eggs and milk are the principal articles of his diet. He seldom touches meat, but at dinner usually has one or two vegetables.

Not being able to sleep, the Sultan does not retire before midnight, and is always up by 4:30 or 5 o’clock in the morning, when he puts on a long silken robe, takes a cup of coffee, smokes a few cigarettes and reads his correspondence. About seven o’clock he takes a bath, and then a breakfast of eggs and rolls and more coffee. At one o’clock his luncheon is served, which is seldom more than a crust of bread and a glass of milk--perhaps a small omelet. Although he takes his breakfast and luncheon alone, his dinners are always served with great ceremony. His younger sons, several of his secretaries and usually two or three of his ministers dine with him. The list of his guests is usually made out by the grand chamberlain of the palace and submitted to His Majesty’s approval. The dinner is served at eight o’clock in French style, with liveried attendants and an orchestra in the balcony of the state dining-room, which is a gorgeous apartment. As a formality each course is placed before the Sultan by the chief butler before it is served to his guests, although he never touches it himself, his own food being brought from his private kitchen by his personal attendant. Sometimes he dines in his harem, where his sisters and wives and daughters receive him with great ceremony.

Yildiz, the park in which the palace is situated, is a veritable city, with a population of nearly 5,000, including the members of the official staff and their families, the women of the harem, their slaves and eunuchs, the princes and sultanas, with their households and servants, the chambermaids, aides-de-camp, the imperial guard, which consists of several regiments, musicians, clerks, gardeners, grooms, valets, domestics and other employés, including a number of masons, carpenters and other mechanics. The Sultan has a machine-shop for the repair of machinery used upon the place, an arsenal, which contains several thousand stands of arms for both sport and war, and samples of all patents and styles. He has also a very rich collection of antique oriental arms.

One of His Majesty’s fads is the manufacture of porcelain. He has recently set up a factory in the park and imported a number of French artists, who are making placques and other ornaments. He is fond of wild animals and has quite an interesting zoölogical garden, with one of the best kennels of dogs in the world.

I was informed by a high authority in Constantinople that the Sultan pays $500,000 annually as subsidies to newspapers in Vienna, Berlin, Paris and other cities of Europe to defend him and his acts and create public sentiment in his favor. After the Armenian massacres, a few years ago, he distributed more than $1,000,000 among the newspapers that treated him kindly. Notwithstanding his self-enforced seclusion, he is as familiar with European affairs as any man on the continent, and scarcely anything that appears in print of importance or interest concerning him or his empire fails to meet his eye. His ambassadors and ministers at the different capitals are instructed to secure all press clippings that relate to Turkey and forward them to a central information bureau in Constantinople, where they are classified, translated and arranged for the Sultan’s inspection. He spends a great deal of time reading them and frequently receives important suggestions and information from them.

I was repeatedly warned that every newspaper letter I wrote from Turkey would be read by the Sultan personally. Missionaries and others from whom I obtained information frequently asked me not to publish certain things, because the Sultan was certain to see them and trace them to their source. One gentleman, in giving me an account of a certain enterprise, remarked: “I wish you would say that the Sultan takes a great interest in our affairs. It will do you no harm and will do us a great deal of good, for he is certain to see your letter and will be pleased.”

The largest sums of money expended in purchasing the good opinion of the press are expended in Germany and France, for the Kaiser is the Sultan’s best friend and most reliable supporter, and he is pleased when the German newspapers approve his policy.

Although the censorship in Turkey is very strict, the Sultan is a thorough believer in the usefulness and importance of the press, and in 1886 conceived the idea of founding a great national journal, to be published in the Turkish and French languages and to be for Turkey what the London Times is to Great Britain. He appointed a committee of five of his ministers and secretaries to formulate a plan and prepare estimates of the cost, but when he received a report and found how expensive a luxury his proposed newspaper would be, he abandoned the idea.

IV THE SELAMLIK

On Friday of each week--the Mohammedan Sabbath--occurs the Selamlik, the one occasion on which the public may see the Sultan, although at a great distance for most of them. The Moslem law requires the head of the church to make a formal prayer at some mosque at least once a week, and Friday is the day naturally chosen. Therefore the Sultan must go, sick or well, to worship publicly. If he could not perform this duty his ministers would dress up a dummy and send it in a closed carriage in his place, because the act of reverence must be performed though the heavens fall. The Sultan has his own little mosque attached to the palace, where he prays frequently and with great regularity, often abruptly leaving his ministers and others with whom he is engaged on business when the cry of the muezzin is heard from the neighboring minaret. No man is more devout or scrupulous in the observances of the ritual in which he believes, and in that way he sets a good example to his subjects.

Abdul Hamid’s public worship is performed at Hamidieh Mosque, a pretty structure within the imperial park and close to the high iron fence which surrounds it, so that those who enter and leave the temple may be seen from the street. There is a large vacant lot, with rising ground, across the road, intended for a drilling ground for cavalry, and on every Friday it is crowded with the carriages of those who are curious to see the Sultan, and are not allowed to approach any nearer to him. Formerly the Selamliks were more public. There was a wooden pavilion, a sort of grand stand for spectators, which was generally crowded by strangers visiting the city, members of the diplomatic corps, and others who were fortunate enough to get tickets, but since the assassination of King Humbert of Italy and President McKinley, it has been torn down and no more invitations are issued, although upon the personal application of the ambassadors the Sultan will sometimes admit foreigners whom they vouch for. Guests are allowed to witness the ceremony from the windows or the roof of the neighboring palace, but no one else is permitted inside the grounds except officials of the government, officers of the army and pilgrims who constantly visit Constantinople in large numbers. The public must be contented with looking through the bars of the iron fence or witnessing the pageant through field-glasses from the tops of the neighboring hills.

We were at Constantinople during the pilgrim season, when faithful Mohammedans on their way to Mecca were arriving daily from Russia and the surrounding states as well as from all parts of the Ottoman Empire to pay their respects to the Sultan, who is the visible head of their church, and to the Sheik-ul-Islam, his vicar in charge of ecclesiastical affairs. They are admitted to the Selamlik when properly vouched for, but the police are very careful to see that no assassin disguised as a pilgrim shall pass the gates. The pilgrims occupy a plot bordering upon the roadway over which the Sultan drives. As he approaches they utter a peculiar cry. It sounds more like a wail than a cheer, and is supposed to express reverence and admiration rather than enthusiasm. It is the salutation of the true believer to the head of his church, but if anyone were to make such a noise at the approach of President Roosevelt or any of the sovereigns of Europe he would be immediately arrested as a dangerous person. When the Sultan has gone by, the pilgrims bow their heads in reverence and afterward push forward and kiss the ground over which the wheels of his carriage have passed. Many of them are venerable men, priests as well as laymen, and as each wears the costume of his country the group usually presents a picturesque appearance and adds much to the interest of the scene. Those with green turbans are descendants of the Prophet Mohammed and constitute a clan of themselves. They have maintained their individuality during all the centuries, like the house of David among the Jews, but it gives them no material advantages. They honor themselves more than they are honored by others. You see laborers wearing green turbans; yea, even the children of the prophet begging bread from infidels.

There is very little to be seen at a Selamlik except the military display. And that is splendid. Nearly the entire garrison of Constantinople, numbering 12,000 or 15,000 of the picked soldiers of the Turkish army, appear every Friday in brilliant and peculiar uniforms, line the roadway over which the Sultan passes, surround the mosque in which he worships and are packed into the grounds until their red fezzes and glistening bayonets light up the entire park. There are regiments of Nubians, Soudanese, Albanians, Arabs, Syrians, Kurds, Turkestanese, Bokharans, Georgians, Circassians and other races unknown to us, which cannot be seen elsewhere. The red fez, white turbans, gold lace, stripes and sashes, white gloves, red and green banners and the glitter of the arms make a brilliant combination, and one must acknowledge that the soldiers of the Sultan are fine-looking fellows, although they may be as wicked and as cruel as represented. They are all Moslems. No Christian is admitted to the army, but every Christian, Jew and Gentile subject of military age is required to furnish a Moslem substitute. There are numerous military bands playing modern music very poorly, and it may gratify Mr. Sousa to know that his marches are as popular in Turkey as elsewhere. The pashas and generals wear dazzling uniforms, covered with gold braid and lace, and other officers, bedecked with equal brilliancy, seem innumerable. The grounds of the palace suddenly become an ocean of gold lace and red fezzes.

When a carriage arrived with a black man upon the box in the footman’s place, we knew it brought ladies from the harem with a eunuch in charge. While all black men are not eunuchs, all eunuchs are black. They are brought from Africa and Arabia when children and are purchased like other slaves. The Sultan’s wives and sisters usually attend the Selamlik, but have their own place in the mosque partitioned off by screens. They cannot even enter the same door with their sovereign master. He must pray alone. Only the Sheik-ul-Islam, the high priest of the Moslems, or some great _mufti_ designated to represent him, is admitted, whose presence is necessary to carry out the ritual.

The guardian of the harem, the _kizlar-aghasi_, or chief eunuch, who ranks next to the grand vizier and the Sheik-ul-Islam, was present, having in charge four sultanas. Each had her own carriage drawn by white horses and a military escort and was attended by ladies-in-waiting. Three of the Sultan’s sons rode on horseback among the pashas that formed his bodyguard, and another, a little chap about ten years old, had a tiny brougham drawn by ponies similar to that used by Tom Thumb. He was accompanied by his tutor, an officer of the army, and by a little aide-de-camp of his own age, a miniature imitation of those who attended his imperial father. The little prince was in the uniform of a colonel of the army, wearing a sword and baby revolvers, and his aide was dressed to correspond.

Another carriage, one of the latest arrivals, was occupied by a little girl--one of the Sultan’s daughters, attended by a woman with unveiled face, wearing a violet satin gown. Hence we knew her to be a foreigner and were told that she was the little sultana’s French governess. We noticed that she sent one of her attending eunuchs with a coin to a crippled beggar who caught her eye outside the gates.

After the carriages came two covered vans like those used in the United States to move furniture. They backed up to the entrance of the mosque and discharged a lot of rugs, chairs, chests and other things that were carried inside, but I could not find out what they were for or why they should be delivered just at this time. Then a squad of servants in long white robes came out of the mosque, washed the marble steps and dried them carefully with cloths, after which they spread a long rug that reached from the gravel roadway to the vestibule, so that His Majesty’s feet might not touch the vulgar earth, and fastened it down with brass rods. Then appeared a dozen carts loaded with sand, which was sprinkled along the roadway to absorb the moisture and deaden the noise of the wheels. When these preparations were complete the notes of a trumpet were heard in the distance--the signal that the Sultan had left the palace and was on his way. A white-robed muezzin with a big turban appeared upon the balcony of the beautiful minaret and gave the conventional call to prayer, only his cry was louder and the wail more prolonged than usual. Two columns of pashas and generals in brilliant uniform, on horseback, appeared around the curve, riding slowly, and when the leaders reached the steps of the mosque they opened ranks, facing each other, and formed an aisle for the Sultan to pass through. They were an additional guard for his safety.

The general of the army, a stern-looking man with an intellectual forehead, large gray eyes, a Roman nose and a grizzled beard, mounted upon a magnificent charger, next appeared, surrounded by his staff. Formerly Osman Pasha, the hero of the Russo-Turkish war, held this position and attended his sovereign regularly each Friday until his death. Closely following him, surrounded by a squad of officers running on foot, came a low carriage drawn by a pair of beautiful white horses, in which sat Abdul Hamid, the Sultan of Turkey and the successor of the Prophet of Islam. On the opposite seat was the minister of war--one more precaution--and it is said that the standing order to the bodyguard is to shoot down that official instantly in case an attack is made upon the Sultan. He is held responsible for the safety of his imperial master, and if the protection provided by him proves inadequate his punishment is death. Riza Pasha, the present minister of war, is a large, fat man, so large that the diminutive figure of the Sultan looked very small by contrast. Abdul Hamid is slight of stature and weighs only 135 pounds. He looks like the late Jay Gould and the late Matias Romero, for many years Mexican ambassador to the United States. He wore a shabby military overcoat and a red fez. His face is very melancholy. His eyes are large and have a wandering look. He is said to be the saddest man on earth, and he looks it. An escort of young officers on foot followed the carriage, the Sultan’s aides-de-camp and secretaries, and as the pageant proceeded everybody saluted and bowed. The crowd outside the gates cheered, but were not very enthusiastic. The Sultan’s eyes took in everything. They surveyed the scene with extraordinary rapidity. His officers say that he never overlooks anything that is amiss. He can see where a button is off the coat of a soldier as he rides by.

The imperial group was followed by an empty phaeton drawn by a pair of white horses with gold-mounted harness and half-blankets of leopard skin, and also by five saddle horses--the most beautiful animals you ever saw--so that the Sultan could choose among them if he should take the whim to ride back to the palace from the ceremony. As he passed the pilgrims he bowed to them several times. When he reached the mosque he stopped upon the steps, turned around, faced them and bowed and bowed again, while they uttered the peculiar wail that I have described. He then entered the vestibule, followed by the minister of war and several of his aides.

While the Sultan was at prayer strips of matting were unrolled upon the pavement, and the pilgrims, swarming out, kneeled upon it with their faces toward Mecca and went through their devotions, a priest leading them. This continued for half an hour or so, until the Sultan reappeared, got into the phaeton, took the reins in his own hands and drove back to the palace surrounded by his aides-de-camp and secretaries on foot, who are compelled to run at full speed to keep up with him. This pageant is witnessed every Friday, but it is conducted with so many safeguards and precautions that the military display is not seen at its full effect.

There is no particular place for the burial of Sultans. Each Sultan usually builds his own tomb, according to his own taste and extravagance, but throughout the city may be found several _turbets_, or tombs, containing the bodies of one or more Sultans with their favorite wives beside them. The graves are covered with plain cenotaphs of stuccoed brick four or five feet high and seven or eight feet long, draped with covers of black broadcloth or velvet, exquisitely embroidered with silver or gold, and upon them are usually several cashmere shawls of the very finest texture, fabrics of priceless value, gifts and tributes from neighboring kings and governors. Distinguished men, Sultans and others, are buried in the different mosques, the most sacred being that of Eyub Ansari, the standard-bearer and most intimate companion of the Prophet Mohammed, who was killed by the Arabs at the siege of Constantinople, A.D. 668. His burial-place was revealed in a dream to a celebrated priest during the attack of Mohammed II. upon Constantinople, and its discovery inflamed the fanaticism of the Turkish soldiers to such a degree that their next attack upon the city was irresistible. After the capture Mohammed II. erected the mosque of Eyub upon the site of the grave, and it is held so sacred that no Christian has ever been allowed to enter the gates of the walls that surround it, or even to live in the neighborhood. It is a beautiful building of white marble, with a large dome, two small domes and many semi-domes, and two graceful minarets. It stands on the banks of the Golden Horn about five miles from the city, and upon the accession of a new Sultan a ceremony corresponding to the coronation of a Christian sovereign takes place there. After performing an elaborate service of prayer the new Sultan is girded with the sword of Osman, the founder of the dynasty, by the superior of the dervishes. The sword of Osman always lies upon the tomb of Eyub, constantly watched by relays of the priests and monks who have charge of the temple. The tomb is of silver gilt and elaborate workmanship, covered with a cloth of gold, surrounded by a high gilt railing and overhung with many costly lamps.

At the village is a factory in which are made the fezzes worn by the soldiers of the Turkish army.

V THE CITY OF THE GRAND TURK

Poets, painters and other people with vivid imaginations and emotional natures have become ecstatic in describing the city of the Grand Turk, and while it has unique and exquisite attractions, it is no more beautiful than New York or San Francisco, Rio de Janeiro, Naples, Hongkong or half a dozen other cities I might name. There is none of the barbaric splendor, the gold and purple and blue and scarlet of Moscow, as seen from the Sparrow Hills; nor the fantastic pagodas and temples of Kioto or Peking. It has none of the quiet dignity of Stockholm or the soft beauty of Naples, but the colors that are lacking and the gorgeousness that is invisible is readily supplied by the imaginations of tourists, who generally see what they expect to see, no matter whether it is there or not. You find the same trouble in Holland and Spain after reading the books of D’Amicis, and at Venice after studying Ruskin. Perhaps it is the fault of the observer, who lacks sufficient sentiment, but when you begin to dissect the scene and separate the actual from the imaginary the criticism of practical minds is sustained.

The continents of Europe and Asia are separated by the Sea of Marmora, which is 110 miles long and 40 miles wide in its widest part. At the west end it is entered through the Hellespont or Dardanelles, a deep and swift stream or strait, about as wide as the Hudson River. The place where Leander swam across to visit Hero, his sweetheart, and where Lord Byron imitated his example, is only about three-quarters of a mile wide, and although to swim it was a prodigious feat in those days, it would not be more than an ordinary adventure to many members of a modern athletic club.

At its east end the Sea of Marmora is connected with the Black Sea by the Bosphorus, a channel similar to the Hellespont. These streams, which form a remarkable boundary between the continents, have always been regarded of great strategic importance, and from the time of Alexander the Great to Alexander II. of Russia have been fought for by rival nations.

Where the Bosphorus joins the Sea of Marmora there is a little bay, about half a mile wide at its mouth, growing gradually narrower and curving like a cornucopia for about three miles through the hills to a point where it receives fresh water from a little stream. This bay is called the Golden Horn. Between the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmora is a tongue of land similar in size and shape to Manhattan Island, upon which New York is built, except that it is higher in the center. This ridge, or “hog’s back,” rises about five hundred feet above the water, and at intervals is broken by gullies, several of them very wide and deep,--gashes that have been cut into the soil by water. This ridge or tongue of land is occupied by the old city of Stamboul, and upon the extreme point, corresponding to Battery Park, New York, is located the Seraglio, a group of palaces occupied by the Sultans before the nineteenth century. An imposing marble gate, by which the grounds are entered, is the ancient Sublime Porte, and from it is derived the title by which the Turkish government is often referred to in history and diplomatic discussions. The modern Sublime Porte is a still more imposing marble gate which leads into an inclosure where are situated the palace of the grand vizier, the ministry of finance and other official departments of the government.

Upon the opposite side of the Bosphorus, situated to Stamboul as Jersey City is to New York, is Scutari, a city of residences, schools, hospitals, military barracks, carpet factories and other manufacturing establishments, with a population of about 50,000. It is surrounded by a group of fertile hills, which in the spring and summer are covered with brilliant foliage.

Upon the opposite side of the Golden Horn a steep hill, rising directly from the water, is occupied by the city of Galata, corresponding to Brooklyn. Its houses and shops are arranged in terraces along precipitous slopes to a height of five hundred feet; and on the other side of the crest, which slopes to the Golden Horn, is the city of Pera, which means “beyond”--that is, the place beyond the hill.

This completes the group of four cities, which, combined, are called Constantinople, and from the bridge which connects Stamboul and Galata, or at any other point between, they are spread out before the spectator like an audience in an amphitheater, rising in irregular terraces and showing patches of whitewashed walls among unpainted, wood-colored houses, shingled roofs and occasionally a roof of tile. Here and there appear squatty domes like warts, queer-looking towers and slender minarets, which are peculiar to Constantinople and are its greatest attraction. The domes indicate mosques and occupy the summits of the hills. Their ugliness heightens the beauty and grace of the minarets by which they are surrounded. The minarets take the place of church steeples and the campaniles or bell-towers that are usually attached to cathedrals in southern Europe. They look very slender and very tall, rising often to the height of three hundred feet--delicate, beautiful shafts, perhaps twenty feet in diameter at the bottom and gradually tapering to a needle point at the top, upon which a golden crescent is always placed. About the center, overlooking the roofs of the houses and the adjoining streets, are balconies, sometimes only one, sometimes two, and, on the taller minarets three, protected by beautifully carved balustrades and sustained by brackets, from which the muezzin calls the Mohammedans to prayer. In Constantinople most of the minarets are of marble and other stones, as they were built by rich Sultans as monuments to their own memory, but elsewhere such structures are of brick, coated with stucco, and kept neatly whitewashed. Whatever may be said of the Moslem, his houses of worship always show evidences of careful and constant attention. You seldom see a slovenly mosque and seldom a mosque out of repair. They set an example to other religious sects in this, as in several other matters.

The view from any place of observation will comprehend nearly all of the city of Constantinople except, of course, those portions which are on the opposite side of the ridges. I do not know of any city of which so much can be viewed from a single point. Standing upon the bridge that crosses the Golden Horn, one can easily see the abodes of two-thirds of the population spread out before him. But the view is monotonous. There is a lack of variety about the architecture which is very tiresome. One house differs from another so little that the eye becomes weary and rests gratefully upon the picturesque towers and the beautiful minarets that rise here and there in striking relief. Several conspicuous buildings stand out boldly. These are the embassies of Russia, Germany and other European Powers on the Galata side and the government offices in Stamboul. The largest buildings, and those which are most conspicuous in every direction, are occupied as barracks by the Sultan’s army. There are no parks, no promenades, no amusements, no theaters except one which is insignificant, and no entertainments or diversions for the people except a few low-class vaudeville performances.

The streets are irregular, narrow and crooked and wind up in serpentine or zigzag fashion to the top of the town. It is evident that they originally followed the trails of goats, which, unlike the buffalo, are poor engineers. The straight streets are so steep that no load can be hauled up them, and many of them are actually stairways, with small shops on either side. In building the city no grading was done and no filling. The natural topography was allowed to remain unaltered, which, while it adds to the picturesqueness, is a permanent embargo on business. Horses cannot be used for transportation purposes because the streets are too narrow and too steep and the pavements are too rough.

There are a few carts and a good many donkeys with panniers upon their backs, but heavy freight, like lumber, bales of merchandise and such things are carried from one place to another by men. It is a common thing to see eight, twelve or sixteen men with long poles staggering under a load of dry goods, hardware, iron rails or timbers for the construction of houses. They can carry their cargo only a little way without stopping to rest, and as long as they are engaged, block the entire street. No carriage can pass them, and even a donkey finds it difficult to creep by. You will appreciate the difficulty of doing business with these embarrassments, and will not be surprised that the commerce and internal trade of Constantinople is less than that of the average German or French city of one-fourth its population. More business is done in New York in one day than in Constantinople during the entire 365.

There are no sidewalks except upon a few of the principal streets, and they are very narrow. The houses are high--five, six and seven stories--without elevators, and are divided into tenements, the ground floor being occupied in most cases for business purposes. The architecture is indifferent where it is not ugly. Most of the city is built of wood, unpainted, and the cheapest kind of construction; much of it being in an advanced state of dilapidation. Some of the houses in the principal residence quarter remind me of those on the West Side in Chicago, the wooden façades being covered with “ginger-bread work,” balconies, loggias and other architectural frills. In the Turkish quarter there is even less of architectural interest. Only occasionally can a Moorish design be seen or any building of the oriental type. You can follow some of the longest streets from one end to the other without finding a window or a door or a roof or a balcony that looks like what you expected to see in Turkey. When the lower sash of the window is covered with fixed lattice work you may know that it is some Turk’s harem. The houses occupied by Greeks, Armenians, Jews and Europeans have ordinary windows and no blinds, and as only about one-fourth of the population of Constantinople--the estimates are generally less--are Turks, and three-fourths are foreigners, you should not expect anything but what you see, and must swallow your disappointment.

There are other reasons, in addition to the topography, why the houses are so cheaply and indifferently built. All foreigners are in Constantinople on sufferance and the investment of money is unsafe. When a foreigner erects a house he takes great risks and naturally does not wish to spend any more upon it than is absolutely necessary. Furthermore, an evidence of prosperity would immediately attract the attention of the officials, who are all Turks, and the assessment for taxation would at once be raised. The Turkish officials receive little if any compensation from the government, and are obliged to turn into the treasury for the use of the Sultan and his court certain sums of money annually. This money and whatever they need for themselves must be raised by whatever measures they can manage, and, as they have autocratic powers, it is easy for them to make good their quota. If they see a man, particularly an Armenian or a Jew--they do not care so much about Greeks--showing signs of prosperity and wealth, they make preparations to bleed him, and the methods they adopt are usually successful. The population of Stamboul around the Seraglio is mostly Turkish, and beyond that Armenian and Jewish. The inhabitants of Galata are mostly Greeks, and those of Pera are English, French, Germans and subjects of other European Powers.

Landing at Constantinople is an exciting experience. The ships anchor out in the stream, and passengers, with their luggage, are taken ashore in rowboats. No traveler is allowed to land without a passport. If he is a resident of Turkey he must have a permit granted by the police officials of the town in which he lives. If he is a foreigner his passport must be viséd by the Turkish consul or minister at the port of his departure.

When the steamer comes to anchor the gangplank is at once surrounded by a motley crowd of boatmen, howling like a lot of demons and grabbing at the luggage of the passengers. If you have not a courier to look after you and your belongings the best thing is to give yourself up to Cook, the traveler’s friend and protector. If you have written ahead to engage apartments at any of the hotels a dragoman, or interpreter, will be sent down to meet you and help you through the custom-house, but Cook’s men always come aboard, not only at Constantinople but at all the eastern ports, and are a blessing to the inexperienced.

As each boatload passes towards the landing-place it is stopped in midstream by a policeman seated in the stern of a Turkish _caique_, or canoe, who counts the number of passengers and the number of pieces of baggage. What this is done for I was unable to discover, but the most reasonable theory is that it is intended as a checking system for the police, in order that no stranger shall enter the country without their knowledge.

The guidebooks, which are closely censored by the Turkish government, so that they may not contain anything offensive or treasonable to the Sultan, state very plainly that couriers and dragomans from the hotels can “arrange” with the customs officers so that the inspection of luggage will be only formal. The only thing that they are after is books. Their orders are very strict in that respect. They are positively forbidden to pass any books, newspapers, manuscripts or sealed parcels, all of which must be submitted to examination by the censor, who destroys all works pertaining to the Mussulman religion, the personality of the Sultan, the foreign relations or the internal affairs of Turkey. Guns, revolvers and that sort of thing, which are prohibited in most countries, are admitted without objection in Turkey. We were advised to conceal all our guidebooks, notebooks, manuscripts and that sort of thing in the bottom of our trunks in case of an emergency, although our dragoman, or guide, said he did not think any of them would be opened. When they were landed and carried into the dilapidated and dirty old wooden building of one story used for a custom-house, all the trunks, bags and rug rolls were arranged in a row upon a bench and the dragoman proceeded calmly to negotiate with the inspectors. How much he paid to pass them I do not know, but it was not a large sum, and we were soon sent on our way rejoicing.

The baggage of passengers leaving Constantinople is examined quite as closely as that which comes in, and the same process occurs. The customs officers often demand larger bribes from outgoing than incoming travelers, and will threaten to detain their luggage if the money is not paid.

The same corruption and the same practices exist in other branches of the custom-house, only to a greater extent. Imported merchandise is seldom inspected. Merchants doing business in Constantinople usually have a regular arrangement with the customs officials to admit their goods without examination upon the payment of certain sums, which cover both the customs duties and the bribes. These practices must be known to the higher officials, because nearly all of them have been promoted to the positions they occupy, and they require a certain amount of revenue from each inspector or appraiser every month. The latter must raise it the best way he can. There is a regular tariff, of course, and fixed rates of duty for different kinds of merchandise, but it is seldom observed, even in the case of strangers.

All travelers in Turkey must have _tezkerehs_, or traveling permits, which are granted upon the application of the minister or consul of the country from which they come, and are an acknowledgment on the part of the Ottoman authorities of their responsibility for the safety of the bearer. Natives have ordinary passports, but no man can land at a port or buy a steamship or railway ticket without showing a document of this kind, which not only is a protection to the traveler, but also gives the police authorities an opportunity to watch suspicious persons.

The United States diplomatic and consular officials in Turkey receive almost daily applications for certificates from Armenians who claim to be naturalized, but there has been so much fraudulent naturalization that they no longer issue them unless they are satisfied that the applicant is a bona fide citizen of the United States stopping temporarily in Turkey. Certain Armenians in New York, San Francisco and other cities for years did a fraudulent naturalization business, and for large fees obtained papers for Armenians in Turkey who had never been in the United States. It is an easy thing for a man to make application in any of the courts under any name, and again make a second or third or fourth or repeated applications under other names later without being detected. When the papers are issued they are forwarded to Turkey to the persons whose names they bear, and the latter use them whenever necessary. Not long ago such fraudulent papers were abundant in Turkey, but many of them have been taken from the holders and retained by the United States officials. When a man claiming to be a naturalized citizen of New York cannot tell the name of the street upon which he lives and does not know the location of Brooklyn or Jersey City; who never heard of Washington, Grant, McKinley or Roosevelt, and cannot give the name of the long street which runs from one end of New York to the other, it is pretty certain that he is not entitled to the protection of our government, but has abused its hospitality by obtaining naturalization papers under false pretenses.

Constantinople is the seat of the Sheik-ul-Islam, the ecclesiastical head of the Moslem faith, and also the seat of the Patriarchs of the Greek and the Armenian churches, and of the chief rabbi of the Jews. Every other religion has its representatives among the population, which is more cosmopolitan than that of any other city. It is claimed that there are in Constantinople representatives of every nation and every tribe upon the globe, and that every language is spoken. It is common to see signs written in eight or nine languages on the fronts of the retail shops. These races and religions are all more or less antagonistic. There is nothing to unite them. Each suspects the other of treachery. They have no relations, except in trade, and in their commercial dealings they are all trying to cheat each other.

Everybody lives in a state of constant apprehension, in a vague dread of danger, and there is good reason for it, because the hand of Ishmael is still against every man.

No census has ever been taken of Constantinople, and the population is unknown. Estimates range all the way from 875,000 to 1,250,000, and the latter figure is probably somewhere near the truth, judging from the dense manner in which the people are huddled together and the enormous area covered by the city. The floating population is very large. Thousands of men are constantly coming and going, spending a portion of each season in the city and the remainder of the year in the provinces of Turkey or in some neighboring state.

According to religious belief the population is supposed to be divided somewhat as follows:

Moslems 400,000
Greeks 175,000
Armenians 250,000
Jews 75,000
Bulgarians 6,000
Greek Catholics 1,200
Roman Catholics 7,500
Protestants 2,000
Miscellaneous 150,000

The city is divided into ten municipal circles or wards, which, combined, constitute a vilayet, whose affairs are directed by a _prefet_, assisted by a _mejlis_, or council, and a large staff of officials. Each municipal circle has a director and is subdivided into precincts which are governed by _mudirs_. The _prefet_, or governor, is a despot, responsible to no one but the Sultan and exercising absolute and unquestioned authority over the lives and property of his subjects. Men disappear and their property is confiscated at his orders, and no questions can be asked. He regulates the taxes, receives the funds and disposes of them without a question. The _mudirs_ and other subordinates carry out his instructions and trust him to stand between them and the Sultan. The priests and monks of the Moslem Church must be taken into consideration always, as they are the most powerful body in Constantinople, and their influence over the people is undisputed. The Sheik-ul-Islam, the head of the church, stands next to the Sultan in power and authority and the _prefet_ and _mudirs_ are careful never to offend him.

The Armenians at one time were the most important part of the business community, but since the massacres in 1896, when at least 5,000 of that sect were butchered and their property looted and confiscated, they have been exceedingly cautious, and at present very few of the 250,000 Armenians in Constantinople are doing business under their own names. Some of them have gone into partnership with Turks, paying the latter a certain percentage of the profits of their business for protection and the use of their names. Many of the old shops of Armenian merchants now have Turkish signs over the doors, for which privilege, however, the owners have to pay a heavy blackmail. Since the massacres every Armenian has been discharged from the employ of the government and very generally from the employment of private Turks. Before 1896 and as far back as anyone can remember, Armenians held the most important subordinate positions under the government because of their executive ability, particularly in the financial department, where they are very strong; but now the vindictiveness of the Turk against them is so violent that the name of Armenia has been stricken off the map and that province is known as Upper Turkey. The custom-house officers will not permit the importation of maps bearing the name Armenia. If any such are found they are confiscated and burned, and every book containing the name Armenia is blotted by the censor.

The Greeks, who are next in numbers, are also business men and now have the largest share of the mercantile trade in their own quarter of the city. Although Turkey was recently at war with Greece and the rivalry between the two countries is bitter, there is no hatred or prejudice against them. The same is true of the Jews. Both races live at peace with their Turkish neighbors, and are allowed to worship God in their own way without interference, and are never compelled to endure such persecutions as have been suffered by the Armenians for centuries. The explanation of this is that Greeks and Jews never meddle in politics, while the Armenians are continually doing so. Furthermore, the province of Armenia has been in a state of discontent for many years, and its inhabitants are constantly exciting revolutions against their oppressors--usually with very bad judgment and no possible prospect of success. Palestine is just as much a Turkish province as Armenia, but its inhabitants submit to the despotism under which they are born, while the Armenians will not.

Half the Greeks and Armenians in Turkey have lost their own languages because they have been forbidden to speak them. Without practice they have forgotten their native tongues. The Jews have been more kindly treated. The Armenians are compelled to worship in secret. Greek churches can be found in every part of the Ottoman Empire as public as the Mohammedan mosques, and no Jewish synagogue is ever interfered with by Moslem mobs. It is the Armenians that they attack exclusively.

The ferry-boats which run to all parts of the Bosphorus are very much like those on the Thames in London and on the Seine in Paris. They have time-tables, which are posted in convenient places and published in the newspapers, but are seldom observed; no one knows why, except that it is the nature of the Turk. A boat which is advertised to start at nine o’clock may go ten minutes before or twenty minutes after. The guidebooks warn people not to rely upon the published announcements. The boats to Brussa, a neighboring town much frequented by tourists, the guidebook says, leave daily, “some time between 7 a.m. and 8:30 p.m., according to circumstances.” In other words, their movements depend upon the cargo, the number of passengers and the whim of the captain.