61FT OP 
 
 ROB 
 
 BELPHER. 
 
A 
 LEVANTINE LOG-BOOK 
 
By the Same Author 
 
 ARGONAUT LETTERS. THE JUBILEE PILGRIMAGE 
 
 TO ROME AND THE " HOLY YEAR." 
 THE PASSION PLAY AT OBERAMMERGAU. 
 THE PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1900. 
 CONTINENTAL SKETCHES IN THE LAST YEAR OF 
 
 THE CENTURY. 
 
 Crown Svo. With sixty full-page half-tone plates. 
 Pages i-xiv, 1-413, and Index. Cloth, gilt top, 
 deckle edge. 
 
 TWO ARGONAUTS IN SPAIN. A VIEW OF PENIN- 
 SULAR PEOPLE AND CONDITIONS AS THEY APPEAR 
 SINCE THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR. 
 Crown 8vo. With thirty-six illustrations, rubricated 
 Title, and colored map of Spain. Pages i-xii, 1-256, 
 and Index. Cloth, extra. 
 
A 
 
 LEVANTINE 
 LOG-BOOK 
 
 BY 
 
 JEROME HART 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO 
 
 91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
 
 LONDON AND BOMBAY 
 
Copyright 1905 by 
 JEROME HART 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S. A, 
 
MOST POPULAR BOOKS 
 AND BEST SELLERS 
 
 Every librarian and every book-seller is interested 
 in knowing what books are the most called for and the 
 most read in libraries and book-stores. The annexed 
 lists are taken from the reports of the San Francisco 
 Public Library, George T. Clark, librarian; the Mer- 
 cantile Library, Frederick J. Smith, librarian; and the 
 Mechanics' Institute Library, Frederick J. Teggart, 
 librarian. From these statistics it will be seen that the 
 lists of most popular books from December I, 1905, to 
 March I, 1906, in San Francisco, as elsewhere in 
 the country, have been made up principally of fiction. 
 On these lists, however, it will be observed that there 
 figures a book of travel. No one knows better than the 
 librarian unless it be the book-seller that the average 
 book of travel is a drug on the market; no one knows 
 better than the book-seller unless it be the librarian 
 that about seven-tenths of the books usually called for 
 are novels. Therefore it is at least unusual to find a 
 book of travel figuring among the five most popular 
 works called for at these libraries. 
 
 The five books most in demand at the Mercantile, 
 Public, and Mechanics^ Libraries, of San Francisco, 
 during the periods specified, were the following : 
 
 Week ending December 4, 1905. 
 
 MERCANTILE LIBRARY. 
 
 1. " The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 2. " The Gambler," by Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 
 3. " Fair Margaret," by F. Marion Crawford. 
 
 4. " The House of a Thousand Candles," by Meredith 
 \~icholson. 
 
 5. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 Week ending December n, 1905. 
 
 MECHANICS' LIBRARY. 
 
 1. " The Gambler," by Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 
 2. " The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 3. " My Friend the Chauffeur," by C. N. and A. M. William- 
 son. 
 
 4. " Man and Superman," by G. Bernard Shaw. 
 5- " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 I 
 
Week ending December 25, 1905. 
 
 MECHANICS' LIBRARY. 
 
 1. " The Gambler," by Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 
 2. " The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 3. " Loser's Luck," by Charles Tenney Jackson. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. Plays, by G. Bernard Shaw. 
 
 Week ending December 50, 1905. 
 
 MECHANICS' LIBRARY. 
 
 1. " The Conquest of Canaan," by Booth Tarkington. 
 
 2. " The Gambler," by Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 
 3. " The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. " The House of a Thousand Candles," by Meredith 
 Nicholson. 
 
 Week ending January 6, 1906. 
 
 MECHANICS' LIBRARY. 
 
 1. " The Gambler," by Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 
 2. " The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 3. " Loser's Luck," by Charles Tenney Jackson. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. Plays, by G. Bernard Shaw. 
 
 Week ending January 27, 
 
 MECHANICS' LIBRARY. 
 
 1. "The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 2. " The Conquest of Canaan," by Booth Tarkington. 
 
 3. " Loser's Luck," by Charles Tenney Jackson. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. " Animal Heroes," by Ernest Thompson Seton. 
 
 Week ending February j, 
 
 PUBLIC LIBRARY. 
 
 i. " The Gambler," by Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 ,2. " The House of a Thousand Candles," by Meredith 
 Nicholson. 
 
 3. " The Debtor," by Mary E. Wilkins. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. " Salve Venetia," by F. Marion Crawford. 
 
 Week ending February 10, 1906. 
 
 PUBLIC LIBRARY. 
 
 1. " Fair Margaret," by F. Marion Crawford. 
 
 2. " The House of a Thousand Candles," by Mereditl 
 Nicholson. 
 
 3. " The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 4. " The Long Day." Anonymous. 
 
 5. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 2 
 
Week ending February 17, ipod. 
 
 MECHANICS '-MERCANTILE LIBRARY. 
 
 1. "The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 2. " Hearts and Masks," by Harold MacGrath. 
 
 3. " Loser's Luck," by Charles Tenney Jackson. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. " My Life," by Alfred Russell Wallace. 
 
 PUBLIC LIBRARY. 
 
 1. " On the Field of Glory," by Henryk Sienkiewicz. 
 
 2. " The House of a Thousand Candles," by Meredith 
 Nicholson. 
 
 3. " The Gambler," by Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. Opera Scores. 
 
 Week ending February 24, 1906. 
 
 MECHAXICS'-MERCAXTILE LIBRARY. -. 
 
 1. " The House of Mirth," by Edith Wharton. 
 
 2. " Loser's Luck," by Charles Tenney Jackson. 
 
 3. " The House of a Thousand Candles," by Meredith 
 Nicholson. 
 
 4. " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. 
 
 5. " My Life," by Alfred Russell Wallace. 
 
 In addition to these librarians' statistics, taken en- 
 tirely from readers at libraries, herewith is annexed a 
 table from the February Bookman, giving a list of 
 " best sellers " in San Francisco : 
 
 Month ending January 31, 1906. 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 
 
 1. " The House of Mirth." Wharton. (Scribner.) $1.50. 
 
 2. " The Conquest of Canaan." Tarkington. (Harper.) 
 $1.50. 
 
 3. " The Gambler." Thurston. (Harper.) $1.50. 
 
 4. " Her Letter." Harte. (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.) $2.00. 
 
 5. " Loser's Luck." Jackson. (Holt.) $1.50. 
 
 6. " A Levantine Log-Book." Hart. (Longmans, Green & 
 Co.) $2.00. 
 
 In this table also it will be seen that a book of travel 
 figures among the " best sellers." Do you not think 
 that a travel-book which is popular enough to hold its 
 place among novels like " The House of Mirth " and 
 " The Gambler " for so many weeks is worth considera- 
 tion? We inclose herewith printed matter giving in- 
 formation concerning the book in question. 
 
A Levantine Log=Book 
 
 By JEROME HART 
 
 The Levant of To-Day. 
 
 "What constitutes the Levant?" This is 
 a question we have only to ask ourselves to 
 discover how inaccurate is the general con- 
 ception of this much-traveled territory of 
 elastic boundaries. With a love of definite- 
 ness that his reader speedily discovers to be 
 characteristic, Jerome Hart, author of " A 
 Levantine Log-Book," sets himself to the task 
 of dissipating the prevailing mistiness on this 
 subject. 
 
 Mr. Hart's new book is a chronicle of leis- 
 urely ramblings over that alien region so 
 much favored by the chronic globe-trotter. 
 The author approaches his subject from the 
 standpoint of the seasoned traveler, and 
 throws an oar to intending tourists bewildered 
 by the claims of rival steamship companies, 
 rival hostelries, and rival resorts. 
 
 Ruthless he is in exploding old travelers' 
 superstitions ; he waves away with equal con- 
 tempt such fetiches as the " Santa Lucia " of 
 Naples, sung by " risotto tenors, spaghetti so- 
 pranos, and macaroni baritones," and the 
 Smyrnian figs of bmyrna, which he declares 
 to be so wormy that they are able to walk. 
 
 The untraveled reader, whose imagination 
 surrounds with a rosy haze all the immemorial 
 wonders of the old world, may learn with 
 a shock of surprise that Athens, " the City of 
 the Violet Crown," in its newly built Occi- 
 dental guise, is " raw, garish, new, staring, 
 crude." " It is redolent of last week." " It 
 is dusty, it is noisy, it is vulgar." 
 
 From Athens the expectant reader may ac- 
 company the author as he steams along the 
 historic waterway leading to Constantinople. 
 The chapters on this city, beside a pungent 
 survey of the street life of the natives of 
 Stamboul, includes much detailed informa- 
 tion about the Sultan and his mode of life 
 on the entrenched Yildez estate, which is 
 his favorite dwelling-place. There is a de- 
 scription, crowded with color and movement, 
 of the day of the Selamlik ; this is the day 
 when the Sultan, viewed by nobles, official 
 dignitaries, the Mohammedan faithful, and 
 even by some privileged tourists, goes 
 " circled by steel " to pray in his favorite 
 mosque. 
 
 So much is Mr. Hart struck by the eccen- 
 tricities of Oriental dress, and particularly by 
 the Turkish " breeks," that he devotes a 
 chapter to a witty exposition of that most 
 characteristic garment of the Ottoman Turk ; 
 here he reviews in sartorial procession 
 " the Montenegrin galligaskins," the " re- 
 dundant Bulgarian breeks,'' and " the cheap 
 hand-me-down breeks of scowling, sour-faced, 
 fanatic old Turks." Even the breeks of the 
 Turkish ladies receive a word of considera- 
 tion, and the reader is surprised to learn 
 that a typical Turkish woman, richly clad 
 as to her upper person, declines in her 
 nether garments to " a pair of sleazy, alpaca, 
 balloon-like trousers, ungartered socks, and 
 old yellow slippers down at heel." 
 
 The chapter on shopping will make the 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 American shopper sit up and open eyes of 
 self-gratulation. The only guarantee the for- 
 eigner has while shopping in a Turkish 
 bazaar (says Mr. Hart), is the dealer's hon- 
 esty. This he considers a very dubious quan- 
 tity. " I believe," he says (in expressing his 
 conviction that the majority of purchasers in 
 the Orient are thoroughly and systematically 
 fleeced), "that the man or woman who buys 
 at home in the United States generally fares 
 as well often better than he or she who 
 buys abroad." An exception is, of course, 
 made in favor of antiques, intaglios, gems, 
 and articles that are unique. 
 
 The chapters on Jerusalem are pregnant 
 with shrewd observations on the quarreling 
 religious factions there domiciled. The au- 
 thor considers Jerusalem " the Golden " with 
 quite a different meaning to the one usually 
 accorded to that term his adjective refers 
 to the stream of piously donated gold that 
 pours into Jerusalem from all over the world, 
 there to maintain in comfort and often in 
 luxury many thousands who piously accept 
 the gifts the gods provide. 
 
 Toward Cairo, in the winter season, way- 
 farers flock by the thousand, including scores 
 of the world's notable personages. Thither 
 the author of the " Levantine Log-Book " 
 conducts his readers, giving them a review 
 of the winter spurts and gayeties of the 
 Egyptian capital, as well as describing the 
 attractions of the Nile trip. Mr. Hart is 
 ever on the lookout for what is ridiculous 
 or droll, and many of his chapters are inter- 
 spersed with the oddities of the native char- 
 acter, and the eccentricities or asininities of 
 stray tourists. There is much in the book 
 which will thoroughly tickle the reader's 
 sense of humor. 
 
 While the author administers many a shock 
 to the untraveled, his vigorously untrammeled 
 views of men and things will gratify those 
 who desire to escape from the made-to-order 
 lingo of the professional, stereotyped traveler. 
 
 Published by LONGMANS, GREEN & CO. 
 New York, London, and Bombay 
 
 Price, Two Dollars net 
 
 SELLING AGENTS FOR THE WEST 
 
 The Argonaut Publishing Co. 
 
 246 SUTTER STREET 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
A Levantine Log=Book 
 
 By JEROME HART 
 
 FROM THE NEW YORK HERALD. 
 Mr. Hart, editor of the San Francisco 
 Argonaut, is an excellent traveling compan- 
 ion, shrewd, alert, vigilant-eyed. He has the 
 peculiarly Western faculty of seeing the Old 
 World from a new standpoint. Americans 
 from the Eastern coast have gone to Europe 
 or Asia or Africa, and repeated the old rap- 
 tures and the old insincerities. But born 
 Westerners, with Mark Twain and William 
 D. Howells at their head, have generally 
 dealt honestly with their own emotions in 
 the presence of the phenomena of the past, 
 and so have produced an entirely new school 
 of travel literature, which, whatever its faults, 
 is at least distinctively American. In the 
 present volume Mr. Hart sees on the way all 
 sorts of interesting things that have escaped 
 the notice of his predecessors. 
 
 FROM THE NEW YORK EVENING POST. 
 Among the books recently appearing from 
 the pens of Californians we must mention " A 
 Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart. This 
 is a book of European travel-sketches, full of 
 sophistical wit, and of humor tinged with a 
 bland cynicism that is not unpleasing. It is 
 a book written by a clear-visioned, cultured, 
 and observant man, and compares not unfa- 
 vorably with any volume of its character that 
 has appeared in some years. It is in the vein 
 of " Argonaut Letters " and " Two Argonauts 
 in Spain," two books of travel by the same 
 writer, that preceded it. 
 
 FROM THE NEW YORK TIMES. 
 In " A Levantine Log-Book," Jerome Hart, 
 author of " Two Argonauts in Spain " and 
 " Argonaut Letters," has supplied a somewhat 
 similar book concerning the countries about 
 the eastern end of the Mediterranean. One 
 may gather a fair idea of the author's method 
 and the ground covered by his notes from 
 some of the chapter headings : " Malta Eng- 
 land's Levantine Fortress," " Athens the 
 City of the Violet Crown," " Stamboul," 
 " The Sultan and the Selamlik," " The Breeks 
 of the Turks," " Of Smyrna and of Buying 
 Things," " Jerusalem the Golden," " Piety : 
 Gentile, Jewish, Moslem," " Disappointments 
 in Palestine," " Cairo's Routes and Inns," 
 " The Midwinter Crush at Cairo," " Egyptian 
 Journalism," " Up the Nile to Assouan," 
 " The Egyptians' Foreign Guests," " England 
 in Egypt." The book is provided with thirty- 
 six full-page illustrations, and, altogether, 
 serves to give a most pleasing impression of 
 the wonderful Near East. 
 
 FROM THE LITERARY DIGEST, NEW YORK. 
 
 Jerome Hart's " A Levantine Log-Book " is 
 the record of a recent visit to Greece, Pales- 
 tine, and Egypt, and has all the ease, breezi- 
 ness, and entertaining information that won 
 such popularity for its author's earlier travel 
 sketches. 
 
 6 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE PALL MALL GAZETTE. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " (Longmans, 73. 
 6d.), is a further chapter in the cheerful travel- 
 log Mr. Jerome Hart has been compiling for 
 years for the behoof of his readers in the 
 Mates. Those of us here in England who 
 know the pleasant pages of the Argonaut 
 have grown too familiar to be surprised with 
 the freshness and clever raillery he can be- 
 stow on his observations of Europe and the 
 Mediterranean lands, the occasional dense- 
 ness of the Teuton, the skin-deep polish of so 
 many French, and Italian types, and the lazy, 
 enviable, divine content of the men and 
 women in Spain. In this volume Mr. Hart 
 has gone further afield, for he potters around 
 Jerusalem and Jaffa, strolls about Cairo and 
 Stamboul, chaffers with the rogues and mer- 
 chants of the bazaars, and lords it up the 
 Nile with as much indolence as an energetic 
 Westerner can be expected to do. He illus- 
 trates freely with photography, and he does 
 justice to the British occupation of Egypt and 
 the undying memory of Gordon. 
 
 FROM THE V EVV YORK WORLD. 
 
 Jerome Hart's new travel book, " A 
 Levantine Log-Book," is published hand- 
 somely by Longmans, Green & Co. It is a 
 four-hundred-page volume, adorned by forty 
 illustrations, chiefly from photographs by the 
 author. The book is a result of a stay of 
 some seasons in the Levant, whence the 
 writer returned in May of this year, hence 
 the volume is quite up to date. In some 
 of his descriptions of conditions in the Le- 
 vant, notably Egypt, he has given a resume 
 of the conditions up to the spring of 1905. 
 
 Mr. Hart is one of the most agreeable 
 writers who turns his pen to descriptive 
 chronicling. 
 
 FROM THE LOXDOX BOOKSELLER. 
 Mr. Hart's book is the pictured record of 
 recent travel round the shores of the Mediter- 
 ranean ; and if he chooses to label the cruise 
 ts " Levantine " we shall not quarrel with 
 im, although, geographically speaking, the 
 term is of a narrower extent. Americans 
 have a rather affected way of speaking of the 
 East as the " Orient " ; but it is understood 
 generally. Mr. Hart made the entire tour 
 of Europe's inland sea, from Gibraltar to 
 Jerusalem, bringing back comments and 
 photographs of the expedition, and putting 
 down the salient impressions of each place as 
 they stood out in his memory. One recollec- 
 tion is that of a traveling troupe of mounte- 
 banks, who pulled up and performed in their 
 wagonquite the native tragoidia of yEschy- 
 lus before the window of the royal palace. 
 In Jerusalem the abiding impression left upon 
 the author's mind was not the Holy Sepulchre 
 or the Mount of Olives or the place of the 
 Crucifixion, but the sight of an English cur- 
 ate playing bridge with two ladies, and smok- 
 ing a briar pipe the while, in a Jerusalem ho- 
 tel, with a party of indignant Americans in 
 the background. His story in Egypt, if not 
 long, is at least complimentary to English 
 rule. 
 
 7 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE BROOKLYN EAGLE. 
 Jerome Hart has two gifts, the ability to 
 write interestingly, and the ability to be in- 
 terested, which makes the writing of travel- 
 books a pleasure. " A Levantine Log-Book " 
 is delightful reading. 
 
 FROM THE LONDON PUBLISHERS' CIRCULAR. 
 
 The author has traveled much, has ob- 
 served to some purpose, and his " Log-book " 
 is very good reading. It is full of vivid im- 
 pressions and excellent stories, and if oc- 
 casionally the fun is a little forced we could 
 forgive worse sins in so entertaining a per- 
 son. There is nothing stereotyped about Mr. 
 Hart, and his views of places and people are 
 often original and refreshing ; we can, in 
 fact, understand and laugh with him even 
 when we most thoroughly disagree with what 
 he says. Whoever takes the book up is cer- 
 tain to enjoy himself. Whether he will al- 
 ways get a correct impression is another mat- 
 ter. 
 
 FROM THE BOSTON HERALD. 
 Jerome Hart, who gave us that excellent 
 work of travel, " Two Argonauts in Spain," 
 has extended his travels further eastward, 
 and, in " A Levantine Log-Book," carries one 
 on, to, and through Malta, the Graeco-Turkish 
 peninsula, Egypt, and Asia Minor. One does 
 not find here a description of a cathedral nor 
 the date when a mosque was erected, or 
 anything in the way of figures on the size 
 or cost of what he sees. It is the pleasing 
 tale of a good story-teller, who starts out to 
 see things, who does see things, and who, 
 having seen them, knows how to make his 
 story picturesque by sprinkling in incident 
 and adventure with clever observation. 
 
 FROM THE SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN. 
 
 Any book of travel that bears the signature 
 of Jerome Hart, editor of the San Francisco 
 Argonaut, may be taken up with confidence ; 
 if not at hand it should be sought for. Mr. 
 Hart is a man of varied and interesting 
 knowledge and any amount of common sense. 
 He is a trained journalist, and sees everything 
 in relation to its news value. He is an un- 
 compromising American, and he does not for 
 a minute forget the American point of view. 
 Temperamentally averse to slush and pre- 
 tense, he never loses the chance to dispose 
 of a hoary fiction or a cherished convention, 
 and get down to facts. He is nothing if not 
 up to date. It is his special business to de- 
 scribe things as they are or, rather, as the 
 average tourist sees them. 
 
 In all these respects, his new volume, " A 
 Levantine Log-Book," published by Long- 
 mans, Green & Co., is quite up to the stand- 
 ard of his " Argonaut Letters " and " Two 
 Argonauts in Spain." The ground is beaten 
 hard by the feet of tourists, but he manages 
 to find something fresh to say. His fondness 
 for the actual, for the definite, is marked by 
 his initial struggle with the term Levant and 
 the arbitrary lines that define it. 
 
 Mr. Hart's book is of an unpretentious sort. 
 It has value, and it affords entertaining read- 
 
 8 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE LONDON ACADEMY. 
 Mr. Jerome Hart has managed to get so into 
 touch with his subject that although he covers 
 much ground in one short volume, never for 
 one moment do we feel that we are globe- 
 trotting when in his company. This vol- 
 ume will be as much appreciated in England 
 as by the author's many friends on the other 
 side of the Atlantic. 
 
 FROM THE SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE. 
 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is the third of 
 Jerome Hart's books of travel, issued in 
 handsome style, with a very striking cover 
 and many beautiful illustrations, by Long- 
 mans, Green & Co. In the twenty-two chap- 
 ters Mr. Hart discusses in leisurely and en- 
 tertaining fashion the features of the Levant, 
 from Malta around the Mediterranean shore 
 to Egypt and the upper Nile. What makes 
 this book as readable as its predecessors is 
 the author's original point of view and his 
 absolute lack of pretense. Mark Twain first 
 made a holy show of the stereotyped book 
 of travels, but even his savage satire did not 
 cure the scribbling tourist of the vice of 
 gushing over the things that it is the fashion 
 to rave over. Mr. Hart is absolutely real- 
 istic. If he finds a famous river or an his- 
 torical building or a celebrated picture ugly, 
 he says so frankly, but he often points out 
 that first impressions, especially of large cities, 
 are apt to be misleading, and that closer 
 knowledge will frequently reveal unsuspected 
 beauties. 
 
 It seems to me that the chief merit of 
 Mr. Hart's book is its straightforward honesty 
 and its genuine humor. As a traveler he has 
 the American newspaper man's eye nothing 
 escapes him, and he has also another faculty 
 of the trained observer no good story, no 
 peculiar exhibit of real human nature is 
 forgotten. The pestiferous beggars and touts 
 who make life a burden for the average tour- 
 ist simply furnish him with amusing studies 
 of character. Nothing could be better than 
 his sketch of the handsome Italian boy who 
 tried to foist himself on the tourists as they 
 went up the slopes of Vesuvius, and who 
 hung like a leech to a party of Chicago mill- 
 ionaires and ultimately secured five francs 
 for his pertinacity. Or, in another vein, take 
 the Turkish railway official between Jaffa and 
 Jerusalem, who actually had the last word in 
 an encounter with a strong-minded American 
 woman. Some of the best work in the book 
 is found in the chapters on Egypt, a land 
 that is full of the charm that belongs to the 
 alien and the mysterious. Very striking is 
 his word picture of Slatin Pasha, the man 
 who changed his religion and profited by it, 
 and the contrasting picture" of Gordon, who 
 went down to a cruel death because he would 
 not abandon the people of Khartoum. 
 
 FROM THE OUTLOOK. 
 In " A Levantine Log-Book " Jerome Hart 
 
 S'ves a gossipy, vivacious account of travel, 
 e takes the reader to Constantinople, 
 Smyrna, Jerusalem, Cairo, and up the Nile to 
 Assuan. 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE BOSTON TRANSCRIPT. 
 Jerome Hart, the author of " A Levantine 
 Log-Book," is an experienced globe-trotter, 
 and makes the most of his opportunities. His 
 story contains many interesting things which 
 are well worth reading. He writes an amus- 
 ing chapter on Egyptian newspapers. He 
 vigorously defends the policy of the British 
 in Egypt ; although he had previously believed 
 that the British occupation was a long-con- 
 sidered and deliberate plan, he now shows 
 many attempts of the English to avoid the 
 Egyptian entanglements. This discussion is 
 the one serious phase of the story. On the 
 whole, Mr. Hart is to be congratulated he 
 has written something new about the Levant. 
 
 FROM THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL. 
 Jerome Hart has written a new volume to 
 add to his series of travel-books, " A Levan- 
 tine Log-Book." Added to the interesting de- 
 scriptions, there is much of quiet humorous 
 chat about those far and famous lands so 
 many people hear about and so few are privi- 
 leged to see. There is some enthusiasm in 
 the book, but perhaps more in evidence is 
 the disillusion due to a bent for telling the 
 plain truth about things as they are. A no- 
 table item of observation the author made in 
 Egypt is that the boasted coming brotherhood 
 of man seems very far off, and Hart doubts 
 if it- will ever come. The people of various 
 nationalities in Egypt, even such enlightened 
 people as Germans, English, and French, dis- 
 like each other so heartily that the brother- 
 hood of man seems actually to be getting far- 
 ther away from fulfillment. If, when you be- 
 fin to read this book, you are surprised not to 
 nd more enthusiasm, here is a hint for its 
 reason of not being. This traveler has evi- 
 dently grown tired of perfervid eloquence. He 
 has heard it to satiety. 
 
 FROM COOK'S TRAVELLER'S GAZETTE. 
 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is a most enter- 
 taining volume. This would be expected from 
 the author of " Argonaut Letters " and " Two 
 Argonauts in Spain." There is a vein of 
 spontaneous humor in this book that makes 
 it very agreeable reading. It is a book that 
 every prospective visitor to these fascinating 
 Mediterranean regions should certainly read. 
 Of course, it is not necessary to its enjoy- 
 ment that one should have an Eastern trip 
 in mind ; the general reader will find the 
 book and its excellent pictures a most inter- 
 esting one ; but our point of view is naturally 
 that of the travel expert. 
 
 Mr. Hart frankly tells of his disappoint- 
 ments, even when they concern places and 
 things popularly accorded unquestioning ad- 
 miration or homage. The reader consequently 
 feels confidence in his observations and im- 
 pressions. His observations of men and man- 
 ners are critical, but not captious. He shows 
 a kindly appreciation of the little failings of 
 human nature. His descriptions of the fa- 
 mous scenic and historic attractions with 
 which the route abounds are those of an ex- 
 perienced traveler and writer, graphic and in- 
 teresting. 
 
 10 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE BOSTON COURIER. 
 It is a pleasure to be able to read the " log- 
 book " of a traveler who has done some drift- 
 ing about in the Levant without prejudices 
 or superstitions, religious or otherwise. 
 Jerome Hart, the author of this book, has had 
 an abundant experience in the East, suffi- 
 cient to awaken the interest of those who 
 have become jaded with books of travel of 
 the hackneyed sort those of mere onlookers 
 who have taken the whole thing for granted, 
 and have had no desire to think or write 
 from their own standpoint. This book is 
 the outpouring of the spirit of one whose 
 eyes have not been blinded by pretense or 
 fable, and who has studied his paths with 
 a cynic at his elbow, maybe, but nevertheless 
 with a modicum of common sense in the 
 manner and the mood of his narration. He 
 looks upon life in the Levant as it actually 
 is, and he lays aside sentimental poetry for 
 the sake of telling the practical thus and 
 so of the Eastern World, as he himself dis- 
 covers it. He is always struck with the 
 ridiculousness of the pretensions of the East, 
 and he relates it in a way that is likely to 
 upset the gravity of the most strait-laced. 
 His fun is catching. There is not a page 
 in the whole book that is dry, and it is with 
 an inward sigh of regret that one arrives at 
 the last chapter. 
 
 FROM THE PROVIDENCE JOURNAL. 
 People who have read any of Mr. Hart's 
 previous books of travel will not need to be 
 told that this, his latest contribution to the 
 gayety of nations, is a delightfully amusing 
 volume. Mr. Hart's humor may be somewhat 
 American, but it is delicious of its kind. His 
 style is thoroughly individual ; racy and pun- 
 gent always, it is filled with irresistibly laugh- 
 able descriptions and anecdotes of men and 
 things told in an inimitable fashion. Any one 
 who has enjoyed " Two Argonauts in ^Spain " 
 will be sure to remember Mr. Hart's most 
 amusing sketch of the American tourist. There 
 are more such tourists in the " Levantine Log- 
 Book," notably one in Rome, who was deeply 
 aggrieved because in an Italian guide-book he 
 found the Colosseum called " Anfiteatro 
 Flaviano " instead of by what he deemed its 
 " c'rect name." Or, again, Mr. Hart's sense 
 of the ludicrous is excited by the absurd al- 
 bum for the autographs of visitors kept in the 
 inn on Mount Vesuvius, a volume in which 
 " nobodies have written nothings ; Thoughts 
 on First Seeing Vesuvius,' by Mrs. Lemuel 
 Aminadab Doolittle, Moosatockaguntic, Maine, 
 U. S. A., or ' Pensees Sur la Baie de Naples,' 
 par Jeanne Grosille Poirier, en voyages de 
 noces avec son cher mari, Hector Achille 
 Poirier, epicier en gros, Pont-a-Mousson, 
 France.' " The " Choo-Choo family " whom 
 he encountered in Naples are other typical 
 " trippers." Mr. Hart is always frank in the 
 expression of his opinions ; therein lies much 
 of the attractiveness of his books. He did 
 not like Athens, for example, and he does not 
 hesitate to say so. [Some lengthy extracts 
 ' follow.] This is one of the books which 
 lend themselves to indefinite quotation, and 
 it is hard to refrain. 
 
 II 
 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE WASHINGTON STAR. 
 In " A Levantine Log-Book " Jerome Hart 
 journeys from Malta to the Grseco-Turkish 
 peninsula, to Syria, to Asia Minor, and to 
 Egypt. He journeys without special purpose, 
 but chats familiarly with his reader about the 
 people he meets and the things he sees. He 
 views the panorama with the eye of the 
 familiar voyager, but not as one sated with 
 the spectacle. All is delightful and new, even 
 the very ancient. He sees the comic side 
 of life, and tells many a good story with ap- 
 preciation of the subtleties of humor. Mr. 
 Hart is an accomplished traveler. The pic- 
 tures with which the " Log-Book " is gener- 
 ously illustrated are evidently, many of them, 
 the product of his camera. 
 
 FROM THE MEXICAN HERALD. 
 
 Whether one has traveled much or little, 
 there is a unique enjoyment in reading a book 
 of travel in a foreign land. But it does de- 
 pend on the book, however. There is this 
 enjoyment in reading Jerome Hart's " A 
 Levantine Log-Book." Mr. Hart is the editor 
 of the San Francisco Argonaut, a delightful 
 weekly. 
 
 Mr. Hart has been an extensive traveler, 
 and his " Argonaut Letters " and " Two Argo- 
 nauts in Spain " have given him a high place 
 among the writers of books of travel. In 
 the " Levantine Log-Book " he handles his 
 subject from the point of view of the old 
 traveler who has not yet forgotten how to 
 appreciate, but who has seen enough to have 
 more than a guide-book sense of values. 
 But if his comments on things are a trifle 
 hard on the " gusher " and the professional 
 tourist, he says some fine things of the sights 
 that are worth while. The book is written in 
 delightful style, and has all the charm of the 
 personal viewpoint. 
 
 Mr. Hart begins with Naples, and travels 
 eastward, touching at Athens, Constantinople, 
 Smyrna, Jaffa, Jerusalem, and Cairo, and 
 with a trip up the Nile concludes the book, 
 which has kept the reader interested from the 
 first. His comments are far from the stereo- 
 typed travel-book. He tells just enough, and, 
 with many blessings from his readers, not 
 too much. At Cairo he almost forgets the 
 pyramids while he tells most entertainingly 
 of the newspapers of the Egyptian capital. 
 
 The author is facetious to a degree enough 
 to make his pages entertaining, but there is 
 a vast fund of valuable information in the 
 book. It has a worthy description of the 
 ruins of Egypt, and closes with a splendid 
 peroration on their beauties and their wonder. 
 The description of the holy shrines of 
 Jerusalem is full of " color " and real beauty. 
 The comparison of the various foreign col- 
 onies in Cairo, and their attitude toward each 
 other, will furnish interesting reading. The 
 book also contains a highly interesting chapter 
 on England's struggle to keep out of Egypt. 
 
 Mr. Hart writes with ease and grace, with 
 rare precision and beauty of diction. His 
 book is one of the best of current books. 
 There is always room for a delightful book 
 of travel, and Mr. Hart's works always stand 
 high for their originality of viewpoint and 
 their delightful English. 
 12 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE SAN FRANCISCO WASP. 
 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is the latest book 
 of travel from the facile pen of Jerome Hart, 
 the much-traveled and highly cultured editor 
 of the San Francisco Argonaut, published by 
 Longmans, Green & Co. This book is another 
 of the series of travel sketches which Mr. 
 Hart has written ; the two previous volumes 
 being " Argonaut Letters " and " Two Argo- 
 nauts in Spain." In some of his discussions 
 of conditions in the Levant, notably in Egypt, 
 the author has given a resume of the condi- 
 tions up to the spring of this year. This will 
 be noticed particularly in regard to the great 
 irrigation schemes which England is now so 
 successfully carrying on in Egypt. The writer 
 even gives the results of the recent investi- 
 gations (February, 1905) of Sir William Gar- 
 stin and Sir Benjamin Baker into the sta- 
 bility of the Assouan dam. 
 
 Mr. Hart is a keen observer of current 
 events. He possesses that very valuable qual- 
 ity in the traveler who wishes to benefit others 
 who may consult his book for guidance of 
 investing his descriptions with a live human 
 interest of a practical character. 
 
 \Ve are never tired of reading about the 
 East. Baker, Dean Stanley, Humphrey Davy 
 all have their charm as writers. We would 
 even make it our duty to hear Haskett Smith, 
 who discourses learnedly and eloquently on 
 the Rosetta Stone, " the street that is called 
 straight " in Damascus, or the Real Tomb 
 of Jesus. But we do not find in the writers 
 mentioned the breeziness and brightness, the 
 pleasant, entertaining, and instructive talk of 
 Mr. Hart. Comparisons are not always in 
 good taste, but were we to venture 'on such 
 a hazardous experiment we would certainly 
 class Mr. Hart, as a writer on travel, with 
 Charles Dudley Warner. Higher praise it 
 would be difficult to give to an American 
 writer, and San Franciscans may well be 
 proud of having Jerome Hart as their fellow- 
 citizen. 
 
 FROM THE BROOKLYN TIMES. 
 In " A Levantine Log-Book," Mr. Hart 
 writes in sprightly and vivacious fashion of 
 his travels in the Levant, after jocosely de- 
 fining the territory included in that very 
 elastic term. Mr. Hart is not the conven- 
 tional traveler, with conventional raptures 
 and pages of cut-and-dried information. He 
 has no illusions and no cant. He is amusing, 
 and is not without originality. In this new 
 book he chats with brisk informality of one 
 phase of travel, follows this with an anecdote, 
 and a bit of picturesque description or com- 
 ment on men, manners, or customs. 
 
 FROM THE CLEVELAND PLAIN DEALER. 
 Jerome Hart, the California traveler in the 
 Old World, whose breezy '' Argonaut Let- 
 ters " and " Two Argonauts in Spain " were 
 refreshing departures from the customary 
 "travel books," comes now with ''A Levan- 
 tine Log-Book." Everything he saw he de- 
 scribes in racy, unconventional style. 
 
 13 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is a handsome 
 and profusely illustrated volume, in which 
 the author, Jerome Hart, gives a breezy, 
 chatty narrative of his journeys in the Levant. 
 He writes as if he enjoyed writing, and the 
 reader will find the enjoyment contagious. 
 He is unavoidably compelled to chronicle 
 many facts pertaining to history and bio- 
 graphy, but he is at his best in describing peo j 
 pie, and this he does with a free hand. He 
 brings them vividly before your eyes in an 
 easy and unconventional way. 
 
 FROM THE CHICAGO RECORD-HERALD. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart, 
 editor of the San Francisco Argonaut, will 
 charm those who like their dry travel facts 
 entertainingly stated. The author has the 
 courage of his convictions, and refuses to 
 " rave to order " over scenes and places not 
 to him particularly impressive. This writer 
 has a clever knack at grasping and pic- 
 turesquely presenting just the salient or char- 
 acteristic facts most enjoyable to the general 
 reader. Of solid information there is a 
 plentiful variety, and the opening discussion 
 of the Levant and its mysterious boundaries 
 is specially worthy of note. Here, in a word, 
 is a book that brings the Eastern Mediter- 
 ranean peoples and countries within easy 
 speaking distance, written in a style simple, 
 easy, now and then colloquial, that strength- 
 ens the sense of intimate acquaintance. Travel 
 routes and fifty photographic illustrations by 
 the author and others, with striking pen por- 
 traits of certain famous people, completes an 
 absorbing whole. Read Mr. Hart's delightful 
 book. 
 
 FROM SAN FRANCISCO TOWN TALK. 
 In his third series of travel-letters Mr. 
 Hart does not waste any of his own time 
 nor his reader's patience in describing set 
 pieces. He frankly admits his inability to 
 " rave to order," as well as his dislike for 
 crawling into holes in the ground for no 
 other reason than that they are traditionally 
 credited with being the precise spot where 
 some miraculous occurrence took place. He 
 has no great faith in " spots where," and 
 seems to be of the opinion that even though 
 they should be beyond question what they 
 are represented, they do not justify all the 
 fuss made about them. He must be the de- 
 spair of guides and couriers, and yet he is 
 not to be classed among the venturesome 
 idiots who delight in defying conventions and 
 endangering the safety of themselves and 
 their companions. In short, he is an experi- 
 enced traveler with a definite idea of what 
 is worth doing and seeing, and a mind un- 
 clouded by the demands of tradition. 
 
 FROM THE ST. Louis REPUBLIC. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart, 
 is an attractive travelogue, if we may borrow 
 Burton Holmes's word, through Italy, Greece, 
 European Turkey, Sicily, Crete, Cyprus, 
 Malta, the coast of Turkey, and Asia Minor. 
 Jerome Hart is an accomplished traveler, and 
 a good hand at telling about it. 
 
 14 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE ST. Louis GLOBE-DEMOCRAT. 
 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is the latest book 
 of travel by an author who has written much 
 in the same field and always with excellent 
 results. Mr. Hart's " Two Argonauts in 
 Spain " will be recalled as one of the most ac- 
 ceptable travel-books of last year, and he has 
 contributed other worthy studies of the in- 
 stitutions and customs of foreign lands. The 
 Levantine trip has been made often by obser- 
 vant writers, but Mr. Hart has a happy knack 
 of seeing things that many others overlook. 
 The new volume is enriched with scores of 
 pictures which are of rare excellence, and the 
 text never fails to be entertaining. 
 
 FROM THE BUFFALO NEWS. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is another of the 
 lively travel-sketches by Jerome Hart, author 
 of " Argonaut Letters " and " Two Argonauts 
 in Spain." In it the author discusses condi- 
 tions in the Levant, particularly in Egypt, al- 
 though much space has been given to the 
 Holy Land. The book contains some good 
 advice for travelers, and is full of bright 
 stories and recollections of interesting scenes. 
 This " Log-Book " is by no means of the 
 guide-book order. The scene when the Sul- 
 tan goes to prayer and the incidents of that 
 curious ceremony are told with much vivid- 
 ness and humor, from the antics and com- 
 ments of European tourists to the scores of 
 fat pashas running after the Sultan's carriage. 
 The volume is copiously illustrated and very 
 handsomely printed and bound. 
 
 FROM THE CHICAGO ,EVENING POST. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart, 
 is a collection of unusually spicy and read- 
 able sketches of travel. It is given up to the 
 writer's personal experiences in many Levan- 
 tine cities. Mr. Hart's style is informal and 
 very sprightly, with a touch of genial satire. 
 There seem to be no dull moments in his 
 travels. If the sights are hackneyed or the 
 weather bad, he is sure to fall in with a party 
 of diverting American tourists, who amuse 
 the reader until dull times are past. His im- 
 pressions always seem to be particularly clear- 
 cut and definite, and he never lacks ability 
 to impart them vividly to his readers. Mr. 
 Hart's lively reminiscences are illustrated 
 with photographs, most of which he took him- 
 self. The book is handsomely and appro- 
 priately bound. 
 
 FROM THE HARTFORD COURAXT. 
 Mr. Hart's felicity in making familiar the 
 scenes of his travel has been exhibited in 
 his '' Argonaut Letters," and is continued in 
 " A Levantine Log-Book." If his eyes and 
 ears have been too eagerly open to catch ec- 
 centricities of American cities and people, and 
 his readiness to contrast them with the older 
 traits of the Eastern Mediterranean is in- 
 dulged a little too superciliously, he gets some 
 vivid contrasts for his effects, and he sets 
 before us a graphic picture of the Nearer 
 East. 
 
 15 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER. 
 
 The traveler in foreign lands raves to or- 
 der. He becomes enthusiastic when he thinks 
 it's proper, not when he really feels like it. 
 The average writer of travel has much in 
 common with the average traveler ; he raves 
 where others have raved before him, fearing 
 to give voice to his private opinions lest he 
 come under the dreadful charge of iconoclasm. 
 Although the romantic side in books of travel 
 must always strongly appeal to those who 
 read them, it is somewhat of a relief now 
 and then to read the work of a man who tells 
 the blunt truth concerning things about which 
 we have formed some of our choicest illusions. 
 From Gautier to Jerome Hart there is the big 
 jump from the man who forms illusions to the 
 man who sweeps them away. This review con- 
 cerns Jerome Hart. The " Levantine Log- 
 Book " is an exceptionally well-told tale of 
 travel through the Levant, that land of in- 
 definite boundary. While there are facts and 
 figures to aid the prospective traveler, these 
 in no way detract from the value of the book 
 for the stay-at-home reader. The volume is 
 full of witty anecdotes of travel, which have 
 their instructive side. Some history, but not 
 too much, good and common-sense descrip- 
 tions, and numerous illustrations all go to 
 make the book one among the many stories 
 of travel worth reading. 
 
 FROM THE ALBANY JOURNAL. 
 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is another of the 
 series of travel sketches which Jerome Hart 
 has written " Argonaut Letters " and " Two 
 Argonauts in Spain." This book is the re- 
 sult of a stay of two seasons in the Levant. 
 
 The book begins with a discussion as to 
 the boundaries of the Levant. The writer 
 admits the difficulty of defining them, but 
 finally hits upon a plan which is interesting, 
 if not conclusive. His definition of the Le- 
 vant includes practically all that portion of 
 the Mediterranean coasts where Mohamme- 
 dan supremacy has left its marks. 
 
 In the introductory chapters are given some 
 useful particulars for Levantine travelers as 
 to choice of routes and steamship lines. 
 
 One of the most amusing chapters is en- 
 titled " The Breeks of the Turks." This de- 
 scribes the remarkable variety of nether gar- 
 ments seen in the Sultan's capital. 
 
 The writer begins his chapters on Jeru- 
 salem by calling it " Jerusalem ,the Golden," 
 for the reason that a golden stream pours 
 into it from all over the world to support the 
 idle Christians and Jews in comfort and 
 luxury. 
 
 The book contains over forty pictures, and 
 is very handsomely printed and bound. 
 
 FROM THE BALTIMORE AMERICAN. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart, 
 is a work of four hundred pages, containing 
 over forty illustrations. The descriptions of 
 the various places visited are brightened by 
 occasional flashes of wit. The book as a 
 whole is exceedingly interesting reading. 
 
 16 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE CHICAGO INTER-OCEAN. 
 A very interesting, entertaining, and instruc- 
 tive volume of travel is " A Levantine Log- 
 Book," by Jerome Hart, author of several 
 books of travel. It discusses most of the 
 Levantine cities, giving much of its space to 
 the Holy Land and Egypt. The chapters 
 on the remarkable climatic changes in Egypt, 
 resulting from the great irrigation schemes, 
 are very striking. This is a book of intelli- 
 gent observation by a wide-awake American, 
 who is also a trained newspaper man, there- 
 fore it is needless to say anything of its hu- 
 mor and entertainment. The volume contains 
 nearly fifty half-tone pictures, and is very 
 handsomely printed and bound. 
 
 FROM THE PlTTSBURG GAZETTE. 
 
 Mr. Hart who is editor of the San Fran- 
 cisco Argonaut wrote that most readable 
 chronicle of " Two Argonauts in Spain," and 
 has now gone to the other end of the Mediter- 
 ranean, to the lands " where Delos rose and 
 Phoebus sprung," where now the Sultan squats 
 like an ugly spider until the broom of the 
 Powers shall dislodge him. The happy style 
 and humorous perception of Mr. Hart are 
 admirably reflected in his new volume, " A 
 Levantine Log-Book." 
 
 FROM THE LOUISVILLE COURIER-JOURNAL. 
 
 " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart, 
 is written in a light, colloquial sometimes too 
 colloquial style. Yet the author covers a 
 great variety of subjects the social, artistic, 
 and historical interests of the places he visits. 
 Among the most interesting pages are the de- 
 scriptions of the curious chain of circum- 
 stances which led the British Government 
 unwillingly to follow the path of occupation 
 and conquest. If the writer had maintained 
 throughout the volume regard for the se- 
 rious reader, as he does in this chapter, his 
 book would have been more pleasing. 
 
 FROM THE SAN JOSE MERCURY. 
 
 Jerome Hart, of San Francisco, has given 
 us another volume of his travels in strange 
 lands. " A Levantine Log-Book " is an in- 
 teresting study of life in a world that is for- 
 eign, even in thought, to Americans. It deals 
 with countries still preserving all phases of 
 old worldism. According to the writer, life 
 is not all roses, lilies, and daffy-down-dillies 
 in Grecian, Turkish, and other cities in the 
 Levant. He deals with his theme with re- 
 markable directness, so that if there were a 
 Chamber of Commerce in some of the cities 
 he censures, he would be severely dealt with. 
 
 There is nothing slipshod in this instruc- 
 tive volume. The book shows the careful 
 handling of a man accustomed to write his 
 thoughts, to record his observations. Every 
 sentence, every chapter is properly arranged. 
 There is not a single superfluous sentence in 
 the volume. It is by no means a piece of 
 impulsive, accidental scribbling, but a work 
 of art. 
 
 Mr. Hart has invested his subject with 
 many irresistible pleasantries. 
 
 17 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE TORONTO GLOBE. 
 New books of travel must unfold their tale 
 with some originality of style, or must deal 
 with the newest phases of the men and things 
 of which they tell. In this book the author 
 has, in a measure, done both. He is an 
 American journalist, and evidently as obser- 
 vant as a trained journalist is bound to be. 
 For this reason his story of travel through 
 the Levant contains at once a set of clever 
 pictures of places and their people as they 
 are likely to appear to the average man, and 
 here and there a thoughtful essay upon ob- 
 jects and conditions of life met with. The 
 book is written brightly throughout, but 
 while incidents related in a decidedly Mark 
 Twainesque style are found in considerable 
 number, there are occasions when the work 
 goes deeper, and, without losing anything of 
 its interesting style, deals with such a prob- 
 lem, for instance, as the development of 
 modern Egypt. The reader finds the author 
 ever companionable. A glimpse of Constan- 
 tinople, as it appears to the American eye 
 and of the Sultan, is particularly interesting, 
 as is a description of his majesty driving 
 swiftly from a mosque to his palace, followed 
 by a cloud of gayly bedizened courtiers, fat 
 and scanty of breath most of them, but com- 
 pelled to tear along on foot like a crowd of 
 school boys. About fifty excellent photo- 
 graphs, taken by the author and beautifully 
 reproduced, illustrate the work. 
 
 FROM THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is the brightest, 
 most readable, and most instructive book of 
 travel we have read for a long time. Many 
 humorous things are said, as well as many 
 things new and entertainingly told. Jerusalem, 
 with notes by the way, is quite equal to Mark 
 Twain at his best. The shams, the touts, the 
 sacrilege, the begging monks of many kinds, 
 the mendicancy of the population in general, 
 are all told with vivid interest and special 
 force ; and the hypocrisy and cant that every- 
 where abound are justly excoriated. From 
 the Holy City we are taken to Egypt, and 
 are treated to shrewd and sound comment, all 
 spiced with a keen wit and fine use of in- 
 cident that make it most enjoyable read- 
 ing, reminding one much of the style and 
 manner of Bayard Taylor. It is a work of 
 the very highest class, and eminently read- 
 able, an amusing, instructive, and corrective 
 chronicle which gives facts so plentifully 
 spiced with the seasoning of anecdote and 
 repartee that it is the most entertaining book 
 of the year. 
 
 FROM THE GALVESTON NEWS. 
 In Jerome Hart's " Levantine Log-Book " 
 not only the frequented cities and places, but 
 the interesting out-of-the-way quarters as well, 
 are graphically described. There is much of 
 interest about the customs of the people, and 
 the anecdotes in connection with these mat- 
 ters are well told. Many amusing and enter- 
 taining incidents of the tour are happily in- 
 troduced. The book is copiously illustrated, 
 and will prove of interest and value. 
 
 18 
 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE ST. Louis POST-DISPATCH. 
 Few books of travel have the charm that 
 Jerome Hart's " A Levantine Log-Book " 
 possesses. It is a story of wanderings over 
 that unboundable land which is called the 
 Levant. Mr. Hart, of course, attempts to 
 limit this alluring region, although he con- 
 fesses the task is almost hopeless. He is a 
 great breaker of idols. He is a trifle 
 splenetic, too, over the Valley of Sweet 
 Waters, near Constantinople, over which 
 Gautier, De Amicis, and Marion Crawford 
 grew rhetorical. But with all his disillusion- 
 ings, Hart has compacted a pleasant book of 
 travel impressions. 
 
 FROM. THE Los ANGELES TIMES. 
 Jerome Hart, author of " Argonaut Let- 
 ters " and " Two Argonauts in Spain," gives 
 us now one of the most readable and inter- 
 esting studies of modern Italy, Greece, Pales- 
 tine, and Egypt that have been written. The 
 thick volume is full of amusing anecdote and 
 realistic description ; the minute things that 
 make all the difference between country and 
 country do not escape Mr. Hart's keen eyes, 
 and he makes them living facts to his readers 
 by vivid, typically American description. 
 
 FROM THE SACRAMENTO BEE. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is the third in a 
 series of books of travel by Jerome Hart. He 
 writes in lively and interesting fashion of his 
 experiences, avoiding the conventional style of 
 rhapsodical, descriptive globe-trotters, and 
 giving much practical information illuminated 
 with pungent humor. He has the faculty of 
 seeing beneath the surface of things, and his 
 critical comments on the manners and cus- 
 toms of the people and the places he visited in 
 the Mediterranean region are highly instruc- 
 tive as well as diverting. Particular attention 
 is given to Athens, Constantinople, Smyrna, 
 Jerusalem, Palestine, and Egypt. A chapter 
 of much interest describes the climatic 
 changes occurring in lower Egypt as a result 
 of the great extension of irrigation through 
 the colossal works constructed by the British 
 in that country. Rains have become much 
 more frequent and abundant, and in the delta 
 the dryness of the air which formerly pre- 
 vailed has given place to humidity. 
 
 FROM THE Los ANGELES HERALD. 
 Besides ranking as one of the most vig- 
 orous and incisive of pur editorial writers, 
 Jerome Hart possesses in an unusual degree 
 that talent which seems to have fallen into 
 desuetude, of composing most delightful let- 
 ters of travel. Readers of the Argonaut have 
 long enjoyed his descriptions of foreign 
 climes and peoples. In " A Levantine Log- 
 Book," Mr. Hart covers a field suited to his 
 peculiar powers. Next to taking such a 
 journey is to have it described by such a 
 writer as Mr. Hart he sees everything worth 
 seeing, and tells of it so entertainingly that 
 one doesn't seem to have missed much by 
 staying at home. 
 
 19 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE BUFFALO COURIER. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart, 
 consists of travel-sketches in the eastern 
 Mediterranean. It is an entertaining and in- 
 structive volume of four hundred pages, con- 
 taining over forty illustrations. Some of the 
 chapters abound in color and brilliant word- 
 picturing. To those who can not cross the 
 seas this volume is an educator. Those who 
 contemplate a trip to the Orient will gain 
 much useful knowledge from it. Place after 
 place passes under review, always pictured 
 with skill and frequently with fascination. 
 
 FROM THE NEWARK NEWS. 
 Breezy descriptions of the Mediterranean 
 countries will be found in " A Levantine Log- 
 Book," by Jerome Hart. He has taken pains 
 to avoid producing anything like a cut-and- 
 dried book of travel, for which he deserves 
 thanks. He has made his journeys with his 
 eyes open, and with due regard to what is 
 humorous as well as to what is informing. 
 The result is a very entertaining volume, 
 which may be read with profit. 
 
 FROM THE TERRE HAUTE STAR. 
 Jerome Hart's " Levantine Log-Book " is 
 a collection of unusually spicy and readable 
 sketches of travel. Mr. Hart's style is in- 
 formal almost to being conversational, and 
 very sprightly, with a touch of genial satire. 
 His lively reminiscences are liberally illus- 
 trated with photographs, most of which he 
 took himself. The book is handsomely and 
 appropriately bound. 
 
 FROM THE OAKLAND HERALD. 
 
 Anything from the pen- of Jerome Hart, 
 editor of the Argonaut of San Francisco, is 
 thoroughly well worth reading. " A Levan- 
 tine Log-Book," his latest work, is another of 
 a series of his travel sketches, the previous 
 volumes being " Argonaut Letters " and 
 " Two Argonauts in Spain." 
 
 Mr. Hart, as the reading public well knows, 
 is a comprehensive, clever, and interesting 
 writer ; he has a very observant mind, and the 
 added faculty of being able to record his 
 observations in writing in an entertaining 
 and happy manner. Excellent advice for 
 travelers is contained in the volume. But 
 the reader should not jump to the conclusion 
 that it is another guide-book, for while travel- 
 ers will find much therein from which to 
 profit, the work is on an entirely different 
 plane. 
 
 " A Levantine Log-Book " is handsomely 
 illustrated with more than forty half-tone 
 pictures, the greater number of these from 
 photographs by the author. It is excellently 
 printed and bound, and in this respect it may 
 be said that, while it reflects credit upon its 
 publishers Longmans, Green & Co. still it 
 does not surpass, even if it equals, in this re- 
 spect, " Two Argonauts in Spain," which was 
 printed and published in San Francisco in 
 1904, and is a particularly fine specimen of 
 the typographical and book-binders' art. 
 
 20 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE CLEVELAND LEADER. 
 In Jerome Hart's " Levantine Log-Book," 
 the writer takes his newspaper instinct for 
 what the people wish to know, and so it is 
 easy for him to write a good book of travels. 
 He takes the human side of sight-seeing 
 rather than its heavy historical one ; he adds 
 to this his gift as a writer, no inconsiderable 
 one ; and he turns out a book that goes di- 
 rectly to its mark. Mr. Hart's book is un- 
 conventional. It is informing, but in a 
 chatty, gossipy way, yet the book is meaty. 
 There is much of information in it, and of 
 the kind you wish. He makes you see the 
 things he saw, and that is the goal of all 
 travel books. It has humor as well as ob- 
 servation, which completes the long tale of 
 its merits. The illustrations help along the 
 text. 
 
 FROM THE GLOUCESTER TIMES. 
 Jerome Hart has a breezy, diffuse, slangy, 
 but very informing way of imparting his im- 
 pressions ; and his books of travel are full of 
 statements which, put in Mr. Hart's manner, 
 have a way of staying in the memory. This 
 is saying that Hart is a racy writer. Here he 
 gives us, from a storehouse of observations 
 and experiences in the Levant, four hundred 
 large pages of text, and illustration which are 
 as near satisfying as anything in their line 
 can be, short of the writing of one long resi- 
 dent in the Orient. We are enabled in this 
 book to see things visible to the author's eye 
 exactly as they were : and when Mr. Hart says 
 " Jerusalem is the filthiest city ever inhab- 
 ited by white men," although we can not re- 
 call that any one else ever said this, we rest 
 assured that it is as he says. These accounts 
 are informal and blunt, yet they appear to be 
 mature impressions. We doubt, however, if 
 Mr. Hart can judge of the value of Christian 
 missions among the Mohammedans, which he 
 tries to do ; a specialist long on the ground 
 is to be preferred to him. 
 
 FROM THE MOBILE REGISTER. 
 A travel-book of rare charm is Jerome 
 Hart's " A Levantine Log-Book." Mr. Hart 
 does not give the greater part of his attention 
 to the things done in foreign lands with 
 which we are all acquainted, but he writes so 
 entertainingly and vividly of quaint nooks and 
 random impressions that his book makes de- 
 lightful reading. 
 
 FROM THE Los ANGELES GRAPHIC. 
 A book of travel to attract attention now- 
 adays must be far out of the ordinary. Jerome 
 Hart's " A Levantine Log-Book " is as en- 
 tertaining a volume as could well be found. 
 In it there is nothing stereotyped, nothing 
 of the guide-book order. Mr. Hart supplies 
 something else. . . . There is a series of ex- 
 tremely entertaining chapters on modern 
 Egypt, and the book closes with a vigorous 
 defense of the English policy in Egypt, Mr. 
 Hart first stating that his opinions on English 
 occupation were once diametrically opposite 
 to those he now holds. We can cordially 
 commend " A Levantine Log-Book." 
 
 21 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE INDIANAPOLIS NEWS. 
 Jerome Hart's " Levantine Log-Book " is 
 a delightfully interesting and informative 
 book of travel. The author's wanderings took 
 him to Stamboul, Cairo, Smyrna, Jaffa, Jeru- 
 salem, up the Nile, and back again. He writes 
 about all these places entertainingly, with 
 many a halt by the way to tell of the incidents 
 and humors of Levantine travel. The volume 
 is filled with interesting matter, which is 
 presented in gossipy and readable style. It 
 gives numerous word-pictures of the daily life 
 and customs of the people, which pictures, by 
 reason of their vividness, stand out clearly, 
 and will be remembered. 
 
 FROM THE KANSAS CITY JOURXAI . 
 Jerome Hart's " Levantine Log-Book " is. 
 particularly interesting. It is a book of travel 
 that is neither a guide-book ' nor a rhapsody. 
 Mr. Hart is a clever descriptive chronicler. 
 His characterizations of the various places 
 visited are very. apt. 
 
 FROM OUT WEST, Los ANGELES. 
 Of works of travel, by far the most enter- 
 taining to hand is " A Levantine Log-Book " 
 (Longmans; $2.00 net). This is by Jerome 
 Hart, editor of the Argonaut, who declares: 
 " I believe in telling the truth about travel. 
 It may not much matter what a traveler 
 thinks, but it does matter that he should, 
 if he tells it, tell it truthfully. Most travel- 
 ers rave to order." Mr. Hart assuredly does 
 no raving ; and the truth as he sees it is 
 usually dashed with a touch of cynical wit in 
 the telling that does not easily become tire- 
 some. 
 
 FROM THE SAN FRANCISCO NEWS LETTER. 
 
 Not since the publication of Mark Twain's 
 " Innocents Abroad " has there been placed 
 before the public such an entertaining and 
 accurate book of foreign travel as Jerome 
 Hart's " A Levantine Log-Book." It is writ- 
 ten in so delightful a style that it is difficult 
 to drop it when once picked up. It is full 
 of anecdotes, humorous situations, and bits 
 of interesting history that are rarely to be 
 found elsewhere. 
 
 The reviewer, having spent a longer time 
 in the Levant than the author, feels com- 
 petent to state that the descriptions of the 
 places and peoples visited during Mr. Hart's 
 trip are remarkably accurate. One who reads 
 "A Levantine Log-Book" will read of the 
 Levant as it actually is, seen by the obser- 
 vant American tourist. It is far from being 
 the conventional book of travel. 
 
 FROM THE DETROIT FREE PRESS. 
 The fireside traveler will find Jerome 
 Hart's new work, " A Levantine Log-Book," 
 a delightful volume of descriptive chronicles. 
 It is written out of two years' sojourn in the 
 Levant, and is a charming volume about the 
 East. Stripped of sentiment and glamour, 
 Mr. Hart lays the Levant before us as it 
 really is. He writes very entertainingly as 
 well as truthfully, and his book is very hand- 
 somely illustrated. 
 
 22 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 FROM THE ST. PAUL PIONEER PRESS. 
 " A Levantine Log-Book," by Jerome Hart, 
 is the result of a stay of two seasons in the 
 Levant. The book begins with a discussion 
 as to the boundaries of the Levant. The 
 writer's definition of the Levant includes 
 practically all that portion of the Mediter- 
 ranean coasts where Mohammedan supremacy 
 has left its marks. In a chapter entitled 
 '' Disappointments of Palestine," the writer 
 makes some striking comparisons in size be- 
 tween the Holy Land and other parts of the 
 world. The book contains over forty hand- 
 some half-tone pictures. 
 
 FROM THE SACRAMENTO UNION. 
 There has just come from the press a third 
 volume of Jerome Hart's travel series, under 
 the title " A Levantine Log-Book." Nominally 
 and primarily this book is a record of travels 
 in Eastern countries, but it is very much 
 more than this. Upon the basis of a travel- 
 er's observations, Mr. Hart has given us a 
 book in which the historical and social studies 
 of a lifetime are embodied with the reflec- 
 tions of a mind at once alert and disciplined. 
 With respect to the places and things which 
 have passed under Mr. Hart's observation, 
 we have not merely a report, but what the 
 lawyers would call a report with findings 
 the findings, indeed, making the larger and 
 better part of the product. It may be said 
 of this latest and best of Mr. Hart's books 
 that in itself it almost marks a revival of a 
 fashion in literature which had all but gone 
 out. Now and then in late years we have 
 had a notable book of observation such as 
 Mr. Froude's " Oceana," or Mr. Freeman's 
 " Xotes " ; but, generally speaking, the literary 
 energy of the time has gone into other forms 
 of writing. The field of travel, with its in- 
 finite range of interests, has largely been 
 abandoned to the unseasoned amateur or the 
 outworn superannuate. In a field thus ne- 
 glected, Mr. Hart has discovered an amazing 
 wealth of suggestion, and has found in his 
 own knowledge and in his own imagination 
 power to make the most of it. And he 
 makes all the more of it because his work is 
 wholly lacking at the point of pretension. 
 One who reads the " Levantine Log-Book " 
 finds himself instructed and charmed as by 
 the easy chat of a cultivated talker. So in- 
 formal are the literary manners of the writer 
 that it is only at the end one discovers that 
 the performance is an extraordinary one ex- 
 traordinary in the clearness of its observa- 
 tion, in its interpretation of historical se- 
 quences, in its grasp of the inner meanings 
 of things, and in its winnowing of essential 
 from collateral interests. Mr. Hart has 
 found a field admirably suited to his gifts 
 and to his training. It is one in which he will 
 find small competition, since the spirit and 
 skill which it requires are not commonly 
 found in those who go knocking about the 
 world or, for that matter, among those who 
 bide at home. Rare, indeed, is the eye to see 
 and the wit to interpret which make the 
 character of this book ; and rarer still are the 
 refined humor and the polished literary art 
 which makes its charm. 
 
 23 
 
 
A Levantine Log-Book, by Jerome Hart 
 
 Selling Agents 
 
 The Argonaut Publishing Co. 
 
 246 Sutter Street, San Francisco 
 
TO 
 
 A. C. H. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I TOWARD THE LEVANT 3 
 
 II BY THE WAY 15 
 
 III ENGLAND'S LEVANTINE FORTRESS . . 61 
 
 IV THE CITY OF THE VIOLET CROWN . . 77 
 V STAMBOUL SEEN FROM THE SEA . . 99 
 
 VI THE SULTAN AND THE SELAMLIK . .119 
 
 VII THE BREEKS OF THE TURKS .... 131 
 
 VIII OF SMYRNA, AND OF BUYING THINGS 141 
 
 IX BETWEEN JAFFA AND JERUSALEM . . 153 
 
 X JERUSALEM THE GOLDEN 165 
 
 XI GABRIEL AND URIEL 183 
 
 XII "SPOTS WHERE" . . 195 
 
 XIII PIETY: GENTILE, JEWISH, MOSLEM . . 209 
 
 XIV DISAPPOINTMENTS IN PALESTINE . . 223 
 XV CAIRO'S ROUTES AND INNS 253 
 
 XVI THE MIDWINTER CRUSH AT CAIRO . . 273 
 
 XVII EGYPTIAN JOURNALISM 285 
 
 XVIII UP THE NILE TO LUXOR 301 
 
 XIX FROM THEBES TO ASSOUAN 321 
 
 XX THE EGYPTIANS' FOREIGN GUESTS . . 343 
 
 XXI ENGLAND IN EGYPT 363 
 
 XXII RETROSPECT AND FORECAST .... 387 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 POMPEII AND VESUVIUS 32 
 
 MACARONI ALONG THE POMPEII ROAD .... 32 
 
 From photographs by Sommer 
 FORTIFICATIONS AND LIBRARY BUILDING, 
 
 MALTA 67 
 
 From photographs by Sommer 
 RUINS OF THE TEMPLE OF OLYMPUS, ATHENS . 79 
 
 From photograph by Le*vy Freres 
 PORTICO OF THE ERECHTHEION, ATHENS . . 87 
 
 From photograph by Lvy Freres 
 
 TOMB OF ALEXANDER (SO-CALLED), CONSTANTI- 
 NOPLE 104 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 BOATMEN ON THE GOLDEN HORN 121 
 
 From photograph by Se"bah and Joaillier 
 A MOHAMMEDAN CEMETERY 136 
 
 From photograph by Se"bah and Joaillier 
 PARADISE AQUEDUCT, SMYRNA 143 
 
 From photograph by Se"bah and Joaillier 
 INSIDE THE JAFFA GATE, JERUSALEM .... 155 
 
 From photograph 
 
 DAMASCUS GATE, JERUSALEM 171 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 ENTRANCE TO CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPUL- 
 CHRE, JERUSALEM 199 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 DOME OF THE ROCK, JERUSALEM 202 
 
 From photograph 
 INTERIOR OF KUBBET ES-SAKHRA AND THE HOLY 
 
 ROCK 202 
 
 From photograph 
 TOWER OF ANTONIA, JERUSALEM 217 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 NATIVES AROUND THE ZION GATE, JERUSALEM . 231 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 ix 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 COURT OF AN ARAB HOUSE WITH MUSHARABIYEH 
 
 WINDOWS AND FURNITURE .... V ... 257 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 
 KASREN-NIL BRIDGE, CAIRO 261 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 ROAD FROM CAIRO TO THE PYRAMIDS 276 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 
 GRANITE TEMPLE OF THE SPHINX AND PYRAMID 
 
 OF CHEOPS 280 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 STUDENTS AT THEIR STUDIES, UNIVERSITY OF EL 
 
 AZHAR, CAIRO 286 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 JUVENILE CAMEL DRIVER 296 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 IN THE BAZAAR 296 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 DONKEY BOY AT LUXOR 296 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 SOUDANESE MOTHER AND CHILD 296 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 SHADOUF, OR BUCKET-AND-SWEEP DEVICE FOR 
 
 LIFTING IRRIGATING WATER 307 
 
 From photograph by P. Dittrich 
 COLUMNS OF THE TEMPLE OF LUXOR .... 310 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 ARAB BOYS WATCHING A SAILING-RACE AROUND 
 
 ELEPHANTINE ISLAND 315 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 DAHABIYEH OF EXPLORER DAVIS . : > , . . 315 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 DAHABIYEH OF EX-EMPRESS EUGENIE .... 315 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 ARAB VILLAGE GIRLS CARRYING WATER FROM 
 
 THE NILE 321 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 
 TEMPLE AT KOM OMBOS AND BISHAREEN DRAGO- 
 MANS 325 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 SECTION OF THE GREAT DAM ON THE NILE 
 
 ABOVE ASSOUAN 325 
 
 From photograph by A. Marquez 
 
 BLUSHING BEDOUINS 330 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 X 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CAMELS KNEELING TO BE MOUNTED .... 330 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 SAKIA, OR BUCKET-WHEEL FOR LIFTING IRRI- 
 GATING WATER 334 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 
 A DIMINUTIVE DRAGOMAN 347 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 A DESCENDANT OF RAMESES 347 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 A DWARF FROM DONGOLA 347 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 A BEGGAR AT LUXOR 347 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 A SHEIK OF DONKEY BOYS 347 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 NATIVE FELUCCAS 3SI 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 A SAKIA IN THE DESERT 3SI 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 GROUP ON THE NILE BANK 35I 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 WOMEN GETTING WATER 35I 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 A MOSQUE IN THE PLAIN OF THEBES ... . 364 
 
 From photograph by the Author 
 
 AVENUE OF SPHINXES LEADING TO TEMPLE OF 
 
 KARNAK 372 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 
 MONUMENT ERECTED TO GENERAL GORDON AT 
 
 KHARTOUM 3 g 2 
 
 From photograph by A. Marquez. 
 
 DATE TREES ON THE NILE BANK 3 88 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 ISLAND OF PHIL^: BEFORE THE DAM WAS BUILT 393 
 
 From photograph by G. Lekegian 
 KIOSK AND TEMPLE, ISLAND OF PHIL/E NOW 
 
 PARTIALLY SUBMERGED 399 
 
 From photograph by A. Marquez 
 
TOWARD THE LEVANT 
 
TOWARD THE LEVANT 
 
 QUESTION often heard among Mediter- 
 ranean travellers is, " Where does the Le- 
 vant begin?" This is not unlike the old 
 paradox, "Where does the sky begin?" 
 The reply may be according to the temperament of the 
 questioner, but the Levant seems always to be farther 
 east. The Italians look toward Greece; the Greeks 
 toward European Turkey; the Turks toward Asia 
 Minor. What, then, is the Levant, and what com- 
 prises it? Possibly Sicily and Crete, certainly Cyprus; 
 probably Malta; beyond question, the coast of Turkey. 
 "Beginning at Naples," some would say, "the Le- 
 vant runs east." But how far east? And where does 
 the return line begin? At Alexandria? But at Alex- 
 andria the line of the Levant has already curved west of 
 Syria. Shall the line continue west of Alexandria? 
 And if so, where shall it stop? Shall it include the 
 Barbary States? 
 
 It seems paradoxical, but the southern shore of the 
 Mediterranean is more Levantine which means 
 eastern than the northern shore. Are Tunis, Tri- 
 
 [3] 
 
Toward the Levant 
 
 poli, and Morocco, therefore, Levantine ? Some people 
 would say, yes. But if they are, why not Algiers ? It 
 is Moorish like Tripoli, Mohammedan like Morocco; 
 why, then, is it not Levantine ? But here most people 
 would grow doubtful, for Algiers is nearer to the Straits 
 of Gibraltar than to the Golden Horn. Malta is Chris- 
 tian; is it therefore to be considered as not Levantine? 
 But Egypt is certainly Levantine, yet there were four 
 Christian bishoprics there seventeen hundred years ago, 
 and the Egyptian Copts were Christians when our 
 ancestors in Britain were offering up human sacrifices 
 on druidical altars to pagan gods and goddesses. Pales- 
 tine is unmistakably Levantine; yet there are more 
 Catholic sects in Palestine than in Italy; more non- 
 conformists than in Great Britain; more Christian 
 schismatics than in that land of religious freedom, the 
 United States. Palestine is Christian, Jewish, and 
 Mohammedan; yet so is it Levantine. So Greece is 
 Christian, but Western nations look on it as Levantine. 
 Therefore, "Levantine" does not mean a matter of 
 latitude; therefore, to a Roman pontiff " Levantine" 
 might mean "latitudinarian," as he is forced to allow 
 some Catholic priests to marry in the Levant. Nor does 
 it depend on longitude, for Tunis lies just south of 
 Sardinia, yet Tunis is distinctly Levantine in flavor, 
 while Sardinia is distinctly Occidental. Morocco, 
 although Occidental, is Mohammedan, while Palestine, 
 although Levantine, is mainly Christian and Jewish. 
 Nor yet does "Levantine" mean race, for the Ottoman 
 Turks, the Syrians, the Cretans, the Cypriotes, the 
 
 [4] 
 
The Levant not Continental 
 
 Maltese, the Palestine Jews, are all Levantine, are all 
 of the great Aryan race, and are all white, while the 
 natives of Tunis, of Tripoli, of Morocco, of Algiers, 
 are all Occidental, are all of the Afro-Asiatic type, and 
 are all dark. 
 
 Nor is the Levant to be sharply denned by the flags 
 which seem ascendant there, whether Christian or 
 Mohammedan, for the blue and white cross of Greece 
 is seen all through Levantine waters. Another flag 
 with the Christian cross, the flame-colored ensign of 
 England, is seen on every hand, on merchant ships, 
 on passenger liners, on ships of war. It floats over 
 Malta. In Egypt it is almost as frequent as the cres- 
 cent and star, and much more potent. It floats beside 
 the Egyptian flag in the Soudan, where the two govern- 
 ments have equal control. 
 
 The Levant's boundaries cannot be continental, for 
 all writers treat the coast of Asia Minor as Levantine. 
 If Scutari, in Asia Minor, is Levantine, can its sister 
 city, Stamboul, across the Bosphorus, be called Occi- 
 dental? Surely Constantinople is Levantine, but it is 
 European. If Constantinople is Levantine, why not 
 Greece ? Out of the Hellenic peoples sprang the great 
 Eastern Empire ; out of Hellas grew Byzantium. What 
 is now the kingdom of the Hellenes, or Modern Greece, 
 was at that epoch the westernmost part of the Empire 
 of the East; then it surely is Levantine, yet it is Euro- 
 pean. Certainly no one would deny that Egypt is of 
 the Levant. Alexandria has been for centuries one of 
 the greatest of Levantine cities. It was once the capital 
 
 [5] 
 
Toward the Levant 
 
 of Grecian letters, art, and trade. It was once the seat 
 of a primitive Christian diocese. Over this bishopric 
 ruled St. Cyril, one of the fathers of the early Christian 
 Church. Yet Alexandria is in the Egyptian Delta, 
 the Delta is in Africa, and both are unmistakably Le- 
 vantine. Thus we find that the Levant is not defined 
 by continents, for it is divided between Europe, Asia, 
 and Africa. 
 
 It is evident that the Levant may not be defined by 
 latitude or longitude, by nations or flags, by continental 
 boundaries, by race or religion. What, then, are its 
 boundaries? The Italians are the only people who 
 even hint at a definition. They treat Genoa as a cen- 
 tral point probably of "Italia Irredenta" calling 
 what is west of there Riviera di Ponente, "Western 
 Coast," east of there Riviera di Levante y "Eastern 
 Coast." In default of any other definition, we may 
 take the Italian one, supplementing it by individual 
 preference guided by color and atmosphere. Thus 
 influenced, the non-technical traveller would include 
 Naples in the Levant because Naples once was part of 
 Greater Greece; because its people are Oriental in 
 many ways; because Naples once had temples where 
 the Neapolitans worshipped Egyptian deities. Sicily 
 would be called Levantine for similar reasons, and 
 because of the strong Arabic tinge to the Sicilian dia- 
 lect. Malta would be placed in the Levant for her 
 Oriental dialect, her Arab blood, and her geologic 
 identity with Africa. Because of Oriental heredity, 
 race, color, atmosphere, or religion, the same non- 
 
 [6] 
 
France in the Levant 
 
 technical traveller would in the Levant include these: 
 Crete; Cyprus; the kingdom of the Hellenes; all of the 
 coasts of the Ionian and ^Egean seas; parts of the Balkan 
 peninsula; those parts of European Turkey on the Sea 
 of Marmora, the JSgean, and the Bosphorus; the coasts 
 of Asiatic Turkey, including Syria and Palestine ; finally, 
 the Levantine African coast, including Egypt, and 
 possibly Tripoli and Tunis. Few would include Mo- 
 rocco and Algiers, but no one can deny that the fringe 
 of Far Eastern life and color struggles to Far Western 
 points along the northern shores of Africa, even to 
 points almost as far distant as the Pillars of Hercules. 
 
 Probably "The Levant" may mean those parts of 
 the Mediterranean coast which were Phoenician in the 
 ancient times or Mohammedan in the later times. 
 Geographically, and in point of longitude, Spain is 
 certainly Occidental and European; yet the long rule 
 of the Moors has left much Oriental color there, and 
 the southern coasts of Spain not the Catalan coasts 
 certainly seem Levantine. 
 
 An interesting confirmation of the elasticity of the 
 term "Levant" is furnished by the official nomen- 
 clature used by France. That country in its consular 
 documents denominates the following points as " Echel- 
 les du Levant": Constantinople, Smyrna, Aleppo, 
 Cyprus, Cairo, Alexandria, Tripoli, Tunis, and Algiers. 
 The word Echette in Turkish, Iskele may be a cor- 
 ruption of the Italian, Scala, which is closely allied to 
 the French, escalier; the term is applied, all along the 
 Levant, to the piers or jetties built on piles, with steps, 
 
 [7] 
 
Toward the Levant 
 
 stairs, or ladders running down to the water level, 
 principally for the handling of merchandise. At each 
 of these points known as "Echelles" France has for 
 more than two centuries had consuls clothed with cer- 
 tain powers and vested with certain pecuniary and 
 other privileges. For example, in a "Grande Echelle 
 du Levant" the French consul would not only receive 
 a large salary, but also a fixed sum per year to pay the 
 bakshish due to the pasha and to his officers, the 
 wages of the dragoman or kavass, those of the almoner, 
 and to maintain a Christian chapel. These terms and 
 usages are still kept up by official France, which is 
 interesting as showing that the elastic boundaries 
 of the Levant extend far to the West, commercially 
 speaking. 
 
 ^\i 
 
 There are many ways of reaching the Levant, these, 
 of course, depending on your point of departure. If 
 from England, the " long-sea" route is preferred by 
 those who are fond of ocean travel. This route crosses 
 the Bay of Biscay, passes through the Straits of Gib- 
 raltar, touches at various ports, the principal ones 
 being Marseilles, Naples, Brindisi, Malta, and Port 
 Said, which is the last Levantine port, most of the steam- 
 ers then going on to the Far East. The " short-sea" 
 route is across France by rail to Marseilles, or across 
 Europe by rail to Brindisi, where passengers are picked 
 up by the " long-sea" steamers. These routes are 
 followed by the Peninsular and Oriental and the Orient 
 Pacific lines. 
 
 [8] 
 
New Levantine Lines 
 
 The P. and O. leave London via Gibraltar and Mar- 
 seilles, or via Gibraltar and Malta, or via Brindisi, for 
 Port Said. The Orient Pacific leave London and 
 Plymouth via Gibraltar, Marseilles, and Naples, for 
 Port Said and Ismailia. The North German Lloyd 
 and Hamburg-American sail from American, British, 
 French, or German ports on varying schedules. The 
 White Star line sails from New York and Boston for 
 Mediterranean ports. From Liverpool the Moss, 
 Ellerman, and Papayanni lines sail for Alexandria; 
 the Bibby, Hall, and Anchor lines for Port Said. From 
 Marseilles the Messageries Maritimes line sails for 
 Alexandria; their India and China ships touch at Port 
 Said. From Genoa, Naples, Venice, and Brindisi, 
 the Navigazione Generale Italiana line sails for Alex- 
 andria. From Brindisi and Trieste the Austrian Lloyd 
 line sails for Alexandria. 
 
 The foregoing list gives the initial points of departure, 
 but Levantine passengers may book at many ports 
 where the ships call. 
 
 Travel to Egypt has so much increased of late years 
 that new lines have been added to the old ones, and 
 new steamers added to the old lines. In the winter of 
 1905 the North German Lloyd put on a special line of 
 fast steamers between Marseilles and Alexandria 
 this service being in addition to its two lines, Asian and 
 Australasian, which call at Egyptian ports. The 
 P. and O. Company also added a special service be- 
 tween Marseilles and Alexandria, in addition to its two 
 far- Eastern services, calling at Port Said. The White 
 
 [9] 
 
Toward the Levant 
 
 Star Company purchased the old Commonwealth 
 steamers, and put them on as a direct line from Egypt 
 to the United States. Thus there are now giving pas- 
 senger transportation between Egypt and the Western 
 World five German services, two first-class English, 
 two Italian, one French, one Austrian, one Turkish, 
 one Greek, and a number of miscellaneous lines of 
 mixed freight and passenger service, such as the Moss 
 line of Liverpool, the Anchor line, and the Papayanni 
 line. The highest priced of all is the new North Ger- 
 man line from Marseilles to Alexandria. 
 
 The most convenient for Americans is the new White 
 Star service from Alexandria to New York and Boston, 
 touching at sundry cities en route. These ports of call 
 are varied, differing on the New York and Boston ser- 
 vices, and differing again on the inward and outward 
 bound ships. The steamers are stanch and reasonably 
 fast; the discipline is not quite so good nor is the table 
 fare so choice as on the North Atlantic White Star 
 steamers, but both are good enough. The White Star 
 Mediterranean steamers carry Italian crews, which 
 prevents their captains from flying the flag of the Royal 
 Naval Reserve. I asked one of the officers why they 
 carried Italian crews. He replied briefly: " We carried 
 English crews at first, but they used to get drunk at 
 every port, lick the dagoes, get into jail, and leave us 
 short-handed. So now we ship Italians." A disagree- 
 able feature of these west-bound White Star steamers 
 is that at Naples, Genoa, and Ponta Delgada they ship 
 fifteen hundred or two thousand emigrants for the 
 
 [10] 
 
Cruising Steamers 
 
 United States. These steerage passengers are allowed 
 all around the main deck on the space between the 
 superstructure and the bulwarks. As a result, those 
 first-class passengers who pay high prices for the best 
 rooms on the ship get the poorest; for the loud talk, 
 concertinas, quarrels, cigarettes, and odors under their 
 cabin windows poison the air, and render life a burden. 
 
 Passengers sailing from the United States may choose 
 between a Hamburg- American, a North German Lloyd, 
 or a White Star steamer; these run to Naples and Genoa, 
 where passengers can trans-ship for Alexandria or other 
 Levantine ports. These three lines run a few ships in 
 the winter direct from the United States to Alexandria. 
 A pleasant way to go is by one of the cruising steamers 
 of the White Star, or either of the German lines; these 
 cruising steamers touch for one, two, or three days, 
 according to importance, at such ports as Genoa, 
 Naples, Algiers, Palermo, Messina, Tripoli, and Malta. 
 
 But nearly every traveller will find that his ship goes 
 to Naples, and he will also find that city worth a stay 
 of a few days, whether or not he has been there before, 
 once or many times. 
 
II 
 
 BY THE WAY 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 n 
 
 BY THE WAY 
 
 |T was five o'clock in the morning. Our 
 ship was steaming up the Bay of Naples, 
 under a slow bell. A matinal mist 
 wrapped the shore. 
 
 Suddenly objects on land began to pierce the mist. 
 "Look!" said the Old Traveller, "there is the Naples 
 quay, and there is that celebrated mediaeval fortress, 
 the Castel del Ovo." 
 
 "Nonsense!" cried the Man-Who-Had-Been-To- 
 Naples-Before, " that building is not on the water-front, 
 but up on the hill it's the convent of San Martino." 
 
 The rest of us, who were hanging over the rail, were 
 also hanging on their words. We were perplexed at 
 this difference between our oracles. The first officer 
 happened along, so we appealed to him. 
 
 "That building?" said he, squinting at it with one 
 eye as sailor men do; "no, that is not the Castel del Ovo, 
 it is a macaroni factory; and those houses are not Naples, 
 that is Pozzuoli; Naples is on the other side of the 
 point." 
 
 Our two oracles looked abashed, but only for a few 
 
By the Way 
 
 moments. We had rounded the point, and were com- 
 ing to anchor under the lee of the mole. 
 
 "Ah," said the Old Traveller, sentimentally, "what 
 a pity that you have got in so early! Now, if you had 
 only arrived in the evening," he went on, with his vox- 
 humana stop, " the ship would be surrounded with boats 
 full of picturesque Neapolitans singing 'Santa Lucia.' 
 I tell you what, you're not in luck. Now when / ar- 
 rived at Naples before, we had 'Santa Lucia' the mo- 
 ment the anchor touched bottom. I tell you, it was 
 grand!" And the Old Traveller gazed at us in a 
 superior and compassionate manner. 
 
 At this moment a twang sounded from the water. It 
 came from mandolins, guitars, and harps; it was fol- 
 lowed by squeaks from fiddles; and speedily, from port 
 and starboard sides, there arose "Santa Lucia" in nine 
 or ten different keys and in nineteen or twenty different 
 voices risotto tenors, spaghetti sopranos, macaroni 
 baritones. It was rather early, and quite a cool 
 morning, but it has to be a very cold day at Naples and 
 very early when "Santa Lucia" gets left unsung. 
 
 Be- 
 lt is difficult to write anything new about Naples. 
 Its routine sights have all been described so many times 
 that it would be wearisome to go over them again. But 
 there are some new developments in governmental, 
 official, and social circles there, if not in guide-book 
 sights. Official corruption is probably not new in 
 Naples, but reform apparently is. There has been a 
 
 [16] 
 
A Boom in Naples 
 
 reform movement going on in Naples now for some 
 time, led by a Senator Saredo, who has conducted an 
 investigation. Saredo has been supported by the king, 
 and all manner of thievery has been uncovered. A 
 system of sale of municipal positions was exposed; 
 supplies purchased for the city were diverted into 
 private hands; when a municipal loan was floated 
 hundreds of thousands of lire stuck to official fingers; 
 large sums were paid to municipal officials to secure 
 gas, water, and street-railway franchises. At the very 
 time when we were in Naples a famous novelist, whose 
 books have been translated into many languages, was 
 exposed as having acted as a go-between in the sale of 
 positions on the police force and fire department. The 
 newspapers were full of all manner of accusations, not 
 only attacking prominent officials, but also smirching 
 private persons high in rank. Some two score were 
 under indictment, and all Naples was buzzing with 
 excitement. 
 
 It sounded like an American city in the throes of a 
 "municipal reform investigation." Does not all this 
 seem as if Naples were up to date ? 
 
 While there are few or no changes in the sights of 
 Naples, there are many changes in its life. The ven- 
 erable Magna-Grecian city is becoming modernized. 
 It has a "boom." And the Naples "boom" is largely 
 due to tourist travel. Every now and again you see a 
 man with the legend "Pro Napoli" on his cap. He is 
 not a guide, but the paid agent of a "boom" society 
 started in Naples within the last year or so. Its ends 
 
 [17] 
 
By the Way 
 
 are to encourage travel, to look out for tourists, to 
 direct them to hotels, theatres, public buildings, and 
 other places of interest, and generally to see that they 
 are not robbed by the cabmen, guides, touts, and other 
 accomplished crooks with whom Naples swarms. I 
 never saw a city which needed such a society more. It 
 is well managed, its officers being some of the best 
 people in Naples. They are highly appreciative of the 
 tourist boom, and of the vast amount of money it is 
 bringing them. Naples at one time had almost no 
 American travel. In former years most Americans 
 went to Europe by the northern route; if they travelled 
 southward, and got as far as northern Italy, they either 
 grew homesick, or went broke, and were obliged to 
 return. In the old days, many Americans who had 
 often been abroad had never visited Italy at all. Now 
 the Mediterranean steamers take so many Americans 
 to Europe that Naples is often their first stopping place. 
 As a result, it has greatly changed in the last ten years. 
 Now many cab-drivers speak English, practically all 
 waiters do, and you find many little boys on the streets, 
 selling flowers and other trifles, who speak English 
 fairly well, having learned it in the night schools. The 
 tourist boom has brought much money to Naples, and 
 the effect is seen in the city. There are many new 
 hotels and pensions there, as well as other new build- 
 ings. 
 
 People may smile at the idea of changes in so ancient 
 a city as Naples, but even old cities change. The rapid 
 movement of our time is shown by this incident of street 
 
 [18] 
 
Numerous Motor Vehicles 
 
 traffic: A few years ago, when the stream of vehicles 
 was returning from the races, the police divided the 
 Toledo into two zones, for vehicles bound north and 
 south. This time we noticed a change. The police 
 had divided the street into three zones, a wide zone in 
 the middle, and a narrow one on .either hand. We 
 drove out to meet the returning race-goers. As the 
 brilliant line came in from the races the carriages en- 
 tered the Toledo near the Museum, thence descending 
 the hill on the west side of the street. At the foot of 
 the hill they turned and went up the other side, which 
 round they continued for an hour or two in the child- 
 like Italian fashion. We soon discovered the reason 
 for the wide zone in the centre of the street. Within 
 three years automobiles had become numerous in 
 Naples. The other vehicles went at a walk, but the 
 motor cars were not restricted to such a slow pace. 
 Therefore, the wide zone was left for them, as well as 
 for four-in-hands, tandems, and vehicles whose drivers 
 wished to return at a rapid rate of speed. 
 
 When you are travelling, always do things while you 
 can. Never wait. Is it a fair day? Go and do the 
 out-door things. Is it a rainy day? Do the in-door 
 things the churches, the galleries. Do you see in a 
 shop window some trifle you want? Stop and buy it. 
 Don't put it off you may never see it again. You 
 will always want that trifle, and you will always be 
 
By the Way 
 
 sorry you didn't get it. If your first day at Naples is a 
 rainy day, go to the Museum immediately; if the first 
 day is a fine day, go up Vesuvius at once. The next 
 day the Museum may be closed, or there may be an 
 eruption on the mountain, or you may drop dead. 
 
 On our last visit to Naples I had intended to secure 
 a collection of the Naples newspapers and pictorials, 
 which are numerous. I have rather a fancy for collect- 
 ing newspapers. A newsboy sold papers at our hotel, 
 but all he had were two Italian dailies and the Paris 
 Herald. To secure the pictorials I had to go to some 
 of the little news-stands in the centre of the city. I put 
 it off from day to day, thinking I would have plenty of 
 time. But the days passed. We barely succeeded, 
 the third day before our departure, in going up Vesu- 
 vius. The day after this we had allotted to the Mu- 
 seum. True, we had been there before, but it is one of 
 the great sights of Europe, and a visit there is never 
 time wasted. But when we alighted at the door, they 
 had just installed a force of workmen to begin repairs 
 and renovations; visitors were not allowed to enter; 
 they had begun only that morning; we were just one 
 day late. 
 
 We determined to walk back to the hotel, so that I 
 could stop on the way and buy my pictorials, but it 
 began to rain, and we took a cab. As the cabman was 
 hired by the course, he returned by the shortest route, 
 which did not pass the piazza where the pictorials were 
 for sale. 
 
 The next day we were out all day at Baia, leaving 
 
 [20] 
 
New Hotels of Naples 
 
 the hotel just after breakfast, and returning about sun- 
 set. We were to sail at midnight. We had intended 
 to leave our hotel, go aboard with our luggage, "get 
 settled," and then return on shore to dine at the cafe. 
 It was agreed that, after dining comfortably, we should 
 sit outside the cafe, hear the band play, and watch the 
 shifting, picturesque, Neapolitan crowd on the Chiaia 
 and the Toledo. Then I was to buy my pictorials, and 
 we would go on board. It was an excellent programme. 
 But none of these things took place. When we took 
 our luggage on board, darkness was falling. Dinner 
 was ready on the ship. It had a savory aroma. We 
 wavered. We looked at the distance between ship and 
 shore. We reflected on the wrangling boatmen with 
 their demands for tips. It began to rain. So we re- 
 mained aboard, and I never got my pictorials. 
 
 Another change in Naples is the number of new 
 hotels. Several of them are situated in an elevated 
 quarter, through which runs the Corso Vittorio Em- 
 manuele. Some of these new hotels command much 
 finer views than those down on the bay shore. Still, 
 both quarters have their good points. Up on the hill 
 the new hotels have finer view, better air, and less noise; 
 down on the bay shore, on the Villa Nazionale, the Via 
 Partenope, the Via Caracciolo, and similar localities, 
 one is surrounded with the life of the Neapolitan people 
 likewise their noises and their smells. Still, the 
 
 [21] 
 
By the Way 
 
 scenes there are interesting so, too, are the sights 
 and sounds of the sea. On the bay shore you may 
 from your hotel windows see the fishermen drawing 
 their seines full of silvery fish. The fish repertoire at 
 Naples is superb. 
 
 To sum up the merits of the two localities: if you 
 make a short stay in Naples, get quarters down in the 
 city; it is amusing and interesting for a little while. 
 But if you make a long stay, go up on the hill; otherwise 
 the noise and bustle will weary you. 
 
 It is from this elevated quarter, where the new hotels 
 are found, that the Posilippo drive begins. The road 
 to Pozzuoli and Baia runs over the crest of the Posi- 
 lippo hill. At its top you pass a lift which descends to 
 the level of the Piedigrotta tunnels, nearly five hundred 
 feet below. Instead of going over the hill, you may 
 drive through the grotto, if you wish, simply as a new 
 sensation. The old tunnel, which dates from the reign 
 of Augustus Caesar, is now closed to traffic. A new 
 tunnel, bored some years ago, is three quarters of a 
 mile long. All manner of legends cling around the old 
 tunnel, some coming from the Roman times, some from 
 the superstitious middle ages. The tradition that 
 Virgil practised the black art is linked with this tunnel. 
 His "tomb" is not far away. There is certainly food 
 for ghost stories here I wonder how many foul 
 crimes have been committed in those dark and gloomy 
 vaults ? 
 
 The village of Fuorigrotta is at the mouth of the 
 tunnel, and the carriage road runs from there to the 
 
 [22] 
 
Alluring Amphitheatres 
 
 lake of Agnano, an ancient crater. Here is found the 
 famous choke-damp Dog Grotto, where the natives 
 will asphyxiate a dog for you while you wait. From 
 here the drive runs to Bagnoli, to Cumas, to Pozzuoli, 
 near which is a solfaterra, the crater of a half-extinct 
 volcano. Many cracks in the earth are to be seen, from 
 which sulphurous gases ascend. A hungry-looking 
 volcano guide tried to inveigle me into walking over 
 this crater, but after having nearly burned my shoes off 
 at Vesuvius, I could not be tempted by a ten-centime 
 crater like this. I entertained the same attitude toward 
 the amphitheatre of Pozzuoli; when we reached the 
 wire-barred gateway (admission, one franc), and an- 
 other guide tried to allure me with the story of its 
 beauties, I remarked: "Nay, nay, young man, nay, 
 nay! Within a short time I have been dragged by 
 guides around the Colosseum, the Stadium, the Pom- 
 peiian Amphitheatre Within The Walls, the Pompeiian 
 Amphitheatre Without The Walls, and a perfect job- 
 lot of small assorted amphitheatres, even the names of 
 which I can not remember. I have reached my limit 
 in amphitheatres. This is the limit here see ? It 
 would take a derrick to get me out of this carriage. Go 
 chase yourself! Allez-vous en! Scat!" 
 
 The guide was not fluent in English, but he under- 
 stood my winged words. So did our coachman, who 
 grinned broadly as he touched up his horses. I did 
 not know why he grinned, but when we drove around 
 a corner, up a slight ascent, and then saw the amphi- 
 theatre spread out before us without a guide, without 
 
 [23] 
 
By the Way 
 
 money, and without price I understood why the 
 coachman grinned. All we had to do was to look down 
 the hill. There are many such small swindles to be 
 found abroad. 
 
 Apropos of amphitheatres, I once in Rome encoun- 
 tered in the Colosseum a fellow-tourist who was seated 
 like Marius on a broken column which looked like the 
 sawed-off section of a redwood tree. He was trying 
 to get his bearings with an Italian map of Rome. He 
 had a look of such profound bewilderment that I 
 stopped and asked him if I could be of any help to him. 
 His countenance lighted up immediately at the familiar 
 sound of American English, and he replied: 
 
 "Why, yes, sir, you can, for a fact. Here's a map I 
 bought from a pedler up street, and it's all in Eyetalian. 
 I asked him to show me the Colosseum, and he said 
 that this was it all right. But on the feller's map I see 
 this place has another name A-N-F-I-T-E-A-T-R-O 
 F-L-A-V-I-A-N-O. Now what does that mean? Is this 
 the Colosseum or ain't it?" 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "you are in the Colosseum. But 
 I believe the Italian map-makers generally call it the 
 Flavian Amphitheatre." 
 
 "The h they do!" replied my aggrieved com- 
 patriot; "why don't they call it by its c'rect name?" 
 
 I had just been on the point of adding: " Don't you 
 remember Macaulay's famous line about the gladia- 
 torial combats and wild-beast shows here 'when 
 camelopards bounded in the Flavian Amphitheatre 1 ? 
 But after this blast, I concluded that my friend would 
 
 [24] 
 
Stone Walls and Roads 
 
 not recall the line, so instead I said "good-day." Ten 
 minutes afterward I saw him trying to climb over the 
 locked iron gateway which shuts off the public from 
 the dark vaults under the arena, which are " forbidden." 
 When I left he was threatening the police officer who 
 restrained him, with the vengeance of the United States. 
 
 To return to the Pozzuoli amphitheatre. One of 
 the curiosities of Southern Europe to a Western 
 American is the amount of stone- work one sees. 
 Among the Italian immigrants there are large numbers 
 classed as muratori "wall-builders"; they are forced 
 to seek some new calling in the United States. Nu- 
 merous as are wall-builders in Italy, thrifty proprietors 
 are all the time utilizing old walls. Often you will see 
 an ancient wall of Roman masonry used for one side of 
 a house; the other walls will be modern, and of con- 
 crete. A small farmer with five or ten acres of vines 
 and olives will have his dwelling of stone, his stable of 
 stone, his olive-press and wine-press house of stone, 
 his out-houses of stone, and his wall or enclosure of 
 stone. You drive for miles between walls of stone, 
 and often over a roadway of solid slabs of stone. 
 
 Sometimes these labors in stone are appalling to us 
 dwellers in a land where labor is high. For example, 
 in driving over the steep roads around Naples, you will 
 often wind up a hillside. The villas are terraced, the 
 roads circuitous, and, of course, there are many "short- 
 
 [25] 
 
By the Way 
 
 cuts" or "goat-paths," as in all countries. But in this 
 land of cheap labor and many stone-cutters, these 
 "short-cuts" are nearly all elaborately executed steps 
 in stone. Imagine our American short-cuts and goat- 
 paths with stone steps! In the United States we gen- 
 erally carve out our goat-paths with our own hoofs. 
 Sometimes a progressive farmer or an irritated com- 
 muter, who has slipped on a slide and nearly broken 
 his neck, will sally forth with a spade and cut a few rude 
 steps in the bank. Then his neighbors will jeer, al- 
 though they do not scruple to use his primitive stair. 
 
 In Italy, you may even see stone lips where streams 
 fall over roadside banks; stone basins receive the waters 
 at the bottom of the fall; stone conduits carry them all 
 the way, if the bank slopes instead of being perpen- 
 dicular; stone culverts lead the waters under the road- 
 ways. In the Old World they do not seem to build, 
 as we do, for a few years. They build for posterity. 
 In so many generations all manner of solid improve- 
 ments have remained, like the famous Roman roads. 
 The Appian Way to-day is nearly as good as it was two 
 thousand years ago. We modern men say: "This is 
 all due to slave labor." In the old days they did have 
 slave labor in the Old World, but they left colossal 
 ruins behind them. They left gigantic tombs, like the 
 Pyramids; they left useful monuments, like the Appian 
 Way. In the New World we had slave labor for a hun- 
 dred years, but what permanent thing did it leave be- 
 hind ? Slavery left us a good many things, but certainly 
 not a roadway. I do not believe, there is a good and 
 
Cosmopolitan Villa-Owners 
 
 durable road in all the Southern United States, with the 
 exception of a few miles of "shell- road," like those at 
 Mobile and New Orleans, used principally by people 
 with fat purses and fine horses. 
 
 I have sometimes thought that the ruin of roadways 
 by electric car lines was peculiar to the United States. 
 But Europe shows me that I am mistaken. They are 
 ruining roads here with their electric trams, just as we 
 do at home. Along the fine Corniche Road you find 
 electric tramways running for many miles. So on the 
 beautiful Posilippo Road around the Bay of Naples, 
 the electric car line makes driving difficult and at times 
 dangerous. A tourist agency is building an electric 
 tram line from Naples to Vesuvius, but they have 
 bought a private right of way, and do not use the public 
 roadway. All electric lines should be forced to do the 
 same. Some day the people of this and other countries 
 will wake up and find that they have given away their 
 birthright their Highways and have received little 
 in return. 
 
 In driving out of Naples toward Posilippo you pass 
 all manner of beautiful villas. One with very hand- 
 some grounds about it attracting my attention, I asked 
 the coachman who owned it, supposing it was some 
 Neapolitan nobleman. He told me that a German- 
 Swiss, ex-manager of the Grand Hotel in Naples, re- 
 tiring from business some years before,- had purchased 
 this beautiful villa across the hill from his old hotel. 
 
 [37] 
 
By the Way 
 
 The coachman added that he had begun life as a waiter. 
 From that to occupying a Posilippo villa on the shores 
 of the most beautiful bay in the world is quite a transi- 
 tion. It gives one an idea of the profits of hotel-keeping 
 in southern Europe. Another beautiful villa is the 
 property, so the coachman told us, of the "Duke" of 
 Monaco. Probably he meant the prince. That royal 
 person makes so much money out of his Monte Carlo 
 gambling-hell that he owns palaces all over Europe. 
 Next to this villa is the property of the Marchese Patrizi, 
 a tract of several acres of land, enclosed by a high wall. 
 This wall is surmounted by a tall paling or fence, on 
 top of which is a network of wires with electric bells. 
 The whole must be at least fifty feet high. Our coach- 
 man said that all this elaborate contrivance was merely 
 a protection against thieves. Near this villa is a still 
 larger tract over twenty acres covered with vines, 
 olives, oranges, lemons, mandarins, and bearing every 
 evidence of thrifty husbandry. Our coachman nearly 
 dislocated his jaw trying to pronounce the owner's 
 name. I subsequently found it belonged to a York- 
 shire man named Strickland, and had been in his family 
 for some generations. The foregoing apparently un- 
 important details are noted here to show how cosmo- 
 politan are the villa-owners around Naples. Many 
 of the modern villas are erected on the ruins of those 
 once occupied by such famous persons of antiquity as 
 Julius Caesar, Virgil, Horace, and Cicero. But in 
 these our degenerate days the villas are not occupied 
 by great warriors, great statesmen, or great poets. 
 
Italy's Clever Beggars 
 
 They are nearly all owned by millionnaires whose sole 
 distinction is their money. They come from all over 
 Europe, and the most notable among the villa-owners 
 is his highness, Albert, by the grace of God reigning 
 prince of Monaco and lord of the Monte Carlo gam- 
 bling-hell. Other times, other manners. In the early 
 Roman days, the peoples' heroes were warriors, and 
 out of them they made demi-gods. In these times our 
 only demi-god is the millionnaire. 
 
 The neighborbood around Baia is so thickly sown 
 with ruined villas, ancient Roman tombs, and ruins of 
 even more ancient Etruscan tombs, antedating the 
 prehistoric Roman times, that this must be indeed a 
 ghost-haunted coast. One ruin here was the villa 
 where Nero planned the murder of his mother, Agrip- 
 pina; in another lived Lucullus; still another belonged 
 to Tiberius. 
 
 At Baia we stopped and had an excellent al fresco 
 luncheon at the Hotel Vittoria, from the terrace of which 
 we could gaze across the beautiful bay toward the 
 islands of Procida and Ischia, and the opposite head- 
 land, on which are Sorrento and Castellamare. When 
 we were ready to leave Baia and resume our drive, I 
 hailed our driver from the balcony, and bade him 
 "hitch up." I was startled by the crashing chorus of 
 Echoes which arose from the stone-walled courtyard 
 below. But the Echoes soon became visible as well as 
 audible they came from half a score of small boys 
 
 [39] 
 
By the Wqy 
 
 who had rushed to call our coachman, and thus to 
 acquire a lien upon me for a fee. Unfortunately they 
 hailed the wrong coachman. Our own man, hearing 
 the noise, came forth from a corner of the courtyard 
 where he was sleeping in the sun, and proceeded quietly 
 to harness up his horses, unnoticed by the voluble 
 young Echoes. When, with much fracas, they had 
 got their equipage all ready it turned out to belong to 
 another party, who were not yet prepared to go. Re- 
 sult individual and aggregate perplexity of the 
 coachman and the Echoes. When we descended to 
 take our own carriage, the Echoes discovered their 
 error, and immediately surrounded us in a serried 
 phalanx. But they were doomed to disappointment. 
 From the beginning, I had noticed one silent small boy 
 who was busily engaged in helping the coachman to 
 harness the horses. Doubtless he expected something, 
 but if so he said nothing, and was still putting straps 
 into buckles as we approached. I took a handful of 
 coppers from my pocket, and bade the Echoes stand 
 in a row. They had crowded in a little girl by this 
 time. I counted the noses carefully, methodically laid 
 out one copper for each nose, and then, when their eyes 
 were sparkling with greed, I suddenly turned and pre- 
 sented the whole handful of coppers to the industrious 
 youth who was just putting the last buckle-tongue into 
 the last strap. He was dazed by his good fortune, but 
 his companions were indignant. We drove away 
 covered with execrations from the Echoes. 
 
 But it is hard to beat the beggar game in Italy. A 
 
 [30] 
 
Road to Pompeii 
 
 fleet-footed urchin grabbed the girl, and bounded like 
 a chamois over an intervening short-cut, heading us 
 off at the next turn. He and his maiden fell into a 
 fox- trot by the side of the carriage. 
 
 "Look, noble gentleman!" he began, "look, beauti- 
 ful lady ! See the little ragazza the poor girl have 
 pity on her! See, noble signer you can not refuse to 
 give her something your heart is too good you 
 are too generous, too noble, too handsome, to refuse. 
 Have pity on her dreadful state, for look she has one 
 gray eye and one Hack onel" 
 
 We stopped the carriage. It was true. The maiden 
 had indeed parti-colored eyes, in addition to which she 
 rejoiced in a most appalling squint. I gave her one 
 copper. Hereupon her escort set up a howl at being 
 ignored. 
 
 "But why should you have anything?" I asked. 
 
 "You ought to give me two coppers," he replied, 
 with a twinkle, "for I have two black eyes, and she has 
 only one." 
 
 I was vanquished. I gave him his two coppers. I 
 don't believe in beggars, but I think he earned them. 
 
 Among the many drives around Naples, the one next 
 in interest to the Posilippo drive is that at the other or 
 eastern end of the city, leading toward the ruins of Her- 
 culaneum and Pompeii. This drive passes through a 
 poorer quarter of the city, where the natives live largely 
 
By the Way 
 
 out of doors, and indulge in various functions of life 
 usually conducted not only in-doors but behind doors. 
 These sights do not cease with the limits of Naples, for 
 the high-road is like a city street many miles long. In 
 fact, all the way to Pompeii, a distance of eighteen 
 miles, there are houses and shops on both sides of the 
 road for nearly every rod of the way. When going up 
 Vesuvius by the funicular railway, you leave the main 
 road at Resina, which is not far from Naples. When 
 going to Pompeii, you follow quite closely the curving 
 shore of the bay. 
 
 At the boundary of Naples is the Octroi barrier, a 
 point where the tax must be paid on foods, liquors, and 
 other dutiable goods. Everybody is stopped, including 
 tourists. But this morning we noted an exception to 
 the usual rigid examination when we saw a herd of 
 goats being driven into Naples, and a herd of soldiers 
 being driven out. Although the goats carried milk for 
 sale, it was not yet in such shape that the government 
 could tax it, so they were allowed to proceed. As for 
 the soldiers, they were not going in the taxable direc- 
 tion, so they, too, were not stopped. I was struck by 
 some points of resemblance as the herd of goats and 
 the herd of soldiers met at the Octroi barrier. Neither 
 knew where they were going, but the goats knew what 
 for they did not know they were going to Naples, 
 but they knew they were going to be milked. The 
 soldiers neither knew where they were going, nor what 
 for. 
 
 All along the road the walls were covered with elec- 
 
 [32] 
 
Pompeii and Vesuvius 
 
 Macaroni along the Pompeii Road 
 
^ OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Election Placards 
 
 tion placards. As we passed through the village of 
 San Giovanni, everywhere we saw copies of a staring 
 poster addressed, "To The San Giovanni Electors!" 
 It was a bitter denunciation of the doings of the local 
 town council concerning sewers. It was signed by a 
 number of gentlemen who professed the purest, most 
 elevated, and entirely disinterested motives, but who 
 apparently wished to be town councillors themselves. 
 When we entered the town of Resina, we saw many 
 copies of a placard headed "To The Resina Electors!" 
 This denunciation concerned the delinquencies of the 
 Resina officials, who control the roads up the mountain, 
 the guides, the horses, and the tourists' fees. Mount 
 Vesuvius is in the Commune of Resina, and these offi- 
 cials evidently have choice pickings. Another placard 
 was a personal one. It was signed by a certain Cava- 
 lier Luigi Montanari. The cavalier, it seems, was a 
 candidate for office, and some election slanders had 
 been set afloat concerning his birth. We drove by so 
 rapidly that I did not quite get the gist of these slanders, 
 as they were printed in small type, but the cavalier, in 
 order to refute them, had printed a notarial copy of his 
 birth certificate in large poster type. This momentous 
 event dated from 1841. Surely the Cavalier Luigi is 
 old enough not to get excited over election slanders. 
 
 It is curious when one enters Pompeii, after reading 
 these election placards all the way from Naples, to find 
 exactly similar addresses to the populace, concerning 
 the merits and demerits of Pompeiian ediles, cut into 
 the stuccoed walls two thousand years ago. 
 
 [33] 
 
By the Way 
 
 The drive from Naples toward Pompeii, as already 
 noted, is almost a continuous street. The first village 
 is San Giovanni. Next comes Portici, a town of over 
 ten thousand inhabitants; it touches the confines of 
 Resina, a place of some thirteen thousand population. 
 Resina is built on the lava beds which cover Hercu- 
 laneum. Few tourists visit Herculaneum it is dark, 
 damp, and gloomy. The doorway which leads to the 
 ruins is on the main street of Resina. Over it is the 
 sign "Scavi di Ercolano" "Excavations of Hercu- 
 laneum." We stopped to gaze, and the gaunt and 
 hungry Herculaneum custodians looked at us eagerly. 
 They scented a centime or two, but we shook our heads, 
 and they sank back again. Few people visit Hercu- 
 laneum, and those who do so rarely return. It is under- 
 ground, and as Herculaneum was buried under "lava 
 de acqua," a kind of mud, as well as ashes, it is difficult 
 to excavate. It is now maintained that the city was 
 not covered with igneous lava, or solid rock, as many 
 believe. But Herculaneum is cold, dark, damp, and 
 subterranean, while Pompeii is light, bright, and in the 
 open air. Furthermore, Herculaneum has always been 
 rather a disappointment. It was first discovered 
 through a deep well or shaft, which was being sunk for 
 water; this shaft tapped the theatre, and the bottom of 
 the shaft dropped into the auditorium. Naturally, the 
 first finds were very rich the theatre, its lobbies, and 
 its annexes were crowded with interesting material. 
 Adjoining this, too, was the villa of Calpurnius Piso, 
 evidently a wealthy collector, for his villa was full of 
 
 [34] 
 
To Excavate Herculaneum 
 
 objects of great artistic interest and value. Here a 
 number of charred rolls of papyri were found, and the 
 learned world grew excited; visions rose before them of 
 the lost love-lyrics of Sappho, the lost decades of Livy's 
 books, the lost epics of Callimachus, Apollonius, and 
 the other Greek poets of Alexandria's golden age. But 
 the charred papyri were almost charcoal. An ingenious 
 Italian priest invented a method of unrolling them, 
 however, and they were slowly deciphered. The first 
 turned out to be a dull treatise on algebra, the second 
 a duller attack on music, so the excitement of the learned 
 world abated. Since then interest in Herculaneum 
 has languished. 
 
 It is now reviving, and an attempt is being made to 
 raise funds all over the world to continue the excava- 
 tions. Italy is too poor to attempt the work alone. 
 The projectors of the scheme say that Herculaneum is 
 infinitely richer than Pompeii in works of art, libraries, 
 and buildings of architectural interest, and that the dif- 
 ficulties of excavating have been much exaggerated. 
 
 Even in Pompeii, only about one half of the city has 
 been brought to the light of day. When tourists from 
 other lands complain of this, they should remember 
 that United Italy is new and not rich, and that she has 
 enough to do looking out for living interests rather than 
 dead ones. Besides, if foreign tourists want Pompeii 
 excavated more rapidly, they can have it done by paying 
 for it. Only about forty thousand francs a year come 
 in for admission fees at Pompeii. At Herculaneum 
 the annual admission fees amount to almost nothing. 
 
 [35] 
 
By the Way 
 
 Beyond Resina is Torre del Greco, which contains 
 over twenty-five thousand people. This town has been 
 destroyed by the lava streams half a dozen times in the 
 last three centuries. The next town is Torre Annun- 
 ziata, with seventeen thousand inhabitants. Next we 
 reach Pompeii. 
 
 I have spoken of the changes in new Naples. There 
 are few changes in Pompeii, but there are some on the 
 road. When I drove from Naples to Pompeii, some 
 ten years ago, I remember that macaroni drying in the 
 sun lined the way for most of the distance; little dogs 
 frisked back and forth between the swaying curtains of 
 macaroni, and occasionally a yellow pup would poise 
 his head on one side and coyly gaze at us with the 
 macaroni portiere hanging on either side of his shoul- 
 ders. There and then I lost my taste for macaroni. 
 Previously, I had been rather fond of it. But never 
 again in Italy did I touch that agreeable food. 
 
 Travelling is paradoxical : this trivial thing impressed 
 me more than some picturesque sights the mighty 
 mountain Vesuvius, with its black cone and its other 
 peak, Mount Somma ; the buried cities over which we 
 were driving; the sweep of the beautiful bay, with 
 Capri, Ischia, and Procida, and the headland of 
 Posilippo true, I remembered all of these things, 
 but it seemed to me that I remembered more vividly 
 the miles of macaroni and the little dogs. This time 
 I saw very little macaroni and no dogs at all. Could 
 I have dreamed my previous experience? 
 
 These questions vastly puzzled me until I interrogated 
 
 [36] 
 
Choo-Choo Charley 
 
 our driver. His answers relieved me extremely: of 
 recent years, he said, it has been found more profitable 
 to manufacture macaroni by machinery. Hence it 
 has largely disappeared from the dwellings of the poor, 
 who used to hang it in the backyard to dry along with 
 the family wash. 
 
 Among the new things we noted in Naples, there was 
 a newly arrived American family. We met them in the 
 winter garden of the Grand Hotel. They had just 
 reached town the day before, and were leaving the day 
 after. Choo-Choo Charley (let us call him) had been 
 dragging his "women folks" up and down and around 
 the hills of Naples till poor Mrs. Choo-Choo was as 
 limp as a rag. But Choo-Choo Charley himself was 
 in fine fettle. I asked him what he thought of Naples. 
 
 "Naples," he replied oracularly, "is a fine town. 
 We have not had time to do it as thoroughly as I could 
 wish, for one day is scarcely enough, even for a small 
 city. Still, we have been to Pompeii, went up the 
 mountain far enough to say we had done Vesuvius, 
 drove rapidly to Sorrento, spent ten minutes there, ten 
 minutes at Castellamare, caught the little steamer 
 Nixie, and got back just in time for dinner. The 
 madam is a little tired " indicating Mrs. Choo-Choo, 
 who smiled faintly "but the girly here is all right, 
 and so is yours truly." 
 
 "May I ask," said I, "what your movements are, 
 after having explored Naples so thoroughly?" 
 
 [37] 
 
By the Way 
 
 "I propose," said Choo-Choo, "after we have done 
 Greece, the archipelago, the blue ^Egean Sea, the Ionian 
 Isles, and that sort of thing, to which I have allotted 
 four days I propose to go to Egypt. We stop at 
 Alexandria for four hours, and then go to Cairo, re- 
 maining there over night. We shall go up the Nile as 
 far as the third cataract three days up, one day 
 there, and three days down. I have allotted a day and 
 a half for doing Cairo, the Sphinx, the Pyramids, the 
 Boulak Museum, and old Cairo, leaving half a day for 
 travelling to Port Said to catch the post-office boat 
 Osiris. I take her because she is much faster than the 
 ordinary P. and O. boats. We shall arrive at Brindisi 
 at 4:25 P.M., March steenth, and I intend to do the 
 Italian peninsula in about seven days. Skip Naples 
 one day and a half for Rome one day for Florence 
 
 half a day for Milan a day for the Italian lakes 
 
 the rest for train-time, loafing, sleeping, meals, etc., 
 winding up with half a day for Venice, where we shall 
 sail for Trieste. We then do the Balkan peninsula in 
 about four days, reaching Vienna by March the umpty- 
 umpt. Here," said Choo-Choo Charley gravely 
 "here we may consider that we have got fairly started, 
 and we shall take up continental Europe." 
 
 Mrs. Choo-Choo looked at him, sighed, and closed 
 her eyes. 
 
 "From Vienna we go north," said he; "Munich, 
 Nuremberg, Dresden, Hamburg a day in each of the 
 capitals, half a day in lesser towns. I think we can 
 knock out continental Europe in about four weeks, 
 
 [38] 
 
Lightning Tourists 
 
 and then I intend to tackle the Land of the Midnight 
 Sun." 
 
 At this moment a bell rang. Some gorgeous German 
 flunkeys and the plainer hotel lackeys lined up along 
 the grand staircase; the porters rapidly unrolled a strip 
 of crimson carpet from the staircase to the street. Down 
 the staircase came the short and stumpy but majestic 
 form of his Serene Highness the Grand Duke of Pum- 
 pernickel, who was going forth in his chariot to take 
 the air. 
 
 Choo-Choo Charley rapidly coupled on the girly and 
 Mrs. Choo-Choo, blew a grade-crossing blast on his 
 nasal whistle, threw the throttle wide open, and, with 
 full steam on, dashed through the crowd to see the sight. 
 
 I tried to flag him to say good-by, but my farewells 
 were lost in the Choo-Choo whirl. 
 
 To visit Naples does not always mean that one may 
 visit Vesuvius. Although Vesuvius is generally at 
 home, one may "visit" the volcano without being 
 always received. I say "generally" at home, for when 
 the volcanic monster comes forth from his igneous 
 caverns, and goes calling on the cities and towns around 
 the base of the mountain, I suppose he may be said to 
 be "out." But that is a subtle point in volcano eti- 
 quette. 
 
 Yes, one may visit Vesuvius without being received. 
 Such has been our experience. On our first visit to 
 
 [39] 
 
By the Way 
 
 Naples, the mountain was not receiving. A mild erup- 
 tion had just taken place. As a result, the authorities 
 had forbidden the ascent of the volcano. Soldiers and 
 constabulary surrounded the base of the mountain. 
 It is true that daring young tourists, American and 
 English, were trying to break through the cordon, and 
 were daily getting jailed. But as I had an imperfect 
 appreciation of the delights of Italian prisons, it re- 
 quired little persuasion from the police to keep me from 
 ascending the mountain. 
 
 When next we were at Naples, the weather in sunny 
 Italy was not so sunny as it might have been. Clouds 
 encircled the mighty mountain, and up above them the 
 vast cone was covered with a cap of snow. For many 
 days a cold, raw rain poured down upon sunny Naples. 
 Occasionally the rain ceased for a few minutes, when it 
 hailed. This time the authorities again forbade the 
 ascent of the mountain at least above the Observa- 
 tory, down to which the snow-cap ran; below the Ob- 
 servatory nobody cared to go. Thus it happened that 
 it was only possible for us to visit Vesuvius after having 
 visited Naples several times. 
 
 The road out of Naples toward Vesuvius is the same 
 route that one follows to reach Pompeii. When intend- 
 ing to go up the mountain the tourist leaves the Pompeii 
 road at Resina, the modern city which overlies Hercu- 
 laneum. Apropos of these two ancient towns, it is 
 remarkable how many people seem to think them the 
 only buried cities in the vicinity. In fact, there are 
 many. Next to these two familiar ones, the one whose 
 
 [40] 
 
Many Buried Cities 
 
 name is most frequently heard is Stabiae. Then there 
 is Cumae, the oldest Greek colony in Italy; Baia, a 
 watering-place resort of the Roman swells in the first 
 year of our Lord; Parthenope, Palaeopolis, and Neapolis, 
 three buried cities lying under modern Naples, from 
 the last of which it took its name ; Dikearkia (later called 
 Puteoli, now Pozzuoli), another Greek city of large 
 wealth and with much commerce; Capua, one of the 
 great military posts of ancient Rome, now covered by a 
 modern city, also a garrison; and Suessola, whose medi- 
 cinal springs held high repute among the gouty epicures 
 of the Roman time. 
 
 Cataclysmic have been the earth's throes around that 
 laboring monster, Vesuvius, for some of these buried 
 cities, which were great seaports two thousand years 
 ago, are now far inland. On the other hand, off shore 
 at Baia, you may look down from a boat when in smooth 
 water, and discover ancient houses and streets far below 
 you at the bottom of the sea. Some of these buried 
 cities were much larger and more important places than 
 either Pompeii or Herculaneum. Yet to many travel- 
 lers their names seem unfamiliar. 
 
 We quit the Pompeii road at Resina, just over the 
 entrance to the gloomy ruins of Herculaneum. We 
 soon leave the town of Resina behind us, but not its 
 officials, for the communal authority extends clear up 
 to the crater. We wind up the mountain side, amid 
 vineyards and olive orchards, and at every vineyard 
 gate a hard-featured peasant woman, with an unpleas- 
 ant smile, offers us the "genuine" Lacrimae Cristi wine. 
 
By the Way 
 
 Experienced mountain-climbers are said to avoid it 
 when going up, or they never "get there." I should 
 avoid it coming down, for similar reasons. It is very 
 fiery, strong, and heady; a Montague intending to stab a 
 Capulet might find it useful as a stimulant, but I should 
 scarcely recommend it as a table wine. 
 
 Our road repeatedly crosses the great lava stream 
 of 1872. The government road ends at a point about 
 2,400 feet above the sea, a quarter of a mile beyond the 
 Observatory. Here a private road begins, running for 
 about two miles to the lower station of the funicular 
 railway; this road was built in 1880 by the French com- 
 pany which constructed the wire railway. Since 1888, 
 both this carriage road and the wire railway have be- 
 longed to the Cook tourist agency. The lower end of 
 the railway is 2,600 feet above the sea. The railway 
 itself is 2,600 feet long, and the upper end is 1,300 feet 
 higher than the lower. The altitude of the highest 
 point on the cone of Mount Vesuvius varies. Up to a 
 recent period it was 4,300 feet, but since the eruption of 
 eight years ago the cone has been slowly sinking. It is 
 now some 200 feet lower than in 1895. 
 
 There is a good deal of grumbling among tourists 
 over the "carriage-road monopoly," but I confess I do 
 not see why. There can be no "monopoly" on a 
 mountain the size of Vesuvius. Besides, this turnpike 
 is like any other private road one must pay toll. The 
 landlords of the Hotel Suisse and the Hotel Diomede 
 at Pompeii have both constructed private bridle-paths 
 up the mountain, for using which paths people have to 
 
 [42] 
 
Vesuvian Toll-Roads 
 
 pay. If the tourist does not like to pay toll on these 
 private roads, he can blaze a trail of his own; there is 
 certainly a good deal of mountain there for him to 
 select from it is about thirty miles around. The 
 tourist agency takes a traveller from Naples to the 
 top of the cone and back (carriage and railway fare and 
 guide fees included) for 21 francs. If the tourist does 
 not come in their carriages, they charge him 18 francs 
 for the railway fare alone, and 5 francs toll for the use 
 of the carriage road; this makes 23 francs to the tourist 
 agency, in addition to what he pays for his non-agency 
 carriage; this latter conveyance will cost him say 25 
 francs, or a total of 48 francs. The tourist agency also 
 charges pedestrians 5 francs toll over its carriage road. 
 The mountain-climbers who are footing it, and are 
 confronted with this toll, are thereby plunged into a 
 state of frenzy. But if I were an ardent mountain- 
 climber (which I am not), I think I would climb "across 
 lots," instead of taking the easy way of a tourist turn- 
 pike. 
 
 Lest this be construed as sneering at the ardent 
 mountain-climber, I may explain that the Vesuvius 
 ascent is probably fatiguing, but it is neither dangerous 
 nor difficult. For that matter, it is fatiguing even to 
 ascend the mountain in a carriage, for it is a long, dusty, 
 and tiresome trip. Lest some one should cry out upon 
 me for a Vesuvian vandal, let me add that I do not for- 
 get the view. The view from Vesuvius is indeed mag- 
 nificent, but to crawl up a steep and dusty mountain 
 road for several hours behind two horses at a slow walk 
 
 [43] 
 
By the Way 
 
 does not strike me as exhilarating. The descent is 
 infinitely more pleasurable ; the winding turns are made 
 more rapidly, the view of mountains and islands, cities 
 and sea, changes at every minute. In short, the ascent 
 is not an unalloyed pleasure, but the descent is pure joy. 
 
 In this matter of mountain-climbing I will admit that 
 I am a non-climber without shame. I have such low 
 tastes that I am glad there is a funicular railway up the 
 volcano, or I never should have got to the top. If I 
 were to go again, I would expect to travel the whole 
 distance in forty minutes by an electric railway for a 
 moderate sum, instead of spending four or five hours, 
 paying thirty or forty francs, and crawling in a carriage 
 behind two tired horses up the mountain side. When 
 I was there last, the tourist agency people were building 
 an electric railway all the way from Naples to the foot 
 of the funicular railway, which they already own. It 
 was to be completed for the next season of tourist travel; 
 it is, I believe, in operation now. Those horrified people 
 who cry out in indignation at going all the way up 
 Vesuvius by rail need not get excited: there are roads 
 and trails there still. If you do not like the railway, 
 you can drive on the turnpike. If you do not want to 
 pay toll on the turnpike, you can travel by trail. If that 
 is too easy, you can hoof it across the lava beds. 
 
 It must not be supposed that I advise tourists to join 
 the " personally conducted" parties who are taken from 
 Naples up to the crater, four in a carriage, at a fixed 
 price. I have no doubt that they get good value for 
 their money. Personally, I object to being jammed 
 
 [44] 
 
Tourist Agencies 
 
 into a carriage with job-lots of total strangers all day. 
 Many people do not object to this, and with them I 
 have no quarrel. I would rather pay more and have a 
 whole carriage less company and more room. Bad 
 taste possibly, but I can't help it. But I do advise 
 tourists to hire their carriages from the tourist agency. 
 They will give you whatever you choose to pay for 
 from a one-horse victoria to a six-in-hand wagonette. 
 Furthermore, they have the pick of the Naples horses 
 and vehicles ; if the tourist doubts this, and tries to hire 
 something on "his own hook," he either falls heir to 
 the agency's leavings, or gets hold of drivers whom 
 they have dropped for extortion. 
 
 There is a good deal of cheap depreciation of tourist 
 agencies. But I observe that those who sneer most 
 loudly at them, when in London or Paris, are the most 
 dependent on the agencies when in out-of-the-way 
 places. And with reason, for it would be almost im- 
 possible for the average tourist to make his way about 
 at all in some Oriental countries without the aid of the 
 agencies. In Palestine, even William the War Lord 
 was obliged to rely for saddle-animals, and transporta- 
 tion facilities generally, on a tourist agency. The 
 British War Office also used them to transport troops 
 from Lower Egypt to the Soudan. 
 
 At Vesuvius the agency owning the funicular have 
 completely revolutionized the conditions which pre- 
 viously rendered the ascent intolerable. Not only have 
 they also built a new electric railway, but they have 
 shown great enterprise in operating the funicular rail- 
 
 [45] 
 
By the Way 
 
 way, subject as it is to many accidents of various kinds. 
 Three times when I have been at Naples the road has 
 been temporarily stopped: once it had been buried by 
 the drifting cinders, another time it was covered with 
 snow, and on the third occasion the upper end had been 
 wrecked by an eruption. In addition to providing 
 mechanical means for aiding travellers, the tourist 
 agency has also shielded them from the attacks of the 
 natives. The various communes around and upon 
 the mountain have always lived on the travellers. For 
 generations they have despoiled tourists at their own 
 sweet will, and they now resent their being protected. 
 But the tourist agency has brought them into some sort 
 of order, so that it is possible to ascend the mountain 
 without being robbed. 
 
 All the way up the mountain side we were haunted 
 by mysterious music. Whenever we approached a 
 bend in the road, there would arise from behind a wall 
 the sounds of " Santa Lucia," or sometimes "Funiculae, 
 funicula." When we got round the corner of the wall 
 we would find a band of wandering minstrels, ener- 
 getically scraping fiddles, plucking on harps, or blowing 
 on brass horns; sometimes even the humble piano-organ 
 was lying in wait for us behind great blocks of lava, and 
 would suddenly burst forth into volumes of more or 
 less sweet sound. But whenever I shook my head and 
 waved a negative finger, saying, "Niente, niente" 
 (Italian for "nit"), there would be a sudden silence, 
 
 [46] 
 
Orpheus on Vesuvius 
 
 and the musicians would disappear. The number of 
 times I terminated the strains of "Santa Lucia" be- 
 tween Resina and the Observatory would be almost 
 beyond belief were I to enumerate them. So numerous 
 were these mountain musicians that I had my arm in 
 the air nearly all the time. I began to feel like an 
 orchestra conductor. In fact, considering my destina- 
 tion, my orchestral occupation, and that I was bound 
 toward the sulphur-and-brimstone hole on top of Ve- 
 suvius, I might have been likened to Orpheus on the 
 road to Hades. But on second thoughts the compari- 
 son would not hold, for while Orpheus was moving the 
 very rocks to music, I was moving the music back to 
 the rocks again. 
 
 At the top of the long drive up the mountain is an inn 
 where an excellent luncheon can be obtained. There, 
 are the usual photographs for sale, and the usual regis- 
 ter, or "album," in which nobodies have written noth- 
 ings "Thoughts on first seeing Vesuvius, by Mrs. 
 Lemuel Aminidab Doolittle, Moosatockmaguntic, 
 Maine, U. S. A.," or, "Pense*es sur la baie de Naples, 
 par Jeanne Groseille Poirier, en voyage de noces avec 
 son cher mari, Hector Achille Poirier, epicier en gros, 
 Pont-a-Mousson, France." 
 
 The funicular railway is like all mountain railways, 
 and when you reach its top you are at the base of the 
 cone. Here all must walk. Did I say all? Then I 
 was wrong. Among the many queer things you see 
 while travelling, not the least queer is the number of 
 imperfect people you see doing things. It is not un- 
 
 [47] 
 
By the Way 
 
 common to see a rich blind man being led around and 
 the sights described to him. As for the rich halt and 
 the wealthy lame, they are legion. You see people 
 carried in chairs by stalwart chair-men in all sorts of 
 places abroad. You see old people and invalids in 
 shoulder-slings hoisted around gigantic ruins in Egypt. 
 You see them continually being borne about Pompeii. 
 But I must admit I was surprised to see such people 
 bolstered in chairs up to the very brink of the crater of 
 Vesuvius. 
 
 At the upper station of the funicular railway, at the 
 base of the cone, the first obligatory charge for guides 
 is made : you are forced to take a guide to the mouth of 
 the crater at the fixed price of 3.50 lire per person 
 about 70 cents. This fee must be paid the volcano 
 is within the jurisdiction of the Commune of Resina, 
 and the guides are authorized officials and wear com- 
 mune badges. The tax is a little higher than it need 
 be, but the Commune can scarcely be blamed for mak- 
 ing the taking of guides obligatory. Many tourists 
 would dodge the tax if they could some through 
 economy, some through bravado. But at times guides 
 are beyond question necessary. Many lives would be 
 lost every year were people to attempt ascending to the 
 crater without guides. The cone is often covered with 
 snow; at other times the smoke from the crater is blind- 
 ing; the wind frequently fills the air with fine cinders, 
 so that one can not see. It would be an easy matter 
 for a stranger to lose his way, and even to fall into the 
 crater. A ticket issued by the Commune of Resina, 
 
 [48] 
 
Pushed, Pulled, or Carried 
 
 authorizing two travellers to visit the crater of Vesuvius 
 with guide, reads as follows: 
 
 Dalla Stazione Superiore 
 
 al 
 
 Cono Attvvo 
 
 Per comitiva di 2 Viaggiatori L. 7.00 
 
 Tar iff a per le guide del Vesuvio, giusta il 
 
 regolamento approvato con decreto dell 1 III. 
 
 mo. Signor Prefteto della Provincia di Napoli 
 
 Even here the tourist agency has an inspector to 
 keep the guides in order. 
 
 When I had paid for our tickets and chosen our 
 guides, we began the ascent of the cone. It is only a 
 fifteen-minute climb, but it is pretty hard work while it 
 lasts. The loose cinders under foot make walking very 
 difficult. You seem to slide back two feet for every one 
 that you take forward. You can go in a chair; or you 
 can hire two guides to take either arm, with a third to 
 push you from behind ; or you can cling to a stout strap 
 hooked to the belt of a single guide; or you can go it 
 alone. Most people start out to go it alone, and wind 
 up by hiring assistance. 
 
 The day we went to the crater a fierce gale was howl- 
 ing around the top of the mountain. About two hun- 
 dred yards to windward of us a group of men were 
 climbing the cone by the Resina trail; from them, the 
 wind blew clouds of ashes, which filled our eyes, our 
 ears, our noses, which stung and blinded us. But at 
 
 [49] 
 
By the Way 
 
 last we reached the top, we stood panting on the brink 
 of the crater, we looked into the awful depths below. 
 
 How did it look ? Well, there are many disillusions 
 in travelling. It is, of course, an interesting thing to go 
 to the top of one of the great volcanic mountains of the 
 world. It is a revelation to look into its crater. "How 
 did it look?" you ask. Well, it looked exactly like a 
 dump of a mine or a smelting- works. I have seen many 
 such dumps, where masses of heated cinders and slag 
 lie at the bottom of a big pit. In these mine-dumps 
 one may see smoke and steam pouring up in vast vol- 
 umes from the heated cinders and slag. So was it at 
 the crater of Vesuvius. The smoke was sulphurous 
 and suffocating. It finished the work of blinding our 
 eyes, already half-blinded with ashes. Soon we could 
 see nothing at all. Yet in the midst of our cinder tears, 
 we had the satisfaction of saying to ourselves that we 
 had seen the crater of Vesuvius. Further to complete 
 the parallel between the volcano's crater and a mine- 
 dump, the crater looked as if it had been made by man 
 it was an irregular rectangle with sloping sides. Of 
 course, this conformation was due to the talus falling 
 down from the embankments of slag, lava, and old 
 cinders on which we stood. The shape of the pit is 
 continually changing. This particular crater was only 
 a few days old, and was already approaching perilously 
 near to the guardian's hut. 
 
 We found the guides civil enough, but there is not a 
 little grumbling among the tourists whom they halt, 
 forbidding the ascent of the crater without a guide. 
 
A Battle of Guides 
 
 But it is the law. When the crater is enveloped in 
 smoke or steam, it is easy for strangers to lose their way 
 and tumble into either the main crater or some of the 
 baby craters which lie around incubating. While a 
 tourist or two would not greatly matter to the world, 
 the Italian Government appears reluctant to lose one. 
 Hence its loving care. 
 
 Not only the Commune of Resina, but all the Com- 
 munes jealously guard their privileges. How jealously 
 is shown by this curious scene, which took place under 
 our eyes while we were at the base of the cone. It was 
 so absorbing that our own guides kept us waiting, and 
 did not start to climb the cone until the incident was 
 ended. This was what interested them: a tourist 
 suddenly hove in sight, who did not come from the direc- 
 tion of the railway route. The Resina guides imme- 
 diately spied him, for he was accompanied by two 
 strange guides. Like birds of prey, all the guides 
 gathered around. The wrangling which at once broke 
 out was not unlike the clangor of contending gulls over 
 a bit of offal. The tourist, it turned out, was accom- 
 panied by guides from Pompeii. The Resina guides 
 fiercely resented their appearance, and ordered them 
 to depart. The Pompeiian guides with equal fierce- 
 ness refused. Around the poor tourist the battle raged. 
 He spoke no language save his own. Heaven knows 
 what that was Bulgarian, mayhap, or possibly 
 Polish but he would gaze dumbly from time to time 
 at the circle of scowling faces around him, as though 
 he would very much like to know what it was all about. 
 
By the Way 
 
 Just as the guides were on the point of coming to blows 
 over their prey, two carabineers rural police officers 
 appeared, of whom there are many on the mountain. 
 With a magisterial air they restored peace if not silence, 
 and then ordered the contending factions to state their 
 case. It was done at great length and in vociferous 
 Sicilian, Neapolitan, and Italian. When the cara- 
 bineers had heard the case in full, they advanced gravely 
 to a certain monument on the mountain, a stone cairn. 
 Here one of them drew a line with his toe in the 
 shifting, drifting cinders, just such a line as we boys 
 used to draw when we had jumping contests or ran 
 foot-races. 
 
 "Here," said he, oracularly, to the Pompeiian guides, 
 "here is your limit. You can come up this far with 
 your tourist beyond that you cannot go. Thus says 
 the law." The other carabineer nodded with owlish 
 gravity. 
 
 With yells of joy the Resina guides fell upon the 
 hapless tourist who came up the Pompeii trail. Two 
 of them grabbed him by either arm, a third hooked a 
 strap into his belt and pulled him from in front, a fourth 
 pushed him from behind, and in the twinkling of an 
 eye they hustled him up the trail toward the crater, 
 while the baffled Pompeiian guides remained behind 
 on the fatal line, gnashing their teeth. 
 
 When this took place, our own guides, who had been 
 interested spectators, acting as a very noisy gallery, 
 also took up their line of march, and we, too, went up 
 to the crater. 
 
 [52] 
 
Her Old and New Shoes 
 
 When we left our guides on the descent, and reached 
 the funicular railway, a sharp-faced young woman, 
 accompanied by a guide, got on to the same car with 
 us. The cars are small ones, holding about six people. 
 Noticing that we were speaking English, she asked 
 whether we were Americans or English people, and 
 being told that we were Americans, at once became 
 extremely confidential. She had climbed the crater 
 in a pair of shabby, high-heeled slippers, which she 
 proceeded to remove. She volunteered the remark 
 that she had been advised not to wear her best shoes 
 on the cone, as the hot ashes would certainly ruin them, 
 hence she had worn these old ones. The guide was 
 carrying her hand-bag, which she bade him open. 
 Out of it she produced a pair of new and natty shoes; 
 then she began to unbutton a long pair of cloth gaiters, 
 knee high; when she had removed these she began to 
 button her shiny shoes all this on the open car, with 
 the fierce wind blowing her skirts about her shanks 
 to the amazement of the guide, who gazed at her in 
 open-mouthed wonder. I must confess I shared his 
 surprise. I have seen some odd things, but the spec- 
 tacle of a young woman on Vesuvius taking off a pair 
 of knee-high gaiters in a high wind in the presence of 
 a Neapolitan guide and some total strangers was cer- 
 tainly surprising. 
 
 On our way down the mountain a beautiful Italian 
 boy approached, put his hand on our carriage, and 
 
 [S3] 
 
By the Way 
 
 gave us a sunny smile (25 centesimi). He walked along 
 a few yards, and then went forward and patted the near 
 horse's flank (10 centesimi). He stooped down and 
 presented to Madama a small piece of lava (15 cente- 
 simi). I purposely put the price low, as Vesuvius is 
 entirely composed of lava and is thirty miles around. 
 Again he walked along in silence a few yards, and then 
 remarked " Fine day " (10 centesimi). He saw a yellow 
 flower by the side of the road, which he gathered and 
 presented to Madama with another sunny smile (35 
 centesimi). 
 
 Here I interfered. "Fair youth," said I, "waste 
 not thy time upon heedless and unappreciative travel- 
 lers like ourselves. We need no little pieces of lava; 
 our horses care not for caresses; we have no use for 
 sunny Italian smiles. Here is a coin, fair boy; it is the 
 smallest I have ; had I a smaller it would be yours, but 
 take it with my blessing," and here I handed him a 
 soldo, which is about a penny. 
 
 There used to be a small coin current in Italy which 
 I have not seen of late years. It was worth about a 
 fifth of a cent, and was called, I believe, a baioccho. 
 I have had the habit, when returning home after a trip, 
 of keeping my uncurrent coin as souvenirs. The ex- 
 perienced traveller always endeavors to cross a frontier 
 with as little as possible of the coin of the land he is 
 leaving. In this he is actively seconded by the natives, 
 who do not confine their efforts to their own coin they 
 endeavor to relieve him of his own as well. They are 
 generally quite successful. However that may be, the 
 
 [54] 
 
Uncurrent Coins for Beggars 
 
 seasoned traveller knows he will lose heavily in dealing 
 with the money-changers on the frontier, so at his last 
 stop in France, let us say he usually secures just 
 enough French money to carry him to the German line. 
 But there he may have a few sous left ; correspondingly, 
 when he leaves Germany, a few pfennig; when he leaves 
 Austria, a few kreutzer; when he leaves Turkey, a few 
 nickel piastres, or metallik. On returning home I have 
 always deposited these uncurrent coins in the extended 
 basket of a beautiful flower-girl in my room a porce- 
 lain girl, by the way, with turquoise eyes and a dazzling 
 Dresden-china smile. She has a most remarkable 
 collection in her basket, and among the coins I recalled 
 distinctly several of these baiocchi, some bearing the 
 head of Pio Nono, some the features of King Bomba 
 of Naples, and all worth, as I said, about a fifth of a 
 cent. How I yearned for one of them! It would have 
 filled my soul with joy had I been able to present a 
 baioccho to my Vesuvian youth with the sunny smile. 
 But I gave him the smallest I had. 
 
 The handsome boy gazed at the copper coin with 
 the expression of a man who has just bitten into a bad 
 oyster. He protested that he did not want it, and tried 
 to give it back to me. He said he was not seeking 
 money that he desired to walk with us, partly for 
 the pleasure of the promenade, and partly for the pleas- 
 ure of our society. 
 
 "Hark ye, good youth," quoth I, "waste not your 
 time on us. The coin which I have presented to you 
 is all you will get. Far down the dusty road behold 
 
 [55] 
 
By the Way 
 
 yon carriage. In it there is a Chicago millionnaire with 
 his wife, his mother-in-law, and eke his wife's sister. 
 He is rich and generous. I am poor and mean. Go 
 fly to the Chicago millionnaire. Give the ladies 
 yellow flowers. Give them of the priceless lava of 
 which the mighty mountain is composed. Give them 
 your sunny smile, and then touch the Chicago man 
 I mean, touch the Chicago man's heart." 
 
 The youth with the sunny smile understood me. 
 He did not like my largesse, but he followed my advice, 
 and over the lava blocks he bounded, like the mountain 
 chamois, making a short-cut to the Chicago man's 
 carriage. During the drive down the mountain I 
 noticed how assiduous he was in his attentions, and 
 that the Chicago ladies' laps were covered with 
 beautiful wild flowers, gathered by the roadside, and 
 that the very air was perfumed with sunny Italian 
 smiles. 
 
 But when the Chicago man's carriage was at the foot 
 of the toll-road, I heard a violent altercation going on, 
 and stopped to see what was the matter. The youth 
 with the sunny smile was demanding of the Chicago 
 millionnaire the sum of five francs. He said he had 
 been hired by that gentleman to walk along by the 
 carriage, push it down hill, pick flowers, gather lava, 
 and generally to make himself useless. The bystand- 
 ers all agreed with him they were all guides, carriage- 
 drivers, and hotel- touts, and therefore utterly unpreju- 
 diced. They showed the Chicago man that he was 
 wrong in grinding the face of the poor, so he reluctantly 
 
 [56] 
 
The Beautiful Boy 
 
 dug up five francs, and presented it to the youth with 
 the sunny smile. 
 
 Ah, he was indeed a beautiful boy, with his jet-black 
 eyes, his curling hair, and his bright and sunny smile. 
 But I am glad I passed him up to the Chicago man. 
 
 [57] 
 
Ill 
 
 ENGLAND'S LEVANTINE 
 FORTRESS 
 
Ill 
 
 ENGLAND'S LEVANTINE FORTRESS 
 
 [HEN your steamer touches at Malta and 
 you view the harbor of Valetta the effect 
 of the terraced buildings rising on rocks 
 out of the sea is almost like a scene paint- 
 er 's fantasy. In the temple scene from "Salammbo" 
 at the Paris Opera, stair on stair rises from the water- 
 gates to the lofty temple summits perfect vistas of 
 staircases, seemingly from sea to sky. The view of 
 Valetta at once brought this scene to my mind. The 
 effect of human figures against this marvellous sky- 
 line at sunset was most picturesque. Standing high 
 up above us were groups of British redcoats, sharply 
 outlined against the evening sky. They were on the 
 lofty parapet among the great guns, yet they could 
 easily toss a biscuit upon the big steamer's deck below. 
 The appearance of Valetta, as seen from a ship, im- 
 presses one as more Oriental than European. True, 
 the prevailing style of architecture is Italian as well as 
 Moorish. But the flat-roofed houses and their color 
 irresistibly suggest the Moorish cities like Algiers. As 
 we entered the harbor the town was flooded with sun- 
 
 [61] 
 
England's Levantine Fortress 
 
 shine, and the rich coloring of sea and sky made a 
 brilliant setting to the unique city; another color effect 
 came from the bright yellow hue of the buildings, 
 which lent a golden tinge to the landscape. Out of 
 all the picturesque cities around the Mediterranean, 
 Valetta and Algiers stick most in the memory. 
 
 The city of Valetta lies on a small peninsula, at the 
 head of which is the Fort of St. Elmo. To the right, 
 between the mainland and the peninsula, is the Grand 
 Harbor, at the entrance to which is Fort Ricasoli. To 
 the left of the peninsula lies Quarantine Harbor, the 
 head of which is guarded by Fort Manoel. Opening 
 off of these two harbors are ten bays or basins, which 
 have been turned into docks, or small harbors; heavy 
 fortifications surround them on every side. Where 
 the peninsula of Valetta joins the land begin the mas- 
 sive fortifications of the suburb, Floriana. 
 
 Numerous institutions are grouped in and around 
 the peninsula, such as the army hospital, naval hos- 
 pital, invalids' hospital, infants' hospital, central hos- 
 pital, navy prison, army prison, civil prison, barracks, 
 factories for military stores, and warehouses for gov- 
 ernment stores; here also are the shooting-ranges for 
 musketry practice, while in the offing may be seen the 
 floating targets for naval gunnery. Valetta is thus a 
 combination of an Oriental city, an English garrison 
 town, and English naval station. There is room in 
 its harbor for over six hundred naval vessels. It is a 
 port of call for many lines, and often ten large steam- 
 ships arrive and depart in a single day. 
 
 [62] 
 
Malta's Many Harbors 
 
 The highest points in Valetta are the Strada Reale, 
 near the Palace Square, and the garden with arcaded 
 promenades called the Upper Baracca. Here you may 
 look down into the enormous fosse cut out of the solid 
 rock by the labor of thousands of Mohammedan slaves. 
 Beyond are the heights of Citta Vecchia; at your feet 
 lie the many harbors, crowded with battleships, cruisers, 
 troop-ships, torpedo-boats, destroyers, yachts, pas- 
 senger liners, merchantmen, and hundreds of native 
 craft; looking across the Lower Baracca, you see the 
 entrance to the harbor. The open arched ranges 
 called "Baraccas" once were roofed, but a knot of 
 conspirators having been discovered there, the Grand 
 Master ordered the roofs removed. 
 
 Looking down from the heights of Valetta to the two 
 harbors on either side of the peninsula, the flat roofs 
 rise step by step from the sea to the tops of the arches 
 of the two picturesque Baraccas. The streets are very 
 picturesque narrow, steep, and, like the houses, 
 rising step by step. In the times of the Knights, the 
 main streets were forbidden to women; now the women 
 are so numerous that they outnumber the men, who 
 emigrate largely. The Maltese women almost all wear 
 in the street a curious black hood called the jaldetta, 
 which is probably a survival of the Oriental veil. It is 
 in the shape of a skirt turned up over the head, kept 
 stiff by an arched piece of whalebone which can be 
 managed by the hand. Ladies of position wear the 
 faldetta at certain religious festivals. 
 
 The migration of the Maltese men is necessary. The 
 
 [63] 
 
England's Levantine Fortress 
 
 population of Malta is very dense; a few years ago it 
 was some fifteen hundred to the square mile. As the 
 island has little or no soil the population cannot be sup- 
 ported from the land. The English government keeps 
 enormous stores of grain on the island to provide for 
 the wants of both garrison and people in case of war 
 or other emergency. 
 
 The Maltese climate is not agreeable. The wind 
 which blows from the African desert, and which on the 
 Riviera is somewhat mitigated by the Mediterranean, 
 is in Malta a hot and humid wind, very trying to men 
 and animals. Another unpleasant feature at Malta is 
 the prevalence of a fine and disagreeable dust. While 
 the wind at Malta is more trying than on the Riviera, 
 the climatic alterations are not so great; usually, there 
 is a difference of only three or four degrees in tempera- 
 ture between night and day. 
 
 Although Malta is only sixty miles from the Sicilian 
 coast, it looks more like Africa than Europe. Geo- 
 logical indications seem to show that the Maltese group 
 of islands once connected Italy with Africa. But all 
 question as to Malta's continental allegiance is settled 
 by law, for Great Britain has declared by act of parlia- 
 ment that Malta is a part of Europe, to whichever 
 continent it belongs. But some day it will belong to 
 neither: the island is slowly subsiding; in smooth rocky 
 ways leading to the seashore wheeltracks are found 
 disappearing under the water. 
 
 When we were in Malta the Carnival was in progress. 
 The population is a childish one, and the Maltese 
 
 [64] 
 
The Maltese Language 
 
 derive greater pleasure from hurling strings of colored 
 paper at one another than their colder brethren of the 
 north. Throwing strings of colored paper all over 
 buildings, trees, telegraph-poles, and telephone-wires, 
 where they hang limply through the day and night, to 
 be collected next morning by scavengers, is a pastime 
 pursued in Paris, the City of Light, as well as in semi- 
 African Malta. Personally, I have never been able to 
 see why this curious proceeding should be supposed to 
 add to the gayety of nations. 
 
 Sailing westward from Alexandria, traces of the 
 Orient may be seen at Malta. Dates, for example, 
 are for sale there on every hand. Once I used to like 
 dates. But since I have visited Oriental ports I never 
 eat dates. Never mind why. The things that happen 
 to them have cured me. I have nothing to say. I cast 
 no imputations on their fair fame. I do not wish to 
 disquiet any person who is fond of them. But I never 
 eat dates. 
 
 If the Maltese seem volatile in their carnival customs, 
 they are not fickle in their love of their language. The 
 English have held Malta for a hundred years they 
 will doubtless hold it as long as their empire stands. 
 But powerful as is the English nation, they have not 
 succeeded in making the Maltese speak the English 
 language. The masses of the people still speak the 
 Maltese dialect, a mixture of Italian and Arabic. 
 Italian is the official language of the law courts. There 
 is a local parliament at Valetta, where the language 
 used is Italian, as in the courts. When we were there 
 
England's Levantine Fortress 
 
 the English were endeavoring to displace Italian in 
 courts and schools, but not with much success. The 
 press and the populace were arrayed in organized oppo- 
 sition to English speech. The people of the upper 
 classes generally teach their children English, Maltese, 
 and Italian. 
 
 To show us around the fortifications we had an Eng- 
 lish-speaking guide. He told us that English is by no 
 means generally spoken among the lower orders. There 
 are, however, many English sign-boards. On a road- 
 side tavern I saw the sign " WINES AND SPIRITS 
 WELCOME TO ALL ENGLAND FOREVER." But this 
 Maltese mixture of thrift and patriotism was evidently 
 concocted for the British tar. 
 
 Very proud of his Anglo-Saxon speech was our Eng- 
 lish-speaking guide. But his English was better in 
 intent than in syntax, for he told us that "Malta is 
 heavily fortificated," and also that "Malta produces 
 much of rock." This was very evident. Never in my 
 life have I seen so much rock to the acre. One of Bret 
 Harte's stories begins in the Sierra, with the words: 
 "Snow. Snow. Everywhere snow." These words 
 rose to my mind as I gazed around me in Malta, and I 
 mentally modified them to "Stone. Stone. Every- 
 where stone." I used to be surprised at the enormous 
 stone-walls to be found in Southern Europe, but I have 
 never seen anything on the Continent to equal Malta. 
 The ordinary roadways running from Valetta to Citta 
 Vecchia are lined with miles and miles of stone colon- 
 nades made up of Roman arches. The openings in 
 
 [66] 
 
Gigantic Fortifications 
 I 
 
 these arches have subsequently been filled in with 
 rubble masonry, for what purpose heaven only knows. 
 The wild efflorescence of stone- work on every hand in 
 Malta leads one to believe that when the natives had 
 nothing to do they put up these long stone colon- 
 nades along the roadway, and when they ran out 
 of a job again they went to work and filled up the 
 arches with rough stone to keep themselves out of 
 mischief. 
 
 How rich is Malta in stone is shown by the gigantic 
 fortifications around Valetta. They were constructed 
 of enormous blocks of stone by the slaves of the Knights 
 of Malta, and have been modernized by the British. 
 These masses of stone-work are not so impregnable as 
 in the ancient days, and the modern cannon which 
 crown them are probably better defences than the stone 
 walls. But the labyrinth of outworks, the maze of 
 moats and trenches cut out of the solid rock, with the 
 magazine chambers and modern bomb-proofs which 
 supplement them, are by no means to be sneered at. 
 Some English officers say that as a fortress Gibraltar 
 does not compare with Malta, and they laugh at the 
 Russians' claim that Kronstadt and the Neva fortifica- 
 tions render St. Petersburg more impregnable than 
 Valetta. 
 
 Although it contains so much, the city of Valetta is 
 small. Including the suburb of Floriana, it is a mile 
 wide and two miles long. This suburb, by the way, 
 was named after Pietro Paulo Floriane, the engineer 
 who designed the elaborate fortifications, the demi- 
 
 [67] 
 
England's Levantine Fortress 
 
 lunes, the curtains, ditches, ravelins, and bastions 
 which surround the city. The colossal fosse which 
 shuts off Valetta from Floriana is intended to stop any 
 invasion from the land side. It is almost three fifths 
 of a mile long, sixty feet deep, thirty feet wide, and cut 
 out of the solid rock. 
 
 Floriane's fortifications were proof against siege, but 
 not against treachery. While Napoleon was yet Gen- 
 eral Bonaparte, Malta fell into the hands of the French. 
 It was then Napoleon boasted that when he had sub- 
 dued England he would erect his palace in Malta be- 
 tween Europe and the Orient. 
 
 During the stay of Bonaparte's troops they robbed 
 the Maltese churches of whatever came handy and was 
 easy to carry. From the church of St. John they stole 
 the twelve life-size silver statues of the Apostles. There 
 still remains a solid silver balustrade, or chancel-rail, 
 which the French did not steal, for the reason that a 
 foxy priest of the period painted the silver black. Prob- 
 ably the most petty theft ever committed by Bonaparte 
 was when he robbed the Monte di Pieta, the govern- 
 ment pawn shop of Valetta. From this institution he 
 stole watches, chains, rings, and other gold and silver 
 trinkets belonging to the poor of Malta, to the value of 
 nearly a million francs. That Bonaparte was a brigand 
 is generally admitted, but this is the first time I ever 
 had it borne in upon me that he was a petty-larceny 
 thief. Another of Napoleon's peculations was the 
 abstraction of the jewel from the "Hand of St. John." 
 This relic was enclosed in a splendid gauntlet of gold; 
 
 [68] 
 
Napoleon's Thefts 
 
 with it was a heavy gold ring set with a large diamond, 
 which ring Napoleon transferred to his own finger. 
 Although the painted chancel-rail escaped Bonaparte's 
 troops, they stole from the Chapel of Notre Dame a 
 sanctuary lamp and chain of solid gold, weighing 
 nearly two thousand ounces. 
 
 It was in Napoleon's time that the last Grand Master 
 of the Knights treacherously delivered up the fortress 
 to the French. Thus, after some hundreds of years, 
 the Knights Hospitallers, or Knights of Malta, came 
 to an end. It was from their functions as hospital 
 attendants that the Knights took their title, "hospital- 
 lers." Before the First Crusade a hospital or hospice 
 for pilgrims was established in Jerusalem, which was 
 dedicated to St. John. The Hospitallers were organized 
 into a semi-military, semi-monastic society. After the 
 Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem fell and the Hospital- 
 lers were driven out, they settled at Acre. Years later 
 they were again driven out by the Moslems, and retired 
 to Cyprus. This island they held for several centuries, 
 largely controlling the Mediterranean. When they 
 captured the Island of Rhodes, they moved their head- 
 quarters thither, receiving much of the forfeited prop- 
 erty of the suppressed order of Templar Knights. 
 When Sultan Solyman besieged and drove out the 
 Knights they wandered from place to place, finally 
 settling at Malta, which was given them by the Em- 
 peror Charles V. That crafty sovereign doubtless gave 
 them this post as an advance guard of Western Chris- 
 tianity. The Turks, so believing, made endless efforts 
 
 [69] 
 
England's Levantine Fortress 
 
 to destroy them. The story of that time is a record of 
 stubborn sieges and bloody battles. 
 
 The character of the warfare between the Knights 
 and the Turks is shown by these incidents: When Mus- 
 tapha Pasha was besieging Valetta, Knight Viperan in 
 his chronicle spoke enthusiastically of the Christian 
 Knights' success in poisoning the spring at Marsa, the 
 main Turkish camp, by which clever device eight 
 hundred Turks died horribly. Thereupon Mustapha 
 beheaded all his prisoner Knights; crucifying their 
 mutilated trunks on planks, they were thrown into the 
 harbor, and floated with the tide to the Fort of St. 
 Angelo. In retaliation, the Knights decapitated all 
 the Turkish prisoners, and fired into the Turkish camp 
 their bleeding heads as cannon-balls. 
 
 Although the Knights were a monastic order, they 
 lived anything but a pious life. Their piratical raids on 
 land and sea for they were both land and water 
 pirates gave them constantly prize-money to divide. 
 Of their large numbers of prisoners, they set the men 
 to hard labor as slaves, and kept the women as their 
 " house-keepers." Having nothing to do between raids, 
 they spent most of their time in gambling and de- 
 bauchery. In one expedition against the Turks, we 
 find in the books, carefully set down in the list of their 
 booty, eight hundred Turkish women and girls, whom 
 they divided up. 
 
 The character of the Knights is pithily indicated in 
 this anecdote of the time : When Richard Coeur de 
 Lion was in France, Fulco, a priest, bade him beware 
 
 [70] 
 
The Knights' Auberges 
 
 how he bestowed his daughters in marriage. "I have 
 no daughters," said the king. "Nay, nay," replied 
 Fulco, "all the world knows that you have three 
 Pride, Covetousness, and Lechery." "If these be my 
 daughters," retorted the king, "I know how to bestow 
 them where they will be well cherished. My eldest I 
 give to the Bishops, my second to the priests, and my 
 third to the Knights of Malta." 
 
 The Knights, ruled over Malta for some centuries. 
 As they were made up of recruits from different coun- 
 tries, they were classified by langues, or "tongues," of 
 which there were six: English, Italian, Spanish, Portu- 
 guese, French, and German. Subsequently, Auvergne, 
 Provence, and Castile were added. Hence the odd 
 names of the fine old palaces one sees in Valetta to-day. 
 Among them are the " Auberge d'ltalie," now the quar- 
 ters of the officers of the Royal Engineers; the "Auberge 
 de Castile," now the quarters of the officers of the Royal 
 Artillery; the "Auberge de Provence," now the Union 
 Club, which has a ballroom with one of the only two 
 wooden floors in the city; the "Auberge d' Auvergne," 
 now the Courts of Justice; the " Auberge d'Arragon," 
 residence of the general commanding. These auberges 
 are all imposing palaces of the Italianesque order. 
 They are naturally all built of stone, as are all Maltese 
 houses. 
 
 It was not until the French Revolution came that 
 the rule of the Knights of Malta came to an end. By 
 its workings they were deprived of nearly all their vast 
 revenues. The Grand Master tried every expedient 
 
England's Levantine Fortress 
 
 to raise money, such as melting down gold and silver 
 plate and ornaments. But they had reached the end 
 of their resources. It was at this time that the French 
 were treacherously admitted within the city, and Valetta 
 fell. Malta remained in the possession of the French 
 for only a short time. The betrayal of the fortress to 
 the French by the last Grand Master, Von Hompesch, 
 so irritated the Maltese that they rose against the 
 French, and were joined by the English, whose fleet 
 had just arrived at Malta from its victory at Aboukir. 
 The French took refuge behind the walls of the great 
 fortifications, where they held out for two years. On 
 September 5, 1800, however, they were starved out, and 
 the English took possession of Malta, which they have 
 ever since retained. 
 
 As we sailed out of the harbor, past the fort, again 
 did the view of Valetta with its artificial beauty recall 
 to me the higher flights of scenic artists in the great 
 theatres of the world. If there be those who may smile 
 at likening reality to simulacrum, let me assure them 
 that some of the architectural compositions of draughts- 
 men are so grand, yet so impossible, that they bring an 
 involuntary sigh to the architect that they cannot be 
 realized. What are the colossal plans for great groups 
 of buildings, universities, governmental palaces, or 
 exposition structures, drawn by students at great archi- 
 tectural schools such as the prize plans of those 
 architectural students in the Ecole des Beaux Arts who 
 
 [72] 
 
Picturesque Valetta 
 
 win the Prix de Rome what is their work but gran- 
 diose scene-painting? Such sketches are very beauti- 
 ful, if impracticable; would they could be realized, and 
 instead of scene-painting in wash and distemper, be 
 carried out in steel and stone. What was the Court 
 of Honor in the Chicago Fair of 1893 but glorified 
 stage-setting and scene-painting? Yet fragile and 
 ephemeral as was that creation of lath, plaster, and 
 staff, it was one of the most beautiful sights at night my 
 eyes ever rested upon. 
 
 I had always considered Malta a barren rock a 
 grim and forbidding fortress. It is much more than 
 that. It is a picture. The setting and the coloring 
 are due to nature the rest is due to the hand of man. 
 It is very artificial. But it is very beautiful as well. 
 
 [73] 
 
IV 
 
 THE CITY OF THE VIOLET 
 CROWN 
 
IV 
 
 THE CITY OF THE VIOLET CROWN 
 
 [HEN I was a boy I used to tantalize my- 
 self with the poetic names of the foreign 
 cities that some day I hoped to see. There 
 was "The City by the Golden Horn," 
 Stamboul; "The Eternal City," Rome; "The City of 
 Palms," Jericho; "The City of the Sun," Baalbec; and 
 "The City of the Violet Crown," Athens. This last 
 always appealed most vividly to my imagination. It 
 had color, melody, and rhythm; and while the city of 
 Athens, qu& Athens, did not appeal to me perhaps so 
 strongly as did Rome, its sobriquet was even more 
 fascinating. For there is an intrinsic magic in the 
 sound of words. There is a sound-meaning as well as 
 a verbal meaning. "Onomatopoeia" rhetoricians call 
 it. There is much of this sound-meaning in our Saxon 
 speech the "buzzing" of bees, the "hissing" of 
 serpents, the "booming" of camion do not these 
 words express their meanings by their sounds? So 
 with names; so with sobriquets; so with epithets. 
 
 So whenever I thought of Athens I did not think of 
 Phidias, of Lycurgus, of Pericles, of Aspasia I used 
 
 [77] 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 to think of the sobriquet "The City of the Violet 
 Crown." Naturally, the meaning of this poetic sobri- 
 quet will readily occur to the reader it comes from 
 the purple and amethystine haze with which sunrise 
 and sunset crown the Acropolis. 
 
 Did we see the violet crown around the heaven- 
 kissing hill? Well, no. It was morning when we 
 ascended the Acropolis a cold gray morn for it is 
 the fashion in Europe to ascend many high places to 
 see the sun rise. Thousands every year go up the 
 Swiss peaks to see the sun rise; it is nearly always foggy 
 or cloudy on Pilatus and the Rigi; when it is not foggy 
 it is raining. Therefore the thousands of Swiss tourists 
 rarely see the sun rise, but when they come down, they 
 always lie about it, and say they did. 
 
 So on the Acropolis. We saw no sunrise; we saw 
 a fog, but it was not violet; it was a dingy gray, and it 
 was not shaped like a crown, but in large, shapeless gobs. 
 
 There were other disillusions about our ascent to the 
 Parthenon. As we drove up the road that winds around 
 the Acropolis, we encountered a large drum- corps prac- 
 tising in one place and a bugle-corps executing fantasies 
 in another. These signs of modern militarism were 
 our first impressions in approaching the Acropolis. 
 The next most notable sight was the number of goats 
 browsing at the base of the famous hill. Scattered 
 among the goats were shabby gentlemen of leisure, 
 some in petticoats, some in trousers; they were seated 
 at scattered tables on the hillside. Not a few were bent 
 forward, with their heads pillowed in their arms, repos- 
 
 [78] 
 
ft 
 
Solitary Tipplers 
 
 ing on the little tables asleep, although it was yet 
 early in the forenoon. The sight of a number of gentle- 
 men, slightly intoxicated, and asleep in the morning 
 hours, seated, with table and chair, far from any visible 
 house, and surrounded by nothing more companionable 
 than goats such a sight was certainly peculiar, even 
 in Greece. As we wound our way up the road, how- 
 ever, a turn over one of the flanks of the hill revealed a 
 little roadside grog-shop. This was a "cafe*," and 
 scattered in various directions for two or three hundred 
 yards were other cafe* tables with solitary drinkers. 
 This fashion of scattering cafe* tipplers over an acre or 
 two of ground seems peculiar to Greece. We even 
 saw one man seated at such a cafe* table in the middle 
 of the dusty road. What a remarkable place, time, 
 and manner in which to be convivial! 
 
 These remarks must not be construed as limiting 
 intoxication to set hours. In a free country every free 
 man has an inalienable right to get drunk at the hour 
 and in the way which best pleases him. Still, even in 
 convivial countries, there has always existed a slight 
 prejudice against a gentleman showing up early in the 
 morning with a jag. If it lasts over from the night 
 before, it is not considered so bad. If, however, the 
 joyous gentleman gathered it in the morning hours, 
 it is frowned upon. If I am not mistaken, the fixing 
 of the legal marriage-hours in England before twelve 
 noon was because so many young gentlemen of good 
 family were apt to be intoxicated in the [afternoon. 
 While in this condition they were apt to marry bona 
 
 [79] 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 robas, bar-maids, beggar-maids, and thieves. This 
 gave pain to Benedict's lady-mamma, and eke to papa. 
 As the most convivial of young Britons would generally 
 have sobered up from last night by eight of the next 
 day, it was deemed safe to fix the hour of tying the 
 knot before twelve. But even with this paternal law, 
 careful drunkards in Britain have often succeeded in 
 evading the statute, and in enriching the thin blue blood 
 of a hundred earls with a blend of the choicest gutter- 
 blood from Whitechapel or Seven Dials. 
 
 It is for a similar reason that the hour for courts- 
 martial in Great Britain was fixed. In the good old 
 days officers and gentlemen were usually drunk after 
 dinner, which was the mid-day meal. But it was con- 
 sidered inadvisable for a board of drunken officers to 
 judge and condemn a sober private. 
 
 I remember once in Honolulu being present when a 
 court was adjourned to view the premises in a case on 
 trial. They were received in the hospitable island 
 fashion at eleven o'clock in the morning they were 
 given large "high balls" of Scotch and soda. This 
 alcoholic juridical procedure shocked us colder-blooded 
 northerners; we never before saw a court judicially 
 taking a drink so early in the morning. 
 
 From a mediaeval hamlet, Athens has grown to a mod- 
 ern city of over one hundred thousand. It was laid out 
 by a German engineer, and is proud of its straight streets 
 and its Occidental aspect. The main thoroughfares are 
 
 [80] 
 
Newness of Athens 
 
 Hermes Street and ^Eolus Street, both of which start 
 from Constitution Square. This is the centre of the 
 city, and on one of its sides is the royal palace. 
 
 Athens itself, as a city, is insufferable. It is raw, 
 garish, new, staring, crude. It smells of paint. It 
 reeks of varnish. It is redolent of last week. It is the 
 newest city one sees in the Levant or even in south- 
 ern Europe. It is dusty, it is noisy, it is vulgar. Every- 
 thing in it is imitation. The palaces are imitation. 
 The hotels are imitation. The army is imitation. 
 The city is a sham. It is a joy to leave the common- 
 place streets, to quit the insufferable city, and to climb 
 the Acropolis. There, everything is calm and peaceful, 
 and the magnificent ruins are restful. There only, in 
 all Athens, do you find a spot which is not oppressively 
 new and raw. 
 
 The royal palace is one of the newest and the rawest 
 of all the raw, new buildings. It is a plain structure 
 on the packing-case order of architecture. It looks 
 very much as if the upper three stories of one of Chi- 
 cago's plain sky-scrapers had been sawed off by some 
 Enceladus and set down in Athens. This royal palace 
 has in front of it two acres of dusty gravel, with not a 
 blade of grass or a solitary tree. Diagonally across this 
 gravel-patch there run two intersecting X-like paths, 
 where the natives "cross lots" to save time in going 
 home. In front of this royal park runs the roadway. 
 On the other side of it is a scanty line of forlorn and 
 dust-covered pepper-trees. These form the boundary 
 of Constitution Square, the main plaza of Athens. 
 
 [81] 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 This square is also mainly made up of gravel. There 
 are no grass lawns, and only a few trees. It is beau- 
 tified with iron cafe* chairs and iron gas-pipe arches, 
 which doubtless burst forth into loyal flame on King 
 George's birthday. 
 
 When King George drove through the streets of his 
 loyal city of Athens, little excitement was to be dis- 
 cerned; the lounging officers saluted, and an occasional 
 civilian took off his hat. But most of the throng re- 
 mained indifferent. I could not but be struck by the 
 difference between republican France and monarchical 
 Greece. In monarchical Greece the King of the Hel- 
 lenes moved to and fro almost unnoticed, like any other 
 gentleman. Yet in Aix-les-Bains the famous water- 
 ing-place in Savoy, whither he goes annually to take 
 jthe waters King George is received with regal splen- 
 dor. At the Casino a part of the terrace is railed off 
 for him and his suite. So on the terrace of the Hotel 
 Splendide the royal apartments open through the low 
 French windows on the terrace, and within a railed 
 space the king and his courtiers sit, smoke cigarettes, 
 lounge, and chat ; on the non-royal parts of the veranda 
 Pierpont Morgan and other American millionnaires gaze 
 enviously at Grecian royalty. Probably Pierpont 
 Morgan could buy up Athens and not feel at all pocket- 
 pinched. But at Aix-les-Bains he must keep off the 
 
 Grecian grass. 
 
 Mfr* 
 
 The antiquities, the historic spots, the venerable 
 ruins, in and around Athens, are innumerable. Start- 
 
 [82] 
 
The Modern Stadion 
 
 ing from the centre of the city, one of the first you see 
 is the Arch of Hadrian, near the royal palace. It 
 formerly cut off the old Greek city from the Roman 
 town of Hadrian. Not far away rise some sixteen 
 gigantic Corinthian columns, all that remains of the 
 Olympieion, also completed under Hadrian. Within 
 its precincts, there once stood one hundred Corinthian 
 columns; even the few that remain are imposing in their 
 lofty grandeur. A short distance from the Olympieion 
 is the Stadion, scene of centuries of athletic games. 
 The Stadion was laid out by Lycurgus in a natural 
 hollow, which was enlarged and made symmetrical by 
 the hand of man. Part of the ancient walls remain, 
 but the entire Stadion is now practically reconstructed 
 in white marble. The work was still going on while 
 we were there. In fact, it is already in use, and served 
 in the recent great revival of the Olympian games, to 
 which were bidden athletes from all over the world. 
 The reconstruction is not the work of the state, but of a 
 private individual, Mr. Averof, of Alexandria, who has 
 already expended on the work over two millions of 
 francs. Not far from the Arch of Hadrian there is a 
 small, circular, temple-like building called the Monu- 
 ment of Lysicrates; the victors in the great games of 
 ancient Greece were in the habit of exhibiting on these 
 monuments the prizes won by them at the Stadion. 
 
 Leaving the lower ground of the city proper, one 
 takes the winding roadway which climbs the Acropolis 
 hill. First is encountered the Theatre of Dyonysius, 
 which was brought to light from under heaps of rub- 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 bish some two score years ago. It is the typical ancient 
 Greek theatre, consisting of stage, orchestra, audito- 
 rium, and proscenium. The marble seats rise up in 
 rows and tiers like those of the Stadion, or the Roman 
 amphitheatres or a modern tent-circus to be under- 
 standed of the small boy. The seats are in the form of 
 a semi-circle, facing the stage. This Theatre of Dyo- 
 nysius sometimes called the Theatre of Bacchus 
 seated thirty thousand spectators. On sitting down, 
 one notes that the theatrical syndicates of ancient 
 Greece provided plenty of room for the spectators' 
 legs and feet. Would that the modern managers would 
 be as generous. 
 
 The next most conspicuous sight at the base of the 
 Acropolis is the Odeion of Herod Atticus. It seems 
 once to have been a roofed theatre, and bears every 
 indication of having been partially destroyed by fire. 
 Going up the winding road, it branches off here to the 
 Theseion. This is supposed to be a temple to Theseus, 
 although some ascribe it to Hercules. It is a very 
 beautiful building, and so well preserved that one finds 
 it difficult to believe that it is two thousand years old. 
 In this regard it is the finest ruin of ancient Greece. 
 Looking down upon it from the Acropolis heights it 
 looks like a modern imitation of an ancient building. 
 
 Continuing our climb, we soon reach the Areopagus, 
 or Hill of Mars. It is here that the ancient court held 
 its sittings. Soon we are at the top of the Acropolis, 
 which is a rocky plateau about five hundred feet high. 
 Pisistratus built here a temple to Athena, but it was 
 
 [84] 
 
The Acropolis Top 
 
 under Pericles that the splendor of the Acropolis began. 
 The temple of Athena Nike is a beautiful little ruin 
 constructed entirely of Pentelic marble. The name 
 comes from the famous Nike fastening her sandal, 
 which belonged to the frieze of which Lord Elgin " con- 
 veyed" four panels to Great Britain with the other 
 Elgin marbles. Few of the originals remain; they have 
 been replaced by terra-cotta reproductions. The Nike 
 tying her sandal is in the Acropolis Museum. 
 
 From the Temple of Nike the view is magnificent 
 one sees the Bay of Phaleron, the peninsula, the 
 harbor and town of Piraeus, with Salamis, and other 
 islands lying off the harbor, while around are seen many 
 pinnacle-like hills, and farther away the mountains of 
 Argolis. 
 
 A magnificent ruin is the Propylaea; it occupies the 
 west side of the plateau. From here a footway climbs 
 to the inner precincts of the Acropolis. At the right 
 rise the ruins of the Parthenon; to the left the Erech- 
 theion. Not far from here we see a large platform cut 
 out of the rock, on which once stood a colossal statue 
 of Athena, the work of Phidias. The statue was in 
 bronze, sixty-six feet high, in full armor, and leaning 
 on a lance. The gilded lance-point formed a land- 
 mark to mariners. 
 
 Nobody ever saw this statue, as it was melted down 
 about two thousand years ago. But the exact height 
 is accurately known or imagined. 
 
 The Parthenon stands on the highest point of the 
 Acropolis hill. Ictinos and Callicrates were the archi- 
 
 [85] 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 tects, Phidias was the sculptor, and the promoter was 
 Pericles, for he was the man who raised the money. 
 It was open for business about 438 B.C., when the 
 chryselephantine statue of Athena was erected. The 
 gigantic columns of the Parthenon are even more im- 
 posing as they lie in segments on the ground than as 
 they stand. If you walk up to one of these broken 
 pillars and measure your height against it you will find 
 that its diameter will be several inches greater than your 
 height, even if you are a tall man. The drums of these 
 columns were so perfectly finished that they were fitted 
 together without cement. 
 
 While attending a class, as a youth, where we listened 
 to lectures on architecture, I remember my surprise on 
 learning of the necessity for convex columns, for swol- 
 len rectangles, for diverging parallels, and for distorted 
 right lines generally in classic architecture, and of course 
 in modern as well. These eye-puzzlers are plainly 
 apparent in these gigantic Greek ruins. If you sight 
 along the stylobate, or platform on which the columns 
 stand, you can see how markedly it diverges from the 
 horizontal. So with the steps they are not exactly 
 horizontal. So with the columns they swell in the 
 middle. All the pillars lean a little toward the centre of 
 the building. These apparent errors except the last 
 are made to correct the inaccuracy of the human eye. 
 
 In the ruins of the Parthenon the keen-eyed see 
 color. The triglyphs are said to have been blue and 
 the metopes red, while the drops below the triglyphs 
 were probably gilded. It may be interesting to note 
 
 [86] 
 
Models of the Parthenon 
 
 that the Parthenon has Doric, the Erechtheion Ionic, 
 and the Olympieion Corinthian columns. 
 
 In the central aisle of the Parthenon is a dark quad- 
 rangle of pavement, on which stood the statue of Athena 
 Parthenos, also the work of Phidias. It was thirty- 
 nine feet high, and is said to have been made of gold 
 and ivory, and to have cost forty-four talents of gold, 
 or about three quarters of a million dollars. 
 
 Near the north margin of the Acropolis lies the 
 Erechtheion, which contains the shrines of Athena and 
 other deities. The Portico of the Caryatides is famous 
 -six figures of maidens larger than life support the 
 roof on their heads ; one of these is in terra-cotta, the 
 original having been removed to London by Lord Elgin. 
 
 After a visit to these magnificent ruins one can have 
 some idea of what the Acropolis hill must have looked 
 like in the days of " the glory that was Greece and the 
 grandeur that was Rome." 
 
 Many Americans have seen the beautiful colored 
 model of the Parthenon in the Metropolitan Museum, 
 New York. There are several such models to be found 
 in the museums of European cities. I do not know 
 whether any model exists in colors of all the Acropolis 
 ruins, but after seeing the colored Parthenon model 
 one can readily imagine what must have been the view 
 of the Acropolis hill. Imagine passing through the 
 Propylaea, seeing the Erechtheion on the left, the Par- 
 thenon on the right, and the colossal statue of Athena 
 in gold and ivory. Think of gazing upon these mag- 
 nificent buildings in white and black and colored 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 marbles, bearing the masterpieces of such sculptors as 
 Phidias, and all ablaze with colors and with gold. It 
 must have been a very different sight from our modern 
 ideas of cold marble buildings and statuary. 
 
 There was a time when I believed that all ancient 
 statuary was without color. True, at times I read or 
 heard that there were fanatics who believed that the 
 ancient Greeks used color on their marbles. But I 
 looked upon these as heterodox persons, like the be- 
 lievers in the Bacon-Shakespeare theory. I had so 
 often heard the words "cold, calm, colorless marble" 
 that I had come to believe the idea of colored statues 
 to be barbaric. But on visiting Athens and viewing 
 the many marbles in the Acropolis Museum, the The- 
 seion, and the Erechtheion, no one can doubt that the 
 old Greek sculptors rioted in color. 
 
 I have since looked the matter up, and I find that I 
 have lagged far behind the times. The art critics in 
 but a few years have had a change of heart. Their 
 fluctuating opinion might thus be summed up : 
 
 THESIS THE ANCIENTS DID NOT USE 
 COLOR IN MARBLE STATUARY 
 
 FIRST AXIOM 
 
 Circa 1883 "It is preposterous to suppose that 
 the great plastic works of antiquity were other than 
 pure white marble." 
 
 [88] 
 
Color on Ancient Statuary 
 
 SECOND AXIOM 
 
 Circa 1884 "If the works of the ancient sculptors 
 had any color, it was nothing more than creamy or 
 ivory tints." 
 
 THIRD AXIOM 
 
 Circa 1885 "If it be admitted that the ancients 
 used color in statuary, they must have confined them- 
 selves to flesh tints. " 
 
 FOURTH AXIOM 
 
 Circa 1886 "If, as is probable, flesh tints were 
 used by the ancients in their statuary, no other color 
 than metal was permitted, which would be needed for 
 armor and weapons probably gold and bronze." 
 
 FIFTH AXIOM 
 
 Circa 1887 "If colors other than flesh tints and 
 metallic hues were used by the ancient sculptors, they 
 must have been neutral tints, such as dull reds, buffs, 
 and browns." 
 
 SIXTH AXIOM 
 
 Circa 1888 "No one to-day can refuse to admit that 
 the colors used by the ancient sculptors were vivid 
 ones." 
 
 SEVENTH AXIOM 
 
 Circa 1890 "It is preposterous to deny that the 
 ancient sculptors colored their statues. To state that 
 they confined themselves to neutral tints is equally 
 
 [89] 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 preposterous. Vivid color would have been needed 
 fitly to complement the great works of Phidias and to 
 enable them to harmonize with the azure skies, the 
 sapphire seas, the intense reds, the cobalt blues, the 
 emerald greens of Greece." 
 
 ERGO To THE ANCIENTS, MARBLE STATUARY 
 WITHOUT COLOR WAS UNKNOWN 
 
 This seems to me a condensed table of the change 
 in critical opinion on this color question. I frankly 
 admit that I was behind the times. Now I am up-to- 
 date. Now I am inclined to think that when the Acrop- 
 olis was in all its glory, and when the great statue of 
 Pallas Athena stood upon that famous hill, there must 
 have been fully as much color on these magnificent 
 marbles as one now sees at the Eden Muse*e or at 
 Madame Tussaud's Wax Works. 
 
 It occurs to me, however, that some readers may look 
 upon the preceding paragraphs as being entirely whim- 
 sical. It is true that they are not verbatim quotations 
 from critics of standing. But they might easily be 
 they typify a tendency. To show that they have a very 
 substantial foundation I append two genuine para- 
 graphs from well-known writers on art, separated by 
 forty years. 
 
 From "A Handbook of Sculpture " by Richard West- 
 macott, Professor of Sculpture in the Royal Academy 
 (1856): 
 
 " The rich quality of surface that appears more or less in works 
 of marble ... the ancients appear to have completed by a process 
 
 [90] 
 
Chromatic Recantation 
 
 which may mean not only rubbing or polishing, but applying some 
 composition, such as hot wax, to give a soft, glowing color to the 
 surface. Many of the ancient statues certainly exhibit the appear- 
 ance of some foreign substance having slightly penetrated the surface 
 of the work to about one eighth of an inch, and its color is of a 
 warmer tint than the marble below it. Its object, probably, with 
 the ancients, as with modern sculptors, has been simply to get rid 
 of the glare and freshness of appearance that is sometimes objected 
 to in a recently finished work, by giving a general warmth to the 
 color of the marble, a process, be it observed, quite distinct from 
 . . . painting sculpture with various tints, in imitation of the natural 
 color of the complexion, hair, and eyes." 
 
 From "Ancient Athens" (1902) by Professor Ernest 
 A. Gardner, formerly Director of the British School at 
 Athens, and Yates Professor of Archaeology in Univer- 
 sity College, London: 
 
 " The rich and lively effect produced by these statues [from the 
 Temple of Athena] is in great measure due to the good preservation 
 of their colouring, which has for the first time given us a clear 
 notion of the application of colour to sculpture in early Greece. 
 No garment is covered with a complete coat of paint, . . . but 
 they have richly coloured borders, and are sprigged with finely 
 drawn decorations, the colours used being mostly rich and dark 
 ones dark green, . . . dark blue, purple, or red. The effect of 
 this colouring, whether on face or garments, is to set off and 
 enhance by contrast the beautiful tint and texture of the marble. 
 Those who have only seen white marble statues without any touches 
 of colour to give definition to the modelling and variety to the 
 tone can have no notion of the beauty, life, and vigour of which 
 the material is capable." 
 
 Not the least remarkable thing about the Acropolis 
 is the vast amount of rubbish to be found there. Where 
 did it come from? The propensity of the race to 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 " dump rubbish " in all sorts of odd places is well known. 
 This propensity has brought about the great disparity 
 between ancient and modern city levels. The Forum, 
 for example, is far below the level of the modern Roman 
 street. Ancient Jerusalem is over one hundred feet 
 below most of the modern level. But whence came 
 the rubbish in the Acropolis? The hill is a high one; 
 the climb fatiguing. Why lug rubbish to its top? If 
 the race is prone to indiscriminate dumping of rubbish, 
 it is more prone to laziness. How then account for 
 the Acropolis rubbish? 
 
 The Acropolis is almost a solid mass of rock. There 
 is a sparse covering of soil, out of which the rock crops 
 at every turn. Remembering Bret Harte's happy title 
 for the select verses of California's poets in the early 
 quartz-mining days, I thought that the phrase " Acrop- 
 olis Outcroppings" would make an excellent title for 
 the sentimental musings of the many tourists who climb 
 that famous hill. In listening to them as they rave 
 over the surroundings, it is easily to be seen that they 
 rave to order. They are ready to admire everything, 
 whatever it may be. One day I noted a particularly 
 sentimental lady who was gushing over every object 
 visible in the landscape. When she was shown the 
 hideous modern building called the "royal palace," 
 she gushed over that. When she was shown the other 
 hideous building inhabited by the prince royal, she 
 gushed over that too. 
 
 "And what is that other large building that one 
 there on the hill? Is that another palace ?" 
 
 [92] 
 
Acropolis Outcroppings 
 
 " Dat ? No dat no palace dat de lunatic asy- 
 lum," replied the guide. 
 
 But the sentimental lady was not to be squelched. 
 " Just look at that lovely circular building in the plain," 
 she said to her companion; "it reminds me of the tomb 
 of Cecilia Metella on the Roman Campagna. What 
 is that round structure, guide is that a tomb?" 
 
 "Dat round ting?" replied the guide, following her 
 finger. " Dat not a tomb dat de gas-works." 
 
 But the view from the Acropolis is magnificent 
 enough to inspire even the most stolid, not to speak of 
 sentimental female tourists. So beautiful is the view 
 that you always see loungers on the crest of the hill. It 
 is a high, stiff climb, and it is surprising to find that 
 these loungers are neither guides nor pedlers, but 
 simply idlers, such as soldiers and other thinking men. 
 It must be the beautiful view which takes them there, 
 for the drinking-shopsareall around the base of the hill. 
 
 Above I have spoken of the absent panels in some of 
 the Acropolis friezes. There has always been much 
 difference of opinion as to Lord Elgin's rape of the 
 famous marbles now in the British Museum. For a 
 generation Graecophiles have roared over his "van- 
 dalism." But in London the marbles may be seen by 
 hundreds of thousands, while in Greece they would be 
 seen only by scores. Then, too, had he left them in 
 Greece, they would probably all have been stolen by 
 private thieves. There is much to be said for Elgin. 
 His chief crime would seem to be that he left any 
 marbles at all. It was very careless of him he 
 
 [93] 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 neglected to take much which he might easily have 
 secured. Just think of that beautiful figure of Nike 
 adjusting her sandal he left that behind. For this 
 neglect his memory should be covered with ignominy 
 by a discriminating British populace. 
 
 What was the most striking scene I witnessed in 
 Athens the city of Pericles, of Phidias, of Aspasia, 
 the City of the Violet Crown? It was this. A gang 
 of mountebanks drove their wagon into the main square 
 in front of the royal palace. Two of them in grotesque 
 garb, with red noses, painted faces, and wigs, mounted 
 a wagon and began their horse-play; other mounte- 
 banks beat the brass drum and rattled the tambourine. 
 The two mountebanks in the wagon went through all 
 manner of clownish tricks, one feigning to pull the 
 other's teeth, to vaccinate him, and to set a broken 
 shoulder, which he did by putting his foot in the other's 
 arm-pit and pulling strenuously on the injured arm. 
 This was interspersed by violent quarrels between 
 doctor and patient, and belaborings with stuffed clubs, 
 to the great delight of the assembled crowd, who were 
 probably descendants of the men of Thermopylae. It 
 is only fair to say that the crowd was made up of the 
 lower orders, although more than once I noticed dap- 
 per army officers approaching the outskirts of the crowd 
 and listening for a few moments under the pretence 
 of doubting in which direction to go. 
 
 [94] 
 
Warriors and Tramps 
 
 By the way, you will have noticed that in our busy 
 American cities the hurrying pedestrians never hesitate 
 as to where they intend to turn. When they reach a 
 corner, they turn sharply to the right or to the left. 
 When you see a man reach a corner and stop looking 
 up and down doubtfully, as who should say "which 
 way shall I wander?" he is usually a tramp. All 
 corners are alike to him. In Greece, the army officers 
 remind me irresistibly of our tramps. They seem to 
 have nothing to do. They spend their time sitting in 
 front of cafe's, or aimlessly wandering about the streets, 
 and when they reach a corner they pause, hesitate, scan 
 both directions, and finally drift doubtfully in one, 
 exactly like our American tramps. 
 
 This is another scene I saw under the windows of 
 the royal palace. Into Constitution Square, one day, 
 there flounced and flaunted a gang of merry maskers. 
 It was, I believe, carnival day according to the Greek 
 calendar. These mummers wore shabby, well-worn 
 costumes, that had evidently done duty many times. 
 They carried with them a pole mounted on an iron 
 base; from the top of the pole depended multicolored 
 ribbons. Soon they were whirling through the mazes 
 of the merry May-pole dance, to the music of a barrel- 
 organ, its crank turned by a masker. This was all 
 done so quickly that for a moment it seemed spon- 
 taneous if masks and maskers ever are; even the 
 May-pole with its practicable iron feet might have been 
 forgotten. But when a masker, made up as a white- 
 faced clown, suddenly assailed the spectators with a 
 
 [95] 
 
The City of the Violet Crown 
 
 rattling money-box, the crowd melted away, and the 
 merry masquerade became perfunctory and mechani- 
 cal. Well, masquerades sometimes are in other places 
 than Athens. 
 
 The money of Athens is a little difficult for strangers 
 to understand. The country is not yet on a coin basis, 
 and most of the money is paper. The principal denomi- 
 nations are ''drachmas" and "leptas." All kinds of 
 European money are apparently current, but the natives 
 do not seem to be quite certain what they are worth. 
 At a cafe* one day three Americans were seated next 
 to us. They ordered two chocolates and one ice. After 
 an animated pantomime they decided that the bill was 
 sixty cents, which they translated into three francs. 
 
 They gave the waiter an English half-crown, and he 
 brought them back three Greek sixpences in change. 
 He then modestly (and expectantly) drew aside. The 
 trio then discussed whether they would give him a whole 
 sixpence for his tip. As they did not know how to 
 change it, they concluded to give him the sixpence. 
 But presently the waiter returned in much excitement. 
 He gathered up the three sixpences which still remained 
 on the tray, and informed them that these coins made 
 up the exact amount of their bill. The entire cafe* then 
 gathered and debated the question in seventeen or 
 eighteen languages. The waiter turned out to be right 
 the half-crown was apparently about three Greek 
 drachmae. But both parties to the transaction with- 
 drew with injured feelings the waiter because he got 
 no tip, and the Americans because they got no change. 
 
 [96] 
 
STAMBOUL SEEN FROM THE SEA 
 
STAMBOUL SEEN FROM THE SEA 
 
 was a beautiful morning, and we were 
 bound from the Piraeus to Constantinople, 
 steaming along the waterway between 
 Europe and Asia. We had left the ^Egean 
 Sea behind us, and were in the Dardanelles. There 
 flashed into my mind the old joke about the new- 
 rich family, who, on their return from Europe, were 
 asked, "When you were abroad did you see the 
 Dardanelles?" The family looked puzzled for a 
 moment, but Materfamilias, with great presence of 
 mind, promptly replied, "Oh, yes; we met them 
 in Rome." I thought of springing this aged story 
 on my fellow-passengers, but it was so venerable that 
 I refrained. At luncheon, however, I heard the 
 story told by the ship's wit; it was greeted with 
 roars of laughter, and was received by all hands as 
 perfectly new. 
 
 Beside me, on the ship's deck, stood a European 
 dragoman one of those queer mongrels one meets in 
 the Orient, the son of an English father and a Greek 
 mother speaking heaven knows how many tongues 
 
 [99] 
 
Stamboul Seen from the Sea 
 
 with equal fluency. His English, by the way, was 
 flavored with a strong cockney accent. Him I asked, 
 "What is the name of that town on the Asiatic side?" 
 indicating a city on the starboard hand. 
 
 " Better call it Dardanelles," briefly replied the drago- 
 man. 
 
 At this I took some umbrage. Quoth I to myself, 
 "Evidently this fellow thinks I cannot pronounce it, 
 so he gives me the name of the waterway instead of the 
 town." I determined to look it up, and did so when 
 I went below. In the great atlas on the cabin table I 
 found this pleasing variety of names, " Sultaniyeh- 
 Kalesi, or Chanak-Kalesi, generally called by Euro- 
 peans Dardanelles." I did not wonder at the drago- 
 man's laconicism. 
 
 I noticed that some of my fellow-passengers pro- 
 nounced the name " Dardanee/s," while their favorite 
 pronunciation of "Bosphorus" did not rhyme with 
 "phosphorus," but rather with "before us." 
 
 Before being permitted to land at a Turkish port it is 
 necessary to secure a "tezkereh"; otherwise you may 
 land, but you may not leave. We already had pass- 
 ports vised by a Turkish consul in America, but "tez- 
 kerehs" were necessary in addition ten francs apiece. 
 The blank forms issued for filling out these documents 
 were in French on one side, Turkish on the other. One 
 passenger went to the purser with his French form, and 
 pointing to the phrase couleur des cheveux, asked: 
 "What does that mean?" 
 
 "That?" said the purser; "that means color of hair." 
 
 [100] 
 
Constantinople's Ideal Site 
 
 "The h it does," replied the passenger. "I 
 s'posed it meant color of eyes, and I wrote blue." 
 
 The city of the Sultan looks much better from the 
 water than it does when viewed ashore. The tourist 
 who touches at the port, who remains on board, and who 
 sees the city only from the sea, retains an entirely differ- 
 ent impression from that of him who goes ashore. Seen 
 from the water, Constantinople is very beautiful. Seen 
 from the shore, it is the apotheosis of everything that is 
 filthy and foul. He who stays on board will take away 
 a much more picturesque impression. 
 
 The site of Constantinople is ideal. There is prob- 
 ably no finer site for a city in the world. It is situated 
 on the Bosphorus, between the Mediterranean and the 
 Black Sea; it lies between Europe and Asia, for Scutari 
 is a part of Constantinople, and Scutari is on the Asiatic 
 shore; it is cut off by natural boundaries into municipal 
 divisions, for the Golden Horn divides Stamboul, the 
 Mohammedan, from Galata, the Christian city; so the 
 Bosphorus divides Scutari, the Asiatic, from Constanti- 
 nople, the European city. Yet all of these places make 
 one great city under the general name " Constantinople." 
 And this great city is guarded also by nature : it has the 
 Sea of Marmora close at hand, with fortifications at 
 either end of this great water highway, rendering the 
 city unassailable by sea; it has a peninsular conforma- 
 tion which also renders it, when properly fortified, im- 
 pregnable by land as well as by sea. With all these 
 factors in its favor, no wonder that Constantinople has 
 always been looked upon as an ideal site for a city. 
 
 [*OI] 
 
Stamboul Seen from the Sea 
 
 That so many races should have battled over Byzan- 
 tium for so many hundreds of years is not surprising. 
 
 Beautiful, picturesque, though she may be, seen from 
 the sea, Constantinople is unlovely from the land. What 
 God has done at this meeting of the waters is entirely 
 admirable. But the handiwork of man as there set 
 forth excites sometimes pity, and sometimes scorn. 
 
 The bridges across the Golden Horn are such ven- 
 erable, patched-up wrecks that one wonders why the 
 Turks use them so freely. One day, not long ago, a 
 piece of the lower bridge fell into the water, carrying 
 with it three or four dozen Turks, who went to the 
 Mohammedan heaven sooner than they had intended. 
 
 In the Golden Horn there lie rows of Turkish war- 
 ships. These grim black monsters look formidable, 
 but I was told that some of them had not been to sea 
 for twelve years, and that their engineers do not dare 
 to get up steam. 
 
 It is said that in the old days the Turks extended a 
 huge chain across the mouth of the Golden Horn, to 
 prevent war vessels from entering. No such barrier is 
 there nowadays; probably the Turks consider the Gol- 
 den Horn bridges to be sufficient barriers against hos- 
 tile ships. But they are such trumpery structures that 
 a fleet of modern battleships could probably steam 
 through them with very little jar. 
 
 One of the striking features of Constantinople is its 
 gigantic wall, parts of which date from the time of Con- 
 stantine the Great. There are numerous towers along 
 the walls, and the triumphal arch still stands, through 
 
 [102] 
 
Harem or Hospital 
 
 which the Byzantine emperors made state"entries. A 
 view of the massive walls is interesting, but the way 
 around them is through the filthiest and most dangerous 
 quarters of Constantinople. The street boys are in 
 the habit of hurling stones at visitors, and often have to 
 be driven away by the dragomans. In the great em- 
 brasures and niches of the walls all sorts of huts and 
 hovels have been built, and even some houses of a 
 higher grade for Stamboul. When asked, our 
 dragoman assured us that the dwellers were by no 
 means destitute of title to their ground, for they had 
 acquired " permits" to build their houses there. Fancy 
 holding real estate in fee-simple in a hole in a city's 
 mediaeval wall. Probably these "permits" were given 
 by minor officials, from the viziers down; that they 
 received good bakshish for them is also probable. 
 
 The wall of Constantine extends across the neck of 
 the peninsula, and not along the sea-shore; it was in- 
 tended as a defence against invasion from the land side. 
 There is a wall along the water's edge, but it is called 
 the "Harbor Wall," and extends from about the point 
 where the Byzantine wall begins, to the Old Seraglio. 
 This "Harem" on Seraglio Point is inhabited prin- 
 cipally by the wives and favorites of former Sultans. 
 According to rumor, many of these ladies are extremely 
 old; this rumor is probably true, as some of the inmates 
 date back to periods before Sultan Abdul Aziz. Here 
 is another illusion gone! According to the poets and 
 the romancers the chief seraglio in the capital city of 
 the Grand Turk would mean a collection of beautiful 
 
Stamboul Seen from the Sea 
 
 Circassians and voluptuous odalisques. In reality, 
 it seems to be a cross between a hospital and an Old 
 Ladies' Home, and the Grand Turk never goes there. 
 
 Within the Seraglio grounds is the new Museum, 
 erected in 1891 to house the sarcophagi of Sidon. Here 
 may be seen one of the most beautiful productions of 
 Greek art the so-called "Tomb of Alexander," of 
 Pentelic marble, unearthed with twenty-one other 
 sarcophagi at Sidon, in 1887. Its form is that of a 
 Greek temple and its carving and coloring are exquisite. 
 Among its polychrome sculptures in relief, representing 
 scenes of battle and the chase, there is a portrait head 
 of Alexander the Great hence the name, "Tomb of 
 Alexander." 
 
 In Stamboul, there are miles of markets in the streets. 
 I do not mean the great bazaars, most of which are 
 covered. But along the open streets are booths con- 
 taining all manner of articles. Food and wearing 
 apparel are the most common, and of these, bread, 
 dates, and figs seem to be the staple articles. These 
 eatables are exposed in the open, and considering the 
 awful filth of the streets, it makes one shudder at the 
 thought of eating them. I suppose the foreigners' 
 hotels of Pera, the European quarter, get their supplies 
 from other sources. As we put up in Pera, I sincerely 
 hope so. 
 
 There are markets of different nationalities in Stam- 
 boul. The city is divided into various quarters the 
 Greek quarter, the Jewish quarter, etc. and each 
 quarter seems to have its own market. On the out- 
 [104] 
 

Crowded and Filthy Streets 
 
 lying streets, up toward the Sweet Waters of Europe, 
 there are spaces of ground where other markets are 
 held on certain days of the week. Among them you 
 see old-clothes markets, like the "rag fairs" of England, 
 and other markets in which are sold old kettles, worn- 
 out pots, ancient pans, rusty ironmongery, decrepit 
 tongs, broken-winded bellows, toothless curry-combs 
 objects that the poorest beggar in our land would 
 not take the trouble to carry away. 
 
 In some of these crowded market streets you often 
 see a cobbler seated in a hole in the sidewalk, only his 
 head protruding from the hole; behind him is a lifted 
 trap-door, fastened to the wall. There are many of 
 these cobbler-shops, and the cobbler shuts up shop by 
 letting down the trap-door. Often I saw these cobblers 
 working in their dens in filthy streets, where gutters 
 filled with sewage trickled under their very noses. 
 
 One of the peculiarities of Stamboul is the insolent 
 demeanor of the horseman to the footman. Many 
 times daily you will see some rascal of a cabman trying 
 to drive down a well-dressed man on the street. The 
 drivers rarely take the trouble to shout as they approach 
 pedestrians. I was often filled with wonder at observ- 
 ing the meekness with which well-dressed Turks on 
 foot submitted to such treatment from shabby Turks 
 on carriage-boxes. Even when no injury was done to 
 such a pedestrian, he was often bespattered with mud. 
 Stamboul must be an unpleasant place in which to 
 live. Were cabmen in our country to treat pedes- 
 trians so recklessly, there would be many cases of 
 
Stamboul Seen from the Sea 
 
 assault and battery, and I think some mortality 
 among the Jehus. 
 
 One day I saw a uniformed Turk picking his way 
 across the street, using his sabre as a walking-stick. A 
 carriage suddenly dashed down on him, and its driver, 
 after nearly running over him, hurled at him a volley 
 of what sounded like choice Turkish abuse. The uni- 
 formed Turk retorted not; he scraped the mud off his 
 uniform, stuck his sabre under his arm, and waded 
 ashore. In our country a man with a sabre would have 
 used it on the driver's back. By this I do not mean 
 that the Turks are lacking in spirit far from it. But 
 apparently it would seem to be the custom of the country 
 that the man on foot, as against the man on horseback, 
 has no rights. 
 
 Generally speaking, the native populace obey the 
 police with much more meekness than is the case in 
 Occidental cities. They seem to fear the dreaded 
 police magistrate even more than they do the police 
 officer. 
 
 The police in the Orient are frequently provided with 
 whips with which they correct boys, and even men when 
 necessary. These whips seem to be extremely useful. 
 It is odd that in America, a civilized and presumably 
 peaceful country, police officers are armed with deadly 
 weapons, while in the turbulent Orient the police seem 
 able to control the populace with whips instead of 
 pistols. 
 
 In the streets of Oriental cities there are many rows. 
 In Syrian and Egyptian cities I have often seen the 
 
 [106] 
 
Flimsy Tinder Houses 
 
 natives burst into violent abuse, and clutch at each 
 other's garments. But they did not often seem to 
 strike a great deal of abuse resulted, but rarely more. 
 In Stamboul I did not see any such encounters among 
 the Turks ; there were continual quarrels there between 
 drivers and footmen, in which a vast amount of Billings- 
 gate was exchanged, but these also were generally 
 verbal rows. There and elsewhere ragged drivers 
 often abused well-dressed pedestrians, which attracts 
 little attention in the Orient. It must not be supposed 
 that there are no bloody affrays in the streets of Oriental 
 cities, for there are many. From my limited observa- 
 tion they seem to be principally between Levantines. 
 The Turkish police do not always display enthusiasm 
 in separating belligerents who are not true believers. 
 I have seen a couple of Turkish police officers gazing 
 with apparent indifference on a bloody fight between 
 two Greeks. 
 
 The streets of Stamboul are made up almost entirely 
 of little wooden houses, most of them one story high. 
 Poor as they are, the Turkish houses can always be 
 identified by their latticed windows. Galata and Pera, 
 the Christian quarters of Constantinople, are largely 
 built of stone, stucco-covered ; in fact, the buildings are 
 much like those of southern Europe. There are, of 
 course, many wooden houses in Galata inhabited by the 
 poorer classes. But all of Stamboul is built of wood 
 in the Turkish city one sees mile after mile of shabby 
 wooden houses. They might be workmen's cottages, 
 such as one sees in manufacturing towns in America, 
 
Stamboul Seen from the Sea 
 
 but they are much inferior to the workmen's houses in 
 most of the large towns of Europe. In European cities 
 wood is little used for building houses: in fact, I can 
 recall no city in Occidental Europe where its use is 
 common. Constantinople, in that respect, is much 
 like the cities of western America. Like them, too, 
 vast amounts of money are made and lost in fire 
 insurance. As you drive through the streets of Stam- 
 boul you will notice that all the trumpery little houses 
 have trumpery little tin insurance labels. I observed 
 that these labels nearly all bore the names of French 
 insurance companies. From the frequency of fires in 
 Constantinople, the inefficiency of the firemen, and the 
 fact that the fires nearly always result in total loss, the 
 stockholders in these insurance companies must be 
 desperate gamblers. 
 
 In the insurance business there is said to be a "moral 
 risk" as well as a "fire risk"; certain communities in 
 western America are looked at askance by insurance 
 companies, who charge them high rates for their low 
 morals and frequent fires. The risk from fire in Stam- 
 boul is certainly very great I wondered whether there 
 is a moral hazard as well. 
 
 The Turkish women of Constantinople go about in 
 squads. The better class often go out to the Sweet 
 Waters or to points on the Bosphorus in groups like 
 large picnic-parties; the poorer seem to use the ceme- 
 teries as their pleasure-grounds. This habit of going 
 about in large bodies they extend to business as well as 
 pleasure. On the street one day I saw a rabble of 
 
 [108] 
 
Sleep in the Orient 
 
 women yelling and weeping in front of a large building. 
 I asked an explanation, and was told that they were the 
 wives of government employe's, and that they were 
 demanding their husbands' salaries which had remained 
 unpaid for months. This ingenious expedient will 
 frequently bring a skinflint minister to terms when 
 nothing else will. The sympathy the stranger feels 
 for these unfortunate women is somewhat mitigated 
 when he learns that they are not always the injured 
 wives, but that they are women who hire themselves 
 out as such to any squad of unpaid employe's. 
 
 The dogs of Constantinople are by no means the 
 fierce animals they are often reported to be. They are 
 poor, mangy, shambling, yellow curs, unlike the smart 
 and perky dogs of our western lands. They have an 
 apologetic and masterless air, and slink around the 
 streets as if in constant fear of the passers-by. They 
 need not fear, for the Turks treat them very gently, and 
 when they lie in the middle of the roadway, footmen 
 step over them and drivers go around them. In fact, 
 the drivers in Constantinople are more careful of a 
 sleeping dog than of a waking man. 
 
 But the drivers sometimes find sleeping men in the 
 roadways as well as sleeping dogs. When first visiting 
 the Orient I used to wonder at the number of sleepers 
 to be seen everywhere. One sees men and boys asleep 
 on the footway, on the roadway, in doorways, on tops 
 of narrow walls, in carts, in boats, and on the backs of 
 camels and asses. I have finally come to believe that 
 the reason one sees so many daytime sleepers in the 
 
Stambotil Seen from the Sea 
 
 Orient is because they have so little chance to sleep at 
 night. After trying to sleep for a number of nights in 
 Constantinople I concluded that in the Orient one has 
 to scatter his sleep over the twenty-four hours, and take 
 it when he can. The dogs of Constantinople yelp, 
 bark, and howl under your windows all night long. 
 The Constantinople paviers, although the streets are 
 the worst paved in Europe, seem also to be the most 
 industrious in Europe, and apparently carry on their 
 noisy occupation all night. Belated Europeans meet 
 in the streets under your windows, and stop to talk 
 things over loudly and at length. Turkish early risers 
 meet each other at three or four o'clock, and stop to 
 talk things over even more loudly and at greater length. 
 To crown it all, dreadful piano-organs patrol the streets, 
 beginning their blasts of sound before daybreak. After 
 a short stay in Constantinople I no longer wondered 
 why the Orientals sleep in the daytime or at any other 
 time. They sleep in the daytime to even up. I had 
 to do it myself. 
 
 In Marion Crawford's cosmopolitan Constantino- 
 politan story, "Paul Patoff," he says, "I know of no 
 fairer and sweeter resting-place in life's journey than 
 the Valley of the Sweet Waters above the Golden Horn." 
 When at Constantinople I was surprised at the slight 
 foundation for much of the gushing of Gautier and 
 De Amicis. Marion Crawford's book in other respects 
 is a striking story of Stamboul, but in my opinion there 
 
 [no] 
 
Unlovely Sweet Waters 
 
 is nothing unusual about the Valley of the Sweet Waters 
 except its name, and that merely means " fresh" water 
 as opposed to "salt." Going up the Stamboul side 
 toward the Golden Horn you pass through the filthiest, 
 most malodorous, and most repulsive quarters of Con- 
 stantinople. Starting from the Galata side of the 
 Golden Horn to reach the Sweet Waters you drive 
 through a desolate country and over bare brown hills. 
 The view is not particularly attractive and the road is 
 monotonous. Occasionally one may see a Turkish 
 patrol pricking over the hills, and that is all. On 
 Friday afternoons the Turkish ladies repair there in 
 their carriages, but it is not etiquette to look at Turkish 
 ladies, and they are not, as a rule, worth looking at 
 anyway; they may be beautiful in their boudoirs, but 
 these shapeless, balloon-like houris as seen in public 
 are not attractive. On the banks of the Sweet Waters 
 (a sluggish stream running into the Golden Horn) the 
 Sultan has a kiosk in the valley, dignified with the term 
 " Palace." It is a very commonplace wooden building, 
 looking as if it might be a large boarding-school. A 
 somewhat marshy looking pond is near it, around which 
 are grouped a stable and a little mosque with a little 
 minaret and doubtless a little muezzin to call the Sultan 
 to prayer. Thus it will be seen that all the modern 
 Turkish conveniences are to be found there. 
 
 As I gazed up the unattractive valley, at the bare 
 brown hills and the dusty road over which we had 
 come, at this very commonplace group of buildings, at 
 the sluggish stream and marshy pond, I repeated to my- 
 
 [in] 
 
Stamboul Seen from the Sea 
 
 self mechanically Marion Crawford's words, "I know 
 of no fairer and sweeter resting-place in life's journey 
 than the Valley of the Sweet Waters above the Golden 
 Horn." 
 
 But I don't think so. 
 
 Pera and Galata are the so-called Christian quarters 
 of Constantinople. Galata, which was once a Genoese 
 suburb of Byzantium, was even ruled by a Genoese 
 syndic under the Byzantine protectorate. That the 
 Genoese had their city strongly fortified is shown by 
 what remains of the massive walls. Their tall tower 
 is the most conspicuous object in Galata, and is now 
 used as a watch-tower by the Turks to spy out Con- 
 stantinople's numerous fires. 
 
 Pera is the quarter largely given up to the foreign 
 embassies, the consular offices, and the residences of 
 rich foreigners. Here are the shops frequented by 
 foreigners, as also by the Turkish ladies, for we are 
 told that one of the factors most fatal to polygamy is 
 the taste of the harem ladies for costly silks, satins, 
 laces, and jewels from Paris and Vienna. Apropos 
 of this, it is said that Constantinople is a favorite rub- 
 bish-heap or "dump" for dealers to dispose of their 
 unmarketable goods in the shape of last season's 
 fashions. Occasionally so the story runs the 
 modistes, couturieres, and milliners of Paris and Vienna 
 fail to hit off the feminine taste. Like Beau Brummel 
 with his white ties, they say "these are our failures," 
 
 [112] 
 
Foreigners in Pera 
 
 and at once ship them to Constantinople. From the 
 appearance of the Turkish ladies there I am inclined 
 to think this story is true. 
 
 In Pera is to be found the only comfortable hotel in 
 all Constantinople, the Palace Hotel. Its front looks 
 out on the crowded Grande Rue de Pe*ra, its rear on 
 vacant ground with a Turkish cemetery in sight. But 
 so it is in Constantinople : filth, squalor, and open drains 
 may be found side by side with palaces. An archaic 
 survival may be seen on looking out from the windows 
 of the Palace Hotel it is a row of sedan chairs along 
 the street. They are used by old ladies, invalids, and 
 some old men, for many of the streets are impassable 
 except to the young and active. 
 
 Foreigners living in Pera must resign themselves to 
 semi-isolation. If their walls are high, their neighbors' 
 walls speedily become higher. When a foreign family 
 establishes itself on one of the hills of Pera the Turks 
 around immediately erect tall wooden palings or lat- 
 tices shutting off the view. This is partly on account 
 of the Turkish idea of seclusion, partly on account of 
 the extremely informal de*shabille affected by Turkish 
 ladies in the intimacy of their grounds and gardens. 
 
 Pera, as I have said, is largely made up of the resi- 
 dences of rich foreigners. Why any one should desire 
 to live in Constantinople, except diplomats and others 
 obliged to do so, seems a mystery. Still, this story, 
 told of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe when he was Em- 
 bassador at Constantinople, shows that there are 
 peculiar people who reside there: An English widow, 
 
 ["3] 
 
Stamboul Seen from the Sea 
 
 who lived at Pera, one day grew dissatisfied with her 
 English maid. Following the fashion of the faithful, 
 instead of scolding the maid she had the woman sewed 
 up in a sack and thrown into the Bosphorus. When 
 this came to Lord Stratford's ears he at once made 
 complaint. But the Sultan replied that he "never 
 interfered in domestic affairs, and this was entirely a 
 domestic affair." Without discussing the right of Turks 
 to regulate their domestic affairs by drowning, Lord 
 Stratford insisted on punishment, and the Sultan at 
 last reluctantly consented to exile the English widow 
 to Crete. 
 
 Of the amusements in Constantinople, it might be 
 said, like the snakes in Ireland there are no amuse- 
 ments in Constantinople. True, one often sees sketches 
 of brilliant cafe's filled with picturesque people such as 
 one reads about in "Paul Patoff." But the reality is 
 disappointing. The Constantinople cafes are fre- 
 quented chiefly by the cheaper order of Levantines, 
 male and female. As for the performance, it consists 
 mainly of ballads chanted by sharp sopranos and 
 raucous contraltos. There is an occasional dramatic 
 performance by a travelling company Italian opera, 
 French comedy, or Greek farce. 
 
 While we were in the Levant, French artists were 
 playing in some of the principal cities Coquelin, 
 for example, in Athens, and Sarah Bernhardt in Con- 
 stantinople. Sarah brought with her six plays, three 
 of which were by Sardou. To her amazement she 
 found that all were prohibited by the Turkish authori- 
 
Turkish Play-censorship 
 
 ties; the reasons given were eminently Turkish and 
 eminently peculiar. "La Tosca" was prohibited 
 because a prefect of police is killed in the play. "Fe- 
 dora," because it hinges on Nihilism and the overthrow 
 of government. "La Sorciere," because the Koran 
 is mentioned in the text. Of the other three plays, 
 Racine's "Phedre" was tabooed because it is a Greek 
 drama, and the Greeks are notoriously the most rebel- 
 lious subjects of the Sultan. Rostand's "L'Aiglon" 
 was forbidden because it satirized the treatment of 
 Napoleon's son by Austria, and therefore was calcu- 
 lated to give offence to a friendly government. Thus 
 of the six only one piece passed the Turkish censors, 
 and that, oddly enough, was Dumas's "La Dame aux 
 Camelias," which for years the Lord Chamberlain has 
 forbidden in England on account of its immorality! 
 
VI 
 
 THE SULTAN AND THE 
 SELAMLIK 
 
VI 
 
 THE SULTAN AND THE SELAMLIK 
 
 [E palace and grounds inhabited by 
 Abdul Hamid, the present Sultan, were 
 begun in 1832 by his grandfather, who 
 built on a hill by the Bosphorus a small 
 kiosk which he called "Yildez," meaning "star." By 
 an odd coincidence this was afterward replaced by a 
 larger kiosk inhabited by a Circassian favorite of Sultan 
 Medjid, whose name was "Yildez." The place was 
 successively enlarged, and, finally, about the time when 
 the present Sultan grew too timorous to live longer in 
 Dolmabagtche Palace, he removed to the Yildez estate. 
 This he entrenched as if it were a fortress. It is an 
 immense park, scattered over which are palaces, kiosks, 
 pavilions, cottages, and watch-towers. New struc- 
 tures are continually added, for the Sultan has the 
 building superstition so common in the Orient. Sur- 
 rounding the estate is an immense wall, which a few 
 years ago the Sultan raised some thirty feet. Sentry 
 boxes and barracks are found all along this wall. Within 
 the main enclosure is a smaller wall some twelve feet 
 thick, with iron doors; inside of this again is the Sultan's 
 
The Sultan and the Selamlik 
 
 private residence and his harem. It is said that he 
 has underground communication from his residence to 
 other buildings on the estate. At Yildez there is a 
 subterranean structure built of concrete, ostensibly 
 constructed to be earthquake-proof, although skeptics 
 say that it was designed to be bomb-proof. There is a 
 magnificent view of the Bosphorus from the hill where 
 the Sultan's residence stands, and near his kiosk he has 
 a small artificial lake on which he rows. For his boat- 
 ing he has confined himself to this sheet of water for 
 some years, fearing to go to the larger lake in the outer 
 enclosure. For a long time he has not gone aboard 
 his yachts, of which there are several, so-called, on the 
 Bosphorus. Although presumably pleasure craft, I 
 observed that the guns they carried were not the usual 
 simple saluting battery, but business-like, quick-firing 
 cannon, forward, amidships, and in the stern. 
 
 Yildez is more than a palace and its grounds: it is a 
 small city, for it contains farms, vegetable-gardens, a 
 porcelain factory, a saw-mill, a foundry, a machine- 
 shop, a repair-shop, and an arsenal. There are several 
 stables, a small one in the Sultan's private enclosure, 
 and others in different parts of the estate. Near the 
 Sultan's private stable there is a fine riding-school, 
 where the young princes are carefully trained in horse- 
 manship. The Sultan was once very fond of riding, 
 and up to a few years ago rode daily around his im- 
 mense parks. He is fond of animals generally, and 
 there are many wild animals in cages at Yildez; there 
 is a deer-park there, many deer and gazelles, several 
 
 [120] 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
His Private Mosque 
 
 aviaries, numerous pigeon-houses, flower-gardens, and 
 hot-houses containing rare orchids and other plants. 
 
 According to Mohammedan law the Sultan, as head 
 of the church, must make his formal prayer weekly. 
 Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath, is the day he goes 
 to prayer. At one time the Sultan was in the habit of 
 crossing the Golden Horn to the mosque at the Old 
 Seraglio. But fear of assassination has caused Abdul 
 Hamid to remain within the precincts of his own do- 
 main, Yildez Kiosk. Here he has had constructed a 
 little mosque of his own, called after him, the Hamid- 
 yeh Mosque. It stands within the enclosure of the 
 Yildez Kiosk grounds, and is visible from several places 
 near at hand. One of these is a large parade ground 
 for the troops. On this parade ground the Moham- 
 medan faithful are permitted to stand, and pilgrims from 
 all over Turkey assemble there in crowds every Friday. 
 There is another piece of rising ground whence a good 
 view may be had; this is accessible to European travel- 
 lers who are properly accredited with passports or 
 recommendations from their legations or consulates, 
 and therefore may not be bomb-throwers. At one time 
 there was a large pavilion for members of the diplo- 
 matic corps, their guests, and travellers provided with 
 invitations. But the assassinations of royal and gov- 
 ernmental persons of late years so terrified the Sultan 
 that this privilege ceased. 
 
 The most interesting phase of the Selamlik is the 
 display of troops. There is a large garrison at Con- 
 stantinople, from fifteen thousand to twenty thousand 
 
The Sultan and the Selamlik 
 
 picked soldiers of the Turkish army. Their brilliant 
 uniforms are of every kind and color, and they come 
 from Trebizond, Smyrna, Angora, Erzeroum, Bagdad, 
 Bassorah, Aleppo, Beirout, Lebanon, Damascus, Turk- 
 ish Armenia, Albania, Salonica, Roumelia, Koordistan, 
 and Mesopotamia. They nearly all wear the fez, as does 
 the Sultan himself. Every man of them is a Mohamme- 
 dan. Although the Sultan has many Christian subjects, 
 no Christian is allowed to serve as a soldier; Christian 
 subjects are required to pay a special annual military 
 tax, about equivalent to the cost of a substitute. The 
 troopers of the cavalry squadrons are very well mounted. 
 The officers bestrode the most handsome horses we saw 
 in the Levantine cities of Europe, Africa, or Asia. The 
 foot-troops wear the red fez; most of the cavalry wear 
 a black fez; the zouaves of the guard corps and some 
 artillery officers wear the green turban; while the fire- 
 men, who also are represented at the Selamlik parade, 
 wear a red helmet with a white crescent on the front. 
 Among the various uniforms seen were those of generals 
 of division; brigade adjutants; aides-de-camp; staff 
 officers; zouave, infantry, cavalry, artillery, and uhlan 
 officers of the guard; engineer, infantry, artillery, and 
 cavalry officers of the line; mountain artillery; fortress 
 artillery; light artillery; foot artillery; cadets of the 
 military academy; officers and men of the marine and 
 light cavalry. Among the light cavalry there are some 
 striking looking squadrons; five of these (about sixty- 
 five regiments) which are recruited from certain nomad 
 tribes of Asia, are called the Hamidyeh cavalry, from 
 
 [122] 
 
Imposing Military Display 
 
 the name of the Sultan (Abdul Hamid) who organized 
 this corps. On a peace footing Turkey has about 
 255,000 men of whom 21,000 are officers; this does not 
 include the militia, the gendarmery, the sanitary, the 
 veterinary, the clerical, or the transportation corps. 
 The number of troops that Turkey can mobilize is 
 1,180,000 with 1,700 cannon. The infantry are armed 
 with a Mauser rifle, model 1890; the cavalry with a 
 carbine of the same model. The mountain artillery 
 are equipped with rapid fire Krupp cannon. 
 
 It is the day of the Selamlik. We are in a large en- 
 closure overlooking the Palace grounds and the gardens 
 of the Mosque. Around us are large numbers of 
 tourists in carriages. They while away the time of 
 their long wait by looking at the baskets of hucksters 
 who go from carriage to carriage noisily hawking their 
 wares. Scattered among the crowd are " secret police" 
 that is, they are not in uniform, but very evidently 
 of the detective class. They move about among the 
 carriages, looking for cameras, opera-glasses, and 
 lorgnons, and warning the owners against their use. 
 
 A vast amount of vapid talk goes on among the 
 tourists. But for vacuity and vapidity the talk between 
 the tourists and their dragomans is astounding. Here 
 is a sample dialogue: 
 
 "Does the Sultan pray every day?" asks a sharp- 
 faced female tourist of her dragoman. 
 
 "Once a week, lady." 
 
The Sultan and the Selamlik 
 
 "Not oftener?" 
 
 "No, not more." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Dragoman gives it up. A pause. 
 
 The sharp-faced tourist points her opera-glass at the 
 Palace. 
 
 "Must not use opera-glass, lady," mildly hints the 
 dragoman. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "It is forbid." 
 
 "But why is it forbid?" 
 
 "I not know, lady." 
 
 "But I don't see why I can't use it." 
 
 " Yes no I not see, but must not," monotonously 
 drones the dragoman. 
 
 "But what will they do if I use it?" 
 
 "Police officer make very much trouble, lady." 
 
 "But won't you ask the officer if I can't use mine?" 
 
 "No use, lady, he not permit." 
 
 " But I can't see the Sultan without my opera-glass." 
 
 "Yes, but it is not permit, lady." 
 
 "But I don't see why not." 
 
 Thus the aggrieved lady continues her moan. She 
 considers the restriction unreasonable, and takes it out 
 of her dragoman, who probably chalks up his sym- 
 pathy as labor performed, and takes it out of her 
 bill. Yet all around her the detectives are alert, 
 watching for levelled cameras and opera-glasses, per- 
 haps for other things that might be levelled at the 
 Sultan who knows? 
 
 [124] 
 
Magnificent Troops 
 
 They even peer under the seats of carriages, and if 
 there is a particularly suspicious-looking elderly lady 
 who looks as if she might have a bomb concealed, they 
 make her rise while they examine her many rugs. 
 
 Occasionally spans of handsome horses dash by, 
 attached to fine carriages containing red-fezzed officials. 
 Every few minutes troops of lancers and dragoons trot 
 past, with mounted bands. They are fine-looking 
 troops, and better mounted than any cavalry we have 
 seen in Europe, except the crack corps in London. 
 Still these are scarcely fair samples by which to judge 
 the Turkish Army ; they are hardly troops of the line, 
 but special corps belonging to the garrison, of which 
 there are some twenty thousand at Constantinople, 
 although no such number of troops are present at 
 this Selamlik. That the magnificent troops seen at 
 the Selamlik are not typical of the Turkish army is 
 plainly evident in the smaller cities of Syria; there 
 one sees filthy, frowsy, ragged soldiers, utterly unlike 
 the dashing troopers and trim foot-soldiers at Stamboul. 
 
 The troops take their positions, and form a hollow 
 square; they completely surround the mosque and the 
 roadway leading from the Palace portal to the doorway 
 of the mosque. His majesty is about to fare forth to 
 pray; on his way he will be entirely circled by steel. 
 The roadway runs from the imperial palace entrance 
 down a slight hill to the entrance of the mosque. A 
 gang of men appear, who carefully sweep and sprinkle 
 this roadway. At exactly twelve o'clock a high-pitched 
 musical voice rings through the air. It is the muezzin 
 
 [125] 
 
The Sultan and the Selamlik 
 
 calling the Sultan to prayer. Simultaneously with 
 his call a trumpeter sounds a blast, and the thousands 
 of troops shoulder arms. 
 
 Down the hillside from the Palace starts the advance 
 of the Sultan's procession. This is made up of the 
 leading ladies of the harem, all in handsofhe broughams. 
 On both sides of their carriages ride coal-black eunuchs; 
 they wear long black frock coats, red fezzes, and are 
 mounted on magnificent Arabian horses. First of 
 these ladies is the Valideh Sultana, the Sultan's step- 
 mother; she is followed by various wives and daughters 
 of the Sultan. Behind the ladies of the harem rides 
 the Chief Eunuch, an old and fat Abyssinian negro. 
 Next come the Sultan's sons, seven, eleven, and four- 
 teen years of age, wearing officers' uniforms, and hand- 
 somely mounted. The escort of the princes is made 
 up of gray-bearded cavalry officers. Behind them 
 comes the cavalry escort of the Sultan, picked soldiers 
 on selected mounts. Several Arabian horses, blanketed 
 and hooded, led by grooms, are next in the line; these 
 are the Sultan's saddle-horses. Sometimes, when the 
 whim seizes him, he rides to the mosque; sometimes he 
 drives there and returns on horseback. He is fond of 
 riding and driving, and used to be an active horseman 
 before he shut himself up in Yildez Kiosk. 
 
 Following the saddle-horses is an open space. There 
 is a pause. Presently a carriage appears which is 
 greeted with a continuous and curious cry from the 
 people gathered there, soldiers and populace. This 
 cry, we are told, is "Long live our Padishah!" As he 
 
The Sultan at Prayer 
 
 descends the gentle slope, Abdul Hamid's face and 
 figure are plainly to be seen in his open and roomy 
 victoria. This day he does not drive to the mosque 
 himself, but is driven. He is simply clad in a black 
 frock coat and a red fez. His jet-black beard owes its 
 color, of course, to dye. Amid the continuous roar of 
 the cheering, the Sultan's carriage turns into the gates 
 of the mosque enclosure. It pauses at the stairs, up 
 which the Sultan presently mounts with a vigorous step. 
 As soon as he has entered, the crowd of courtiers, 
 pashas, and other uniformed officers press into the 
 narrow doorway, and for a time the brilliant suite is 
 invisible. 
 
 The Sultan remains less than half an hour at his 
 devotions. When he emerges, the word of command 
 runs around the thousands of troops, and with a sharp 
 slap they shoulder their muskets. As the Sultan steps 
 into his carriage he speaks a few words to the gold- 
 laced group bowing low before him. He returns to 
 the Palace by a different carriage, a phaeton, to which 
 two beautiful white Arabian stallions are attached. 
 He takes the reins himself, grasps the whip, and with a 
 word his impetuous horses start up the incline. 
 
 Now comes a curious sight. As his horses ascend 
 the hill at a quick trot his generals, his pashas, his 
 colonels, and his ministers keep pace with his horses. 
 The courtiers are clad in scarlet and bullion, in blue 
 and silver, in green and gold; they are gray, grizzled, 
 and old, but they run like so many school-boys behind 
 and on either side of the imperial carriage. Fortu- 
 
 [127] 
 
The Sultan and the Selamlik 
 
 nately the run is not a long one, for many of the pashas 
 are fat and scant of breath. But no matter how old 
 or how fat, all who are not absolutely disabled run by 
 their master's carriage. Obesity is not an exemption; 
 age is not a release. There is no apology but partial 
 paralysis; no excuse but locomotor ataxia. This is 
 perhaps the Oriental courtiers' way of indicating en- 
 thusiastic loyalty. Courtiers have always had to do 
 humiliating things, with joyful faces, in monarchies. 
 Perhaps they do still perhaps even in republics. 
 But what a fantastic spectacle a lot of uniformed 
 and elderly dignitaries running up a hill on a hot day 
 a troop of perspiring and pot-bellied pashas sprinting 
 after their padishah! 
 
VII 
 
 THE BREEKS OF THE TURKS 
 
VII 
 
 THE BREEKS OF THE TURKS 
 
 BELIEVE in telling the truth about 
 travel. It may not much matter what a 
 traveller thinks, but it does matter that 
 he should, if he tells it, tell it truthfully. 
 Most travellers are apt to rave to order. Like the 
 sheep of Panurge, they follow one another's tales. 
 If they have been told that in Paris they should 
 rave over the tomb of Napoleon, they rave over 
 Napoleon's tomb. If tourists think it is the thing in 
 London to gush over St. Paul's, they gush. Yet 
 many tourists pass St. Paul's without noticing it 
 at all; still, when stopped, they always obediently 
 rave. 
 
 The truthful traveller will often admit his disappoint- 
 ment. When I first visited London I drove in a han- 
 som for miles across that dreary desert of bricks and 
 mortar, that forest of chimney-pots, between Euston 
 Station and Piccadilly. I never dreamed there were 
 so many dull, dingy, ugly brick houses in the world. 
 Needless to say, I was disappointed in London. When 
 I first visited Paris I drove from the Eastern Station 
 
The Breeks of the Turks 
 
 down that long and stupid street, the Rue Lafayette, 
 for what seemed miles, until we reached the criss- 
 cross composer-named streets back of the Ope*ra. 
 The Rue Lafayette, in some respects, suggests New 
 York's Seventh Avenue; in others, it resembles London's 
 Tottenham Court Road; but there was nothing about 
 it to bring up before me the Paris of which I had read 
 the Paris of which I had dreamed. Paris was a 
 disappointment I was frank enough to admit it, 
 even to myself. Later I saw other quarters of Lon- 
 don, other parts of Paris, which more than compen- 
 sated me for the Rue Lafayette and Bloomsbury. 
 
 What most struck me at Stamboul? What were 
 my first impressions of Constantinople, the famous 
 city seated on the Bosphorus and divided by the Golden 
 Horn? Did I think of the Byzantine emperors? Of 
 the many dynasties who occupied the thrones of the 
 Empire of the East? Of Constantine? Of Helena? 
 Of Justinian? Of Theodora? Did I think of the 
 many dithyrambic word-paintings I had read? Of 
 the many mosques? Of the countless minarets? Of 
 the summer palaces which line the Bosphorus, from the 
 Sea of Marmora to the Black Sea? 
 
 No: to be frank, I did not think of any of these 
 things. I did not weep, like Lamartine; nor did I 
 rave, like Gautier; nor did I "turn hot and cold," as 
 did De Amicis. I first gazed in wonder at the famous 
 bridge across the Golden Horn a bridge reposing 
 on rotting pontoons, and apparently fastened together 
 with rusty wire, pieces of tin-roofing, old hoops, bed- 
 
Umbrella and Sabre 
 
 slats, and weather-worn rope. Then what first struck 
 me as I stepped ashore was the nether garment of the 
 Ottoman. The first man I saw was an elderly Turk, 
 attired in a rich gold-laced uniform; girt by his side was 
 agold-hilted sabre with beautifully enamelled scabbard; 
 as far as his knees he was trim, elegant, and point-devise; 
 but below the knees, his uniform trousers were frowsy 
 and filthy. His feet were clad in aged "congress 
 gaiters," or "side-spring shoes," with gaping side-elas- 
 tics; these gaping gaiters were thrust into still more 
 aged rubber galoshes, which bore even more evident 
 traces of the filth of StambouPs streets. 
 
 As I gazed at this gorgeous person, gold-laced above, 
 frowsy and filthy below, a bulbous umbrella in his right 
 hand, his left holding a gold-hilted sabre, he seemed to 
 me to typify the Ottoman Turk. Peace and war, glit- 
 ter and foulness. His umbrella symbolized peace, for 
 your umbrella is the least lethal of weapons, and your 
 Turk is peaceful if let alone. But his sabre meant war, 
 for the Turk is a fighter, and is always ready to fight if 
 he be attacked. His beard was gray your Turkish 
 soldier has no age-limit. Every male from sixteen to 
 sixty is eligible as a recruit, and therefore potential 
 food for powder. He was uniformed, and therefore an 
 officer or official. He was either unpaid or poor, for he 
 had to walk through the filthy streets, as was shown by 
 his umbrella, his frowsy trousers, his galoshes, and his 
 lack of a cab. 
 
 Another point that struck me was that these same 
 trousers were unlike any other trousers in sight. Every 
 
The Breeks of the Turks 
 
 man on the street wore a different kind of breeks. This 
 showed the lack of unity, the absence of homogeneity 
 in the Turkish Empire. 
 
 In the Occident we all wear the same kind of trou- 
 sers. In London one may see, of a fine spring morning, 
 several hundred thousand men in sleek silk hats, frock 
 coats, and dark striped trousers about three fourths 
 of them going " to the city" in hansoms, and the remain- 
 ing one fourth not city men, but idlers lounging along 
 Piccadilly, Bond Street, or Pall Mall, but all in dark 
 striped trousers. The only break to this monotony in 
 England is the cyclist in stockings or the equestrian in 
 boots and breeches. 
 
 So in America. When President Roosevelt made his 
 tour of our vast country, he wore exactly the same kind 
 of trousers as every man he met. All were cut about 
 nineteen inches over the knee, and about seventeen 
 inches over the instep. This was true even of the 
 President's favorite cowboys, with the purely super- 
 ficial difference that they rolled their trousers up, or, as 
 they would express it, "wore their pants in their boots." 
 
 How different the variegated trousers of Turkey from 
 the uniformly creased trousers of respectable Britain. 
 How different the multiform breeks of the Turks from 
 the neat pantings and trouserings of respectable 
 America. Wherever I turned my eyes I saw a different 
 kind of breeks. I saw the Montenegrin galligaskins 
 tight-fitting around the ankle and calf, looser 
 around the knee, voluminous around the hip. I saw the 
 Albanian breeks tighter even than the Montenegrin 
 
The Breeks of the Greeks 
 
 breeks below, more voluminous above. I saw the Bul- 
 garian breeks so redundant that the wearer might 
 easily carry a bushel of wheat in the seat. I saw the 
 Roumelian pantaloon-like breeks breeks much re- 
 sembling the pantaloons of our great-grandsires, some 
 of whose great-grandsons erroneously call their trou- 
 sers "pantaloons." I saw young officers of the Sul- 
 tan's guard in smart riding-breeks, looking as if they 
 came from West End London tailors, which, perhaps, 
 they did. I saw the cheap hand-me-down breeks of 
 scowling, sour-faced, fanatic old Turks Christian 
 breeks, made in the sweat-shops of Germany, as evi- 
 denced by tags upon these trousers baggy brands of 
 breeks made up specially in Christendom for the breek- 
 wearers of Islam. I saw the smart creased breeks of 
 the Greek clerks going to their Pera offices. I saw also 
 the genuine Greek breeks, which are voluminous panta- 
 looned petticoats, or petticoated pantaloons. I saw 
 officers in all kinds of handsome uniform breeks, sand- 
 wiched in with the coarse breeks of the common soldier. 
 I saw the gorgeous gold-laced breeks of the kavasses or 
 dragomans of legations. I saw all manner of laced, 
 embroidered, and braided breeks, which had strutted 
 their brief hour on wealthy Turkish legs, thence to 
 descend to porters, to beggars, to donkey-drivers. And 
 I even saw one poor Turk clad in ex-grain bags bearing 
 a stencilled stamp in English on the dome. 
 
 All of these remarks, be it understood, apply to the 
 breeks of the Turks. As to the breeks of the Turkesses, 
 I will say little. But the same indifference to their 
 
 [135] 
 
The Breeks of the Turks 
 
 nether-wear exists among the women as among the 
 men. You will see a Turkish woman richly clad so far 
 as concerns her yashmak and her silk jeridjee, but de- 
 clining in elegance and cleanliness as she descends. 
 Below the knee all elegance disappears, and a pair of 
 sleazy, alpaca, balloon-like trousers, ungartered socks, 
 and old yellow slippers down at heel, shabbily finish 
 off the lady who started so elegantly at the other end. 
 Another peculiarity of the Turkish woman, with her 
 shabby trousers and slipshod foot-gear, is her indiffer- 
 ence as to exposing that end of her. While she is ex- 
 tremely careful to keep her face covered, she is equally 
 careless about her legs. It is not uncommon to see a 
 group of Turkish women sunning themselves in a ceme- 
 tery they apparently affect graveyards as pleasure 
 resorts; as they lie a-basking in the sun in these cheer- 
 ful places, they have an infantile fashion of pulling up 
 their trousers and scratching one bare leg with the hoof 
 of the other. 
 
 One day, while on the Grande Rue de Pra a 
 busy street with European shops I saw every now 
 and again veiled ladies whose attire seemed to demolish 
 my theory. They were bold, black-eyed beauties; 
 they wore very thin veils, which they kept continually 
 dropping; they were clad in the same black and white 
 garments as all the Turkish ladies. But in one respect 
 they differed they were very trim about their foot- 
 gear. Most of them wore natty buttoned boots, with 
 extremely high heels, evidently of French make, while 
 their hosiery, of which they made a lavish display, was 
 
Imitation Turkish Ladies 
 
 of costly silk. Here was a divergence from the shabby 
 yellow slippers and the ungartered socks. My theory 
 seemed in danger. I made haste to confer with De- 
 metrius Arghyropolos, our dragoman. 
 
 "Demetri," said I, "are those ladies yonder Turkish 
 ladies?" 
 
 "Dose ladies?" he replied, following my ringer; "oh! 
 no dose ladies not Turkish. Dose ladies sometimes 
 Franch, sometimes Ingleez, sometimes Cherman, some- 
 times Bulgarian dat kind of lady is anything but 
 always Christian never Turkish." 
 
 From Demetri's manner, it was evident that these 
 trimly shod damsels constituted a distinct class, and I 
 made no further queries. But it was also evident that 
 my theories about the Turkish women's neglect of 
 their nether-gear were as well founded as my observa- 
 tions on the breeks of the Turks. 
 
 ['37J 
 
VIII 
 
 OF SMYRNA AND OF BUYING 
 THINGS 
 
VIII 
 
 OF SMYRNA AND OF BUYING THINGS 
 
 [F all Levantine cities Smyrna is probably 
 the most prosperous but certainly the 
 least interesting. Not that points of 
 archaeologic interest are non-existent there 
 they fairly swarm. Enthusiastic dragomans point 
 out to agitated tourists the place where the ancient 
 Greek city used to be when it was destroyed by the 
 Lydians six hundred years before Christ; the place 
 where Alexander the Great stood when he determined 
 to rebuild the Greek city; the place out in the water 
 where the ancient harbor used to be; the river which 
 enthusiastic Smyrniotes believe to be the river Meles, 
 which Homer used to love; the cave near the river 
 where he used to compose his poems; the spot on the 
 river bank where his temple, the Homerium, used to 
 stand. Over-scrupulous pundits point out that "the 
 stream" shown to tourists is a dry bed of boulders, 
 except when torrential rain falls, and that the ancient 
 Meles was a mild-mannered river and not a torrential 
 stream; but your resolute tourist pays little heed to a 
 hypercritical antiquary. Another famous and better 
 
Of Smyrna and of Buying Things 
 
 identified river not far from Smyrna is the Meander, 
 whose crooked course has given a word for the windings 
 of countless rivers all over the world. 
 
 If the enthusiastic tourist has not been chilled by his 
 view of these exciting sights, he may take a railway trip 
 of a few hours to see the ruins of ancient Ephesus. 
 If when there he cannot see the ruins, he may look at 
 the site. If he is unsatisfied with the site, I have no 
 more to say to him. True, the Ephesian ruins are 
 difficult to find, and when found hard to see. True, 
 the traces of the Temple of Diana are visible only to 
 the trained eye of the archaeologist or the telescopic eye 
 of the dragoman. But no one can deny that you are 
 shown a large tract of ground on which there are many 
 pieces of stone and not a little brick. To the tourist 
 who still retains his enthusiasm there will be shown 
 the site of the prison where St. Paul was shut up; the 
 place where the great theatre used to be, and the place 
 where the mob gathered and shouted " Great is Diana 
 of the Ephesians!" He will also be shown the Cave of 
 the Seven Sleepers. The mystic number figures in 
 other ways concerning Smyrna : it was one of the Seven 
 Cities addressed in Revelation by the fiery evangelist 
 John and one of the Seven Cities claiming to be the 
 birthplace of Homer. Probably had it been made 
 in his lifetime the poet would have repudiated the 
 charge. 
 
 Of the modern city it may be said that it has two 
 hundred thousand inhabitants, of whom one half are 
 Europeans, principally Greeks. The Smyrniotes, both 
 
Bazaar Disillusions 
 
 men and women, seem to be very good-looking, and 
 many of them are remarkably handsome. The city is 
 picturesque when seen from the water, rising up on its 
 amphitheatre of hills with lofty Mount Pagus in the 
 background. There are some fine views in the vicinity, 
 and the Paradise Aqueduct traverses a beautiful land- 
 scape. But the city proper is not picturesque or 
 attractive in any way. The streets are narrow, and 
 very muddy after the frequent rainstorms. The 
 bazaars, the sole attraction, are in the most unpleasant 
 quarter of the city. The principal articles one finds 
 there are carpets, cotton, sponges, figs, raisins, opium, 
 and other drugs, for Smyrna is the headquarters of the 
 drug trade of the world. 
 
 The mere mention of the Smyrna bazaars will make 
 many people think that Smyrna has at least the re- 
 deeming point of being an excellent place in which to 
 buy a few things. When asked "what things"? they 
 would reply, "Why rugs and and figs, I suppose." 
 It may be that they are right. Many beautiful Oriental 
 carpets and nearly all choice Levantine figs purport 
 to come from Smyrna. But I doubt whether they all 
 do. There are finer exhibits of Oriental carpets to be 
 seen in Occidental cities than in Smyrna. Some- 
 times I fear that communities which have acquired 
 a wide and century-old fame for certain things do 
 not always "make good," to use our picturesque 
 American slang. 
 
 Are there not enthusiastic travellers who dream of 
 drinking genuine curacao in the little island where grow 
 
Of Smyrna and of Buying Things 
 
 the orange groves of Curasao? Of sipping the real 
 Turkish coffee in Turkey? Of smoking the authentic 
 Egyptian cigarettes in Egypt ? Of eating rich, melting, 
 luscious Smyrna figs in Smyrna? Of washing one's 
 hands with the only original Castile soap castiled in 
 fair Castile? 
 
 In what wise do these travellers* dreams materialize ? 
 Alas and alack! They are but clouds and shadows. 
 They don't come true. 
 
 For, on the beautiful islet in the Leeward Island 
 group where grew the groves of Curacao orange-trees in 
 the aforetime, there are now none. But the world, being 
 used to the flavor of the Curacao oranges in its curacao, 
 will tolerate no other. So the world has its way. The 
 liqueur curacao is still made in large quantities, but it 
 is not a Curacao liqueur. It is compounded out of 
 everything as it is an orange liqueur, it is even made 
 of oranges sometimes; but the Amsterdam houses that 
 handle it largely are said to make it principally out of 
 potato alcohol and prune juice. 
 
 How about the delicious Egyptian cigarettes ? the 
 delicate Egyptian tobacco? Alas again! The native 
 Egyptian tobacco is so bad that nobody smokes it but 
 the natives, and not even they when they can get any- 
 thing else. In Egypt, as in so many places, the tobacco 
 comes from Somewhere Else. The highest grade of 
 tobacco there is apparently imported from Europe 
 from Roumelia. The next best comes from Northern 
 Syria the best-known grade of this tobacco being 
 known to Europeans as "Latakia," although not so 
 
Turkish Coffee Dreams 
 
 called in Egypt. Persian tobacco is also imported into 
 Egypt. In short, Egypt imports the tobacco, the wrap- 
 pers, the boxes, and the smokers, and then you have 
 the Egyptian cigarette. 
 
 "But still," contends the enthusiast, "there can be 
 no coffee like the genuine Turkish coffee. Ah, think 
 of the Arabian Nights! And Scheherezade ! And 
 Lady What's-Her-Name, the English peeress who wore 
 Turkish trousers, lived in Turkey for years, and sipped 
 Turkish coffee with Turkish pashas. And of the 
 bearded sheiks in the desert with hubble-bubble 
 pipes and harems of beautiful black-eyed houris 
 all sitting on divans and all sipping coffee 
 with all the comforts of a home out in the desert ! 
 Come, ^ow! You must give in on the Turkish 
 coffee." 
 
 To this I can only reply that they may have had good 
 coffee in Turkey in the time when Sultan Haroun-al- 
 Raschid walked his city's streets incognito, but they 
 have none now. You can get better Turkish coffee (so- 
 called) in Vienna than in Turkey; you can get much 
 better Turkish coffee in London, Paris, or New York 
 than you can in Stamboul, Pera, Scutari, Smyrna, 
 Beyroot, Jerusalem, or Cairo. 
 
 How about the luscious figs of Smyrna? My ex- 
 perience was that the nearer we got to Smyrna the 
 poorer grew the figs. When we reached Beyroot they 
 were pretty bad; when we were off Smyrna, the pedlers 
 brought some aboard that were very bad; when we 
 got ashore at Smyrna, we were offered some on the 
 
 [us] 
 
Of Smyrna and of Buying Things 
 
 quay that were worse; in the hotel they were wormy; 
 and when we got into the heart of Smyrna the figs were 
 able to walk around the dealer's counter. It is a fact 
 that we have purchased in the leading groceries of 
 London, New York, and San Francisco very much 
 finer Smyrna figs than we saw in Smyrna. 
 
 If it be asked how Smyrna figs can be purchased in 
 distant cities, which are superior to the Smyrna figs on 
 sale in Smyrna, the answer is that they are specially 
 selected and specially packed. They are stamped in 
 English on the boxes, "Washed Figs." This is wise, 
 but from the fig-dealers and handlers I saw in Smyrna, 
 I think it much more essential that the fig-handlers 
 should be washed. 
 
 I used to be very fond of Smyrna figs before I went 
 to Smyrna. 
 
 I have not eaten any since. 
 
 I shall never eat any again. 
 
 Never mind why. 
 
 The subject of washing naturally brings me back to 
 soap. Once when in Castile I found no Castile soap. 
 They did not know what I meant; they had never heard 
 of Castile soap. This irritated me, so I began investi- 
 gating the Castile-soap problem. I learned or was 
 told that Castile soap is not made in Castile; is not 
 sold in Castile; is not used in Castile; that it is made in 
 Marseilles out of olive oil imported from Palestine. 
 Thus we note this strange anomaly the name given 
 to a well-known soap comes from a country which knows 
 naught of this particular soap; it is manufactured in a 
 
Measuring Wits in Shops 
 
 city using little or no soap, out of materials coming from 
 a country which uses no soap at all. 
 
 When Americans indulge in "buying things abroad," 
 do they get good value for their time, their labor, and 
 their money? Time to an American in Europe is a 
 costly item most people spend several thousand dol- 
 lars for not very many weeks abroad. Why, then, 
 should they spend so much of their valuable time in 
 haggling with dealers over things that they could buy 
 as cheap or cheaper at home ? this has always been 
 a mystery to me. Similarly, I have never been able to 
 understand why Americans abroad should sit at hotel 
 desks for so many hours (at five dollars or ten dol- 
 lars per hour) writing letters home to Cousin Susan 
 and Aunt Jane. 
 
 American tourists seem to believe they can buy 
 things better in foreign places than at home. I am 
 inclined to doubt this about some things, and I entirely 
 disbelieve it about others. When it comes to laces, 
 jewels, rugs, and carpets, the judgment of an expert 
 is indispensable. Yet what American woman will 
 hesitate to measure wits with an Oriental in a Turkish 
 bazaar? And what chance has she for coming out 
 ahead? Very little, in my opinion. In purchasing 
 goods like Daghestan or Bokhara rugs, about the only 
 guarantee is the dealer's honesty. People who buy 
 from pedlers or shopkeepers in Oriental bazaars are 
 apt to get fleeced, and they generally are. 
 
 I believe that the man or woman who buys at home 
 in the United States generally fares as well as often 
 
Of Smyrna and of Buying Things 
 
 better than he or she who buys abroad. The time 
 consumed in haggling in the Orient is something awful. 
 It might much better be spent in sight-seeing, for ex- 
 ample. Time is the most precious thing we have. It 
 is the stuff of which life is made, said old Ben Franklin. 
 Lost money you may recover, lost health regain, but 
 lost time is gone forever. 
 
 I have often looked with pity on an American woman 
 exhausted by hours of haggling in a punk-scented and 
 foul-smelling Oriental bazaar, and neglecting hundreds 
 of beautiful outdoor sights that she might never again 
 have the opportunity to see. 
 
 Think of the time consumed; the money spent; the 
 nerve- waste; think of the transportation, which is justly 
 chargeable against your purchases, for you pay for 
 transporting your luggage when you buy your ticket 
 by steamer or rail, even when you do not pay excess 
 luggage, which you generally do; think of the risk by 
 loss or damage in transit a complete loss if not in- 
 sured, which baggage rarely or never is; think of the 
 mental worry over the United States customs inspec- 
 tion, which is a terror; think of the United States duty, 
 which must almost unquestionably be paid. If you 
 look into the matter, you will often find it would have 
 been cheaper to buy the things from a reputable dealer 
 in your own town. He or his agents can select better 
 than you can ; they have more time and a larger variety. 
 He will probably pay less than you for duties, knowing 
 the classification of goods better than you. His profit 
 will come to little, if any, more than you would pay 
 
Dishonest Orientals 
 
 with these extras added. Last, but by no means least, 
 you will have the assurance that you have bought what 
 you paid for. Not so when you deal with the Orien- 
 tal pedler or with the shopkeeper in a bazaar. You 
 cannot even buy a five-franc sponge in the Orient with 
 the certainty that it is an honest sponge and worth five 
 francs. 
 
 These remarks, of course, have their limitations. 
 They apply principally to the purchase of staples, so to 
 speak, or things which are reproduced in large num- 
 bers, or of which there are many replicas. They do 
 not apply to antiquities, gems, intaglios, and things that 
 are unique. They do apply, for example, to ordinary 
 commercial bronzes no matter how artistic, these 
 are reproduced indefinitely; they do not apply to a cire- 
 perdue bronze of which there is only one copy in the 
 world. They do not apply to dwellers in Great Britain, 
 whether subjects or denizens; for the customs-laws of 
 that country are so liberal that those returning there 
 may bring practically anything in duty free, except 
 tobacco, liquor, and Tauchnitz novels. But they do 
 apply to dwellers in the United States, for our customs 
 dues are so high as practically to wipe out the lower 
 price of goods purchased abroad. 
 
 But waiving all these questions of price, of time, of 
 trouble, there is another one. It is the question of 
 what is fitting, of what is congruous, of what is apropos. 
 The seeker after the congruous, the adorer of the apro- 
 pos, is, when buying abroad, ever doomed to disap- 
 pointment. It is indeed a disillusion to learn that 
 
 [i49] 
 
Of Smyrna and of Buying Things 
 
 there is no Castile soap in Castile, no Turkish coffee in 
 Turkey, no curacao in Curacao, no wormless Smyrna 
 figs in Smyrna. And it came upon me with a distinct 
 shock when I also learned that there were no Jerusalem 
 artichokes in Jerusalem. 
 
IX 
 
 BETWEEN JAFFA AND 
 JERUSALEM 
 
IX 
 
 BETWEEN JAFFA AND JERUSALEM 
 
 is not always easy to reach Jerusalem 
 on schedule time. The traveller in the 
 Levant must often resign himself to 
 threats of possible quarantine, probable 
 quarantine, actual quarantine. It is not feasible to 
 make any hard and fast itinerary. All itineraries must 
 yield to quarantine. No steamship company will agree 
 to land its passengers at any port at any set time. All 
 tickets read "subject to quarantine." Jaffa, the sea- 
 port of Jerusalem, is continually quarantining against 
 Alexandria for plague or cholera. Alexandria is con- 
 tinually quarantining against Jaffa for cholera or plague. 
 Then, when Jaffa is not quarantining, the seas on the 
 Jaffa reef are frequently so rough as to render landing 
 impossible for days or even weeks. Thus it is not in- 
 frequent for a traveller bound for Jerusalem to spend 
 his time steaming between Constantinople and Alexan- 
 dria, hoping that the yellow flag may be hauled down, 
 or the sea grow smooth long enough for him to disem- 
 bark. But there have even been cases of officials, like 
 consuls, finding it difficult to make their way to their 
 
 [153] 
 
Between Jaffa and Jerusalem 
 
 posts at Jerusalem. As some recompense, however, 
 they have the charm of sailing back and forth along the 
 Syrian coast. The atmosphere there is usually very 
 clear, and the panorama of towns and villages along 
 the sandy shore, with the sharply outlined mountains 
 rising behind them, is picturesque. The steamships 
 at least in daylight keep very close inshore. 
 
 When we landed at Jaffa, the sea was smooth, and 
 the disembarking uneventful. The town is commer- 
 cially important, but not particularly interesting to 
 tourists. Furthermore, the accommodations for travel- 
 lers are not good. The "hotels" are few and small, 
 and are in the habit of sending their overflow guests to 
 a hospice kept by the German colony, or to the Francis- 
 can monastery; there too the quarters are limited, and 
 often the tourist will find not where to lay his head. 
 Even in Jerusalem there is but one "hotel," properly 
 speaking, and when that is filled travellers must seek 
 second-rate inns, or the hospitality of the hospices. 
 
 Going up through the filthy streets of Jaffa, you see 
 mountains of luggage strapped in pyramids on the backs 
 of Arabs, for no wheeled vehicles are found in the streets. 
 When you reach the limits of the town some venerable 
 vehicles of the cabriolet type may be hired. We were 
 weak enough to charter one of these vehicles, as we had 
 already trudged some distance from the quay, and the 
 railway station was still afar off. Scarcely had we 
 started when our own driver and the drivers of several 
 other vehicles began flogging their horses, and a wild 
 race began. I believe the Orientals are the worst 
 
Inside the Jaffa Gate, Jerusalem 
 
Odd Sights of Jaffa 
 
 drivers in the world some of them seem to be crazy. 
 Ours was the craziest in this lot, for he soon distanced 
 the others, much to our relief, for the road was narrow. 
 Ere long a crash behind us betokened disaster. We 
 looked, and witnessed a complicated collision, in which 
 several travellers were hurled from their carriages 
 under the horses' feet, and some of them badly hurt. 
 No drivers were smashed up, which seemed a pity. 
 The natives paid little attention to the injured persons; 
 to them the collision seemed a pleasant and exciting 
 incident in a rather dull day. 
 
 Among the odd sights of Jaffa is a collection of 
 cottages constructed in Chicago. Several of these are 
 now occupied as the "Jerusalem Hotel." It seems 
 that these incongruous structures were transported to 
 Jaffa some years ago by a Second Adventist colony 
 from Chicago. Some of these colonists died of tropical 
 diseases; others returned to America; very few remain. 
 
 One of the things most remarked by Occidental 
 travellers, when landing in Palestine, is the railway 
 running from Jaffa to Jerusalem. It is not much of a 
 road, as it runs but one train daily each way, and even 
 its first-class carriages are poor; but any railway at all 
 in that country seems an anomaly. The Jaffa station 
 is quite a distance from the Jaffa seaport. The Jeru- 
 salem station also is without the city walls, some dis- 
 tance from the Jaffa Gate; the Turkish Government 
 refused to permit the railway company to come within 
 the walls. The distance from Jaffa to Jerusalem is 
 fifty-three miles, and the trains make it in three and a 
 
Between Jaffa and Jerusalem 
 
 half hours, climbing from sea level to over twenty-five 
 hundred feet. 
 
 On the road from Jaffa to Jerusalem the amazing 
 amount of work which has been done in this ancient 
 land is apparent in the terraces. For mile after mile, 
 on right and left of the railway, you see the mountains 
 terraced from the level of the rails clear up to the top. 
 I counted the rows of terraces several times, and there 
 was an average of seventy, from the bottom of the 
 ravines to the top of the mountains, for twenty-five 
 miles on both sides of the railway. The labor which 
 these terraces represent is enormous no one genera- 
 tion could have accomplished it; this task has been the 
 work of many centuries. Merely to amuse myself I 
 made a slight calculation. The labor of constructing 
 one of these terraces is about equivalent to that of 
 making a rough roadway. Therefore, taking the 
 twenty-five miles and doubling it for the two sides of 
 the railway, we have fifty miles of mountain terraced 
 seventy times, which gives thirty-five hundred miles of 
 road constructed in this narrow strip. Yet this repre- 
 sents only one ravine or pass in the mountains; every 
 slope of this mountain range is terraced in the same 
 way; as this chain of mountains averages roughly in 
 width about ten miles, this would give a total of thirty- 
 five thousand miles of roadway! Think of this colos- 
 sal labor accomplished by human hands. And think 
 of the number of human hands dead hands now for 
 ages. 
 
 These terraces are not only planted with trees, such 
 
A Blood-Drenched Soil 
 
 as the olive, but many of them are also sown with grain. 
 Fancy planting grain in so stony and sterile a country 
 that it was necessary to make stone terraces and then 
 put soil on top of them in which to sow the grain. Yet 
 that is how thousands of miles of terraces are utilized 
 in the Holy Land. 
 
 It is remarkable that the soil of Palestine should be 
 so sterile. For forty centuries who knows how 
 many more? men have killed each other there in the 
 name of all the gods. There, war has been waged in 
 the name of Assyrian, Philistine, and Egyptian deities. 
 There, foul crimes have been done in the name of the 
 great Jehovah, the pitiless God of the ancient Jews. 
 There, in the name of the gentle Nazarene, the Crusad- 
 ers did dark deeds. There, in the Middle Ages, cruel 
 Christians "converted" Jews by the rack, the stake, 
 the torture by water, the torture by fire, in the name 
 of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy 
 Ghost. And now for a thousand years, in the name 
 of the Triune God, in the name of the monotheists' 
 Allah, men have been waging war. 
 
 Palestine's soil is drenched with blood. Her rock 
 tombs are filled with the bodies of the rich and great, 
 her soil is fertilized with the bodies of the poor and 
 lowly. This holy land has been saturated with the 
 blood of millions of men and women killed in religion's 
 name. Their bodies have gone to enrich the gigantic 
 de*bris from her rock-ribbed hills. Yet it is still a sterile 
 soil. 
 
 Up to the terraces of stone, along the sterile hills of 
 
 [i57] 
 
Between Jaffa and Jerusalem 
 
 Palestine, the soil has been carried from the valley lands 
 below. Rocky as are the mountain sides, the passage 
 of countless ages has washed away enough debris to 
 form a deep soil in the valleys and ravines. Slowly, 
 slowly, this soil has been dug out and painfully carried 
 up by hand sometimes almost to the mountain tops, 
 for the villages are usually situated on the tops of the 
 mountains. Many of these terraces are neglected now, 
 and the soil is slowly washing out of the stones back 
 into the valleys from which it was dug. The men who 
 dug it, who carried it up the mountain, are now them- 
 selves a part of the soil which they once carried. It 
 may be that, in another four thousand years, yet other 
 men, whose bodies are builded out of the same soil, will 
 again be carrying the decayed bodies of their remote 
 ancestors, mixed with crumbled granite, up the moun- 
 tain sides of Palestine. 
 
 On the Jaffa and Jerusalem Railway, at every stop- 
 ping place we were besieged by pedlers bearing 
 oranges. Never have I seen such gorgeous golden 
 apples: even California, favored land as she is, can 
 produce nothing to compare with the oranges of Jaffa. 
 We were told that these oranges are not exported in 
 large quantities why, I could not learn. If they 
 were, they would prove formidable competitors for the 
 large orange trade of Northern Europe. They are far 
 superior to the oranges of Sicily, Greece, or Spain. 
 
 These orange-pedlers were often smartly rebuked 
 
Palestine Train Travellers 
 
 by a good-looking youth of some eighteen years. He 
 had taken passage on the train in order to urge some 
 passengers to hire his services in Jerusalem; hence his 
 zeal against the pedlers. He had been educated in 
 an American mission school, and spoke very fair Eng- 
 lish. Some of the passengers entered into conversa- 
 tion with him. He was handsome, brisk in speech and 
 manner, and generally attractive. But it is remarkable 
 how these Orientals fail to improve on acquaintance 
 in ten minutes' time he became intolerably pert, flip- 
 pant, familiar, and what is slangily called "fresh." 
 Experienced travellers in the Orient always treat in- 
 feriors with much severity, not to say contempt. At 
 first this unpleasantly impresses an American, but it 
 may be necessary by reason of the Oriental tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 Looking from the windows of the Jaffa- Jerusalem 
 Railway one sees many stone walls and stone houses. 
 In Palestine generally even out-buildings are largely 
 made of stone, while in Jaffa and Jerusalem everything 
 is of stone. Even the very cisterns, or tanks on the 
 housetops, are of stone. But in the stony Holy City 
 the stone does not stop with the street level the 
 dwellers descend, and burrow into the earth beneath. 
 In many of the Jerusalem and Bethlehem buildings 
 there are basements, sub-basements, crypts, sub-crypts, 
 and dungeons. One may descend several stories into 
 the bowels of the earth, amid dampness and slime, ooze 
 trickling over the stone steps. Wherever you go you 
 are taken to see various sights down in holes and bur- 
 
Between Jaffa and Jerusalem 
 
 rows. I do not like these crypts and dungeons; I 
 prefer to stay outside, and let those who will descend to 
 gaze on corroded chains, mouldy bones, and historic 
 stones. 
 
 On the train between Jaffa and Jerusalem an elderly 
 American woman objected to the smoking going on 
 around her. She grabbed at a uniformed railway 
 guard who was passing through the carriage, and shrilly 
 set forth her objections. He very civilly replied that 
 there was no rule against smoking in the carriages. 
 
 "Then there ought to be," she retorted, "when ladies 
 travel on the trains." 
 
 "But the Turkish ladies who travel on our trains all 
 smoke themselves," replied the guard. 
 
 "Do they, indeed?" replied the old lady acidly, "but 
 American women do not smoke." 
 
 "That may be, madam," replied the guard; "but 
 you are not in America, you are in Turkey." Still with 
 much civility. 
 
 "I don't care if I am!" hissed the old lady fiercely; 
 "and I don't care if the Turkish women do smoke. 
 They ought not to, so there!" 
 
 "Perhaps they ought not to," said the guard, with 
 unruffled courtesy; "but they do." 
 
 The old lady looked at him hopelessly, gasped, and 
 subsided. Probably she never before had known a 
 man to have the last word with her. She had a kind 
 of black alpaca make-up, and looked like a widow. 
 
 [160] 
 
An Educated Train Guard 
 
 A French wit once said that the insane asylums are full 
 of men who argued with their wives. Perhaps she 
 was only a pseudo-widow, and her husband in an 
 asylum. 
 
 I was so much interested in this incident, and in the 
 guard's insistent civility, despite his persistent dispu- 
 tatiousness, that I engaged him in conversation. I 
 found that he was a Smyrniote, and had been educated 
 at Roberts College, Constantinople. In this famous 
 educational institution he had acquired his suavity of 
 manner and his fluent English. But the faculty had 
 failed to instil 'in him the belief, deep-rooted in the 
 American mind, of the folly of arguing with an elderly 
 lady. 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 [161] 
 
X 
 JERUSALEM THE GOLDEN 
 
JERUSALEM THE GOLDEN 
 
 JERUSALEM is not the largest city in the 
 world, but it is one of the longest. Its 
 area is not great, but it sticks back into 
 the night of time like the tail of a comet. 
 Therefore, to attempt to write, even superficially, about 
 this long but little city, within the limits of a chapter, 
 would be difficult. It is also difficult to decide how to 
 entitle such a chapter. One might call it "The New 
 Jerusalem," for there is a new and very modern Jeru- 
 salem growing out of the ruins of the old. But such a 
 title would smack of irreverence to many. 
 
 "The Holy City" naturally suggests itself; but what 
 I saw there was wholly unholy. "Jerusalem the 
 Golden" would be a significant and telling title not 
 as an irreverent sneer at the Celestial City, but as sug- 
 gesting the golden stream which pours into Jerusalem 
 from all over the world a stream of gold which is 
 erecting churches, synagogues, mosques, monasteries, 
 and hospices, and which maintains in comfort, and 
 often in luxury, many thousands of idle human beings. 
 As you approach Jerusalem from Jaffa the railway 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 stops not far from the Jaffa gate. You see at once that 
 there is a Jerusalem without the walls as well as one 
 within. The new Jerusalem without the walls is larger 
 than the inclosed city. It has numerous shops, many 
 of them not unlike those of Europe. Without the walls 
 are several Jewish colonies, a Syrian orphanage, an 
 English agricultural colony, an American colony called 
 "The Over-Comers," and several European consu- 
 lates. The view of Jerusalem, both the inner and the 
 outer cities, is best seen from the Mount of Olives. 
 
 Without the walls one sees many cemeteries. The 
 Jews lay flat tombstones over their dead. The Mo- 
 hammedans erect marble slabs or headstones like those 
 seen in our cemeteries, but for some strange reason the 
 Mohammedan tombstones all seem to stand aslant, 
 the effect of which is most forlorn. 
 
 Not far from the railway station, and close to the 
 Jaffa gate, you are first struck by the great Russian 
 reservation. It is difficult to fathom the designs of 
 Russia in Palestine. The country around Jerusalem 
 seems to be a worthless one from almost any stand- 
 point, military or economic. From the religious point 
 of view, it may be worth possessing. As the Russian 
 peasants are probably the most bigoted and ignorant 
 people in the Western world, Russia may find it profit- 
 able to use the Holy Land as a place of religious resort 
 for them. Pilgrimages are continually being brought 
 here by Russia the emigrant packets carrying the 
 pilgrims are often convoyed by Russian men-of-war. 
 The enormous Russian reservation at Jerusalem is like 
 
 [166] 
 
Land Values in Jerusalem 
 
 a fortified camp. It is surrounded by a wall, has sen- 
 tries at the gates, and is accorded extra-territoriality. 
 Within its walls are acres of buildings, from the one- 
 story barracks designed for the peasant class to the 
 more elaborate hospices intended for the pilgrims of 
 superior station. It is practically a slice of Russia set 
 down in the Holy Land, guarded by Russian arms, 
 ruled by Russian law, and under the Russian flag. 
 
 A short distance outside the Jaffa Gate are the Monte- 
 fiore buildings. One of the first movements toward 
 colonizing the Jews here was the erection in 1865 
 of these almshouses; the first buildings outside the 
 walls, they were erected by Sir Moses Montefiore, the 
 English millionnaire, himself a Jew. These one-story 
 buildings, which look like barracks, are absolutely free 
 to poor Jews. Certain families among them have lived 
 there for many years, one family for over a third of a 
 century. 
 
 The New Jerusalem without the walls has sent up 
 the price of land. To show how land in Jerusalem is 
 "booming," the following prices are quoted in a con- 
 sular report. Two acres sold in 1890 for 1,250 francs 
 an acre, sold a year later for 3,750 francs. Twelve acres 
 sold in 1890 for 2,275 francs, in 1892 for 10,890 francs 
 per acre. Just inside the Jaffa Gate a piece of land 
 which sold in 1865 for 5,000 francs was sold in 1891 for 
 120,000 francs. 
 
 There are, of course, later figures, but these are the 
 only official ones I was able to secure. 
 
 The most successful land speculators are apparently 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 the Russian monks, who are successful in snatching a 
 few moments daily from their religious duties to attend 
 to land-dealing. The Turks say that these monks own 
 over one-fourth of the land in Jerusalem. It is evident 
 that these Russians doubly love the Holy Land, partly 
 because it is holy, but mainly because it is land. 
 
 One's first impressions on entering any ancient and 
 historic spot are worth remembering perhaps worth 
 recording. Therefore, it may be well to set down what 
 first struck me on entering Jerusalem. It was evening 
 as we drove from the station and entered the Jaffa Gate. 
 Almost immediately on entering the city we left our car- 
 riage, for there are few streets in Jerusalem where 
 wheeled vehicles may pass. We descended from the 
 carriage at the entrance of a long, vaulted passage 
 leading to the hotel. This ran under the building for 
 some fifty yards, and was packed with a motley gather- 
 ing. As we made our way through this mass of hu- 
 manity, our dragoman turned to us and said warningly, 
 "Look out for your pockets." Then I knew that we 
 were fairly in the Holy City. 
 
 It has been my fortune to enter many cities where I 
 knew nobody. In fact, I always expect to know no- 
 body in strange cities, although (so small is the world) 
 I often meet acquaintances in out-of-the-way places. 
 But I was quite certain I had no circle in Jerusalem. 
 I never had been there before, I knew few people who 
 [168] 
 
The Jerusalem Nose 
 
 had been there, and I never knew any one who had 
 gone there to stay. Fancy, therefore, my surprise the 
 morning after our arrival, as I emerged from the hotel 
 door, sniffing the rich and juicy Jerusalem air, to find 
 myself accosted by a young man with a fez and a hooked 
 nose. "Good morning, " said he cordially. I was 
 acknowledging his salutation, when I was suddenly 
 greeted on the right, "How do you do, sir?" I looked 
 around, and there was another young man with a fez 
 and a hooked nose. "It is a fine morning," came an- 
 other voice. I looked behind me, and there was a new 
 friend hurrying up. "I hope you are well, sir?" cried 
 a fourth, who arrived on a run. Bewildered, I turned 
 around, when I was accosted by at least a dozen young 
 men, all bowing, and asking about my health, and all 
 with fezzes and hooked noses. 
 
 At first I was a little surprised at the extent of my 
 circle of acquaintances in Jerusalem, but after they had 
 broken the ice with remarks about my health and the 
 weather, they came down to business. They turned 
 out to be drivers, dragomans, pedlers, touts, and shop- 
 keepers. I do not include among my list of acquaint- 
 ances the shoe-cleaning boys of Jerusalem; they are as 
 thick as mosquitoes. 
 
 It must not be inferred from the foregoing that all 
 these hooked-nosed gentry were Jews. Not so. In the 
 Orient the hooked nose is by no means confined to the 
 Jewish race. The Turks are, many of them, singu- 
 larly Semitic in appearance; in Constantinople many 
 of the officers of the Sultan's guard look like handsome 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 young Jews, while Sultan Abdul Hamid himself has a 
 strikingly Hebraic face. In Jerusalem the predominant 
 type of nose, among Oriental Jews, Occidental Jews, 
 Turks, and Armenians, is what we call the Jewish nose. 
 Only the Russians of whom there are many in Jeru- 
 salem depart widely from this type : they have the 
 flat, Calmuck, or Tartar nose. 
 
 While I am on the subject of nations and noses, here 
 is a curious fact about Palestine apparently no man 
 declares his race. Ask a dragoman of what country 
 he is, and he will reply, "I am a Moslem." Another 
 will say, "I am a Latin"; another, "I am a Jew." In 
 every case I found that the man interrogated replied 
 with his religion, rather than his race. There was 
 one dragoman who hesitated several seconds before 
 replying to me when asked, finally saying, "I am a 
 Christian." He was a lame dragoman and easy to 
 identify, so I determined to ascertain his pedigree. I 
 was curious to see what manner of man was this who, 
 in this religious land, was uncertain about his religion. 
 I found that the lame dragoman was the son of a Judo- 
 German father and an Arab mother. The father 
 wanted to make him a Jew, the mother wanted to make 
 him a Moslem, but as he grew up he became a drago- 
 man, and made himself a Christian for business reasons. 
 
 Our hotel was immediately within the walls, near the 
 Jaffa Gate, and naturally we saw much of the life there. 
 
Street Scenes in Jerusalem 
 
 It is one of the liveliest places in Jerusalem. Just out- 
 side the gate, on the Jaffa Road, there is a multitude 
 of hucksters' booths and rows of native cafe's, where 
 laborers sit on stools smoking. There are also large 
 numbers of donkey-drivers waiting with their animals 
 for hire. Although the wall is a massive structure and 
 the gate some fifty feet high, the entrance is narrow, 
 with a right-angled turn one of the methods adopted 
 in the old days for defence. Through this narrow gate- 
 way there pours an endless stream of camels, donkeys, 
 and footmen all day long. Without the gate you see 
 jostling camel-drivers, and camels kneeling to receive 
 their loads. Scores of hawkers are squatting on the 
 ground behind their heaps of oranges, dates, lemons, 
 onions, radishes, and other vegetables. There are also 
 many venders of bread a staple in Jerusalem, as in 
 all the Eastern world; it is piled up in stacks, very much 
 as we handle cord-wood, and with about as much 
 attention to cleanliness. Many of these food-mongers 
 have a stock so small as to be pitiable some two or 
 three pounds of wormy figs, for example, worth perhaps 
 a few pennies. One sees bareheaded water-carriers 
 everywhere, carrying their skins full of water, women 
 carrying packages of fuel on their heads, other women 
 with children "pick-a-back" on their shoulders. Side 
 by side with barefooted and barelegged natives, one 
 frequently sees Russian pilgrims with heavy fur caps, 
 heavy overcoats down to their heels, and heavy boots 
 to the knees quite a contrast. Every now and again 
 one sees a diminutive donkey with an enormous load 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 of olive-tree orchard cuttings, for in this treeless land 
 every scrap of fuel is valuable. 
 
 Within as without the walls, the narrow ways of Jeru- 
 salem are lined with stalls containing all manner of 
 fruits and vegetables. Many of the venders are women ; 
 their garments are coarse, but they wear bright reds and 
 blues, sometimes even party-colored gowns, thus giving 
 much color to the scene. In many parts of the Orient, 
 as in Egypt, women of the poorer class dress almost 
 entirely in black. These female venders in Jerusalem 
 sell eggs, oranges, lemons, melons, cucumbers, beans, 
 tomatoes, onions, and other "garding sass." Along 
 the streets are many cobblers' shops, on the shelves of 
 which are rows of red and yellow slippers with turned- 
 up toes. Scattered along the shops are many cafe's 
 which set out small wooden tables in the street, pro- 
 vided with wooden stools, and garnished with long- 
 stemmed clay pipes. 
 
 Jerusalem is a small city, and has within it such large 
 inclosures, like the Citadel, the Turkish barracks, the 
 Armenian monastery, and the great Temple Square, 
 that the remaining portion is much crowded. It is a 
 walk of only two and a half miles around the walls. 
 The Temple Square is levelled off, but most of the city 
 is extremely hilly. That the Jerusalem of the Saviour's 
 time has become so deeply buried is partly explained by 
 the many gorges now being filled up immediately with- 
 out the walls. Herod's mighty palace is entirely buried. 
 Its topmost portions are thirty feet below the present 
 level, with the exception of parts of the north towers. 
 
 [172] 
 
Subterranean Jerusalem 
 
 It was always to me a matter of wonder how Jeru- 
 salem came to be so far below the level of the modern 
 city. I can understand the buried cities of the Cam- 
 pagna in Italy: some of them were overwhelmed by 
 lava, some by mud, some by ashes; on top of these the 
 natural accretion of ages made a new soil. But there 
 is nothing volcanic about Jerusalem except the Greek 
 and Latin monks (who also, by the way, carry soil by 
 accretion). How can one account for the great depth 
 at which some of the ancient ruins are found? For 
 that matter, there is many a house still inhabited, the 
 level of which is far below that of the present street; you 
 see people going down into these ancient houses as if 
 they were burrows. Then again, there are ruins which 
 have been discovered in the third story below the earth, 
 so to speak. That is, there would be a Jewish building, 
 on top of it a Roman building, on top of that a mediaeval 
 building, and last of all a modern church. There are 
 some who say that below the Jewish level there are still 
 older ruins. 
 
 It was always incomprehensible to me how such a 
 vast amount of rubbish could have accumulated there. 
 If Jerusalem lay in a valley, or in a basin like London, 
 I could understand it. But such is not the case the 
 city is twenty-rive hundred feet above the level of the 
 sea. You have to climb up from the plains of Palestine 
 to reach Jerusalem, and even when you get to its 
 immediate surroundings, you have still to climb to get 
 into the city. The human race is a lazy one, and 
 fond of dumping rubbish into easy places ; but that they 
 
 [ml 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 should take the trouble to haul rubbish up twenty-five 
 hundred feet into the air to discharge it there seems 
 preposterous. 
 
 One day in Jerusalem this mystery was solved. (I 
 may remark parenthetically that as there are all manner 
 of deep gorges and ravines in the modern city, doubt- 
 less there were more in the ancient one.) One day we 
 were not far from the Temple Square when we saw a 
 number of carts busily at work filling up a depression. 
 In this particular gorge or valley is the famous Pool of 
 Bethesda. Now the Pool of Bethesda, according to 
 the antiquarians, is a gigantic basin which was dug out 
 of the solid rock. It is or was nearly 400 feet 
 long, 1 20 feet wide, and over 80 feet deep. It got lost 
 during the middle ages, some one, for unknown rea- 
 sons, having filled it about half way up. This so 
 changed its physical aspect that the faithful ceased to 
 identify it. 
 
 But the lost pool was found, only to be lost again. 
 The day we saw it several scores of Oriental workmen 
 were laboring with asses, with carts, and with baskets, 
 carrying earth to fill up this gorge. I do not know why 
 they were doing it; probably they were levelling it to 
 erect some building there. But the thought occurred 
 to me that in fifty or a hundred years the new building 
 will have fallen down; then some archaeologist will with 
 great pride locate the Pool of Bethesda. Thereupon 
 some rich copper, oil, or steel magnate will furnish 
 the funds for excavating. They will dig down some 
 hundreds of feet into the gorge which we are watching 
 
Quarrelling Christians 
 
 the workmen fill, and they will discover the pool now 
 fast disappearing before our eyes. 
 
 One day we learned that certain Lenten festivities 
 were to take place in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 According to our Gregorian calendar, Lent does not 
 accord with the dates of the Julian calendar followed 
 by the Greek, Armenian, Coptic, Syrian, and other 
 Oriental churches. The enormous edifice was crowded. 
 Every nationality under the sun seemed represented in 
 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. There were almost 
 as many Moslems as Christians, as could readily be 
 perceived from the lofty balcony where we were perched ; 
 in the crowd below, the black, gray, and bald heads of 
 the uncovered Christians were thickly interspersed with 
 the vari-colored turbans and fezzes of the unbelievers. 
 
 When I mention the fezzes I do not include those of 
 the Turkish troops, of which there was a large force 
 drawn up in various parts of the church. These Turk- 
 ish troops are nominally there "to preserve order"; 
 they are really there to prevent the Christians from 
 cutting each other's throats. The bitterness existing 
 between the various Christian denominations in the 
 Holy Land is almost beyond belief. This hatred is 
 not between Catholics and Protestants, for the Protes- 
 tants are small in numbers, and the Catholics of all 
 sects pay no attention to them. That they do not con- 
 sider them Christians at all we learned one day when 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 conversing with a sweet-faced old nun, who presided 
 over the French Convent and School of St. Anne in 
 Jerusalem. I asked her if the school was entirely for 
 Roman Catholics, or "Latin Christians," as they call 
 themselves there. "Oh, no, monsieur," she replied; 
 "we admit not only Christians, but others as well, in- 
 cluding Mohammedans, Jews, and Protestants." The 
 italics are mine. 
 
 The most bitter feeling prevails between the Greek 
 Catholics, the Armenian Catholics, and the Latins. 
 This year (1905) there was a bloody fight in the Church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre between the various Christian 
 congregations, which the Turkish troops were obliged 
 to suppress with force of arms. But this was not a 
 novelty there have been many such battles. The 
 disputed questions are those of priority : as to which is 
 "the primitive church," of precedence in festivals, of 
 the right to claim the Holy Sepulchre, and of the right 
 to occupy certain chapels and sacred spots. 
 
 Shortly after we were installed in our lofty perch the 
 various Catholic denominations marched in, one after 
 another, visiting the different points in the church. 
 The Sepulchre itself, Mount Calvary (which is in the 
 church), the "Centre of the World," the Chapel of the 
 Finding of the Cross, the Chapel of the Crowning with 
 Thorns, the Cleft in the Rock, the Place of the Scourg- 
 ing these are some of the places they visited. They 
 travelled on a set schedule, which had been arranged 
 by the Turkish military commander in order to avoid 
 collisions. It was a remarkable spectacle, as the pa- 
 
Loving Your Neighbor 
 
 triarchs, bishops, and priests swept by, swinging censers 
 and clad in gorgeous vestments, through long lines of 
 sneering Turks and weeping believers. The hand- 
 somest vestments were those worn by the Greek priests; 
 never have I seen anything to equal them, even in the 
 most gorgeous sacristies, the richest treasure-chambers 
 of the great cathedrals of the Western world. The 
 handsomest men were those of the Armenian faith; 
 both they and the Greek priests wear beards, and are 
 tall and stately men. The beard lends dignity to the 
 priesthood, and both Greeks and Armenians look better 
 than the smooth-shaven Latin priests. 
 
 As the gorgeously attired priests filed by, chanting 
 their ritual, sometimes in Greek, sometimes in Syriac, 
 sometimes in Latin, it was curious to watch the faces 
 of the onlookers. There was every type among them. 
 The sneering Moslems, of whom I have spoken, were 
 principally of the better class, wearing the frock coat 
 and the fez. But there were other Mohammedans as 
 well: coal-black negroes from Nubia; slave-traders from 
 the Soudan; Mohammedan mollahs with the green 
 caftan; Arabs from Aleppo, bearing the brown scars of 
 the Aleppine boil; Bedouins from the desert; Turkish 
 women in their yashmaks and jeredjees, peering curi- 
 ously through their thin veils at the dogs of unbelievers; 
 nondescript Syrian peasants, bare-footed, bare-legged, 
 and clad in sheepskins. One such was clad in a sheep- 
 skin that had belonged to several generations an 
 hereditary sheepskin, an heirloom in his family, as it 
 were. He was my neighbor for a time, and was too 
 
 [177] 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 close to me to be agreeable. Whenever I think of that 
 hereditary sheepskin, I shudder. He was my neigh- 
 bor, and being in Palestine I should have loved him. 
 But if you think it is hard to love your neighbor in your 
 own neighborhood you ought to try it in Jerusalem. 
 
 One incident at this Lenten function in the Church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre surprised us. When the Latin 
 procession that is, the Roman Catholic entered, 
 the French consul and his suite were following them; 
 the consul and the vice-consul were in full uniform, the 
 secretary and two or three clerks were in swallow-tail 
 coats and white ties, and all were carrying large, fat 
 candles, about four feet high. Why was the French 
 consul attending this Roman Catholic function at Jeru- 
 salem? At that very time France was engaged in driv- 
 ing out the religious from convents and monasteries in 
 France. Even in Jerusalem some of the expatriated 
 religious were to be found in the institution of the Sceurs 
 Re*paratrices, on the hill above our hotel. Why does 
 France with one hand whip the religious from her fron- 
 tiers, while with the other she piously holds candles at 
 Roman Catholic functions in Jerusalem ? 
 
 And the French consular corps how did they look? 
 Well, it was rather droll. The consul was a good- 
 looking man of about thirty, in a handsome uniform, 
 and carried a gold-laced cocked hat under his arm. He 
 was holding his candle listlessly, but still tilted forward 
 
 [178] 
 
A Suite Flirtation 
 
 so that the grease should not fall on his gold-laced 
 trousers or patent-leather boots. The vice-consul had 
 also fallen into a weak-kneed condition of boredom, 
 and, with his head sunk upon his chest, was apparently 
 thinking of his early loves. The secretaries and clerks 
 of the consulate were yawning, and the general air of 
 the party was one of extreme ennui. In front of them 
 were the rows of prostrate priests rapidly mumbling 
 their ritual, while around them was the human mass of 
 filth, squalor, and ignorance, Christian and Moham- 
 medan. 
 
 A Russian moujik had forced his way through the 
 crowd, and, seeing the altar, flung himself on the dirty 
 pavement and began kissing the stones with loud 
 smacks, having first wiped his lips with his sleeve. I 
 should think he would first have wiped the pavement 
 and next his sleeve, but there is no accounting for tastes. 
 As he was rising from one of his genuflections he took 
 his eyes from the altar, looked at the priests, then at the 
 consuls ; with a scowl he withdrew he was in the 
 wrong shop he belonged to the Greek Catholic outfit, 
 and he made haste to shake from his shoes the very 
 dust of the Latin Catholic procession. 
 
 It was in the midst of this mass of people that the 
 French consular suite were standing with their candles, 
 when a group of six or eight young women appeared, 
 their dragoman having made a way for them in the 
 front rank of the crowd. The moment the consul saw 
 them, he straightened up and threw out his chest; the 
 vice-consul noted his superior, followed the direction 
 
Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 of his eyes, and, seeing the guide-book ladies, began to 
 twirl his mustache. The clerks and secretaries obe- 
 diently followed suit, and in about thirty seconds the 
 entire staff were neglecting the Holy Sepulchre and the 
 whole business, and trying to mash the girls. It was 
 very human. 
 
 [180] 
 
XI 
 
 GABRIEL AND URIEL 
 
XI 
 
 GABRIEL AND URIEL 
 
 'N our second day in Jerusalem, when 
 our dragoman, Gabriel (a Christian 
 Armenian), took us into a Turkish 
 bazaar, he explained that the Turkish 
 shopkeepers were more honest than the Latin Chris- 
 tians, the Greek Christians, the Syrian Christians, or 
 the Jews. 
 
 This rather surprised me. "How about the Arme- 
 nians, Gabriel?" I asked. 
 
 "They are the most bad of all," he replied. 
 While Gabriel was trying to persuade the indifferent 
 Turkish shopkeeper to show us his goods (Turks are 
 not "hustlers"), I stepped across the street to look at 
 some photographs in a window there. 
 
 I was immediately beset by touts. I shook them off 
 all but one. Of him anon. Let me preface my 
 experience with him by some moral reflections on anger. 
 To begin with, never get angry when travelling. It is 
 a grave error. Anger congests your cerebral blood- 
 vessels, affects your nerves, gives you pipe-stem arteries, 
 and seriously interferes with your digestion. Never 
 
Gabriel and Uriel 
 
 get angry, particularly while travelling there are 
 plenty of things which occur while travelling cal- 
 culated to make you angry, but never permit them 
 to do so. 
 
 But sometimes you may permit yourself to pretend 
 to be angry. In the Orient much business is transacted 
 by means of personal abuse. For example, the man 
 on horseback always abuses the man on foot; the man 
 driving a carriage always abuses the pedestrian; the 
 footman hurls back the abuse at the horseman, but 
 takes care to get out of his way. The policeman in the 
 Orient abuses everybody; true, he frequently uses a 
 stout cane to chastise, but he rules the populace prin- 
 cipally by abuse. Therefore, it is often useful in 
 Oriental cities to indulge in loud and noisy talk in order 
 to accomplish whatever end you may have in view. If 
 a tout annoys you by his loud importunities, abuse him 
 even more loudly. If a dragoman or a boatman tries 
 to impose upon you and begins to yell, always yell back 
 at him, and in a louder yell. 
 
 Jerusalem is infested by the most noisy and pestif- 
 erous shop-touts I ever saw. Gangs of them lie in 
 wait for the unfortunate tourist; they pester him, they 
 dog his footsteps, they almost pull him into their shops. 
 This particularly persistent tout buzzed about me as I 
 was approaching his photograph shop. 
 
 I immediately worked myself into a furious rage. 
 "What do you mean?" I bawled, "I was about to go 
 into your shop, where I would have bought at least 
 twenty francs' worth of photos, when you get between 
 
 [184] 
 
Jerusalem Shop Touts 
 
 me and the window, and prevent me from seeing the 
 very views I intended to purchase." 
 
 In Oriental countries most people seemingly have 
 nothing to do, and a crowd speedily gathered. The 
 proprietor hastened out of the shop ; he was alarmed 
 he tried to pacify me. 
 
 But I would not be pacified. "What sort of a 
 shop do you keep, anyway?" I yelled. "And what 
 sort of shopmen? I would have bought fifty francs' 
 worth of photos if it were not for this fellow's inter- 
 ference." 
 
 The proprietor again tried to mollify me. " But, sir," 
 said he appealingly, "I beg you to overlook it." 
 
 "Overlook nothing!" I replied. "I will not over- 
 look it. I will warn all the other tourists in the hotel 
 to keep away from your place, and I will tell them to 
 go to the shop across the way." Here I started osten- 
 tatiously for the rival shop. 
 
 The proprietor played his last card. He pointed to 
 the crestfallen tout, who stood, with almost tearful 
 countenance, listening to my bitter indictment. 
 
 "Pardon the young man, sir, I beg of you," he said, 
 "really, he did not mean it. He knows no better, sir. 
 He is not from Jerusalem. He comes from Bethlehem." 
 
 On our third day in Jerusalem, our dragoman, 
 Gabriel, fell ill. I do not wonder at it. How any one 
 can stay well in Jerusalem with its awful filth, its me- 
 
Gabriel and Uriel 
 
 phitic air, and its rainwater tanks full of the foulness 
 of ages, is to me incomprehensible. 
 
 At all events, Gabriel fell ill, and his son dragomanned 
 in his stead. Like his father, the youth was named 
 Gabriel. But in order to avoid mixing up young and 
 old Gabriel, I concluded to call the youth "Uriel." 
 Lovers of " Paradise Lost" will remember that Uriel 
 slid down to Gabriel on a sunbeam "gliding through 
 the even swift as a shooting-star." Milton's simile 
 seems to me a poetic way of indicating how old Gabriel 
 acquired young Gabriel much more poetic than is 
 the old story of the stork. 
 
 We found the youthful Uriel rather more interesting 
 than his father, for these old dragomans get to be fright- 
 ful bores. They are like music-boxes when once 
 wound up they have to go through the whole tune with- 
 out missing a note. If you stop the music-box by ask- 
 ing a question, the mechanism clicks, and the dragoman 
 goes back to the beginning of the music-barrel, and 
 gives it to you all over again. Young Gabriel, being 
 new to his business, had not learned his lessons thor- 
 oughly, and therefore could answer questions. Fur- 
 thermore, he was quite intelligent, fairly educated, and 
 spoke both French and English in a scholarly way 
 that is, a mission- scholarly way. I asked him where 
 he learned his languages, and he told us that he had 
 been a pupil at the Franciscan monastery. He offered 
 to take us to his alma mater, whither we went willingly, 
 and were repaid with a fine view of Jerusalem from the 
 flat roof of the lofty building. 
 
 [186] 
 
Franciscan School and Club 
 
 Jerusalem is no longer confined within walls. As 
 we stood on the roof of the Franciscan monastery, and 
 surveyed the extensive prospect, we could not help but 
 note how largely the ground covered with buildings 
 outside the walls exceeded the area within. In fact, 
 there has been a building boom at Jerusalem. This 
 has brought about a vast deal of grading and filling 
 outside the walls, for the country is mountainous and 
 abounds in deep gorges. The physical changes taking 
 place around Jerusalem to-day give one an idea of how 
 the ancient city has come to be buried. 
 
 In reply to my questions, our young friend Uriel gave 
 me some data about Jerusalem and the Jerusalem Jews. 
 When it came to proper names, he very obligingly wrote 
 them in my note-book. Unfortunately, he put Jewish 
 names in Hebrew characters, Syrian names in Syriac 
 in fact, each language in its own character. When I was 
 forced to admit that I could not read them, Uriel was sur- 
 prised, but sympathetic. Between us, we trans-literated 
 them into English with what success I do not know. 
 Some of Uriel's facts and names are set down elsewhere. 
 
 When we had finished our inspection and Uriel had 
 finished his lecture, we descended from the roof of the 
 Franciscan monastery to view the interior. 
 
 Young Uriel took us all over the establishment, which 
 includes a number of buildings. Among them there is 
 a school conducted by the Christian Brothers. Hang- 
 ing on the wall are specimens of the pupils' handwriting. 
 A glance at this collection shows how curiously jumbled 
 the nationalities are. The autographs are in Roman, 
 
Gabriel and Uriel 
 
 in cursive, in Arabic, in Hebrew, and in other Oriental 
 alphabets. 
 
 With great pride, young Uriel took us into the " Club- 
 Room." It seems that the alumni of the institution, 
 of whom he was one, had formed a club, and the Fran- 
 ciscan fathers had placed at their disposal quarters in 
 the monastery. Here they had reading and writing- 
 rooms, although I saw no facilities for drinking and 
 smoking. In their club-rooms they held assemblies 
 at stated intervals, where papers were read, short plays 
 acted, and other entertainments given. 
 
 I complimented young Uriel on the up-to-dateness 
 of the Jerusalem youth. "I belong to several clubs," 
 said I, with much gravity, "but I have never seen one 
 exactly like this." This was strictly true. 
 
 Young Uriel was much gratified by my implied flat- 
 tery, and replied, "Yes, we are all very pride of our 
 club, but it has many of the difficulties." 
 
 "What are they, pray?" I inquired sympathetically. 
 
 "The principal difficulty," said young Uriel severely, 
 "is that much of the members refuse to fill the offices 
 at the club, and when they do fill them, they refuse to 
 perform their performances." 
 
 "I don't understand," said I; "to perform " 
 
 "To transact their acts," added Uriel explanatorily; 
 "to make their duties." 
 
 "Ah, yes," I interrupted; "to do their doings, you 
 
 mean." 
 
 " Yes," said Uriel, " to do their doings. Thus all the 
 work falls on the government committee, and the mem- 
 
 [188] 
 
Monks as Typographers 
 
 bers hold the government responsible for everything, 
 and abuse at the government committee all the times. 
 I appertain to the government committee," added 
 young Uriel, with a pained air, "and we are all very 
 much broken-hearted, and we have thought of resign- 
 ing our functions so ungrateful." 
 
 The good fathers, I learned, are exceedingly sur- 
 prised at these hitches in the club; they think, that if 
 club-rooms are provided, a club should run smoothly 
 and automatically. The worthy fathers are unworldly 
 men, or they would know that incivic hypercriticism 
 is the weakness of all clubs. 
 
 The most interesting sights in this monastery are the 
 workshops, where all sorts of crafts are followed. 
 There are workers in iron and workers in wood, workers 
 in leather and grinders of grain; all sorts of primitive 
 crafts are taught in that primitive country turning 
 the berry of the wheat into flour, and making the flour 
 into bread; tanning hides, and making the leather into 
 shoes; weaving cloth, and making the cloth into gar- 
 ments. The highest of the crafts here represented is 
 the typographic art and kindred crafts, for we found a 
 large establishment here devoted to type-setting, print- 
 ing, engraving, lithography, and bookbinding. I in- 
 spected the machinery with some curiosity; I found 
 that it came from Germany, Belgium, and Italy 
 none from the United States or England. It did not 
 seem to me to compare in workmanship and finish with 
 the printing machinery made in Anglo-Saxon countries. 
 In addition to type-setting and printing, there is also 
 
Gabriel and Uriel 
 
 a small type-foundry in operation. I talked with the 
 youths who were being trained in operating the type- 
 casting machines. They knew nothing of the linotype 
 machine. When I described to them this machine, 
 which casts a solid type-bar with letters on its face, 
 their surprise was amusing. They none of them spoke 
 English, but all spoke French, and some Italian. It 
 was a little difficult for me to describe so complicated 
 a machine in a foreign language, but I succeeded in 
 describing something, for after I had gone to the other 
 end of the long room the type-founders assembled in a 
 body, talked it over, and sized me up. They either 
 believe that the linotype is the boss machine of the 
 twentieth century, or that I am the boss liar, and I am 
 not quite certain which. 
 
 As a souvenir of our visit we purchased one of the 
 books printed by the Franciscan establishment. It 
 is a French guide-book in three volumes, well printed 
 and bound. Its author is one of the reverend fathers 
 belonging to the monastery. The book begins with a 
 sweeping retraction of anything the author might have 
 said that could be condemned by the Holy See. Trans- 
 lated, it reads at follows: 
 
 " I, the undersigned, hereby declare that I am ready to retract 
 and to strike out from my book anything which may have crept 
 into it, without my intention, that might be contrary to the Chris- 
 tian faith and to the teachings of the Holy Catholic and Apostolic 
 Church. As I belong to the great Franciscan family, I have 
 learned from its venerable Father the most docile submission to the 
 Church of Rome, mother and mistress of all churches. 
 
 " FATHER LIEVIN DE HAMME." 
 
 [190] 
 
Christian Women Veiled 
 
 Next comes this: 
 
 " Having had this book examined by two theologians, they have 
 permitted its publication. FATHER AURELIUS DE BUJA. 
 
 " Custodian of the Holy Land." 
 
 And the third declaration is this: 
 
 " Let it be imprinted. FATHER LUDOVICUS. 
 
 " Patriarcha Hierosolymitanus." 
 
 The last gentleman, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, 
 thus officially permits its publication. Otherwise, it 
 would be anathema. And yet it is only a guide-book. 
 
 When we left the Franciscan monastery, and walked 
 down one of Jerusalem's steep staircase streets, we 
 met a veiled Turkish woman climbing up. I noticed 
 an apparent movement of recognition on the part of 
 Uriel, and the Turkish lady's balloon-like form undu- 
 lated slightly all over, as if she noted the recognition. 
 
 "Come, come, Uriel," said I severely, "this will 
 never do. This thing of flirting with Turkish ladies 
 is strictly prohibited by the Koran, Article Steen, Sec- 
 tions 4, n, 44. You are young and heedless. I have 
 often heard of foreigners being done to death by the 
 indignant Turkish husbands of lady Turkesses at 
 whom foreigners had winked. Much as it would pain 
 me to think of your losing your young life, it would 
 pain me more infinitely more to think of your 
 losing mine. Prithee no more of this, good Uriel. If 
 
 [191] 
 
Gabriel and Uriel 
 
 you are going to mash any more Turkish ladies, please 
 do it when you are not taking us through Turkish 
 towns." 
 
 Uriel turned, and knocked me out with a phrase: 
 "It is my mother, sir," he responded simply. 
 
 I gazed at him and gasped. When I had recovered 
 my breath, I cried: "Your mother! How is it that 
 you, a Christian, a student at the Franciscan monastery, 
 should have a Turkish mother?" 
 
 "My mother is not Turkish," said Uriel, with a smile; 
 "but many womans here, Christians, Jewesses, and 
 others, wear the Turkish dress in order to avoid insult. 
 Mohammedan womans are respected of all. But 
 womans who are not Mohammedans are not respected 
 of the Mohammedans. It is not proper for me to 
 recognize my mother in public, but I could not help a 
 slight motion. You will pardon me, will you not, sir?" 
 
 "But how can you tell your mother? All these 
 women in Turkish dress look alike." 
 
 In truth they do. They may be any age from nine- 
 teen to ninety, and they may be beautiful Circassians 
 or Abyssinian women as black as charcoal they all 
 look alike, and they all look like well, never mind 
 what they look like, they all look alike. 
 
 "I cannot tell," replied Uriel reflectively. "I not 
 know every woman that I know, but I think every man 
 he know his mother." 
 
 It seems likely, on the whole, and I felt quite apol- 
 ogetic toward Uriel for having suspected him of trying 
 to make eyes at his mother. 
 
 [192] 
 
XII 
 SPOTS WHERE 
 
xn 
 
 SPOTS WHERE 
 
 'NY traveller who yearns to gaze on spots 
 sacred spots on the ground, legendary 
 pools in the ground, and historic holes 
 under the ground need not hesitate 
 where to go. Let him take a ticket for Jerusalem. In 
 assorted spots spots sacred, spots profane Jeru- 
 salem has no rival. As the spot where there are the 
 most "Spots Where," Jerusalem is easily first. 
 
 Still, Jerusalem has no monopoly of "Spots Where." 
 In Egypt, as well as in Palestine, there are many " Spots 
 Where." On our first visit to Egypt, we were shown 
 the "Spot Where" the Holy Family rested. On our 
 latest visit the "Spot Where" was under a tree near 
 Heliopolis. Yet I remember perfectly that on our 
 previous visit the "Spot Where" the Holy Family 
 rested was not under a tree: that time it was down in a 
 dark hole. I always keenly remember dark holes 
 I have been led into so many when travelling. To see 
 this particular "Spot Where" we had been taken into 
 a deep hole a dark hole a malodorous hole a 
 hole so dark that it required candles to make the dark- 
 
Spots Where 
 
 ness visible. Yet on a second visit we were shown the 
 authentic "Spot Where" out in the open under a tree. 
 Was my poor brain giving way? Had memory lost 
 her seat in this distracted globe in consequence of 
 seeing so many "Spots Where"? I was much re- 
 lieved to find that I had remembered aright. One 
 true "Spot Where" was at old Cairo; the other 
 true "Spot Where" was in another direction, near 
 the modern city, at Heliopolis. There were two true 
 "Spots Where." 
 
 The inexperienced sightseer may think that this plu- 
 rality of "Spots Where" is due to the rivalry of cities. 
 But this is not always so. True, we may find some- 
 times several cities claiming a particular " Spot Where." 
 But sometimes, even in a single city, one finds this 
 perplexing plurality of pools, this embarrassing rich- 
 ness of "Spots Where." It is notably the case in 
 Jerusalem. For example, I find in my note-book these 
 memoranda : 
 
 " The Tombs of David." 
 
 "The Gardens of Gethsemane." 
 
 "The Pools of Siloam." 
 
 These plurals may sound oddly, but to any one who 
 has visited Jerusalem there is nothing strange about 
 them. There are several Tombs of David, several 
 Gardens of Gethsemane, and several Pools of Siloam. 
 Each one is genuine, and each is the only one. I sup- 
 pose there is more than one Jacob's Well, although to 
 that I will not swear. But if, as I believe, there are sev- 
 eral, I will swear that each is claimed to be the original 
 
Gordon's Calvary 
 
 Jacob's Well. And David is certainly buried in sev- 
 eral places. 
 
 To some the foregoing may sound like irreverence, 
 to others like jesting. But it is not irreverence. It is 
 plain, sober truth. It is quite serious. It is so serious 
 that much blood has been spilled to determine the 
 genuineness of these "Spots Where." Furthermore, 
 sincere and earnest Western Christians not to be 
 mentioned in the same breath with the frouzy, lousy, 
 mangy monks of the Orient have spent much time 
 and money in determining the identity and locality of 
 these "Spots Where." The famous Gordon was one 
 of these the ardent Christian, the quixotic statesman, 
 the gallant soldier who played so large a r61e in Eng- 
 land's recent history, political and military. Gordon 
 discredited the spot revered as Calvary by the Greek 
 and Latin monks for many centuries, and the one 
 without the walls, which he selected still known as 
 "Gordon's Calvary" is by many believed to be the 
 genuine one. 
 
 I may pause here to say to those readers who are 
 shocked at shams unmasked, if they are "religious" 
 shams; who wince at the stripping of sheep's clothing 
 from pseudo-sanctimonious priestly wolves; who de- 
 nounce truth- telling as "irreverence," if it be told about 
 a sacerdotal lie; who cry out in horror at the sacri- 
 legious hand that tears aside the veil shrouding the shal- 
 low tricks of priestly charlatans, whether they be Latin, 
 Greek, Armenian, Jewish, or Mohammedan to 
 such readers, let me say, this chapter had better remain 
 
Spots Where 
 
 unread. For it will not try to be irreverent about 
 sacred places, but it will attempt to tell the truth about 
 sacrilegious shams. 
 
 It is not strange, considering how time and war and 
 creeds have juggled with Jerusalem, that there should 
 be many "Spots Where." Jerusalem lies in layers. 
 There are Jewish, Assyrian, Babylonian, Roman, 
 Mohammedan, and Crusader strata. The average 
 level of the present city is forty feet above the average 
 level of the ancient one. Shafts have been sunk, which 
 in some places have struck ancient pavements a hun- 
 dred and twenty feet deep. The present colossal wall 
 which impresses us modern Americans as looking 
 so ancient is merely a modern Turkish wall. Far 
 below its foundations lie the gigantic stones of the elder 
 time. Some of these ancient foundation-stones bear 
 builders' marks in the Phoenician character. 
 
 The succession of the various races is told in these 
 stories of stone. All through the Holy Land one sees 
 Assyrian slabs with their curious bearded faces; one 
 sees stones bearing Egyptian hieroglyphics. In the 
 museum at Cairo are stones from Palestine with rough- 
 looking Greek inscriptions, utterly unlike the elegant 
 Romaic characters of modern Athens. Roman in- 
 scriptions are seen everywhere in the Holy Land; one 
 often sees slabs bearing such inscriptions built into the 
 walls of modern houses. 
 
 While there are some new buildings in Jerusalem, I 
 
1 
 
 Entrance to Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem 
 
Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre 
 
 think the pavements are Early Assyrian. What might 
 be called the Boulevard of Jerusalem is David Street; 
 it leads from the Jaffa Gate to the Temple entrance, 
 running east and west. Across it runs Christian Street, 
 leading to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. David 
 Street is the dirtiest and roughest street I ever saw in 
 any city. It requires close attention to one's feet in 
 walking over it to avoid spraining an ankle. The 
 streets of Jerusalem are not lighted by night, and every 
 one stays home after dark. I don't wonder walking 
 along David Street after nightfall would put one in 
 danger of breaking a leg. Even the four-footed don- 
 keys make their way along it very carefully. 
 
 You turn off David Street into Christian Street, which 
 is the quarter of Christian craftsmen, and you turn off 
 this again into a small square in front of the Church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre. This is always crowded with 
 pedlers of rosaries, crucifixes, pieces of the True Cross 
 knicknacks fashioned out of the cedars of Lebanon, 
 and all sorts of sacred souvenirs. Around this square 
 are Armenian, Coptic, and Greek chapels. Just 
 inside the door is a guard of Turkish soldiery. On 
 holy days which are often days of battle the 
 guard becomes a regiment. 
 
 Not far from the entrance is a stone to mark the 
 "Spot Where" the Saviour's body is said to have lain 
 in preparation for burial after being anointed. A few 
 steps to the left is the "Spot Where" the women stood 
 during the anointing. Thence you pass under the 
 great dome, in the centre of which space is the Chapel 
 
Spots Where 
 
 of the Holy Sepulchre, whose front is decorated with 
 artificial flowers, gilt ornaments, and blazing with 
 lamps. There are two "Spots Where" in this chapel: 
 one is the "Spot Where" the angel stood at the resur- 
 rection, the other is the "Spot Where" the Nazarene 
 was buried. Two holes on either side of the entrance 
 are the "Spots Where" the "Holy Fire" is sent from 
 heaven every Greek Easter. On the evening before 
 the "Holy Fire" the church is densely packed with the 
 faithful, weeping as they stand, for they are too crowded 
 to sit or squat. The next morning the Turkish troops 
 open a narrow lane through the crowd, using heavy 
 whips when the faithful are slow in moving. Through 
 this lane the Greek patriarch makes his way to the 
 "Spot Where" the "Holy Fire" comes out of the hole. 
 When the sacred moment arrives the torch is miracu- 
 lously lighted by Heaven, as it is held in the patriarch's 
 hands. This is indisputable thousands of people 
 have seen it. The torch is passed to two priests, who, 
 protected by Turkish soldiers, make their way through 
 the adoring crowd, who fight like fiends to light their 
 tapers at the holy torch. 
 
 In this chapel, cased in marble, is the "Spot Where" 
 the stone was rolled away by the angel in fact, a 
 piece of the stone is still there. At the west end of the 
 chapel, down a low doorway, is the tomb-chamber of 
 the Saviour. This "Spot Where" is only six feet by 
 six. 
 
 At the east of the church you go down some steps 
 to the Chapel of St. Helena, the lady who discovered 
 
 [200] 
 
Sacrilegious Shams 
 
 the "Spot Where" Christ was buried, who founded the 
 church on the "Spot Where," who also discovered 
 the "Spot Where" Christ was born at Bethlehem, 
 and the "Spot Where" he ascended into heaven on 
 the Mount of Olives, at both of which places she built 
 churches. 
 
 There is another chapel farther underground. It is 
 so dark that you must carry candles to see it. In this 
 chapel which is called the Church of the Finding of 
 the Cross there are three "Spots Where": the "Spot 
 Where" the True Cross was found, and the two "Spots 
 Where" the crosses of the two thieves lay untouched 
 for several hundred years. The True Cross was iden- 
 tified by taking it to the bedside of a noble lady who 
 was afflicted with chronic rheumatism; the other 
 crosses had no effect whatever, but the True Cross 
 cured her at once. 
 
 Climbing out of these caverns you go up some fifteen 
 feet above the level of the main church floor, and you 
 are on Mount Calvary, where there are three chapels 
 of different sects. There is an opening set in silver 
 this shows the "Spot Where" the cross of Christ was 
 fixed in the rock. Near it is a cleft in the rock set in 
 brass this is the "Spot Where" the rocks were rent 
 at the crucifixion. 
 
 Those readers who may think I am drawing the long 
 bov/ are mistaken. This is only the beginning of the 
 "Spots Where." Within a very small circle you are 
 shown the "Spot Where" Abraham sacrificed Isaac, 
 the "Spot Where" Christ appeared to Mary Magdalen, 
 
 [201] 
 
Spots Where 
 
 the "Spot Where" the woman stood at the prepara- 
 tion for the tomb, the "Spot Where" the angel stood 
 at the resurrection, the "Spot Where" Joseph was 
 buried, the "Spot Where" Christ was scourged, the 
 "Spot Where" he was imprisoned, the "Spot Where" 
 his raiment was divided, the "Spot Where" he was 
 crowned with thorns, the "Spot Where" the cross was 
 set, the "Spot Where" the cross was found, and the 
 "Spot Where" Adam was buried. 
 
 The Temple Enclosure, with the enclosed spots, is 
 variously called Mount Moriah, or the Dome of the 
 Rock, or the Mosque of Omar, or the Temple of Solo- 
 mon, or Harem-esh-Sherif, according to taste and fancy. 
 It is a level space of ground, enclosed by a wall with 
 strictly guarded gates. The open space within this 
 enclosure is some thirty-five acres. On entering this 
 large space of ground one experiences a marked sensa- 
 tion of relief, after pushing through the crowds in the 
 filthy, narrow streets of Jerusalem. The oddity of 
 this open space in the crowded city is added to by its 
 physical contour, for while Jerusalem is anything but 
 level, the Temple Enclosure looks like a parade-ground. 
 This has been accomplished by cutting away rock in 
 some parts, filling in deep gorges in others, and in still 
 deeper gorges building huge arches of masonry, on top 
 of which an artificial stone flooring has been laid. In 
 fact, the whole substructure of this level enclosure is 
 honeycombed with tunnels, vaults, and cisterns. It is 
 
 [202] 
 

 Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem 
 
 Interior o) Kubbet es-Sakhra and the Holy Rock 
 
Turkish and English Names 
 
 said that at one time over ten million gallons of water 
 were stored in these rock cisterns. 
 
 It is only of recent years that it has been safe for 
 Christians to enter the Temple Enclosure. Many an 
 unbeliever has paid the penalty of intrusion with his 
 life. Even now it is not easy to enter, although Mo- 
 hammedan rigor has yielded to the golden key. But 
 there must still be some danger from Moslem fanatics, 
 for the foreign consulates will not permit any of their 
 citizens or subjects to enter without being attended by 
 the kavasses, or armed guards, of the consulate. As 
 the fee is not small, it is customary for American, Eng- 
 lish, or French travellers to make up parties at their 
 consulates, divide the fee, and set forth together under 
 the guard of the consular kavass. 
 
 In the centre of this great open enclosure there is a 
 raised platform of marble, reached by steps. On this 
 stands the Mosque of Omar, as tourists call it, or 
 Harem-esh-Sherif, as the Turks call it. By the way, it 
 is amusing in Palestine to notice the disappointed air 
 with which Anglo-Saxon tourists receive the Turkish 
 names for streams, mountains, towns, valleys, and 
 tombs, as delivered to them by dragomans and ka- 
 vasses. In a country where nearly all the guides are 
 Greek or Armenian, where most of the inhabitants 
 speak Syriac, and where the official language is Turkish, 
 tourists seem to expect that these Greek or Armenian 
 guides should repeat to them the ancient Hebrew place- 
 names in the form familiar to us as transliterated into 
 English. 
 
 [203] 
 
Spots Where 
 
 The Mosque of Omar, we are told, is built over the 
 top of Mount Moriah. This is the "Spot Where" 
 Mohammed is said to have begun his ascent to heaven. 
 That Mohammed was carried up on this great rock 
 like a chariot is unquestionably true. It is conclusively 
 proved to the most doubting mind, because you can 
 plainly see the finger-marks of the angel who steadied 
 the rock-chariot as it started. 
 
 The Mosque of Omar is a very beautiful building. 
 There may be grander mosques in other cities, but I 
 know of none with such a wealth of veined and vari- 
 colored marbles, of mosaics of colored and gilded glass, 
 of enamelled tiling, of marble piers and arches, of 
 wrought-iron grills and screens. In addition to all 
 these vitreous, marmoriferous, and metallic marvels, 
 there is a wealth of textile ornament as well. I do not 
 think any modern Midas possesses a score of such rich, 
 such unique, such priceless rugs as we saw by the hun- 
 dred in this Mohammedan mosque on the site of Solo- 
 mon's Jewish Temple. These rich carpets rich 
 singly, rich in numbers are so many and so beautiful 
 that they almost bring tears to a rug-lover's eyes. 
 
 This Judo-Mohammedan site is a kind of omnibus 
 "Spot Where." Here it is, as I said, that Mohammed 
 started on his dirigible rock-balloon for Paradise. This 
 is the "Spot Where" King David's Jebusite subject 
 had his thrashing-floor. This is the "Spot Where" 
 Abraham offered up Isaac. This is the "Spot Where" 
 stood the sacred altar of the Temple of Solomon. This 
 is the "Spot Where" the rock was anointed by Jacob. 
 
 [204] 
 
Mohammedan Sacred Spots 
 
 This is also the "Spot Where" the Ark of the Covenant 
 stood. This is the "Spot Where" was written on the 
 rock the Unspeakable Name of Jehovah. 
 
 In addition to these Jewish "Spots Where," there are 
 a number of Mohammedan "Spots Where," of which 
 Mohammed's ascent is the principal one. The Mo- 
 hammedans also show you the "Spot Where" David 
 and Solomon used to pray; likewise the "Spot Where" 
 Mohammed impressed his head on the rocky roof. 
 Here is the "Spot Where" the great rock having 
 become balloon-like after its flight with Mohammed 
 hung in the air instead of resting on its base. The 
 Angel Gabriel was obliged to hold it down, and you are 
 shown the "Spot Where" his hand impressed it. Here 
 is a jasper slab it is the "Spot Where" Mohammed 
 drove nineteen golden nails; one day the devil stole 
 sixteen of them; when all are gone the end of the world 
 will come. The Angel Gabriel caught and checked 
 the devil, and you are shown the "Spot Where" he 
 succeeded in holding back half a nail. This slab 
 covers the "Spot Where" Solomon is buried. Here 
 also you see the "Spot Where" Mohammed's foot was 
 imprinted. But the Christian monks maintain that 
 this was the "Spot Where" Christ impressed his foot. 
 
 Elsewhere I have remarked that in Jerusalem there 
 are many strata. Deep down, one may find the relics 
 of those which antedated the ancient Hebrews. Rising 
 up through the rubbish of past eons we come to the 
 superincumbent or Quaternary rubbish of Jewry, 
 Romanry, Crusaderism, Medievalism, Romanism, 
 
 [205] 
 
Spots Where 
 
 and Mohammedanism. All of these strata of ruins 
 and relics are like the geologic strata that one sees on a 
 crevasse-ruptured mountain side. But in addition to 
 these material strata of rock and rubbish there are 
 psychical strata of lies Jewish lies, Roman lies, 
 Crusader lies, Romanist lies, and Mohammedan lies, 
 and the topmost or Mohammedan strata are the most 
 foolish lies of all. After you have listened to the solemn 
 folly snuffled to you with grave faces by Greek or Ar- 
 menian, Latin or Maronite monks, or gabbled to you 
 by Greek or Armenian guides, these lies seem like 
 scientific truths compared to the preposterous non- 
 sense told you by the Mohammedan priests in the 
 Mosque of Omar. As Prince Henry said to Poins, 
 "These lies are gross as a mountain, open, palpable." 
 Of a truth, Jerusalem lies in levels lies in layers 
 lies in levels and layers of lies. 
 
 [206] 
 
XIII 
 
 PIETY: GENTILE, JEWISH, 
 MOSLEM 
 

XIII 
 
 I 
 
 PIETY: GENTILE, JEWISH, MOSLEM 
 
 [E quality of Palestine piety is not 
 strained. But, like the Jerusalem water, 
 it needs straining badly. And the most 
 pious stranger has his own piety over- 
 strained when contemplating the curious manifestations 
 of the Palestine kind of piety. I know of no place less 
 calculated to inculcate reverence than Jerusalem. A 
 religious man is to be congratulated if he can visit the 
 place without some perturbation. I hope I may not 
 be accused of irreverence for my point of view in these 
 pages. If there is any irreverence, it is not mine, but 
 may be laid at the doors of the various sects who make 
 merchandise of what they claim to be holy places. 
 
 The abject superstition, the race-hatred, the bloody 
 ferocity, the childish gullibility of the Jerusalem Gen- 
 tiles, Jews, and Moslems may not absolutely shake the 
 faith of a visiting believer, but he must feel very un- 
 comfortable when he reflects that he belongs to the 
 same sect. No self-respecting Western Jew can gaze 
 upon some of the Jewish offal who infect Jerusalem 
 without a sense of shame. No trim Egyptian soldier 
 
 [209] 
 
Piety: Gentile, Jewish, Moslem 
 
 can meet the grimy loafers who make up Jerusalem's 
 Turkish garrison without a twinge when he thinks that 
 their common commander is the Sultan. And it takes 
 a stout and stalwart Christianity to stomach the mobs 
 of monks, Greek, or Latin, or Armenian, who bawl 
 and bellow about the streets where once walked Jesus 
 of Nazareth, King of the Jews. 
 
 Not the least remarkable thing about this ancient 
 city where people have been quarrelling over re- 
 ligion for four thousand years is that ardent prose- 
 lytizers from modern cities are continually coming 
 hither to convert the believers in these ancient faiths. 
 
 On our first day in Jerusalem we saw, striding along 
 the dusty road outside the David Gate, a tall, slender, 
 handsome man, evidently a European, and looking 
 like an Anglo-Saxon. He had a curling brown beard, 
 long brown hair falling on his shoulders, and generally 
 rather a Nazarene head. He wore a brown Norfolk 
 jacket, a slouch hat, brown knickerbockers, and car- 
 ried in his hand a staff. Up to this point his attire was 
 not unlike that of many pedestrian tourists; but below 
 the knees his make-up was unique, for his legs and feet 
 were bare. The spectacle of this European, with his 
 knickerbockers buttoned around his knees, below which 
 showed his bare legs and feet, was certainly remarkable. 
 No one seemed to know anything about him. 
 
 But a day or two afterward I had my curiosity satis- 
 fied. I found I had hired a pious dragoman. I am 
 not particularly fond of converted Christians in the 
 Orient. My observation is that of a Turk, a Greek, 
 
 [210] 
 
A Barefooted Briton 
 
 an Armenian, or a Jew dragoman, the converted Chris- 
 tian dragoman will steal more from you than all the 
 others put together. This particular dragoman evi- 
 dently took me for a more pious person than I am, for 
 he rolled up his eyes, told me of his acute Christianity, 
 said that his son had just been converted, and generally 
 alarmed me so much that I instantly transferred my 
 wallet to an inside pocket. As we went along we passed 
 the curious person in knickerbockers, and I asked the 
 dragoman about him. He replied that he was an Eng- 
 lishman, and that he was "a good man devoted to 
 Christian work." 
 
 We lost our pious dragoman at the Pools of Solomon. 
 I believe I lost him on purpose, but do not now re- 
 member. I learned afterward from another source 
 that he had told the truth about the barefooted person: 
 he is an Englishman of some means, and spends his 
 time and money in Jerusalem attempting the conver- 
 sion of Mohammedans to Christianity. I wish him 
 joy of his job. 
 
 In outward manifestations at least, there is a marked 
 difference between the piety of Christian and Moslem 
 dragomans. Like driver, like dragoman. When we 
 visited the Pools of Solomon, a number of carriages 
 had reached there before us, and all the tourists were 
 inspecting those interesting cisterns. As the drivers 
 and dragomans amused me more than the cisterns, I 
 stayed out in the sunlight. I have thus missed a num- 
 
 [211] 
 
Piety: Gentile, Jewish, Moslem 
 
 ber of vaults, dungeons, tanks, and holes in the ground. 
 Our pious dragoman had temporarily left us he was 
 trying to inveigle some soft-hearted ladies into a con- 
 tribution to a Christian mission school. I watched 
 the movements of a devout Moslem near at hand, the 
 driver of a carriage whose occupants had gone to in- 
 spect the pools. He took off his shoes or rather 
 boots, for he wore a pair of high military boots, evi- 
 dently the cast-off foot-gear of some cavalry officer. 
 I mention this, as it is easier to kick off the ordinary 
 Oriental slippers than it is to pull off a pair of cavalry 
 boots. Then he took a horse-blanket, spread it on the 
 grass for a praying carpet, and began his devotions. 
 It took him some time, probably fifteen minutes. He 
 pointed his head toward Mecca and went through the 
 most elaborate genuflections and prostrations. When 
 he had finished he put on his boots again, took up his 
 horse-blanket, and returned to his carriage. This 
 pious Mohammedan, I noticed, was thoughtful as well 
 as pious, for he gave his horses a feed while he was 
 praying. 
 
 It is not at all uncommon to find a shop shut up in an 
 Oriental city because the shopkeeper has "gone to the 
 mosque to pray." The strict attention of the Moham- 
 medans to their religious rites is unique among denomi- 
 nations, so far as my observation goes. When the 
 hour of prayer comes, whether they find themselves in 
 public or not, they go through their devotions. 
 
 When returning from Solomon's Pools we saw a 
 row of workmen on the railway lining up just as 
 
 [212] 
 
Workmen at Prayer 
 
 the muezzin's call to prayer rang out from a distant 
 mosque. 
 
 "Look," cried I. "There is another instance of 
 Moslems' devotion to their religious rites." 
 
 "How so?" I was asked. "What do you mean? 
 What are they standing in a row for?" 
 
 "To pray," I replied sententiously. "Don't you 
 see they are facing toward Mecca?" 
 
 Now they were all standing in a row. As I spoke 
 as if at a given signal they all went down. 
 
 "See!" I cried. "They are prostrating themselves. 
 In a moment you will see them begin to bow toward the 
 Sacred City, and go through all the elaborate forms of 
 Mohammedan prayer. Ah, is it not interesting to see 
 a group of ordinary workmen interrupt their toil in the 
 middle of the day and turn to their religion ? " 
 
 We were all much impressed. I was particularly so. 
 
 But as we gazed on them, with reflex religious in- 
 terest, the row of men arose. With a unanimous grunt 
 they rose, bearing on their shoulders a long steel beam, 
 which they proceeded to walk away with down the rail- 
 way line. 
 
 An awkward silence followed. I imagined I heard 
 a faint snickering, but I affected not to observe it. 
 There are moments when it is just as well not to be too 
 observing. 
 
 On our visit to Solomon's Pools our driver, who was 
 a Moslem, did not like our pious dragoman any more 
 
Piety: Gentile, Jewish, Moslem 
 
 than we did. It was he who advised losing him. But 
 his motives turned out to be interested, for he then 
 insinuated that he could fill the dragoman's place for a 
 small bakshish. It is rather unusual in Jerusalem 
 to find a carriage-driver who speaks any European 
 language. This one, however, when he accosted us, 
 asked if we spoke French. He turned out to be a bright 
 fellow, and quite amusing at times. I asked him where 
 he learned to speak French; he replied that he was 
 educated by the French monks at the Franciscan 
 monastery in Jerusalem. He spoke no English, how- 
 ever, saying that if he did he would be a dragoman 
 instead of a coachman. In the midst of his conver- 
 sation another carriage dashed up alongside and 
 attempted to pass him. A wild race ensued, and our 
 Jehu finally left the other far behind, after nearly caus- 
 ing a spill by driving into his horses. The occupant 
 of the other carriage was a coal-black negro, wearing a 
 large turban. He was driven by a white man, who 
 favored our coachman with what sounded like choice 
 abuse, receiving a large quantity in return. I asked 
 our charioteer if he could tell us the nationality of the 
 other driver; and, further, whether a white man in 
 Palestine felt any humiliation at driving a negro. This 
 he did not understand, but to the question concerning 
 the other driver's race, he replied, "He is a Jew." He 
 grew too familiar after having been indulged for an 
 afternoon, so we did not hire him again. It is a weak- 
 ness of many Oriental servants- if you permit it, 
 they at once presume and grow too "fresh" for any use. 
 
Bottled Jordan Water 
 
 This wild race between a Jew and a Mohammedan, 
 hauling the one a turbaned negro, the other two Western 
 tourists, took place on the rough road between Jeru- 
 salem and Bethlehem certainly an odd mixture. 
 
 <**> 
 
 There is quite a large business done in Jerusalem in 
 the bottling of water from the Jordan. It is sold in 
 flasks all over the town, and pious people take it home 
 to baptize their babies. I have no doubt that the water 
 they carry with them sometimes comes from the Jordan; 
 but, considering the character for veracity of the drago- 
 mans and other Jerusalem gentry, I doubt it. It is 
 easier to take the water from the Jerusalem tanks 
 instead of from the Jordan, and, as the old song says, 
 "Jordan is a hard road to travel." 
 
 If it be profitable to bottle Jordan water for export to 
 distant Christian lands, what is the matter with bottling 
 Jerusalem air? Nowadays when dealers can com- 
 press air so easily and use it for commercial purposes, 
 why not compress the holy air of Jerusalem and send 
 it to the faithful at home? This idea strikes me as a 
 valuable one, but I publish it to the world without price. 
 I am convinced that any man taking it up and working 
 it out practically could make a pot of money with it. 
 It could be used for moral disinfection not sanitary. 
 The only possible objection I can see to the scheme is 
 the hygienic one. If Jerusalem air, when compressed 
 and raised to the ninth power, would smell nine times 
 as bad as it does at home on its native heath, I am con- 
 
Piety: Gentile, Jewish, Moslem 
 
 vinced that uncorking a bottle of Jerusalem air in an 
 American city would produce a pestilence. 
 
 When dry, Jerusalem is a dust-heap; when wet, a 
 mud-hole. It is the filthiest city ever inhabited by 
 white men. Since I have visited it I am not surprised 
 that the Creator once sent a great flood upon the earth. 
 It is my belief that the Deluge was intended to wash 
 Jerusalem and make it clean. But it was a failure. 
 
 As France claims to be the protector of Latin Chris- 
 tians in the Orient, so Russia claims to be the protector 
 of the Greek Christians. The animosity between these 
 two sects is infinitely more bitter than that existing 
 between Christians and Jews, between Jews and Mos- 
 lems, between Moslems and Christians. The Jews 
 are disliked by the Christians, and are by them for- 
 bidden to enter certain holy places; but the Moslems 
 are on very amicable terms with the Jews and, naturally, 
 being lords of the soil, enter any church, synagogue, or 
 temple, as they please. While a Jew in a Jerusalem 
 church would be looked upon with aversion merely, a 
 Greek priest in a Latin church, or a Latin priest in a 
 Greek church, would often be in danger of his life. 
 Turkish soldiers are found constantly on guard at the 
 Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and at the 
 Grotto of the Nativity in Bethlehem. I have already 
 spoken of them at the great Church of the Sepulchre. 
 I do not think I shall ever forget the sight of a knot of 
 Turkish officers indolently lounging on a divan inside 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Tower o} Antonia, Jerusalem 
 
Greek and Latin Battles 
 
 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, talking, laughing, 
 smoking; this group was made up of the chief officers 
 of a strong force of Turkish troops which, under the 
 charge of the subalterns, was posted at every point in 
 the enormous church where outbreaks might occur 
 between the mobs of fanatic monks. 
 
 Russia and France were led into the Crimean War 
 by a quarrel between Greek and Latin Christians, each 
 claiming possession of the Church of the Nativity. At 
 another time a battle arose between Latin and Greek 
 Christians over the Virgin's tomb in the Valley of the 
 Khedron. In this struggle the Turkish soldiers sided 
 with the Greeks, and forcibly removed the Franciscans. 
 A recent outbreak (February, 1905), was also on Greek 
 and Latin lines. As Russia for years has been pushing 
 her way in the Holy Land, the Greek Christians, en- 
 couraged by her attitude, are becoming very aggressive. 
 For many centuries the Franciscan monks (of the Latin 
 Christians) have swept the outside steps of the Church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre; they thus symbolize their pos- 
 session of the building. The Greeks determined to 
 take away the privilege from the Franciscans, and thus 
 destroy all their vested rights. They attacked the 
 Franciscan monks in force, with stones and clubs. A 
 bloody battle took place, in which many of the Fran- 
 ciscan monks were severely injured, and in some cases 
 their lives were despaired of. The Greeks were upheld 
 in this high-handed proceeding by the Russian Govern- 
 ment. 
 
 In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre four monastic 
 
Piety: Gentile, Jewish, Moslem 
 
 communities are domiciled: the Roman Catholic monks 
 (Franciscan) have their convent and chapel to the 
 north of the tomb; the Greek Catholics to the east; the 
 Armenian Catholics to the south, in the gallery; and 
 the Coptic Catholics have some small chambers to the 
 west. Of these monks, the Father Superiors of the 
 Greeks, the Franciscans, and the Armenians only have 
 the "right" to demand of the Mohammedan door- 
 porters the opening of the church, whether to celebrate 
 their respective religious festivals, or for other purposes. 
 This right, however, is not granted unless the Turkish 
 keepers receive agreed payments, based on the time the 
 doors remain open. As at all other times the doors 
 remain locked, with the Turkish officials in possession 
 of the keys, it follows that the Christian monks within 
 are practically prisoners. However, they are permitted 
 to hold communication with the outer world by means 
 of grills or wickets in the great door; thus through 
 Turkish mediums they receive their daily bread and 
 other necessaries of life. 
 
 I can chronicle only a church duel instead of a reli- 
 gious war. One day, while we were in the chief Ar- 
 menian church, a violent row broke out between two 
 men. I approached, and found that the combatants 
 were a Jewish dragoman and an Armenian priest. 
 They did not exactly come to blows; true, they clutched 
 at one another's clothing, but they did not strike. In 
 the Orient I have rarely seen blows exchanged: I have 
 often seen them given by superior to inferior, and then 
 generally with a stick. Many times I have seen Orien- 
 
A Jerusalem Vignette 
 
 tals bitterly wrangling, even going so far as to clinch, 
 but they usually "break away" without exchanging 
 blows. In this Armenian church row I approached 
 with the keenest interest I thought it must surely 
 be a religious rumpus, the cause dating back something 
 like a thousand years. Fancy my deep disappointment 
 when it turned out to be a quarrel over one piastre. It 
 seems that the priest found his share of the tourists' 
 bakshish was one piastre short, and he accused the 
 dragoman of sequestrating that sum. This the drago- 
 man repudiated with indignation; the dispute became 
 envenomed, hence the noisy row. The Armenian 
 priest, his black eyes blazing, his face framed in coal- 
 black beard and hair, was pale with anger; the Jewish 
 dragoman was red with rage. Their clamor rang 
 through the great arches, the groined roof of the gloomy 
 church. 
 
 But what a disappointment! I thought it was at 
 least a fight over sacred places and sacrilege, a row over 
 the filioque, or some genuine "Spot Where." Alas! 
 It was only a money fight a tuppenny-ha'penny 
 quarrel a row over five cents ! 
 
 In every place where I have ever been, some one pic- 
 ture has always remained imbedded in my mind. It 
 may have been incongruous, sometimes ludicrous, some- 
 times childish. But that matters not the picture 
 always remained. Whenever I thought of that particu- 
 lar place, there rose up before me its particular picture. 
 
Piety: Gentile, Jewish, Moslem 
 
 What is my Jerusalem picture? You could not 
 guess. Is it of the ancient Hebrews? No. Of the 
 Romans besieging Jerusalem? No. Of the Cru- 
 saders, of Saint Louis, of Richard, of Saladin, of 
 Godfrey? No. Of the modern rabble of Christians, 
 Jews, and Turks who fill the filthy streets of the ancient 
 town ? No. 
 
 What is it then? you ask. It is this here is the 
 picture which rises before me when I think of Jeru- 
 salem: A long and lofty salon in a Levantine hotel, 
 furnished in rococo style, with gilded mouldings, with 
 many mirrors, with many chandeliers filled with petro- 
 leum lamps; a table in the centre, at which are seated 
 three people playing cards two of them rosy, fresh- 
 faced English girls, in low-cut gowns; the third a young 
 man, an English curate, in the straight-cut coat and 
 white stock affected by gentlemen of his cloth; the 
 curate is smoking a short black brier pipe. Lying on 
 a horse-hair sofa near them is a stout, red-faced gentle- 
 man, wrapped in sound and stertorous slumber; he also 
 is in clerical garb, with the addition of gaiters; he is a 
 dean, and I learn later that the two florid girls are his 
 daughters. At the other end of the long salon is a 
 group of Americans gazing on this scene with horror. 
 
 That is my picture. And I think almost any one 
 will admit that a curate playing cards with a dean's 
 daughters in a Jerusalem drawing-room, and smoking 
 a brier pipe the while, is odd enough to be remembered. 
 
 [220] 
 
XIV 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENTS IN PALESTINE 
 
XIV 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENTS IN PALESTINE 
 
 >OST travellers, as they sail from the 
 western Mediterranean toward the Le- 
 vant, become apprehensive of quaran- 
 tine. Many who do not fear cholera or 
 plague fear quarantine, and with reason. In travel- 
 ling, it is very difficult to get truthful news about the 
 prevalence of infectious disease. The people in the 
 infected places are interested in suppressing the news; 
 the people in other places have all manner of motives 
 for directing passengers in various directions and by 
 various routes; it is thus almost impossible to get at the 
 truth. 
 
 While in the quarantine zone I was much interested 
 in observing the attitude of travellers toward the va- 
 rious newspapers; the only journal in which they seemed 
 to repose implicit faith was the London Times. Even 
 French, Italian, German, and Austrian tourists looked 
 with suspicion on Austrian, German, Italian, and 
 French newspapers; they might read them for home 
 news, for political gossip, and that sort of thing; but 
 when they wanted to get at the truth about quarantine 
 they read the London Times. 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 When you are bound for the Holy Land from a dis- 
 tance of thousands of miles, Palestine seems a micro- 
 scopic spot. At first you ask, "Is there any disease 
 now in Palestine?" Or, "Are Western ports quaran- 
 tining Palestine ports?" But as you approach the 
 Holy Land, Palestine becomes more than a spot 
 near at hand it is a microcosm. You not only find that 
 there may be epidemic disease there, and quarantine, 
 but that the different spotlets of the spot quarantine 
 against each other. Jerusalem declares a quarantine 
 against Damascus, Damascus against Smyrna, Jeru- 
 salem against Gaza, Jerusalem against Lydda, Jeru- 
 salem against Hebron; last year Hebron actually 
 declared a quarantine against the surrounding villages 
 and maintained a cordon about itself reaching to the 
 Pools of Solomon. 
 
 That Jerusalem should quarantine against Alexan- 
 dria, or Alexandria against Smyrna, may not seem 
 peculiar; but for one small town in Palestine to quaran- 
 tine against all the little hamlets around it seems rather 
 absurd. 
 
 In sailing along the Syrian coast, one is continually 
 struck by the wealth of color. First comes the tawny 
 sea-beach, then the white buildings with their red roofs, 
 the copper domes, and the occasional minarets, all set 
 in groves of green. Behind these rise the first ranges 
 of hills, of a warm reddish color; back of these the hills 
 grow brown; back of them again they melt into gray, 
 
 [224] 
 
Filthy Towns 
 
 and then in the distance amethyst mountain ranges are 
 outlined *on the brilliantly blue Syrian sky. Sailing 
 along the Syrian coast the land looks incredibly beauti- 
 ful, but beware of landing. When you land, all beauty 
 disappears. The towns which, seen from the sea, are 
 white and beautiful, seen ashore are filthy and squalid. 
 The houses are a patchwork of all ages and of all styles 
 of architecture ruined walls of massive masonry with 
 sheds and hovels of refuse boards and sheet tin leaning 
 up against the ancient buildings. The narrow streets 
 are crowded with surly men, shapeless women, and 
 shrill children; through this mass of humanity burdened 
 donkeys push their way. The shopkeepers sit in their 
 little shops, about six by six in size, and conduct loud 
 conversations with their fellow shopkeepers up and 
 down the street and across the way. 
 
 It is amazing how human beings can breed in these 
 filthy towns or I should say survive, for the human 
 race can breed anywhere. Probably the explanation 
 is an old one the country feeds as well as breeds the 
 towns. In his remarkable booklet, "The Town- 
 Dweller," Dr. J. Minor Fothergill that brilliant 
 physician who died untimely apparently proved 
 that there is no fourth generation of Londoners. In 
 the third generation, he says, the pure town-bred Lon- 
 doner ceases to propagate. It is the red-faced rustics 
 impelled thither, lured by the lights of London town, 
 who renew the blood-stream of the gigantic city. 
 
 So it is in Syria the town dwellers soon die out; 
 but they are recruited by intermarriages with Cretans, 
 
 [ 22 5] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 Cypriotes, Hellenes and other Levantines, with Kurds, 
 Circassians, Persians, and Africans. In fact, there is 
 a distinct race in such towns as Smv/rna, which race is 
 of the Hellenic type. The Smyrniotes are continually 
 recruited from the islands of the Grecian Archipelago. 
 
 That travellers in a foreign land often overrate its 
 merits, from the days of Marco Polo down to our own, 
 is plainly proved by Palestine. For something like 
 four thousand years both travellers and natives have 
 been lying about it. Most of us have based our views 
 of Palestine on the bragging of the natives in the old 
 Biblical times. It is hard to fit these tales to the mod- 
 ern Palestine, making every allowance for centuries 
 of Turkish misrule. It is impossible to believe that 
 this could ever have been a land flowing with milk and 
 honey. How the natives of any era could believe their 
 own bragging about Palestine it is difficult to under- 
 stand. Probably the hypothesis of some Oriental 
 traveller is the correct one, which is that Syria seems a 
 paradise to the wayfarer coming from the desert. That 
 explains it. "In the kingdom of the blind," says the 
 old proverb, "the one-eyed man is king." And so to 
 the Bedouin and to the thirst-stricken traveller coming 
 from the desert which bounds Syria on the east, it must 
 indeed seem like a garden of Eden. 
 
 Correspondingly, much of Palestine to the desert 
 wayfarer must seem like an oasis. To the dwellers in 
 
 [226] 
 
Subterranean Streams 
 
 the Far West of America, a simple parallel may be 
 found. When you cross the vast stretches of alkali 
 desert in Nevada, Utah, or Arizona, and reach a garden 
 spot like Humboldt or Indio, where the thirsty earth 
 has drunk up water piped from the distant hills, and 
 thus refreshed has brought forth palm trees and flowers, 
 how inexpressibly grateful are these green oases to the 
 traveller's tired eye. So to the Bedouin, who is born 
 and lives and dies in the desert, all Palestine is a gigantic 
 oasis. 
 
 To a dweller in arid America the parched and baked 
 appearance of the surface in Palestine does not seem 
 strange. It may seem so to the pilgrims from moist 
 lands like those of Northern Europe, where it rains all 
 of the summer, and nearly all of the winter when it 
 isn't snowing. But what strikes even a dweller in arid 
 America is the aqueous topsy-turvydom in Palestine. 
 There is apparently little subsoil water in the arid 
 regions of Western America. There are a few shallow 
 artesian reservoirs. What shallow ones exist are easily 
 tapped and drained by too many wells, and about the 
 only source of supply is in the streams fed by the melt- 
 ing snows in the mountains, which streams, for the 
 most part, flow uselessly to the sea. But in Palestine, 
 while there is apparently little or no water on top of the 
 ground, there is a great deal of it immediately under 
 the surface. There are subterranean springs and 
 streamlets filtering everywhere through the solid rock. 
 The people say they can detect the presence of water 
 by putting their ears to the ground. They aver that 
 [227] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 they can hear the murmur of water from the rocky 
 depths below. 
 
 The existence of natural subterranean streams seems 
 to have given the natives a belief that artificial water- 
 courses should also be subterranean. There is an 
 ancient underground aqueduct which supplies Jeru- 
 salem with water, and which is fed by the Pools of 
 Solomon. This aqueduct, which became choked up 
 in the course of ages, has been cleaned out and again 
 put in use. It is sadly needed. Jerusalem is a city 
 without water. Its principal supply is from rain-water 
 cisterns. Not only is water needed for drinking, but, 
 if an adequate water supply were brought to the city, 
 it is not impossible that the inhabitants might wash 
 and be clean. The most pious pilgrim, the most ardent 
 palmer who worships at the holy city's shrines, will 
 admit that they need it. 
 
 The many musical references in Holy Writ to springs 
 and fountains arouse one's expectation in this thirsty 
 land. Involuntarily you quicken your pace as you 
 approach a well, or spring, or fountain. But there 
 is nothing attractive about such places in Palestine. 
 The women wash garments at the drinking-places till 
 the waters are foul with filth; the men wash horses in 
 them; and all classes seem to drink freely of this foul 
 water, and wonder at the squeamishness of the Euro- 
 pean. ^ 
 
 When one thinks of the great events that have taken 
 place in the Holy Land, the multitude of cities, villages, 
 
Holy Land Very Small 
 
 and towns, the countless millions who have been born 
 there and whose bones now lie in its rock-ribbed hills, 
 the small dimensions of Palestine are almost startling. 
 West of the Jordan, where most of the historic events 
 took place, there are only 3,800 square miles, including 
 all of the geographical divisions now called Palestine; 
 including the land both east and west of the Jordan, 
 the total area is 9,840 square miles. The length of 
 Palestine from north to south is about 150 miles. It 
 varies in breadth from 23 to 80 miles. 
 
 Perhaps the best way to realize its smallness is to 
 compare it with other geographical divisions. Com- 
 pared with European countries it is about one sixth the 
 size of England (58,168 square miles); a little less than 
 two thirds the size of Switzerland (15,992 square miles); 
 a little more than one third the size of Greece (25,014 
 square miles); less than two thirds the size of Denmark 
 (15,289 square miles). 
 
 Coming to the western hemisphere, it is a little more 
 than one third the size of Costa Rica (23,233 square 
 miles); a little more than one half the size of Santo 
 Domingo (18,045 square miles) ; and about one eightieth 
 the size of Mexico (747,900 square miles). 
 
 The term "city" as used in the Bible, when applied 
 to the ridiculous little villages that one finds in Palestine 
 to-day, shows what extreme importance an aggrega- 
 tion of houses has to the tent-dweller. To a Zulu 
 doubtless Capetown seems like a great city; to a Lon- 
 doner it seems like a village. But everything is relative. 
 Three thousand years ago, when nomadic Hebrews 
 [229] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 approached a little village on the hither side of the 
 Jordan, no doubt they were awe-stricken, called it a 
 city, and dubbed its constable or pound-keeper a king. 
 To-day in Montenegro Prince Nikita is looked upon 
 with awe by his simple subjects they believe him not 
 only royal, but almost a demi-god. Yet his capital city 
 is smaller than a tenth-rate provincial town, and his 
 "palace" is inferior to the average suburban villa. 
 
 The villages in the Holy Land are all dingy and dust- 
 colored. Many are on the tops of hills, and look like 
 fortified places. All have flat roofs, and some are sur- 
 rounded with olive orchards and cactus hedges. At a 
 distance they are not unattractive. But as you ap- 
 proach and enter them they become more and more 
 repulsive. All sorts of filth may be found in the streets. 
 Dirty and diseased children swarm everywhere, while 
 ragged mothers gaze idly at them, squatting on their 
 door-steps. Some of the houses are built of stones 
 taken from ancient ruins, but most of them are con- 
 structed of dried mud. As there are no trees and hence 
 no wood in Palestine, the fuel is dried dung, and its 
 acrid smell everywhere fills the air. There is little 
 furniture in the houses, a bed and some water-jugs 
 being about all. In some houses the floor is on two 
 levels one half being several feet higher than the 
 other. On the upper level the family live, and on the 
 lower the beasts. The people who live in these houses 
 are said by ethnologic authorities to be distinct from 
 the Bedouin Arabs and from the Turks. They are 
 believed to be descendants of the Canaanites, and 
 
 [230] 
 
Natives around the Zion Gate, Jerusalem 
 
Force of Tradition 
 
 philologists say that they remain as they were when 
 they talked with Jesus in Aramaic which language, 
 by the way, He is said to have used most. 
 
 There are only about a dozen towns in Palestine 
 (that is, excluding the cities of Jerusalem, Damascus, 
 and Beirut) with more than three thousand population. 
 Some with the most sacred associations seem to-day to 
 be the most insignificant. Bethlehem is particularly 
 disappointing. It looks impressive from afar, but, as 
 you approach, it loses its picturesque appearance, and 
 to dash your anticipations still more, you find a number 
 of staring new buildings there. Bethlehem, like Jeru- 
 salem, seems to have a boom. 
 
 I have often been struck by the force of tradition. 
 In countries whose beginnings antedate history, the 
 modern dwellers often resort to certain places and per- 
 form certain acts without knowing why. Thus, for 
 example, in Roman Catholic Italy to-day the peasants 
 regularly go to the sites of ancient pagan temples to 
 indulge in merrymakings at certain seasons of the year 
 contemporaneous with pagan festivals in honor of 
 Venus, of Jupiter, or of Apollo. The populace of 
 modern Rome go forth every year about Easter time 
 to a point on the Campagna where there once was a 
 temple to Venus; now there remains scarcely one stone 
 standing on another. Here they have rural sports, 
 diversified with eating and drinking. They call the 
 occasion "The Festival of the Divine Love" which 
 has a semi-religious sound. It is really a survi- 
 val of a festival in honor of Venus, which was 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 celebrated two thousand years ago by the Plebs of 
 ancient Rome. 
 
 So in Palestine there stands upon the plain of Jeri- 
 cho a wretched village called Eriha. It stands near the 
 site, according to tradition, of the City of Sodom. It 
 is a foul and filthy collection of hovels, and is of no 
 interest whatever, unless it be for the fact that the 
 morals of the villagers are as filthy and as foul as are 
 their hovels. What seems unusual is that the women 
 are more immoral than the men things have got 
 mixed since Sodom sinned and fell. How strange that 
 of the Cities of the Plain, destroyed so many centuries 
 ago, nothing should remain but their lewd living. 
 
 The views of the Valley of the Jordan and of the basin 
 in which lies the Dead Sea are very striking. Looking 
 to the eastward from elevated points near Jerusalem, 
 the Dead Sea seems about half a mile away. Yet it is 
 nearly four thousand feet lower than Jerusalem, and 
 many hours' travel distant. These inland salt seas are 
 all very remarkable. Many Americans have noticed 
 the extraordinary characteristics of the Great Salt Lake, 
 particularly when trying to swim in its waters. The 
 Dead Sea has the same tendency to bring the bather's 
 feet to the surface. There are no fishes in the Dead 
 Sea no life of any kind. The percentage of solids 
 in the water is enormous about twenty-six per cent. 
 The principal solid ingredients are the chlorides of 
 sodium, magnesium, and calcium. 
 
Many Sects of Catholics 
 
 The deepest part of the Dead Sea's bed lies 2,600 
 feet below the level of the Mediterranean; its depth 
 here is 1,310 feet. Jerusalem lies 3,780 feet above the 
 Dead Sea. Oddly enough, it has a cloud system of its 
 own, for one may frequently see cloud-banks lying over 
 the Dead Sea, which are six or seven hundred feet below 
 the level of the ocean. 
 
 The Valley of the Jordan is in modern times but 
 scantily peopled. The heat there is unbearable, the 
 malaria mortal. In fact, a residence in the Valley of 
 the Jordan is calculated to take a good Christian who 
 covets eternity more rapidly into the other world than 
 almost any other spot in the Holy Land, and there are 
 a great many places in the Holy Land better fitted for 
 holy dying than for holy living. 
 
 Of all the disappointments of Palestine, probably 
 the most disappointing is the religious question. Most 
 of us imagine that in the Holy Land the Christians are 
 a united band, leagued against the followers of Ma- 
 hound. Error gigantic, colossal, stupendous error. 
 The Mohammedans are united, but the Christians are 
 rent and torn. They quarrel bitterly; they hate each 
 other for the love of God; they often push their fanatic 
 hatred to the extreme of murder. And the Turkish 
 Government watches them carefully to prevent their 
 cutting each other's throats. 
 
 The Christians are divided into many sects. The 
 "Orthodox Greeks" are the most numerous. They 
 
 [233] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 are in two Patriarchates, under the Patriarch of Jeru- 
 salem and the Patriarch of Beirut. These Greek 
 Catholics venomously hate the "Latins," or Roman 
 Catholics. 
 
 The "Latins" are affiliated with the Papal Church 
 of Rome, although some of the sects do not recognize 
 all the Papal dogmas. The Oriental Catholic Churches 
 affiliated with the "Latin," or Roman Catholic, are 
 the "Coptic Catholic," the "Armenian Catholic," the 
 "United Nestorians," the "United Syrians," the 
 "United Greeks." 
 
 Some of these Oriental Catholic Churches depart 
 from the Roman ritual and defy certain of its ordi- 
 nances. Many of them celebrate the mass in Arabic, 
 and most of them permit married men to be priests. 
 This the Roman See winks at. All of these Catholics 
 have Patriarchs of their own at Damascus, at Aleppo, 
 at Constantinople, at Mossul and they seem to re- 
 gard their Pontiffs as of equal dignity with the Pontiff 
 of the Roman Church. 
 
 The Maronite Catholics are also affiliated with the 
 Roman Catholics. Their Patriarch is elected by their 
 bishops, subject to the approval of the Pope of Rome. 
 But they demand the right of their priests to marry, 
 and assert their right to read the mass in Syrian. 
 
 The discordant Christian sects of the East hate each 
 other so bitterly that they have little hatred left for the 
 Mohammedans, with whom both Greeks and Latins 
 are on better terms than with each other. As for the 
 Protestants: the Latin and Greek Catholics rarely 
 
 [234] 
 
Protestants not "Christians" 
 
 speak of them as Christians. And Latins hate Greeks, 
 Greeks hate Latins, much more than they do the Jews. 
 
 The curious attitude of France toward the Latin 
 Christians of the Orient is due to her alliance with 
 Russia. Not to offend her ally she tolerates much in 
 the shape of Russian encouragement of Greek- Chris- 
 tian aggression aggression which she would not have 
 permitted prior to 1870. In the days of the Second 
 Empire, Napoleon III was famed throughout the 
 Orient as the " Protector of Latin Christians." This 
 title began when the massacre of the Maronite Chris- 
 tians was checked by French troops. 
 
 These Maronites, by the way, are rather an odd sect. 
 They are among the native groups of Christians who 
 date from the earliest time; they claim to be "Primitive 
 Christians," and they are said to have existed before 
 the split between the Church of Byzantium and the 
 Church of Rome. In comparatively recent times they 
 have been won over to recognize the supremacy of the 
 Pope. Hence they are looked upon with bitter hatred 
 by other groups of native Christians, who regard the 
 Patriarchs of Jerusalem, Damascus, Constantinople, 
 or Moscow as their religious heads. Nearly all of the 
 European (Latin) missions, by the way, confine their 
 attempts at proselyting to the Greek Christians; they 
 do not try to convert the Moslems or the Jews. This 
 probably is one of the causes of the intense hostility of 
 the Greeks for the Latins. There are a number of 
 
 [235] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 Protestant missions in Palestine, but they do not seem 
 to accomplish very much in the way of conversions. 
 They have excellent schools, where young Greeks, 
 Latins, Armenians, Syrians, Smyrniotes, and Jews are 
 educated in English and other branches. I talked 
 with some of these students, and when I asked them 
 their "nationality" they invariably answered, as did 
 the dragomans and drivers "I am a Jew," or "I am 
 a Latin," or " I am a Greek Christian." But I never 
 heard one of them say "I am a Protestant." On the 
 other hand, there seemed to be no bitterness toward 
 the Protestant missions. The various contending 
 sects do not seem to take them seriously. In fact, 
 these ancient churches over here talk and act as if the 
 Protestant churches were mere wayfarers, and not at 
 all in the business to stay. They do not even speak of 
 Protestants as "Christians," and do not so regard them. 
 I may say here that if the worthy people at home 
 who contribute to "foreign missions" think that the 
 missionaries in Mohammedan countries are trying to 
 Christianize Mohammedans, they are much in error. 
 The missionaries have more discretion. Nowhere in 
 European or Asiatic Turkey, in Syria or in Egypt, in 
 Constantinople, Smyrna, Beirut, Damascus, Jerusalem, 
 or Cairo, in Roberts College or any Christian mis- 
 sionary school, does any Christian missionary attempt 
 to convert a Mohammedan to Christianity. The result 
 would be bad for both missionary and convert. The 
 Christian missionaries do not even attempt to make 
 converts in these countries. Naturally, this phase of 
 
 [236] 
 
Russo-Franco-German Rivalry 
 
 foreign missions is not much talked of at home, where 
 the money is raised. But this statement is unquali- 
 fiedly true. 
 
 There is one particularly imposing Protestant insti- 
 tution in Jerusalem, and that is the large and hand- 
 some church recently erected there by the Kaiser. But 
 I do not think the Kaiser built it purely as a place in 
 which to worship God, for there are hardly enough 
 German Protestants to fill it. I think he built it partly 
 because Russia has so large a church and so large a 
 reservation there, and partly because he wanted to 
 show that if there was going to be anything doing in 
 religion in Jerusalem, Germany must make a showing. 
 
 The secret motives underlying the action of the Euro- 
 pean powers here in Palestine are difficult to fathom. 
 I asked one of the consular corps in Palestine what was 
 his theory as to their motives and intentions. He re- 
 plied, but requested me not to quote him, so he shall 
 remain anonymous. This is the gist of what he said: 
 
 "France has for years striven to hold the post of 
 protector of Latin Christianity in the Orient. Since 
 1860, when French troops saved Christians from the 
 massacre of the Druses, she has enjoyed that prestige 
 in Europe. That prestige was augmented by Napoleon 
 III, when he protected the Maronites from Moslem 
 aggression. But of recent years French prestige has 
 been suffering. Germany and Russia have been 
 striving in every possible way to leave France in 
 
 [237] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 the rear. It is difficult for one who has not been in 
 Jerusalem to understand how the great powers of 
 Europe strive for prestige in this ancient city. It is the 
 belief among many men here that Russia, for religious 
 reasons, intends ultimately to make Jerusalem Russian 
 territory. Since Emperor William's visit here, a few 
 years ago, Germany also has taken many steps in 
 her occupation of Jerusalem. A magnificent church 
 has been erected here in honor of the Kaiser's visit. 
 Formerly Germans were buried in the graveyard of the 
 French monastery, regardless of their creed, but since 
 the Kaiser's visit the Germans have a graveyard of 
 their own. Germany has pushed herself forward in 
 many other ways. Hence France is straining every 
 nerve to impress the Christians, and particularly the 
 Latin Christians, with her importance. Relying on 
 their ignorance, she chastises them in the West, and 
 then sends her officials to honor their functions in the 
 East." 
 
 The remarks of my friend the consul were strongly 
 corroborated by later happenings. The Kaiser not 
 long afterward conferred with some of the German 
 Catholic cardinals as to the chance of the Pope turning 
 over to Germany the position of protector of Latin 
 Christianity in the Orient. This position France will 
 necessarily have to vacate, owing to her separation of 
 Church and State. This separation the Vatican con- 
 strues as an attack on the power of the Church in the 
 West, and it certainly will not allow France to remain 
 protector of the faithful in the East. 
 
 [238] 
 
Jews in Two Groups 
 
 That Germany is not a Roman Catholic power goes 
 for naught. There is no Roman Catholic power 
 strong enough to assume the r61e of protector in the 
 face of Russia's position in the Holy Land. In fact, 
 that is the chief stone in the Kaiser's path. For the 
 fanaticism of the Russian peasants in Palestine over 
 the holy places may lead to brawls more bloody than 
 those of the Greek and Latin monks. The Kaiser- 
 hating among the French maintain that the Pope would 
 never consent to make the Kaiser protector over Roman 
 Catholics in the Orient. The answer to this is that 
 when France abandons the r61e they will have no other 
 protector. The further hypothesis may be hazarded 
 that if the Pope does not grant the right the Kaiser may 
 seize it, and thus secure the perpetual right of inter- 
 ference in Constantinople, Jerusalem, Smyrna, Da- 
 mascus, and at all points in the Orient where Roman 
 Catholics may be found. 
 
 Like the Christians, even the Jews in the Holy 
 Land are at war. The Sephardim and Ashkenazim 
 are hostile. The Jews are divided into two groups 
 the descendants of the ancient Israelites (Sephardim) 
 and the new immigrants (Ashkenazim). There is no 
 love lost between the Sephardim and the Ashkenazim. 
 They differ radically in language and in customs. The 
 Sephardim speak Oriental dialects, while the Ashkena- 
 zim from Germany, Poland, and Russia speak Yiddish. 
 The Jewish immigrants from Asia and Africa consort 
 
 [239] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 with the Sephardim, and the two clans seem to be 
 divided on Oriental and Occidental lines. The propor- 
 tion of Spanish-speaking Jews is very large, and the 
 Spanish Jews consort with the Oriental clan. They de- 
 scend from the Jews driven out of Spain in 1497 by Fer- 
 dinand and Isabella, and are ruled by a Rabbi. The 
 Ashkenazim are under no particular Rabbi, but are 
 protected by the different European consuls whose na- 
 tionality they claim. The third group of Jews is called 
 Cariates. They reject the Talmud and restrict their 
 sacred books to the Old Testament. They are said to 
 be superior to the others in education and morality. 
 
 All of the Jews nominally obey a Grand Rabbi who 
 looks out for their interests with the local Turkish 
 authorities and the Porte. He has a council of six 
 members: three of them rabbis, and three laymen. 
 
 One of the causes of jealousy between the Jewish 
 groups is the enormous charitable fund, called the 
 Halucca, which is sent to Jerusalem by Jews all over 
 the world. Prior to the Jerusalem boom, and the 
 advent of the new-comers, the Sephardim lived in 
 luxury on the Halucca. They were well treated by 
 the Turks, practised polygamy like them, and were 
 quite friendly with the governing race. But with the 
 arrival of the Ashkenazim all this was changed. The 
 Ashkenazim brought to Jerusalem all manner of Euro- 
 pean prejudices against the Turks, and the Turks 
 speedily resented their attitude. Before long the Turks 
 lumped the Jewish clans together, and treated the 
 Sephardim as severely as they did the Ashkenazim. 
 
 [240] 
 
Jews Flock to Jerusalem 
 
 Thus the Sephardim have suffered both socially and 
 financially. Prior to the boom, the Sephardim received 
 from the Halucca enough to live on in comfort some- 
 times even in luxury. Since the arrival of the Ash- 
 kenazim the Halucca has been so divided up that both 
 clans are barely able to exist. Some of them have been 
 forced to go to work. Playing on the feelings of chari- 
 table Jews throughout the world, and thereby increas- 
 ing the Halucca y is quite a business in Jerusalem. On 
 mail-day the various post-offices of the different Euro- 
 pean nations are crowded with Jews sending off beg- 
 ging letters. 
 
 In addition to the thousands of Jews who are main- 
 tained individually by the Halucca, there are many 
 colonies of Jews subsidized by foreign associations or 
 individuals. Baron Rothschild supports one at Mount 
 Carmel. There are other colonies in different parts 
 of Palestine. They are not attractive places, and do 
 not compare with the Russian and German settlements, 
 where the colonists are self-sustaining. The acceptance 
 of alms seems to cause atrophy of the moral fibre. I 
 never saw a Jewish beggar in the United States, and 
 I know of no race or religion that takes better care of 
 its weaklings than do the Jews in our country. But the 
 condition to which these pauperized Jews have fallen 
 in these subsidized Palestine colonies shows the depths 
 reached by him who has ceased to support himself. 
 
 Of the vast influx of people to Jerusalem of late 
 years, the immigrants are principally Jews. There are 
 no census figures obtainable, but the foreign consuls 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 estimate that there are about fifty thousand Jews in 
 Jerusalem about twice as many as all the other in- 
 habitants combined. The new colonies of Jews are 
 due to the Zionist movement inaugurated by Jewish 
 millionnaires, like the Rothschilds. Israel Zangwill, 
 the author, is one of the ardent advocates of a hegira of 
 the Jews to their ancient home. Jews are certainly 
 pouring into Palestine from all over Europe. But the 
 consuls in Jerusalem doubt the desirability of this 
 movement; they say that the Jewish colonists are fail- 
 ures as agriculturists, and seem to succeed only as shop- 
 keepers or money-changers. 
 
 The Jews in Palestine certainly prefer shopkeeping 
 to agriculture, and one certainly sees more Jewish 
 money-changers than Turkish, although it would seem 
 fitting for the business of changing Turkish money to 
 be in the hands of Turkish money-changers. Perhaps 
 the Turks do not understand the Turkish money as 
 well as the Jews do. Here is a brief resume of some of 
 its eccentricities: 
 
 The Turkish gold unit is the lira, or pound, worth 
 about $5; the Turkish silver unit is the piastre, worth 
 about 5 cents. When we were in Turkey the lira 
 was thus quoted: in Constantinople, 100 piastres; in 
 Beirut, 123 piastres; in Jaffa, 141 piastres; in Jeru- 
 salem, 124 piastres; in Damascus, 129 piastres. To 
 this must be added the further fact that even these 
 values fluctuated from day to day with the fluctuations 
 in exchange of Turkish silver. If I add to the fore- 
 going that the Turkish metallic currency (melallik) 
 
 [242] 
 
Foreign Mails in Turkey 
 
 current in Constantinople is uncurrent in every other 
 Turkish city; if I state that the value of the Turkish 
 pound is quoted differently in buying different commod- 
 ities; if I say that the foregoing is merely the govern- 
 ment rate of exchange, and that there is a commercial 
 rate of exchange, which is different; if I remark that 
 the four foreign post-offices in Jerusalem have a rate 
 of exchange of their own, which is also different ; if I 
 set down the curious fact that the railway companies 
 recognize none of these rates of exchange, but have a 
 rate of their own also I may not be believed, but 
 nevertheless it is entirely true. 
 
 That Jerusalem should have four foreign post-offices 
 may seem strange, but it is true. The Turkish post- 
 office is so bad that the foreign legations in Turkey 
 have been forced to create post-offices of their own. 
 When a Turk in Constantinople wants to send a letter 
 in a hurry, he sends it by the British, French, German, 
 or Austrian post-office. Therefore one of the pecu- 
 liarities of Constantinople, in addition to its dogs and 
 its smells, is the variety of its post-offices. It is of 
 record that a Turkish minister posted a letter in Con- 
 stantinople addressed to Washington, another on the 
 same day addressed to Smyrna. The Washington 
 letter reached its destination, seven thousand miles 
 away, sooner than the one sent to Smyrna, one day's 
 sail away. 
 
 The foreign post-offices in Turkey are very well 
 managed, and are always used by foreign residents. 
 
 Not only in Constantinople and Jerusalem but in 
 
 [243] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 other large cities of the Turkish Empire there are 
 foreign post-offices. Thus, in Smyrna, Beirut, and 
 Jerusalem, you can not only mail a letter, but a ten- 
 pound parcel at a British, French, German, or Austrian 
 post-office. This, by the way, is more than you can 
 do at an American post-office in the United States. 
 
 Among the agreeable disappointments of Palestine 
 was the smooth landing we made at Jaffa, which port 
 is notorious for its stormy seas. But that disappoint- 
 ment was destined to be effaced when we left Palestine. 
 The day we disembarked at Jaffa the sea was as smooth 
 as a mill-pond, and the disembarkation was effected 
 without any accident or discomfort. But the day we 
 embarked, conditions were very different. A gale had 
 been howling for days along the Syrian coast. Off the 
 harbor there is a barrier reef, very similar to those 
 which circle the South Sea Islands. A narrow slit- 
 like entrance permits the passage of small boats. Out- 
 side of this the larger vessels anchor when it is safe to 
 do so, and lie to when it is not. On this particular day 
 there were a number of ships in the offing, but they all 
 had steam up and were ready to put to sea at a minute's 
 notice. Such was the force of the sea and wind that 
 the waves were breaking over the reef twenty feet high. 
 The placid Mediterranean, that "summer sea," as 
 many people like to call it, can at times be as rude as 
 the Atlantic. Even inside the reef the water was by 
 no means smooth. 
 
 [244] 
 
Russian Pilgrims 
 
 Among the half score of big ships tossing and tum- 
 bling about on the rough waves without, were three 
 Russian ships of war and one Russian passenger vessel. 
 From the men-of-war there streamed stiffly in the keen 
 wind the blue and white banner of Russia. The port 
 facilities at Jaffa are comparatively limited. There 
 is a space of some fifty or sixty yards of stone quay, 
 alongside of which row-boats come to embark and 
 disembark passengers. When the number of passen- 
 gers arriving and sailing is large, the boats wait for 
 places at the quay, and the passengers also wait for the 
 boats. When we were there a stream of boats was 
 pouring in from the Russian passenger vessel. As 
 they came alongside, there crawled, leaped, were lifted, 
 or slung, according to age, sex, and condition, hordes 
 of filthy Russian peasants. As soon as they landed 
 they fell upon their faces, and with their blubbery lips 
 kissed with resounding smacks the slabs of stone. Evi- 
 dently they looked upon the pier as being the sacred 
 soil of the Holy Land. I could not but smile when I 
 reflected that, only a few moments before, this sacred 
 soil had been occupied by gangs of Mohammedan 
 porters passing boxes, bags, and bundles from one 
 another to the boats. As they worked they indulged 
 in a droning sing-song what sailors call a "shanty" 
 to help them in their work. As I listened to their 
 rhythmical grunt I was curious to know what they were 
 saying, and asked a dragoman. It sounded to me like 
 " La- Allah-il- Allah," etc. the well-known saying 
 which we all of us remember from the "Arabian 
 
 [245] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 Nights." The dragoman corroborated my belief, and 
 added that the other words meant for the next man to 
 hurry the baggage along. In short, from his transla- 
 tion, I think their " shanty" was something like this: 
 " Come, get a move on. Allah is great. Pass it along. 
 Allah is great." 
 
 A Russian friend once told me that it is the fashion 
 in Russia for entire strangers to cry to those they meet 
 on Easter Day, "Christ is risen!" One particularly 
 hairy Russian moujik was just arising from his oscula- 
 tions of the stone pier when his eye caught mine. He 
 rushed upon me with outstretched arms, shouting a 
 greeting, and showing so friendly a disposition that I 
 fled in terror. My Russian friend had told me that 
 the Russian peasants not only greet strangers with the 
 words, "Christ is risen," but frequently embrace them. 
 I was afraid my hairy friend intended to embrace me 
 perhaps to kiss me with the same pious lips which 
 he had just imprinted on the porter-defiled pier. So 
 I did not hesitate. Discretion is the better part of 
 valor. I did not think he intended to kill me, only to 
 kiss me; but I ran. 
 
 The passage from the pier at Jaffa to the ship was 
 not a pleasant one. The Jaffa boats are not unlike 
 whale-boats: they are high in bow and stern, rowed 
 with long sweeps, and steered with a sweep astern made 
 fast to a thole-pin. The boatmen who handle them 
 are skilful with their oars, and aside from the fact that 
 they are parasitic, dirty, and would cut your throat for 
 sixpence, I have no doubt that they are very worthy 
 
The Sea at Jaffa 
 
 men. Still, rarely does one part from a set of ship- 
 mates with so much joy as from these Jaffa boatmen. 
 On our boat one barefooted mariner, who lost his toe- 
 grip on the gunwale, fell overboard. His comrades 
 paid not the least attention to him; he swam around, 
 trying to climb into various boats, but repulsed by all; 
 the occupants feared he would shake himself like a wet 
 dog, so he had to swim ashore. 
 
 Our boatmen had made not more than three strokes 
 with their long sweeps when our whale-boat began to 
 poise herself alternately on bow and stern. Then she 
 rolled, she pitched, she tossed, she made every move- 
 ment possible to the laws of gravitation and flotation. 
 As she did so, the countenances of the people aboard 
 instantly changed. I have seen a great many sea-sick 
 people in my time, and I may have seen more people 
 sea-sick than there were in our boat, but I never saw 
 people more sea-sick that is, so sea-sick that is, 
 sea-sicker. There are stages of sea-sickness where 
 ladies attempt to conceal the fact that they are under 
 the weather. There was no such attempt in this boat. 
 Anybody who was sick was frankly sea-sick. We were 
 right down to the plain, primitive man and woman 
 and no nonsense about it. 
 
 The extreme lack of formality in our boat reminded 
 me of one of Keene's droll bits in Punch years ago a 
 picture of a sea-sick woman aboard a Channel steamer. 
 A sea-sick man beside her has his head pillowed in her 
 lap. A passing good Samaritan says: "Madam, look 
 at your husband's awful pallor you had better 
 
 [247] 
 
Disappointments in Palestine 
 
 have him taken below." To which the sea-sick lady 
 replies with a dreadful calmness: "He's not my hus- 
 band. I don't know who he is." There were occur- 
 rences in our boat which strongly reminded me of this 
 picture. 
 
 When half-way to the ship we passed through the 
 barrier reef and got into the open sea. Then we 
 instinctively felt that inside the reef it had been com- 
 paratively smooth. Outside the reef the boat really 
 began to get a move on her, and here the boatmen chose 
 to stop rowing. Any one who has ever sailed the seas 
 knows that it is much easier to preserve one's com- 
 posure and dinner when a vessel is under way than 
 when she has stopped. There were some stern spirits 
 in our boat who had hitherto maintained comparative 
 calmness. But when we passed through the reef and 
 the rowing stopped, most of them gave way. It was 
 indeed a lamentable spectacle. As I gazed over this 
 mass of men, women, and luggage it seemed that the 
 percentage of sea-sickness was about ninety-seven out 
 of a possible hundred. In fact, everything seemed 
 to be sea-sick, except the boatmen and the boat. Even 
 the baggage writhed uneasily - the very valises oped 
 their clammy jaws. 
 
 The rowing stopped because the boatmen had chosen 
 this spot for bakshish. True, they had agreed to take 
 us from shore to ship for a specified sum. True, they 
 had agreed they would demand no bakshish. But 
 all the same, when they got us past the reef a cry of 
 "bakshish" arose. One was selected as collector. 
 
 [248] 
 
Sea-sickness and Bakshish 
 
 He went around, and never in my experience in the 
 Orient did I see a crowd of people yield up bakshish 
 with so much alacrity. I will do the collector the 
 justice to say that he was decent enough not to attempt 
 to collect from those women who were in a state of 
 collapse, but any woman who could hold her head up 
 had to pay, and all the men had to pay, sea-sick or not. 
 He also complied with the request of the gathering that 
 he should "make haste " and "hurry up; " for he spoke 
 a little English, and he informed them that the best 
 way to accelerate matters was to have their money 
 ready and expect no change. Everybody followed 
 his advice. Nobody asked for change. Nobody got 
 any. 
 
 When we reached the ship's side, most of the ladies 
 had to be lifted up out of the bottom of the boat, 
 where they were in a heap ; as the platform of the gang- 
 way was sometimes fifteen feet in the air above our 
 heads, and as we were sometimes fifteen feet above it 
 and looking down, they had to be tossed by the boat- 
 men into the arms of the brawny sailors on the gang- 
 way. They came almost any end up, and the deadly 
 nature of their malady may be inferred from the fact 
 that they paid not the slightest attention to their ap- 
 pearance, to their petticoats, or to whether their hats 
 were on straight. 
 
 [249] 
 
XV 
 CAIRO'S ROUTES AND INNS 
 
XV 
 
 CAIRO'S ROUTES AND INNS 
 
 jHE various steamship lines from Europe 
 to Egypt are mentioned in detail in the 
 first chapter of this book. As will there 
 be observed, the number of steamers has 
 much increased during the past two or three years; even 
 the number of lines has been increased. 
 
 On our journey to Egypt in the winter of 1905, we 
 sailed both ways under the British flag one way by 
 the Peninsular and Oriental, the other by the White 
 Star line. On previous voyages between Egypt and 
 the Occident we had sailed under other flags. It must 
 be admitted that the passenger lists in such cases were 
 more interesting than on the British ships. On one 
 occasion I remember that we carried an Oriental pasha 
 and his entire harem, together with a most remarkable 
 assortment of Sicilian priests, Greek monks, French 
 abbe's (they did not fraternize), English army officers, 
 Anglo-Indian civilians, Italian actors, French officers 
 from Madagascar, German honeymooners, Greek 
 dandies, and Levantine ladies of various nationalities, 
 including some Cypriote beauties with languishing 
 
 [253] 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 eyes. This winter, however, on both the P. and O. and 
 White Star steamers, the passengers were made up of 
 American and British travellers, all eminently respect- 
 able, and entirely uninteresting. 
 
 The P. and O. ships are very crowded in winter for 
 the "short-sea" route that is between Marseilles 
 and Port Said. At this latter port all the Egyptian 
 passengers disembark, and only the Indian passengers 
 remain. Even of these voyagers booked for the Far 
 East many do not take the "long-sea" route from 
 England across the Bay of Biscay and past Gibraltar, 
 but join their ships either at Marseilles or Brindisi. 
 As a result, the ship has a light passenger list at 
 both ends of her run, and an overcrowded one in 
 the middle. 
 
 Between Marseilles and Port Said our ship was so 
 crowded that the chief steward was forced to have 
 "first" and "second sittings," as he called them, or 
 "first" and "second tables," as they are usually de- 
 nominated on American steamships. I was amused 
 at the difference between the practical American and 
 the more conventional Britisher. The Britons greatly 
 preferred the late dinner hour at half past seven. But 
 those who selected that hour for dinner were also 
 obliged to take the late breakfast hour. As the British 
 largely outnumbered the Americans, there was a grand 
 rush for the "second sitting." The Americans thus 
 found themselves with first choice of seats for the "first 
 sitting." After the first day out many Britons began 
 to suspect that they had blundered. As the Americans 
 
 [254] 
 
Box and Cox at Sea 
 
 trooped in to dinner at half past six, the hungry Britons 
 gathered like Peris at the gates of Paradise, and greedily 
 watched them eat. As they saw the tureens of soup, 
 dishes of fish, and pyramids of hash borne in and out 
 all cooked at the same hour, and destined to regale 
 them an hour or so later they grew visibly perturbed. 
 On the second day out, at the eight o'clock breakfast 
 sitting, I was just about to take my seat, when I col- 
 lided with another voyager, to whom I said sweetly: 
 "Beg pardon; this is a hundred and six my num- 
 ber, please." He looked at me gloomily, and responded, 
 "It's mine, too;" whereupon he appealed to the chief 
 steward to be allowed to breakfast then instead of at 
 half past nine. But the steward was obdurate and 
 refused, so Cox withdrew. For he was Cox and I was 
 Box. He was my alter ego, my doppelganger. Cox 
 retired, and glared hungrily at me through the cabin 
 skylight, while I lingered tantalizingly over the break- 
 fast delicacies. Only once during this sitting did I 
 feel my serene sense of satisfaction disturbed. It was 
 when I suddenly thought of the napkins. "Great 
 heavens!" said I; "if Cox uses the same numbered 
 chair as I do, does he use the same numbered napkin- 
 ring?" I called my table- waiter to my side, and with 
 a faltering voice asked him to shed light on this dark 
 matter. He relieved me mightily by at once producing 
 Cox's napkin-ring. True, it was numbered "106," 
 but it had a circle under it. I, being Box, had the first 
 napkin-ring, and mine was numbered "106" straight, 
 with no circle. The sight of these cryptic napkin-rings 
 
 [255] 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 relieved me greatly. Cox was an inoffensive-looking 
 person, but one draws the line at napkins. 
 
 For this and other reasons I was extremely glad that 
 I had signed articles for the first sitting instead of the 
 second. The sight of a breakfast battle-field, with its 
 gouts of gravy, its awful grub-stains, its exploded egg- 
 shells, and other signs of carnage, has always confirmed 
 me in my preference for pictures of peace rather than 
 war. 
 
 I may remark here that the P. and O. boats land at 
 Port Said, the White Star steamers at Alexandria. 
 The special service of the North German Lloyd lands 
 at Alexandria, the Adriatic service of that and the Ham- 
 burg-American line at Port Said. I strongly advise 
 travellers sailing for Egypt to go via Alexandria. It 
 is a fairly interesting city and well worth a visit, while 
 Port Said is dirty, dreary, uninteresting, and malo- 
 dorous. The three-hour railway journey from Alex- 
 andria to Cairo runs through the richest part of the 
 Nile Delta, while that from Port Said presents few or 
 no points of interest. Special trains are frequently 
 run between Cairo and Alexandria when the larger 
 steamers are sailing; rarely, if ever, from Port Said, as 
 it is not always known when the west-bound steamers 
 will arrive there. Travellers via Port Said, being on 
 ships making long voyages, such as from England to 
 India, or Germany to China, cannot tell the approximate 
 time of their arrival. They cannot even tell the date, 
 much less whether it will probably be by night or day. 
 In fact, such passengers are sometimes obliged to dis- 
 
 [256] 
 
Court 0} an Arab House with Musharabiyeh Windows and Furniture 
 
Cairo Dragomans 
 
 embark at Port Sai'd in the middle of the night, by 
 means of small boats, in Cimmerian darkness, while 
 their steamer goes on. 
 
 The more enterprising among the Cairo dragomans 
 do not wait for their prey in the Cairo hotels. Nor do 
 they confine themselves to the railway station. They 
 go far afield when a European steamship is due; they 
 meet the traveller at Alexandria or Port Said. 
 
 When we first visited Egypt we fell at once into the 
 hands of Dragoman Achmet Mohammed. Achmet 
 had recommendations from many of the great ones of 
 the earth. Besides, he was no worse than any other 
 dragoman. They all rob you, more or less; but they 
 certainly prevent you from being robbed a great deal 
 more by others. They get commissions on everything 
 you buy, and steer you into high-priced places; but, 
 generally speaking, they keep you out of places where 
 you would get into trouble. So they are, perhaps, a 
 necessary evil. 
 
 On our second visit to Cairo we did not deem it 
 necessary to see all the stock sights we had come 
 to enjoy ourselves. So we rebuffed numerous Cairo 
 dragomans at Alexandria. But when we alighted at 
 the Cairo railway station, the first person I saw was 
 Achmet Mohammed. My heart fell. I hoped he 
 would not recognize me. No such luck. He knew me 
 at once, hastened to my side, called a carriage, and 
 assisted me to enter it with that deferential hand- cup 
 
 [257] 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 for my elbow which I knew so well. I made a feeble 
 attempt to explain to Achmet that we would not need 
 him. He received this remark with a trustful smile 
 of incredulity. When we reached the hotel, Achmet 
 swiftly paid and dismissed the cabman without asking 
 me for the money. Then I knew that I was lost. I 
 was no longer my own man. I belonged to Achmet 
 Mohammed. 
 
 But what boots it to tell of my futile struggle ? Ach- 
 met had ignored other wayfarers, had fastened himself 
 to me, and had thus lost his chance for any other client 
 until the arrival of the next steamer. So he was deter- 
 mined not to let me go. Did I seat myself on the ter- 
 race? Achmet would come and stand behind my 
 chair. Did I call a cab? Achmet would suddenly 
 appear and abuse the cabman violently in order to 
 impress him with my importance. Did I enter a shop ? 
 Achmet entered it also from another door. He was 
 proof against everything abuse, entreaty, cursing. 
 I assured him warmly that he was losing his time, for 
 not a piastre would he receive from me. But Achmet 
 soothingly replied that his motives were not mercenary 
 that he wished to serve me only in consideration of 
 love and affection. 
 
 But another steamer came with a new lot of travel- 
 lers. Among them was a family I knew. I greeted 
 them with an unholy glitter in my eye. I was more 
 than cordial I was effusive. As soon as the oppor- 
 tunity served perhaps sooner I took Paterfamilias 
 aside and asked him if he had secured a dragoman. 
 
 [258] 
 
Conscientious Travellers 
 
 No, he had not, and he needed one, for they were going 
 up the Nile. "Up the Nile!" My heart leaped for 
 joy. I turned around and clapped my hands; I did 
 not see Achmet, but I knew that he was near. In 
 truth he was; he appeared like the Hindoostanee magi- 
 cian who comes out of the ground. I presented Achmet 
 to Paterfamilias. I told him that Achmet was the boss 
 dragoman that among Egyptian dragomans he was 
 easily It. 
 
 The next morning the family took Achmet up the 
 Nile. I did not wish him any particular harm, but I 
 could not help hoping that they would lose him some- 
 where in the First or Second Cataract, say. 
 
 There are two sets of travellers in Egypt: the first 
 are those who use Cairo only as a stopping-place on 
 their way to other stations; the second, those who care 
 naught for Upper Egypt, the ruins, or the Nile, and 
 who consider Cairo the only point of interest in the 
 whole of Egypt. The latter class is usually made up 
 of those who have visited Egypt more than once. The 
 traveller who has made a previous visit to Egypt may 
 settle down in Cairo with the comfortable sensation 
 that he is not obliged to do the Nile, to do Luxor, 
 Thebes, or Memphis, to do the ruins of Karnak, or to 
 do anything at all unless he pleases. 
 
 But those travellers who are in Egypt for the first 
 time enjoy no such delightful feeling of mild do-nothing- 
 
 [259] 
 
 ^ 
 ** 
 
 OF 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 ism. Such travellers are slaves of duty. Concerning 
 them, an old Cairo devotee said to me one day: 
 
 4 'Poor creatures! They want to stay in Cairo, but, 
 driven by duty, they must move on. They would like 
 to lounge along the ever shifting streets and bazaars 
 of the Mouski quarter; instead of this, they let them- 
 selves be dragged off to view tumble-down ruins in 
 which they are not interested. They would like to sit 
 among the brilliant throng on the hotel terraces, and 
 look at snake-charmers and jugglers; instead of this, 
 they let themselves be hauled around to mouldy old 
 mosques which delight them not. They allow them- 
 selves to be whisked up the Nile by tourist agents, in 
 narrow stern-wheel boats with cell-like state-rooms 
 where they are fried by day and frozen by night. They 
 permit themselves to be driven off on donkey-back 
 over sandy, dusty trails, across great stretches of desert, 
 to gaze on gigantic ruins, taking four days to do things 
 which it would require four weeks to do properly. And 
 all this they call 'travelling for pleasure/" 
 
 While I do not agree with this Cairo devotee in his 
 low estimate of everything Egyptian that is not Cairene, 
 he is certainly right in his picture of these slaves of duty. 
 Among them I once encountered a young woman who 
 had only a week in Egypt and who wanted to spend 
 it in Cairo. I heard her say in a melancholy tone: 
 "How I wish I could stay in this lovely city! But it 
 is my duty to go up the Nile!" And she went. An- 
 other young woman, smitten with the Cairo charm, 
 tried to sell her Nile ticket at a ruinous sacrifice. Fail- 
 
 [260] 
 
Unlike Constantinople 
 
 ing in her attempted sale, this second slave of duty 
 made the Nile trip, like Niobe all tears. 
 
 This gives some idea of the charm of Cairo to the 
 new-comer as well as to the old. It is, in truth, a fasci- 
 nating city. For some reason, the Cairo Moham- 
 medans seem less hostile to strangers than they are in 
 many Moslem cities. In some Turkish towns the true 
 believers show plainly by their looks and demeanor 
 that they hate Christians. Constantinople, for example, 
 outside of the European quarter, Pera is not a 
 pleasant place for Christian strangers. Sour looks 
 and words that sound like curses come from the adults, 
 while over-ripe fruit, unsalable vegetables, and even 
 stones at times come from the little boys. In short, 
 while Stamboul is sulky, grimy, and grim, Cairo is 
 cheerful, light, and pleasant. 
 
 In other ways Cairo differs markedly from Constanti- 
 nople. When one compares the magnificent steel 
 bridge across the Nile with the tottering, decrepit 
 wrecks across the Golden Horn, he may note the differ- 
 ence between modern Mohammedanism and Moham- 
 medanism that is decaying. That venerable structure, 
 the Galata bridge at Constantinople, looks as if it were 
 composed of bed-slats, old tin roofing, rusty gas-pipe, 
 and superannuated stair-rails. When it gets acute 
 structural weakness, it is fastened together with cor- 
 roded wire or old barrel-hoops. Occasionally the 
 railing tumbles off for fifty or a hundred feet, carrying 
 with it fifty or a hundred true believers into Paradise 
 via the Golden Horn. If Abdul Hamid were to visit 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 the Khedive and compare bridges, he would go back 
 to Yildez Kiosk with a still stronger dislike than he now 
 has for his wealthy vassal. 
 
 A signal difference between Cairo and Constanti- 
 nople is in the matter of light. After nightfall Stam- 
 boul is as dark as a church is on a week-day, while 
 Cairo is as brilliantly lighted as a saloon. The rules 
 regulating vehicle lights are so stringent that not only 
 hackney-cabs but private carriages, farm-wagons, and 
 donkey-carts are obliged to carry lights. One evening 
 while driving out to the Pyramids, we saw a farmer and 
 his wife returning in a cart from selling their produce 
 in Cairo. It was dusk, but I could plainly see the 
 anxious look on the dark face of the farmer's wife, 
 lighted by the candle which she held shaded by her 
 hand. Thus the vehicle was provided with a light 
 thus she complied with the law. If toward evening 
 you are driving in a cab, if the legal hour for lighting is 
 reached, your cabman stops at once, nimbly hops down, 
 and quickly lights up. In this respect Cairo is better 
 policed than many Occidental cities. 
 
 Still another difference between Cairo and Constanti- 
 nople is in the treatment of pedestrians. All over the 
 Orient the footman has no rights. But at Constanti- 
 nople he seems to be more brutally treated than else- 
 where. There the drivers seem to try to run him down 
 without warning. But in Cairo they have a series of 
 curious cries with which they warn a footman. They 
 specify the particular part of his anatomy which is in 
 danger, thus: 
 
Street Cries of Warning 
 
 "Look out for thy left shin, O uncle!" 
 " Boy, have a care for the little toe on thy right foot!" 
 "O blind beggar, look out for thy staff!" 
 And the blind beggar, feeling his way with the staff 
 in his right hand, at once obediently turns to the left. 
 "O Prankish woman, look out for thy left foot!" 
 "O burden-bearer, thy load is in danger!" 
 "O water-carrier, look out for the tail end of thy 
 pig-skin water-bottle!" 
 
 " O son of Sheitan, conceived in the Bab-El-Tophet, 
 have a care and look to thy camel's left pannier, or it 
 will be hurt!" 
 
 "O fellah farmer, swing around thy buffalo so that 
 his left buttock may not strike on my right wheel!" 
 
 "O carter, why dost thou let thy cart project across 
 the Khedive's highway?" 
 
 "O group of four fellaheen standing in the roadway, 
 if the gent on the left, him with the blue gown and the 
 white turban, does not get a wiggle on him quick, my 
 horse will send him where the black-eyed houris are 
 comforting the true believers. Cluck! Git-ep! La- 
 Allah-il- Allah! Wow!" 
 
 A word about the Cairo shopkeepers. The term 
 bakshish has meanings other than alms and tips. 
 After a long and animated haggling between shop- 
 keeper and customer, the shopkeeper will sometimes 
 refuse to concede say twenty-five piastres reduction 
 demanded by the customer. If, however, the cus- 
 tomer will agree to buy the goods at the fixed price, the 
 shopkeeper will agree to give him a bakshish of twenty- 
 
 [263] 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 five piastres when the transaction is closed. This is 
 almost identical with the practices of the great American 
 railways with large shippers of merchandise. The 
 companies will make no discounts from their rates, 
 but when the full rates are charged they will make a 
 "rebate." 
 
 This is exactly like the bakshish of the Oriental 
 shopkeeper. Verily, there is nothing new under the 
 
 . : 
 
 There is a Famous Caravansary in Cairo which has 
 been so thoroughly advertised that its name is known 
 all over the world. Young women in the Middle West 
 who never were farther east than Buffalo have all heard 
 of this hotel and hope to go there when they make the 
 Grand Tour. They still think it is the haunt of the 
 aristocracy, and that it is a social halo to stop there. 
 But they are in error. This Famous Caravansary has 
 not only deteriorated practically, but it has cheapened 
 socially: other hotels now get the princelings, the dukes, 
 and the lords. The last few seasons the one frequented 
 by the royalty and nobility seemed to be the Savoy. 
 Here stopped the Crown Prince of Germany and his 
 brother, Archduke Ferdinand of Austria, the Duke and 
 Duchess of Connaught, the ex-Empress Eugenie, the 
 Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, the Crown Prince 
 of Sweden, and many other lesser great ones. 
 
 Personally I care nothing for the social standing of 
 a hotel. I am much more interested in its cookery. 
 But that at the once Famous Cairo Caravansary of 
 
 [264] 
 
A Famous Caravansary 
 
 which I speak is no longer good. Generally speaking, 
 you must take the table d'hdte dinner at foreign hotels. 
 It is all very well to talk about "dining a la carte" but, 
 as a matter of fact, the preparation of the table d'hote 
 dinner taxes the resources of any large Egyptian hotel. 
 If you order a dinner a la carte you have to wait a long 
 time for it, and then it is usually not so good as the 
 table d'hote dinner. The wise man, therefore, orders 
 the table d'hdle dinner, but has it served at a separate 
 table for a small extra charge. If the menu is not to 
 his liking, he can order some supplementary dish. It 
 is always possible, however, to make out a dinner by 
 selecting from the menu at a good table d'hdte dinner. 
 But it is not possible with a bad one, and that is the 
 kind the Famous Caravansary served during the season 
 before the last. 
 
 At a good table d'hote dinner there are always solid 
 things joints, chops, filets, fowls, birds, or game, so 
 that all tastes can be catered to. But the cheap table 
 d'hote dinner shuns these more costly dishes, and 
 garnishes its bill of fare with queer "croquettes," 
 mysterious " cromesquis," anonymous "ragouts," "ka- 
 bobs," and "pilaffs," which latter are made of musky 
 muttonhash, disguised under Turkish names. All 
 these weird composite things figured largely on the bill 
 of fare at this caravansary likewise "bouch^es" and 
 "pate's." There are said to be three great kinds of pi- 
 laff Turkish, Persian, and Grecian. There are four 
 the other kind is this Cairo caravansary kind. Avoid it. 
 
 Of these various poetically named dishes, the "cro- 
 
 [265] 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 quettes" are unmistakably hash; the "cromesqui" is 
 an exotic hash; the "boucheV' is a thinly disguised 
 hash; the "pate*" is frankly hash; the "rissole" is a 
 kind of doughy dumb-bell closed all round like an 
 apple dumpling and filled inside with hash. Occa- 
 sionally one found on the bill the appetizing legend 
 "pain de volaille," which turned out to be minced 
 chicken and bread-crumbs therefore also hash. 
 
 But the most dreadful deception was when I saw on 
 the bill one day the legend, "cdtelettes de volaille.'* 
 There are two varieties of this dish one consists of 
 tempting slices cut from a fat fowl, and served some- 
 times en papillotte: these are the true chicken cutlets. 
 This particular day I knew not which kind we were to 
 have, but when it was served my spirits fell it was 
 the other kind. That kind of a chicken cutlet consists 
 of yesterday's and the-day-before-yesterday's chicken, 
 boiled down, chopped up, and ground through a minc- 
 ing machine, including the viscera, the drumsticks, 
 and the antennae of the chicken. This is then made 
 into the shape of a lamb chop, cooked to a delicate 
 brown, and a little white stick is stuck into one end of 
 it, like the bone of a chop. The little stick is adding 
 insult to injury yet that is the kind of "chicken 
 cutlet" they gave us one day at the Famous Caravan- 
 sary in Cairo. 
 
 ^(fr 
 
 There was an "Hungarian orchestra" at the Famous 
 Caravansary winter before last. Like the poor, we 
 have Hungarian orchestras always with us, so the fact 
 
 [266] 
 
A Fascinating Fiddler 
 
 is not notable. But the leader was. He played first 
 violin as well as led. He was a beautiful creature: he 
 had mustaches turned up at the ends, like those of 
 William the War Lord; he wore the gorgeous gold-laced 
 uniform of an Hungarian hussar; he wore high, glossy 
 patent-leather boots, reaching midleg high on his 
 beautiful blue gold-striped tights; long lashes shaded 
 his fine eyes, with which he darted the most killing 
 glances to left and right, inflaming feminine hearts. 
 
 I have long been observant of the fascination exer- 
 cised by European army officers over American women. 
 I do not wonder at it. Only think of those gorgeous 
 white-coated Austrian officers; just fancy the corps 
 tfilite of the French, German, and Italian armies is 
 it matter of wonder that our countrywomen admire 
 them? When these sons of Mars are compared with 
 the lean, or globulous, or stoop shouldered, tired, worn- 
 out, middle-aged American business man, he suffers in 
 the comparison. The American is a fond husband, a 
 doting father, a good provider, but he is not nearly so 
 pretty as the European army officer. Fortunately for 
 him, he stays "tew hum," makes the money, and sends 
 his wife abroad to spend it, so that he never knows of 
 the comparisons that even the best wife must make 
 between him and them. 
 
 My omission of the British officers in the above list is 
 not accidental. It is designed. Not that the gentlemen 
 who wear King Edward's coat are lacking in manly 
 beauty. Far from it. To my thinking, there are as 
 handsome men in England as any in the western world. 
 
 [267] 
 
Cairo's Routes and Inns 
 
 But English officers affect mufti, and are rarely seen 
 in uniform when off duty. Thus they lose the adven- 
 titious aid which buttons, brass, and feathers give the 
 soldier over the civilian. Therefore our American 
 women gaze on them calm-eyed not as they gaze on 
 the gorgeous jack-booted gentry of the Continent, in 
 tin cuirasses and pot-metal helmets. Yet the officers of 
 the Guards in London Coldstream, or Horse, or Blue 
 when decked for action, are easily worth a shilling to 
 look at which it sometimes costs the hurried tourist 
 to be shown the way to the 'Orse Guards by an accom- 
 modating person who would like to drink his 'ealth. 
 
 A shilling, by the way, is the rumored rate charged 
 by a foot-guardsman for walking with a servant-maid 
 on a Sunday; a mounted guardsman charges the slavey 
 eighteen pence. 
 
 Here, too, buttons and brass wrought their fatal 
 fascination. The hysterical Hungarian fiddler had 
 his head completely turned by the open admiration of 
 a number of young American women belonging to a 
 large steamship-excursion. They gathered in front 
 of his band-stand; they gazed up into his fine eyes; they 
 applauded ecstatically; they made him yield to so many 
 encores that his band old, fat, bald-headed, and 
 probably married grumbled audibly. Still, he was 
 determined to please the young American frauleins, and 
 he did. But the poor devil almost dislocated his cer- 
 vical vertebrae in attempting to bow to his victims in 
 the midst of a fortissimo czardas with his fiddle stuck 
 into his neck. 
 
 [268] 
 
Boots, Brass y and Feathers 
 
 Bowing with his head bowing with his fiddle-bow 
 scraping with his feet scraping on his fiddle 
 bowing and scraping, scraping and bowing: verily, the 
 poor fiddler worked hard for our countrywomen's 
 smiles. As for them, their frank admiration for the 
 bedizened fiddler not for his fiddling reminded 
 me much of the poor London scullions who save up 
 their 'apennies all week to walk with a gold-laced sol- 
 dier of a Sunday. 
 
 It is only fair to add to my remarks on the Famous 
 Caravansary that I had stopped there some years ago, 
 and found the cookery and service excellent. When I 
 found it so bad, it was run by a Belgian company. In 
 the winter of 1905 the Belgian company relinquished 
 its management, and it is now run by a local syndicate 
 made up of Cairo capitalists. It may have improved 
 under the new management. Very likely it has the 
 other hotels run by Cairo capitalists are excellent. The 
 shares of stock in these hotel syndicates, by the way, 
 are daily quoted on the Cairo Bourse, and pay large 
 dividends. They pay so well that three large hotels 
 are now in process of erection. Two of them are to be 
 on the river oddly enough, not a hotel in Cairo has 
 yet been built on the Nile. It seems strange that these 
 gigantic structures should pay so well when they are 
 empty more than half the year. Yet such is the case 
 the first guests arrive about the middle of November, 
 the last leave about the middle or end of April. 
 
 [269] 
 
XVI 
 
 THE MIDWINTER CRUSH 
 AT CAIRO 
 
The Midwinter Crush at Cairo 
 
 Toward Egypt, as the winter waxes, wayfarers flock 
 from all over the world. From Egypt, as the winter 
 wanes, they fly back again, much like birds of passage. 
 At the beginning of the winter, Cairo is empty. As 
 the weather in Europe gets worse, Cairo grows full; 
 later, Cairo is jammed. Then the great crowd pours 
 up the river; trains, tourist steamers, express steamers 
 everything is packed. Upper Egypt then becomes 
 congested and Cairo much less crowded, except for a 
 few days at a time, when excursion steamers arrive. 
 As the winter wanes, the crowd pours down the river 
 once more, and again Cairo becomes crowded. For a 
 few weeks all the Cairo hotels are full; then the out- 
 going steamships leave, with every cabin crowded, and 
 through the great hotels of Cairo stalk brass-bound 
 porters and swallow-tailed head-waiters, their footfalls 
 echoing loudly through the empty halls and lounges. 
 
 At the beginning and at the end of this great hegira, 
 one may observe in Cairo scores of the world's notable 
 personages; it is only at these periods that they are 
 numerous, for on arriving at Cairo they scatter all over 
 Egypt, and on returning they scatter all over the world. 
 There are among them representatives of all countries. 
 During the season of 1905 there were in Egypt mem- 
 bers of the imperial or royal families of Great Britain, 
 Germany, Russia, Sweden, Austria-Hungary, Saxony, 
 Wurtemburg, Baden, Italy, and Greece, together with 
 diplomatic, literary, and dramatic notables, and hun- 
 dreds of ordinary persons of title. On the Nile one 
 sees the flag of nearly every nation fluttering from the 
 
Royalties and Notables 
 
 peaks of dahabiyehs, and the identity of the charterers 
 of these private boats, steam or sail, is often patent by 
 the yacht-club burgees and private yachting signals 
 which often may be seen flying with the foreign flags. 
 
 In addition to the imperial and royal personages, 
 there are some of the sort whom Alphonse Daudet so 
 happily dubbed "Kings in Exile." One of the most 
 notable of these was the lady travelling incognito as 
 Countess of Pierrefonds, otherwise Euge'nie, some- 
 time Empress of the French. 
 
 The presence of the ex- Empress in Egypt during the 
 season of 1905 brought forth interesting recollections 
 from many old residents in Egypt. In conversation 
 with one of the Anglo-Egyptian department heads, he 
 narrated some of the tales which have come down from 
 the time of Khedive Ismail. Lord Houghton's account 
 of the great festivals given by the Khedive at the time 
 of the Suez Canal celebration in 1869 is a graphic one. 
 In all these ftes Euge'nie was the central figure. She 
 came to Egypt in an imperial yacht, escorted by French 
 ships of war. For her arrival every one waited. She 
 was the only imperial or royal lady, by the way, who 
 accepted the Khedive's invitation to the celebration. 
 More than once my informant saw her surrounded by 
 a brilliant circle of royalties, including the present 
 Emperor of Austria, the Crown Prince of Prussia, and 
 other royal personages. 
 
 What great changes have taken place in these thirty 
 years! Khedive Ismail fell from power, was forced to 
 abdicate, and became a Mohammedan wanderer in 
 
 [275] 
 
The Midwinter Crush at Cairo 
 
 Christian lands. At last he took up his residence in a 
 palace on the Bosphorus as a guest of his suzerain, 
 the Sultan. There he died mysteriously, the gossips 
 of the Stamboul bazaars whispering that he was poi- 
 soned by order of the Padishah. The Austrian Em- 
 peror's beautiful consort, Elizabeth, is dead, foully 
 murdered in Switzerland by a fanatic assassin. His 
 dashing son Rudolph is dead, either the victim of a 
 mysterious assassin or of a more mysterious self-murder. 
 The Crown Prince of Prussia is dead, victim of an 
 incurable and loathsome malady, after having been 
 Emperor for but a few weeks. Of that brilliant circle 
 nearly all are gone into the other world. Eugenie's 
 husband and her son are dead, and she is left old 
 and alone. 
 
 At that time her slightest wish was law. When the 
 Egyptian ministers learned, in advance of her coming, 
 that she wished to visit the Pyramids, the Khedive 
 ordered a carriage-road to be constructed from Cairo 
 to Cheops. It was done by forced labor. The mudir 
 of the district ordered all able-bodied males to report 
 for duty, and they constructed the present fine road 
 without food or wage, not even being given tools. Most 
 of them dug up the sand with their hands, and carried 
 it on their backs in cloths or baskets. A magnificent 
 palace sprung up on an island in the Nile, in which to 
 house the beautiful Empress a palace which is now 
 turned into the Ghezireh Hotel. There was nothing 
 that Oriental munificence and Khedivial pomp could 
 not do for the French Empress. Eugenie was then 
 
 [276] 
 
I 
 
 
Eugenie in Her Zenith 
 
 at the very zenith of her womanly beauty, her conjugal 
 pride, and her imperial splendor. Yet all this pre- 
 ceded by only a few short months the Franco-Prussian 
 War, when her gilded empire fell like a house of cards. 
 
 The fall of Eugdnie is a striking commentary on the 
 evanescence of human grandeur. Not a trace of her 
 remains in Paris not a name, not an imperial cipher, 
 not even an initial. The haughty title, "Avenue of 
 the Empress," was changed by the Government of the 
 Fourth September to the bourgeois name, "Avenue 
 Uhrich." I know of but two places in all France where 
 her name endures two little watering-places 
 Biarritz and Trouville. 
 
 Biarritz is indissolubly connected with Eugenie. 
 Wherever you go, you hear her name. You pass by a 
 picturesque cliff jutting over the sea it was she who 
 christened it. You drive through a forest of young 
 pines they were planted by Eugenie's order. It was 
 she who practically created Biarritz. Out of an obscure 
 fishing- village, she made it a fashionable watering-place. 
 It was entirely her personal influence and the prestige 
 of her name which made Biarritz what it is. It is 
 difficult to realize to-day how great that influence, how 
 overpowering that prestige was. In addition to her 
 beauty, Eugenie must have had some traits of character 
 to make her the power that she was social, imperial, 
 political. The daughter of a doubtful Spanish grandee; 
 the bait of an angling mother; her beauty hawked from 
 court to court of Europe; "her cradle a travelling 
 trunk, her boarding-school a table d'hdte"', her hus- 
 
 [277] 
 
The Midwinter Crush at Cairo 
 
 band's paternity so doubtful that Louis Bonaparte, 
 his putative father, probably never knew who the 
 pseudo-son's real father was; this husband a tinsel 
 emperor as she was a parvenue empress that with 
 all these skeletons in the imperial closet Eugenie should 
 have made herself the first lady in the world, first in 
 personal beauty, first in imperial splendor, first in 
 personal prestige; the warm friend of a queen noted 
 for her domestic virtues, and lineal descendant of a 
 long line of English kings; the arbiter of fashions; the 
 maker or unmaker of kings, as in the case of the Hohen- 
 zollern candidate for the throne of Spain and of Ama- 
 deus of Savoy; the inciter of war, for the bloody cam- 
 paign of 1870 was brought about by her that Eugenie, 
 once simply Sefiora de Montijo, should have reached 
 such a lofty pinnacle shows the ups and downs of human 
 life. 
 
 And its vicissitudes are further shown by her condi- 
 tion to-day. While at Biarritz twoscore years ago, 
 she reigned supreme, youthful, beautiful, an empress, 
 a mother, a wife; to-day she is old, broken, alone. Her 
 husband laid down his sceptre when he surrendered 
 his sword at Sedan; with the fall of his dynasty he 
 yielded to melancholy and insidious disease, and died 
 on the operating-table under the surgeon's knife. Her 
 only son perished in a quarrel not his own, in far-away 
 Africa, hacked to death by the assegais of savages who 
 knew not who he was nor why he warred against them. 
 To-day, with a handful of devoted attendants instead 
 of a brilliant court, white-haired, wasted, wan, bent 
 
The Ex-Empress Now 
 
 double with years, hobbling with a crutch, one can 
 scarcely believe that the decrepit old lady who calls 
 herself "the Countess of Pierrefonds" was once the 
 beautiful, fortune-favored Eugenie, empress of the 
 French. 
 
 How changed, too, the conditions of her Egyptian 
 visit after thirty years! When this whilom imperial 
 lady revisited the scene of her former triumphs there 
 were with her no royalties, no dazzling imperial suite. 
 Two young ladies accompanied her, her secretary, and 
 the son of a former imperial court official that was 
 all. More than once we saw the white-haired old lady 
 clad in quiet black, bent, and sometimes walking with 
 a cane. We saw her in Upper Egypt, whither she had 
 gone, making the ascent of the Nile in a dahabiyeh with 
 her small suite of faithful followers. We saw her again 
 in Cairo at the Savoy Hotel, where she was domiciled 
 just prior to sailing for her home on the Riviera at Cap 
 Martin. It was a melancholy yet a touching spectacle 
 to see this old lady on her way to the dining-hall, fol- 
 lowed by her suite. It was the custom of the guests 
 to draw up in two lines on either side of the corridor 
 and salute her respectfully on her way. She returned 
 these salutes most punctiliously. It was a kindly 
 courtesy on the part of the guests, and I did not set it 
 down to snobbishness, for I have noticed that much 
 less attention seems to be paid to titles abroad than in 
 America, and none at all to royalties incognito. But 
 it seemed to me as if the guests of the hotel were moved 
 more by a sympathetic feeling toward a stricken lady 
 
 [279] 
 
The Midwinter Crush at Cairo 
 
 old, widowed, and alone than toward one who 
 once had been an empress. 
 
 There were a number of interesting notabilities in 
 Cairo toward the end of the winter, and one of the most 
 remarkable to me was Sir Rudolph Von Slatin Pasha. 
 Those who have read his book, "Fire and Sword in 
 the Soudan," will remember the extraordinary hard- 
 ships that he suffered during his fourteen years' im- 
 prisonment; the mental torture to which he was ex- 
 posed under both the Mahdi and the Khalifa ; the traps 
 which were set for him almost daily, which, less warily 
 watched, would have led to his death, or what is worse, 
 to torture; the hard and scanty fare and degrading 
 tasks which were imposed upon him; the humiliating 
 ordeal of becoming a convert to Mohammedanism; 
 the hideous negresses and other unpleasant wives gra- 
 ciously given him by his 'sardonic master; his increasing 
 distrust lest those around him should be his master's 
 spies which many of them were; and finally the 
 difficult and dangerous negotiations with the outer 
 world, which led to his escape across the desert with 
 an escort on swift camels, pursued by the bloodthirsty 
 dervishes, until finally he dismounted in safety under 
 the British flag at Assouan. 
 
 There was a large dinner-party at the Savoy one even- 
 ing, at which there were many diplomats and Egyp- 
 tian notabilities. Among them, I was told, was Slatin 
 Pasha. I looked eagerly around me to see if I could 
 
I 
 
 G 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Youthful Slatin Pasha 
 
 detect this modern victim of the dungeon. Finally I 
 picked out Slatin a military-looking man, seemingly 
 about sixty, with white hair, a close-cropped white 
 mustache, a stern and haggard face with weary eyes. 
 But when I asked an acquaintance he laughed and 
 told me I was wrong. 
 
 "There is Slatin Pasha," said he. 
 
 I turned. Near me stood a handsome, red-cheeked 
 man of apparently less than forty, with brown hair, a 
 long blond mustache, bright eyes, perfect teeth; his 
 face lighted up with animation as he talked. He was 
 clad in a brilliant uniform, and his breast was covered 
 with orders. Little did he look like a survivor of hair- 
 breadth 'scapes by flood and field. Not his the dun- 
 geon victim's face, seamed with wrinkles, circled with 
 premature white hairs. If he looked like any famous 
 fugitive, his handsome face and long blond mustaches 
 would make my ideal of Blondel, the loyal troubadour 
 who shared his royal master's misfortunes as he and 
 England's Crusader King fared back to Albion from 
 the Holy Land after the astute minstrel had opened 
 the doors of an Austrian dungeon to Richard of the 
 Lion Heart. 
 
 I gazed at Slatin in wonder. That any man could 
 go through what he suffered, and still show no signs of 
 mental or physical strain, was beyond my ken. Many 
 an American business man, a Chicago pork-packer, a 
 Pennsylvania coal baron, or a New York political boss, 
 shows more signs of stress and strain at forty than Slatin 
 Pasha does at fifty. And yet for twenty years of his 
 
 [281] 
 
XVII 
 
 EGYPTIAN JOURNALISM 
 
 'F the newspapers of Egypt, it may be said 
 that they seem to be mainly notable for 
 what they do not contain. For example: 
 The great Mohammedan institution of 
 learning is the University of El-Azhar at Cairo. Here 
 come Moslem students from Tangier to Singapore, 
 from Stamboul to Dongola, from hither and from 
 farther Ind. There are sects in Mohammedanism; 
 the Persians, for example, belong to the Shiite branch, 
 and even that was partly split off into Sufites. There 
 are four sects in Islam which differ slightly. But I had 
 supposed that their differences were purely academical. 
 This belief grew upon me from the contempt expressed 
 by the Mohammedans for the bloody fights of the brawl- 
 ing Greek and Latin monks at Jerusalem. Secretly I 
 had writhed under this contempt. The very looks of 
 the Turkish military officers, seated smoking on their 
 divan within the door of the Church of the Holy Sepul- 
 chre at Jerusalem, are looks of contempt for all who 
 can believe in the same creed as these brawling monks. 
 Therefore, when I was in Cairo in 1905, I was much 
 
 [285] 
 
Egyptian Journalism 
 
 gratified to hear that there was often trouble in the 
 University of El-Azhar. The pious person who pre- 
 sides over El-Azhar and who fills about the same 
 office as our college presidents found the dogmatic 
 nut too hard for him to crack, so he "passed it up" to 
 the Khedive. 
 
 The Khedive took the matter under advisement, and 
 finally issued a proclamation to the students, of whom 
 there are many thousands. He told them that their 
 quarrels caused great scandal among all true believers, 
 and that these dissensions must cease. However, in 
 order to see that his decrees were carried out, he pru- 
 dently ordered a strong, high wall to be erected between 
 the domain of the Syrian students and those next to 
 them, who happened, I believe, to come from Tripoli. 
 It seems that the Syrians could not get along with any 
 students, but they were particularly prone to take a 
 fall out of the Tripolitans. 
 
 In the Egyptian newspapers I saw no mention made 
 of these dogmatic disturbances in the heart of El Islam. 
 
 The Khedive has not only dogmatic but domestic 
 troubles, although he is reputed to have but one wife. 
 While Great Britain kindly relieves him of most of the 
 practical details of government, the remaining social, 
 family, and ecclesiastical details are enough to keep 
 him busy. For example, in December, 1904, an aged 
 pasha died, leaving a fortune of many millions acquired 
 in slave-dealing. He left but one heir, a son, who had 
 been imprisoned for life as a punishment for treason. 
 During all of our stay his friends were moving heaven 
 
 [286] 
 
A Plethora of Princes 
 
 and earth to get the Khedive to pardon him that he 
 might enjoy his large estate. If this were not done, 
 it seems, the estate would escheat to the Khedive. 
 What an extremely embarrassing dilemma! To be 
 forced to choose between a fortune of millions on one 
 hand, and, on the other, an altruistic act of mercy to a 
 man who had attempted to destroy your dynasty. 
 
 Concerning this Khedivial dilemma, such Egyptian 
 journals as I saw preserved a discreet silence. 
 
 Apropos of dynasties, one of the questions which 
 greatly bothers the Khedive is dynastic. There is a 
 horde of princes in the Khedivial family. Every male 
 child of his grand-uncles, uncles, brothers, nephews, 
 and nieces was immediately on his birth styled "prince." 
 As a result, the number of Khedivial princes in Egypt 
 is so large that it is ludicrous. The Khedive saw that 
 it was necessary to call a halt. Still, the Khedivial 
 princesses were extremely fertile, and the output of 
 princes could scarcely be checked. But their titles 
 might. So a decree was issued declaring that the title 
 of prince could only be considered valid with princes 
 in being; that any child born to any member of the 
 Khedivial family after the date of the decree should 
 be a plain Egyptian and no prince. No sooner was the 
 decree issued than there was a howl. Uncles and 
 aunts, brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, has- 
 tened to pour their troubles into the Khedivial ear. 
 Ladies who had fondly loved their lords sent word that 
 it would be a bit of rank injustice to the coming little 
 stranger to bar him when he was only six weeks behind 
 
Egyptian Journalism 
 
 the decree. Such was the number of unborn infants 
 to whom his decree did foul wrong that the Khedive 
 was induced to modify it. He extended the time-limit 
 on the ladies, making it, if I remember correctly, five 
 years. After that time no more princes that is, of 
 course, outside of certain specified members of the 
 family, such as the brothers of the sovereign. 
 
 Touching these domestic and dynastic complications, 
 the Egyptian press was again dumb. 
 
 On the whole, the newspapers of Egypt are not very 
 daring sheets. Possibly their birth and growth may 
 have something to do with this timidity. Most Ameri- 
 can newspapers, like Topsy, "jest growed"; the Egyp- 
 tian newspapers seem to have been born in financial 
 incubators, and subsequently to have been "brought 
 up by hand." During the winter of 1905, the death 
 of Halikalis Pasha, founder of Le Phare d'Alexandrie, 
 brought forth in the Egyptian journals some columns 
 of reminiscences concerning the deceased editor, all of 
 the most kindly nature. They all agreed on one point: 
 that Halikalis Pasha had founded his paper simply and 
 solely because Khedive Ismail paid him for that pur- 
 pose an annual subsidy of 7,000. There was no savor 
 of satire in the comment it had perhaps a slight tinge 
 of envy, that was all. Evidently, in the opinion of the 
 scribes of Egypt, the jingling of the guineas healed the 
 hurt honor of Halikalis Pasha. This subsidy he re- 
 ceived for many years. But when the influence of the 
 deposed Khedive became as naught, Halikalis Pasha 
 was told that he would have to publish his paper with- 
 
 [288] 
 
An Unsubsidized Editor 
 
 out a subsidy. Confronted with this dreadful lot 
 menaced with the terrible task of meeting his expendi- 
 tures with his receipts, what did Halikalis Pasha do? 
 
 He ran his paper straight. In short, he published 
 it unsubsidized. Probably this was the first time the 
 feat had ever been attempted in Egypt. 
 
 The other journals looked on with awe and admira- 
 tion. All of the editorial fraternity expressed the high- 
 est admiration for his nerve and pluck. One paper 
 remarked that he "lost several thousand pounds the 
 first year." In fact, all spoke of Halikalis Pasha's 
 continuing to run an old-established journal after the 
 cessation of its subsidy in the same tone of admiring 
 deprecation that we in America would adopt in speaking 
 of the demented editor who would attempt to publish 
 a religious and temperance daily in any large American 
 city. 
 
 With these traditions clinging to the Egyptian press, 
 it is easy to understand that the Egyptian editors speak 
 rather guardedly, not only of persons in power, but of 
 the great hotel syndicates and of the rich shopkeepers. 
 Their caution is so extreme, however, that at times it 
 becomes very droll. They are cautious in writing even 
 about the weather, that non-committal topic so dear to 
 us all; for in Egypt it is possible for a newspaper to 
 injure itself with the great hotel syndicates and the rich 
 shopkeepers by talking too freely about the weather 
 when it is bad. In Egypt the weather during the winter 
 of 1905 was by no means all that the tourists' fancy 
 painted it. 
 
 [289] 
 
Egyptian Journalism 
 
 It is not only concerning subsidies that the Egyptian 
 newspapers, from the American newspaper point of 
 view, seem rather odd. I am speaking only of those 
 printed in English and French; there are many journals 
 printed in Arabic, but I know nothing of them. The 
 newspapers published in European languages are 
 mainly remarkable for excluding anything that could 
 offend anybody. Not only do they taboo the weather, 
 but other topics as well. As they depend largely for 
 their income on the advertisements of a limited number 
 of large hotel companies and business houses, they 
 naturally find it inexpedient to print any unpleasant 
 news concerning them. Therefore they adopt the 
 simple method of printing disagreeable personal news 
 in a cryptic fashion without any names. Here is a 
 sample item: 
 
 MELANCHOLY DEATH Yesterday afternoon a clerk, who is very 
 well known, and in the employ of a prominent merchant, committed 
 suicide in the merchant's office by blowing out his brains with a 
 revolver. His face was much disfigured. 
 
 It would be difficult for the most sensitive person to 
 find fault with that. Here is another in the same style: 
 
 PAINFUL AFFAIR A gentleman prominent in the Italian colony 
 discovered recently painful facts concerning the relations of his wife 
 with a gentleman friend. Circumstances rendered it impossible for 
 him to demand that satisfaction on the field of honor which is cus- 
 tomary among gentlemen in such cases. He has therefore brought 
 suit for a separation in the Italian consular court. The co-respondent 
 is an equally prominent Greek gentleman, a member of the Hellenic 
 magistrature. 
 
 [290] 
 
Newspaper Reserve 
 
 This case, however, assumed such magnitude in the 
 courts that the newspapers were forced to break through 
 their barriers of reserve and satisfy their shocked sub- 
 scribers' demand for the disgusting details. One of 
 them shrouded the " painful affair" as much as pos- 
 sible by printing the testimony in Italian, although 
 the rest of the newspaper was usually printed in 
 English. 
 
 This reserve over the peccadilloes of those in high 
 station is, of course, not followed by the papers in dis- 
 cussing the misdoings of the lowly. But the editorial 
 habit is hard to lay aside, and the crim. con. cases of 
 the populace are told with a brevity which is startling. 
 The following paragraphs (grouped under "Tantah 
 Notes") from a Cairo paper are certainly remarkable: 
 
 TANTAH NOTES At Tantah yesterday, George Kantikopoulous 
 returned home unexpectedly to his wife and her paramour, and 
 chopped both their heads off with an axe. 
 
 The Tantah authorities are enforcing the code of contraventions 
 against natives who defile the streets. 
 
 After next Wednesday at Tantah ownerless dogs will be shot by 
 the police. 
 
 The same brevity is extended to items not in the line 
 of conjugal revenge, such as the following: 
 
 MURDER AND ROBBERY Madame Galli and Madame Benetti 
 were murdered by five ruffians night before last at Zagazig. The 
 object was plunder. The murderers were arrested. 
 
 Here is an excellent five-column story for an Ameri- 
 can daily told in five lines: 
 
 [291] 
 
Egyptian Journalism 
 
 GIRL'S BODY FOUND Yesterday the body of a young native girl, 
 daughter of Hassan AH, was found floating in the Mahmoudieh Canal. 
 Her parents say it was not suicide, as her rings had been torn from 
 her ears. 
 
 The arrival of the famous squadron, whose cruise 
 began in the Baltic, became famous on the Dogger 
 Bank, and ended fathoms deep in the Sea of Japan, 
 is thus briefly chronicled: 
 
 RUSSIAN FLEET The division of the Baltic fleet commanded 
 by Admiral Botrousky arrived at Port Said yesterday afternoon at 
 two o'clock, and leaves this morning. 
 
 A fire in the largest mercantile house in Egypt is 
 thus set down: 
 
 BIG FIRE The enormous Walker-Meimarchi stores were de- 
 stroyed by fire yesterday. Two firemen were killed and many injured. 
 Loss 50,000. 
 
 Imagine an American daily devoting a few lines only 
 to a fatal fire involving the loss of a quarter of a million 
 dollars. Really, Egypt is not the place for a hustling 
 American city editor to visit for a rest. To read such 
 items as these, and to think of the columns of "stories" 
 and the acres of pictures they would make in America, 
 would drive such an editor into a highly nervous con- 
 dition. 
 
 But let us present a few more of these startling items 
 told in this matter-of-fact way: 
 
 THE MECCA PILGRIMS Over three thousand persons have ar- 
 rived since Wednesday from Algiers, Morocco, and Stamboul, en 
 
 [292] 
 
Mild Paragraphs 
 
 route to Mecca. Near Djeddah the last lot of pilgrims found a for- 
 midable force of Bedouins awaiting them for plunder. After the 
 fight the pilgrims withdrew, leaving fifty-two of their number dead 
 on the field. 
 
 The mild paragraph which follows is calculated to 
 give travellers pause: 
 
 ANNOYANCES TO TOURISTS A party of twenty tourists went to 
 Sakhara on Monday. The guardian of the ruins refused to recog- 
 nize their tickets of admission. A heated debate followed, which 
 was adjourned to Mariette's house. No satisfaction followed. On 
 emerging, the tourists found a horde of threatening Arabs awaiting 
 them. Their donkey and camel-drivers remained neutral, and the 
 tourists fled amid a shower of stones. Some were seriously injured. 
 The tourists were much annoyed. 
 
 This will interest students of vital statistics: 
 
 INFANT MORTALITY From the report of Dr. Engel Bey we 
 learn that the percentage of total deaths in Egypt of native children 
 under five is forty-five per cent.; between five and ten, thirty-two per 
 cent.; total under ten years of age, seventy-seven per cent. 
 
 That three fourths of all the deaths in Egypt should 
 be of children under ten years does not seem to disturb 
 anybody. But let us turn to more exciting themes: 
 
 MURDER AND SUICIDE A Russian living in the Atbarin quarter 
 shot his wife with a revolver, and afterward turned the weapon on 
 himself, blowing out his brains. 
 
 That tourists should take pot-shots at natives seems 
 to cause but little surprise: 
 
 SHOT BY TOURISTS The Mudir of Ghizeh reports to the ministry 
 of the interior that two American tourists on their way down the river, 
 shooting at birds from a steamer, shot an inhabitant of Half, who 
 has since died. 
 
 [293] 
 
Egyptian Journalism 
 
 Here is another ill-mated husband who settles dis- 
 putes with murder: 
 
 KILLED His WIFE A public scrivener, a native, living at Ga- 
 barri, had a conjugal discussion with his wife, which ended by his 
 striking her over the head with an iron bar, killing her instantly. He 
 fled, and has not been arrested. 
 
 The incidental way in which the robbery of $40,000 
 is just alluded to at the end of this paragraph is alto- 
 gether delicious: 
 
 The Mahmal [Holy Carpet] sailed from Suez this afternoon for 
 Jeddah on its way to Mecca. 
 
 A theft of 8,000 took place from the Mahmal train at Abassieh. 
 All search for the culprits has proved fruitless. 
 
 By committing suicide this young gentleman may 
 have saved himself from committing uxoricide: 
 
 SUICIDE A young native gentleman of Cairo committed suicide 
 yesterday in order to avoid contracting a marriage which his family 
 were bent upon. 
 
 Here is another item calculated to play havoc with 
 an American city editor's peace of mind: 
 
 GHASTLY DISCOVERY The body of a woman with the head, 
 hands, and feet cut off was found yesterday on the banks of the Mah- 
 moudieh Canal near Ramleh. 
 
 This paragraph is not without singular phases: 
 
 STRANGE MURDER At Assiout a saraf (money-changer) went 
 to a dentist to have his false teeth repaired. The dentist's servant 
 accidentally saw the contents of his purse, which contained 162. 
 
 [ 2 94] 
 
Numerous Crimes 
 
 The dentist was obliged to go to the chemist for some drugs. The 
 servant then strangled the saraf and threw his body into the well in 
 the back-yard. When the dentist returned, the disappearance of 
 the saraf, the servant's confusion, and the sara/'s shoes, which were 
 on the window-sill, excited his suspicions. He sent for the police. 
 They searched the servant, and found on him the sara/'s money and 
 his false teeth. He was arrested. 
 
 From the number of crimes chronicled in the fore- 
 going items it is reasonable to suppose that there is a 
 large criminal population in the Egyptian cities. Evi- 
 dently it might also be supposed that the Anglo- Egyp- 
 tian government is responsible for the fact that many 
 of these criminals go unwhipped of justice. But such 
 a supposition would not be just or fair. England gives 
 Egypt a very much better government than she ever 
 had before. But England cannot give Egypt as good 
 a government as she would like to give, until the Capit- 
 ulations are set aside. Under these every foreigner 
 demands the jurisdiction of his own consular tribunal. 
 The lawless Levantines, of whom the larger cities are 
 full, go almost scot free for their many crimes; the 
 Egyptian courts cannot touch them. In Tunis, France 
 has been relieved of Capitulations, as has Japan in 
 Tokio. Surely French or Japanese justice cannot 
 be ranked higher than English. As matters are at 
 present, judicial and executive functions are exercised 
 jointly in Egypt by fourteen powers. Long delays 
 are involved in legislation for Europeans when such 
 legislation requires the consent of fourteen foreign con- 
 sular officers; these delays result in the thwarting of 
 nearly all such legislation. Lord Cromer says he hopes 
 
 [295] 
 
Egyptian Journalism 
 
 to have the Capitulations largely modified or set aside. 
 He is sanguine, but he may succeed. 
 
 Some of the items in the Egyptian journals are ren- 
 dered highly ambiguous by the strange pranks played 
 with the types by polyglot compositors. Here is such 
 an item: 
 
 TAILORS ATTACK CAFE Yesterday three British tailors refused 
 to pay their bill for wine and beer at the Cafe* du Phare, Alexandria. 
 When Cesare Giolotti, the cafe-keeper, attempted to force them they 
 assaulted him and his Arab waiters, beat them severely, smashed 
 chairs and tables, and wrecked the cafe". They then fled, pursued 
 by the police, but reached the quay, and before they could be arrested 
 the three tailors reached their ship, which was just leaving. 
 
 Never had I associated such wild and reckless brawl- 
 ing with the gentlemen who wield the shears and goose. 
 Therefore it was with a distinct shock that I read of 
 some tailors even British tailors cleaning out a 
 cafe* and beating the waiters. I could readily under- 
 stand it if done by British lords or British navvies. 
 But British tailors! it seemed incredible. Only the 
 close of the item made me comprehend it the tailors 
 were sailors. 
 
 A few years ago there were several daily papers in 
 Egypt printed entirely in French. Now the most im- 
 portant of these is half in English. At that time it 
 was not uncommon to find shops where no English was 
 spoken, Arabic, French, and Italian being the linguistic 
 repertoire. Now a shop without an English-speaking 
 shopman seems to be rare. So, too, a French daily 
 without much English in it seems to be unusual. 
 

Queer Typography 
 
 Apropos of native compositors, here is a "list of 
 guests" from a Cairo journal which is the weirdest 
 specimen of typography I have ever seen: 
 
 Visitors residing at Saroy Hotel As- 
 souan. 
 
 Graf Diephole Dienersechafl, Rittmel- 
 ster vow Wersebe Dr E. Qurtz Colo- 
 nel Mrs Yago Rarow Sehillius yow ba- 
 nestadl, Sir Roberts Harvey Hble Lady 
 Harvey, Hblea Mrs Trerille General 
 Yraher yow Rernevitz Oberbieuteuaut 
 Yraherr vow Rernevitz., Hbie N. G. 
 Calthorpe Grafiw vow der Osthew 
 Lord becil, general H^bph, Anew S. E. 
 Jakhry Pasha, Mensieur 11 Barow Jho- 
 mas Malis flils, Ds Bug. Jriekeo, Herr 
 Dr Sehlossiuger, Herr ;gsbboy, Sani- 
 tatsrat, Dr Weber Jrau Lody Artur 
 Russel Mr and Mrs S. Nontagu MJ and 
 Mrs Jrafford, Mr .and Mrs Evaw, Mr and 
 .Mrs Baubfeelt, Baron Paul vow Saliseh 
 Hble Mr ane Mrs Griville Nugrut, Ge- 
 neral Jiorgge, Mrs WUliaiu Steoeus Mr 
 and Mrs Wilfred Braupt, Bapt and Mrs 
 Hugh Jraser Mrs Hugh Smith, Mr Be- 
 resford Mr G. B. Cuntifle, Mr and Mrs 
 A. C. Crouiw and courrur Mr. and Mrs 
 Holt Jhomas, Badt and Moa Seftow 
 Purdey, Mr ane Mrs H. G. Leklemow. 
 Mr an* Mrs Chas. Rell and party, Mirs 
 Bell Mirs Steveusow, Mr L. G. Davis,. 
 Mr L. Roth, Mirs SUpier boopor Roth 
 Mr Chawuerts, Mr G. E. Roberts Itfr 
 and Mrs bochraw and courrier Mr B. 
 J. Gerniaw, Dr med. George Lazariw 
 and Jraw, Baron and Baronees vow 
 Grunewaldl, Mrs Reid, Miss SproaU 
 Miss Jessie L. Muntz, Prof Dr Goldich- 
 midt and Jraw, Dr Mr L. H. Myers, Mr 
 Ladislad Niemeksza, Mro and M. Mae- 
 nuTiou and Sow Herr and Jrau Hitzig 
 Mrs Max Seull, Herr Julius Blaxrzger 
 Mr. Hoase, . Mr Eng. E. Weuger, Mr L. 
 Whetow MJS M. L. Logaw Dr Max Jho- 
 sey, Mr Jrederie Dester Mr James Beet 
 $Dre Lloyd HoAard Mr Biebard Provis 
 Mr and Mrs Spaaeer. 
 
 [297] 
 
XVIII 
 UP THE NILE TO LUXOR 
 
XVIII 
 
 UP THE NILE TO LUXOR 
 
 [URING the winter of 1905 items like this 
 were by no means rare in the Cairo jour- 
 nals: "Yesterday a native, Hassan Yus- 
 suf, was warming himself at a small fire 
 he had made in the street, when his clothing caught 
 fire, and, despite his frantic screams, he was burned 
 to death." That it should be so cold in Cairo as to 
 cause the natives to make fires in the street may sur- 
 prise many. It is a common belief (outside of Egypt) 
 that the Egyptian winter is always hot. True, it is 
 often hot during the winter in Lower Egypt, but it is 
 also frequently cold, and sometimes bitterly cold. The 
 wise traveller takes with him at all times and every- 
 where, in summer and in winter, both light and heavy 
 clothing. He will find use for both during the Egyp- 
 tian winter. 
 
 The first time I visited Egypt I shared the common 
 delusion concerning the Egyptian winter climate; when 
 we went ashore at Alexandria I put on the thinnest 
 garments I had, took with me a palm-leaf fan, and wore 
 a Panama straw hat. At the last moment some faint 
 
 [301] 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 gleam of lucidity pierced my darkened brain, and I 
 took with me a railway rug. This, however, was 
 scarcely ratiocinatic it was probably automatic: 
 "Rail, rug rug, rail; going rail take rug." It 
 was fortunate for me that I did so, for I verily believe 
 that without it I would have frozen between Alexandria 
 and Cairo. Lest this remark be considered exaggera- 
 tion, let me add that this particular winter a train broke 
 down between Alexandria and Cairo; that no relief 
 train was sent out; that the passengers speedily hired 
 all the spare blankets in the sleeping-car; that the price 
 rose from ten piastres to one hundred piastres per 
 blanket; and that when morning brought a train the 
 men with the most money were wrapped in all of 
 the blankets, and the remainder of the passengers 
 had to be thawed out by exhaust-steam from the 
 engine. Jesting aside, the poor wretches when found 
 were stiff with cold, and many of them were made 
 seriously ill. 
 
 In Cairo during the winter of 1905, there were many 
 deaths from pneumonia among prominent members of 
 the European colony there. The natives make no 
 attempt to hide their fear of the climate. On a cold 
 morning in Cairo you will see every carriage-driver, 
 donkey-boy, pedler, dragoman, and natives generally 
 so muffled up that you can see nothing of their heads 
 but the eyes; they seem to fear particularly "cold in 
 the head," which with them frequently shades off into 
 laryngeal and bronchial inflammations, and then into 
 pneumonia. 
 
 [302] 
 
Bitter Winds in Winter 
 
 It goes without saying that the Cairo journals talk 
 little of low temperatures and bitter winds. Of late 
 years these undesirable accompaniments of winter have 
 driven thousands of profitable guests from the Riviera 
 to Egypt. Hence there are more congenial topics for 
 the Egyptian newspapers than meteorological data 
 which might scare off intending tourists. Neverthe- 
 less it is extremely amusing to note how the journals 
 are forced to hint at the bad weather in their ordinary 
 news columns. During the 1905 season, for example, 
 a battle of flowers was in preparation for weeks. The 
 papers were reluctantly obliged to admit that bitter 
 winds and raw cold rains on the appointed day made 
 it a failure. The regular race-meetings took place on 
 the Ghezireh course, but the newspapers were forced 
 to chronicle the fact that nearly every day the attend- 
 ance was small on account of the inclement weather. 
 When a terrific blizzard blew, the newspapers would 
 have softened it into a moderate breeze had it not blown 
 down the trolley-poles between the Pyramids and 
 Cairo, and thereby suspended the operations of the 
 Mena House tram-line, which fact the papers were 
 forced to chronicle in justice to their readers who 
 patronized that line. I have spoken of the luckless 
 natives, who, huddled over the pitiful fires they had 
 kindled to keep warm, burned themselves to death. 
 The papers touched on these facts briefly. The death 
 of an Arab or two is nothing in Egypt, but when they 
 burn themselves to death in trying to keep warm it 
 naturally excites the stranger's curiosity. 
 
 [303] 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 Another delusion entertained by many people is that 
 the climate of Cairo is the Egyptian climate that 
 Cairo is Egypt. This is far from the truth. The 
 climate of the Delta of the Nile at the apex of which 
 triangle Cairo may be said measurably to lie is en- 
 tirely different from the climate of Upper Egypt. The 
 large cultivated area and the irrigation of the Delta 
 have much modified the desert climate, and meteoro- 
 logical observers there all agree that it is rapidly chang- 
 ing still. Here are some temperature figures: 
 
 ALEXANDRIA 
 
 Mean winter temperature 60.7 degs. F. 
 
 Maximum winter temperature 65.5 degs. F. 
 
 Minimum winter temperature 56.0 degs. F. 
 
 CAIRO 
 
 Mean winter temperature 59.5 degs. F. 
 
 Maximum winter temperature 70.4 degs. F. 
 
 Minimum winter temperature 48.0 degs. F. 
 
 LUXOR 
 
 Mean January temperature 59.7 degs. F. 
 
 Maximum winter temperature 78.0 degs. F. 
 
 Minimum winter temperature 49.6 degs. F. 
 
 ASSOUAN 
 
 Mean winter temperature 68.3 degs. F. 
 
 Maximum winter temperature 82.0 degs. F. 
 
 Minimum winter temperature 54.5 degs. F. 
 
 Luxor is five hundred and forty-seven miles south of 
 Alexandria, Assouan one hundred and thirty-three miles 
 south of Luxor and six hundred and eighty miles south 
 of Alexandria. 
 
 People who have not visited Egypt seem to think 
 
 [34] 
 
Low Nile Temperatures 
 
 that it has an equable climate. This is another error. 
 In the Delta the range in twenty-four hours is often 
 very marked. In Upper Egypt the morning hours 
 are often very cold, while at midday it is extremely hot. 
 Middle and Upper Egypt have a dry climate, but not 
 an equable one. 
 
 Many intending travellers to Egypt believe that on 
 the Nile trip it is always warm, not to say hot. As a 
 matter of fact, it is always colder on the Nile than it is 
 away from the river. The alterations in temperature 
 are also greater and more rapid on the river than else- 
 where. People returning to their boats from donkey- 
 rides over the desert often experience severe chills. 
 The ordinary precautions against "taking cold" must 
 be changed into extraordinary precautions in Egypt, 
 for the "colds" there are often serious matters, and the 
 chills are frequently followed by dangerous illnesses. 
 Inflammations, arthritic, pulmonary, visceral these 
 are some of the things to be feared from chills in Egypt, 
 and particularly on the Nile boats. Not only is the 
 difference marked between the temperature ashore and 
 aboard, as returning excursionists find, but the noc- 
 turnal and diurnal changes are also very marked. For 
 that matter, the different parts of the boats vary greatly. 
 In a room on the upper deck, with only a thin roof be- 
 tween it and the tropical sun, the temperature will 
 sometimes rise to one hundred and fifteen degrees; if 
 the perspiring occupant goes to the windward side of 
 the boat, he may be exposed to a cold wind at a tem- 
 perature of about fifty degrees; then if he does not 
 
 [305] 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 guard against this chilling wind, it will very probably 
 lay him on his back. Many hundreds of travellers 
 have learned these things through the bitter school of 
 sudden illness, but the new-comers pay little heed to 
 the experience of those who have gone before. It 
 seems as if they were all obliged to learn the lesson all 
 over again. 
 
 A recent instance of what often happens was expe- 
 rienced by a notable American politician a couple of 
 seasons ago. His name was known in two continents, 
 and since his Nile experience it is known in three. He 
 is an Irishman eloquent, brilliant, witty, and wealthy. 
 Although of Irish birth, he is an American citizen a 
 Congressman, Tammany leader, orator, and man of 
 the world. Although an American citizen, he was 
 talked of, when visiting Dublin, as a candidate for 
 Parliament. He has been received by the Pope in 
 special audience. Well, this man, favored of fortune, 
 was on his way up the Nile. He was the life and soul 
 of a merry party. He did not heed the precautions he 
 was warned to take. Yet before he knew it the merry 
 party had faded from his ken. When he returned to 
 earth from his delirium he found himself in a strange 
 hotel on the river bank, with a doctor whom he had 
 never seen and two strange nurses guarding him. 
 Nothing but a superb physique pulled him through 
 from a dangerous attack of pneumonia. 
 
 -Hi- 
 Few who have not ascended the Nile realize that its 
 length is over forty-five hundred miles. This is five 
 
 [306] 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Tourists at Khartoum 
 
 times as far as from London to Rome; more than six 
 times as far as from Berlin to Naples; over three times 
 as far as from Paris to Petersburg; about as far as from 
 Yokohama to San Francisco; about as far as from San 
 Francisco to a point in mid-Atlantic between New 
 York and Liverpool. 
 
 Up this mighty river tourists now go farther every 
 year. It is comfortable travelling now to Wady Haifa, 
 famous in the bloody annals of the Soudan. In the 
 season of 1905 hundreds of tourists went up as far as 
 Khartoum, where the Duke of Connaught opened an 
 agricultural exposition Khartoum, the city that fell 
 a few years ago before the fanatic dervishes of the 
 Mahdi and where the brave Gordon met his death. 
 Probably, in a few years more, tourist steamers will 
 pass the junction of the forks where Khartoum lies, 
 and ascend the White and Blue Niles. 
 
 The Nile journey is restful and soothing, but many 
 find it monotonous. There is no scenery until you 
 reach the First Cataract; nothing but the level plain, 
 extending back to where the desert hills rise. Along 
 the banks there is a succession of Arab villages made 
 up of mud huts. One sees thousands of primitive 
 water-lifters: the sakia, a water-wheel driven by 
 animals, and lifting an endless chain of buckets; the 
 shadouf, a bucket suspended on the end of a long well- 
 sweep, and hoisted by man-power. Sometimes, where 
 the banks are high, there will be three stories of ska- 
 doufs hoisting water from level to level, until it has 
 reached the height of the bank. The shadouj men 
 
 [307] 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 toil all day under the burning sun, nude, save for a 
 cloth around their loins. 
 
 About two hundred and forty miles by river above 
 Cairo is Assiout, where there is a barrage a masonry 
 arch viaduct twenty-seven hundred and thirty-four 
 feet long. The Nile here is from a half to three-quar- 
 ters of a mile wide. This reservoir delivers to the 
 irrigation canals of Middle Egypt the additional supply 
 of water provided by the great reservoir at Assouan, 
 in Upper Egypt. Many people go from Cairo to 
 Assiout by train, taking the boat there; others travel 
 as far as Luxor by train. 
 
 Luxor is the first point of marked interest in ascend- 
 ing the river from Cairo. Here lies the plain of ancient 
 Thebes, running back to the hills, where are found 
 the Ramasseum, the Temples of Medinet Habu, of 
 Der-el-Bahri, of Der-el-Medinah, and the Tombs of 
 the Kings. These hills look down on the two Colossi of 
 Memnon, lying between the hills and the river. Across 
 the stream are the colossal ruins of Karnak. Standing 
 on the high pylon of this temple one may see plainly that 
 in remote antiquity the Nile ran in a different channel. 
 
 These ruins at Luxor are probably the grandest in 
 Egypt. The temples of Seti, of Rameses, of Thotmes, 
 the pylons of the Pharaohs and the Ptolemies, the 
 obelisks of Queen Hatasu, and above all the grand 
 hypostyle of Karnak, with its one hundred and thirty- 
 four enormous columns, each over thirty feet in cir- 
 cumference, make a sight which impresses the least 
 impressionable. 
 
 [308] 
 
Climatic Effects on Stone 
 
 Briefly, to give some idea of the size of the Temple 
 of Karnak, it may be said that it would hold four build- 
 ings the size of the Paris Notre Dame, and that its 
 entrance (propylon) equals in breadth the length of 
 many great cathedrals. 
 
 We are told that Karnak was nothing but a suburb 
 of the ancient city of Thebes. I permit myself to 
 doubt this. Probably the vast plain on which the 
 ancient city lay contained a few temples and some 
 palaces belonging to royalty, while the rest of the 
 "metropolis" was very likely made up of mud huts, 
 like those of the Arab villages to-day. 
 
 At Luxor, one sees the twin of the obelisk standing 
 in the Place de la Concorde, Paris. It is curious how 
 sharp and clear are the cartouches and the sculptures 
 on the obelisks remaining in Egypt, contrasted with 
 their mates in the bleak and inhospitable climes of 
 London, New York, and Paris. Here the air is so 
 pure and the climate so mild that the edge of the cut 
 stone-work is sharp and clear after thousands of years. 
 The face of the obelisk in Central Park, New York, 
 is peeling off, although protected by paraffme and other 
 mediums; near the base much of the incised work is 
 already obliterated. New York's climate has destroyed 
 in a third of a century what Egypt's climate failed to 
 affect in three thousand four hundred years. 
 
 The Temple of Luxor is not yet entirely excavated. 
 The huts of an Arab village sprung up like toad- 
 stools on the mounds of rubbish which centuries had 
 heaped there. When the temple's mighty pillars and 
 
 [309] 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 pylons were brought to the light of day, the work pro- 
 ceeded until stopped by the presence of a little mosque. 
 This sacred structure could not be touched. Although 
 years have elapsed since the excavation began, the 
 village mosque still stops the work. It stands near the 
 colossal statues of Rameses II. The mosque is one 
 of the poorest, pettiest, and paltriest in all Egypt. The 
 contrast between it and the gigantic pylons of the an- 
 cient temple, its enormous columns crowned with the 
 lotus-bud capitals, is almost ludicrous. Yet the little 
 mosque has behind it the power of Islam. And so it 
 stands. 
 
 Luxor is not a large town, having some two thousand 
 inhabitants; but it is rather an important tourist place. 
 During the height of the season all the hotels are 
 crowded, and the river bank is lined with steam da- 
 habiyehSj sail dahabiyehs, and tourist steamers, from 
 whose lantern-hung decks resound at night the pizzi- 
 cato of the mandolin, the strains of the concertina, and 
 the plunk-plunk of the banjo. The inhabitants gather 
 on the banks and listen eagerly to this ravishing music, 
 subsequently demanding bakshish for listening, which 
 they probably deserve. They are an amiable if some- 
 what unwashed populace, and spend their time, when 
 not begging or sleeping, in manufacturing spurious 
 antiquities. The simpler ones they make themselves 
 the more elaborate ones they import. For both 
 there is a large sale. That tourists should so greedily 
 purchase these mock scarabaei (made in Birmingham) 
 or these ancient signet-rings (made in Germany) is 
 
Brummagem Antiquities 
 
 rather curious when the law is placarded on every 
 side. It is forbidden to sell antiquities discovered 
 in the ruins, or to remove them from the country with- 
 out the consent of the government, which law places 
 most of the valuable discoveries in the great museum 
 at Cairo. Therefore when an Arab offers a tourist a 
 scarabaeus from the ruins, under the very nose of the 
 gate guardian, it is quite evident that it is a worthless 
 fraud. Were it of value, the Arab would be liable to 
 fine, imprisonment, and confiscation of his treasure. 
 
 A few miles from the river are the marvellous Tombs 
 of the Kings at Biban-el-Muluk. These corridors and 
 chambers are hewn out of the solid rock; the walls are 
 covered with sacred pictures and texts. In many 
 places where the walls are colored, the pigments are 
 still bright. Sometimes false passages wind off into 
 the bowels of the mountain; they were intended to 
 mislead invaders of the tombs. Occasionally deep 
 shafts were sunk, into which the intruder might be 
 precipitated. All sorts of devices for concealing the 
 sepulchral chamber are found in these tombs. They 
 are now comparatively easy to visit, as the perils of 
 darkness or of dim candle-light are removed ; the tombs 
 are now brilliantly lighted with electric light, which is 
 generated there, as you may tell from the dry, hacking 
 cough of the adjacent petrol-engine. 
 
 Not far from the Tombs of the Kings is the Temple 
 of Der-el-Behri, built by Queen Hatasu. She was 
 driven from the throne by her husband, who was also 
 her brother. He caused Hatasu's pictures and in- 
 
 [3"] 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 scriptions to be obliterated, replacing them with his 
 own trade-marks. Thutmoses II. , who succeeded him, 
 substituted his own royal brands for those of his pred- 
 ecessor. When he died, Queen Hatasu again secured 
 the throne and attempted to replace her inscriptions 
 and cartouches, but died before the temple was finished. 
 It has remained unfinished, but the successive oblitera- 
 tions are still plainly to be seen on the walls. 
 
 Near this temple is the Chalet Hatasu, a rest-house 
 on the desert, belonging to the Cook tourist agency. 
 Water and food can be obtained there only by those 
 travellers who have purchased Cook's tickets thereto. 
 The agency people strictly adhere to this rule. It was 
 a very curious sight to see a well-dressed man turned 
 away hungry and thirsty, his money refused because 
 before leaving his hotel he had not secured a Cook 
 ticket for the rest-house. 
 
 In Upper Egypt the cultivable strip is so narrow that 
 the desert comes fairly down to the Nile. Only a few 
 hundred yards to ride, and you are in the desert. 
 
 Riding over the desert has its charm. It is difficult 
 to explain why. But there is something soothing in 
 the solitude of the desert. True, your solitude may 
 be only imaginary, for at any moment a camel caravan 
 may wind its way over the hill which confronts you, 
 or out of what looked like heaps of primitive rocks 
 there may start hordes of Arabs, packs of yelping dogs, 
 
Desert Dust of Dynasties 
 
 and gangs of greedy children, showing that amid the 
 rocks are the huts of an Arab village. 
 
 One day in the desert we met a camel caravan which 
 included a beast with a gigantic load of cases towering 
 above and on both sides of him ; on the left flank of this 
 mountain of cases rode a small Arab slung in a sling. 
 The reason was obvious the camel engineers had 
 miscalculated in loading and had put too much on the 
 off side, thus giving the camel a heavy list to star- 
 board. Arab-like, being too lazy to repack, they had 
 corrected the error by using a light Arab as trimming 
 ballast. 
 
 I was curious to see what the cases contained, so I 
 scrutinized the labels; they read, "Moselwein." So 
 it was sparkling Moselle that was being borne over 
 these thirsty deserts to make glad the German heart. 
 
 With all its heat and dust the desert has its charms. 
 True, the desert dust is an affliction, for, when certain 
 evil winds blow, the desert is shrouded in dust vast, 
 swirling clouds, through which no eye can see. But 
 when the dust-storms have blown over and the desert 
 is calm again, you forget the dust. For the desert dust 
 is dusty dust, but not dirty dust. Compared with the 
 awful organic dust of New York, London, or Paris, 
 it is inorganic and pure. On those strips of the Libyan 
 and Arabian Deserts which lie along the Nile, the desert 
 dust is largely made up of the residuum of royalty, of 
 withered Ptolemies, of arid Pharoahs, for the tombs 
 of queens and kings are counted here by the hundreds, 
 and of their royal progeny and their royal retainers by 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 the thousands. These desiccated dynasties have been 
 drying so long that they are now quite antiseptic. 
 
 The dust of these dead and gone kings makes ex- 
 traordinarily fertile soil for vegetable gardens when 
 irrigated with the rich, thick water of the Nile. Their 
 mummies also make excellent pigments for the brush. 
 Rameses and Setos, Cleopatra and Hatasu all these 
 great ones, dead and turned to clay, are said when 
 properly ground to make a rich umber paint highly 
 
 popular with artists. 
 
 ** 
 
 Around Luxor, on the vast plain of Thebes, the desert 
 dust has been made to blossom, and a rich green carpet 
 now circles the stony feet of the Colossi of Memnon. 
 But greater riches have come out of the desert hills, 
 where dead and gone dynasties repose in rock tombs, 
 than out of the fertile plains below. 
 
 After several visits to Egypt the wealthy traveller is 
 often seized with a desire to dig the excavation fever 
 seizes him. Probably the spot which has tempted 
 most travellers is the ground around the Sphinx. Every 
 few years some new excavator takes up the task, spends 
 a barrel of money, wearies of it, and lays down his tools. 
 The drifting desert sands obliterate his work. In a 
 few years more another enthusiast begins. But here 
 around Luxor, farther up the river, four hundred miles 
 from Cairo, the enthusiastic excavators find much to 
 reward their quest. Here they find tombs that have 
 not been touched for thousands of years. Such almost 
 virgin soil must tempt the most hardened tomb-hunter. 
 
A Virgin Tomb 
 
 It is here that an American enthusiast has brought to 
 the light of day treasures which have dazzled veteran 
 Egyptian archaeologists. 
 
 The man of whom I speak is Mr. Theodore M. 
 Davis. When we first saw his beautiful dahabiyeh it 
 was moored below the First Cataract, with the American 
 flag floating at its stern. We were told that the boat 
 belonged to an American who had just discovered a 
 tomb of the Eighteenth Dynasty, and on inquiring found 
 that the fortunate Davis was its owner. For some time 
 Mr. Davis had been excavating in the Valley of the 
 Tombs of the Kings. But it was not until February 12, 
 1905, that he made his sensational discovery. His 
 workmen found the descending steps of a tomb between 
 those of Rameses IV. and Rameses XII. The rock 
 door at the foot was blocked with large stones. On 
 removing these, another flight of steps was discovered 
 leading to a second door, also blocked with stones. A 
 small opening was made, through which a boy crawled; 
 he speedily emerged, bringing a chariot yoke covered 
 with gold, a wand of office, a pectoral scarab, and other 
 objects. As this was the vestibule, it showed that the 
 tomb had been entered by robbers ages ago; that they 
 had taken alarm and hastily fled, leaving some of their 
 plunder in the vestibule, and that the tomb had never 
 since been visited. 
 
 It happened that Professor Maspero, director of the 
 Egyptian museums, and an archaeological authority 
 of renown, was at Luxor on the very day of the dis- 
 covery; so also were the Duke of Connaught and his 
 
Up the Nile to Luxor 
 
 suite. It was therefore arranged that the tomb should 
 be opened on the next day in the presence of these 
 notables. They were fortunate in their accidental 
 presence near Luxor. The tomb was found to be 
 filled with the richest spoils ever uncovered in ancient 
 Egypt. There were mummy cases gold-incrusted, 
 huge alabaster vases, a chariot inlaid with gold, many 
 figurines of gold and silver, chests containing papyrus 
 flaps, stools covered with gold and blue enamel, mir- 
 rors in gold frames, chairs and stools incrusted with 
 gold, golden collars and armlets, and a mass of other 
 things of great value, intrinsic as well as antiquarian. 
 The archaeologists say that the Eighteenth Dynasty 
 was the most luxurious and ostentatious period of 
 ancient Egypt; that vulgar display of wealth was char- 
 acteristic of the time; that it was at this epoch that the 
 Tel El-Amarna tablets paint Egypt as being what Cali- 
 fornia was to the rest of the world in 1850 a place 
 where gold, as the tablets say, was "plentiful -as the 
 sands." 
 
 Of course the tomb was filled with other objects not 
 made of the precious metals, but of even greater in- 
 terest. Among these were the papyrus flaps. A 
 number of tablets and inscriptions were found, shed- 
 ding much light on dark points of Egyptian history. 
 The tomb was the burial place of Yua and Thua, 
 parents of Queen Teie, wife of the third Amonhotep. 
 They lived here at Thebes with their daughter, after 
 she became the wife of one of the mightiest of the 
 Pharaohs. 
 
Footprints in a Tomb 
 
 It is the belief of archaeologists that Mr. Davis's dis- 
 covery, as a whole, is the most important ever made 
 in Egypt. Single objects of greater variety have been 
 brought to light in other finds, but the number and 
 variety found by him in this tomb surpass any ever 
 before discovered. Furthermore, the inscriptions and 
 tablets will add largely to our knowledge of the Eigh- 
 teenth Dynasty, which is one of the most interesting 
 dynasties of ancient Egypt. It dates from 1545 to 1350 
 B.C., and includes the notable reign of Thotmes III. 
 
 After the discovery of the rock tomb, Mr. Davis and 
 his servants were obliged to spend three days and three 
 nights camped at its entrance until they could get the 
 requisite authority from the government to continue 
 the excavations an indispensable precaution, other- 
 wise the thievish Arabs would have made short work 
 of the contents. 
 
 At the time when Mr. Davis's discovery was re- 
 ported, I had just finished re-reading The*ophile Gau- 
 tier's " Romance of a Mummy." His description of 
 the young English lord and his scientist friend entering 
 the virgin tomb, and finding on its floor footsteps in the 
 dust, left by workmen footprints left there three 
 thousand years before this I had always thought 
 one of the most telling flights of Gautier's fancy. But 
 I had looked upon it as pure fancy. Yet, after reading 
 the fantastic prose of the French romancer, I was forced 
 to admit, when I heard the plain narrative of the Ameri- 
 can explorer's discovery, that Davis's fact was more 
 extraordinary than Gautier's fiction. 
 
 [317] 
 
XIX 
 FROM THEBES TO ASSOUAN 
 
XIX 
 
 FROM THEBES TO ASSOUAN 
 
 [OR many miles above Luxor the Nile 
 looks as it does north of there, between 
 Luxor and Assiout: high banks with few 
 trees, and villages only at long intervals. 
 The trees seem to be mainly palms, with occasional 
 orchards of orange and fig-trees. All along the banks 
 are shadoufs, with only now and again a sakia: a peasant 
 who owns a sakia is in Egypt called a capitalist by his 
 fellow jellaheen. Frequently a footpath winds down 
 the steep bank, along which women wend their way 
 carrying water-jars; the women are generally engaged 
 in loud conversation, and almost invariably arrayed in 
 black gowns. Male water-carriers may also be seen 
 carrying up the bank grotesquely swollen skins filled 
 with water. Where the river bluff falls and a bit of 
 beach is seen, other groups of women are gathered 
 washing clothes; men may also be seen washing them- 
 selves and each other. Often water-carriers may be 
 observed calmly filling their leathern bottles with water 
 at these places; I don't have to drink it, but I sin- 
 cerely hope it is for sprinkling the ground. 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 All along the river are seen the native boats; they 
 go under sail when there is wind; the crew pole the 
 boat along when there is no wind and the water is not 
 too deep; they resort to "tracking" when that is the 
 only method feasible: then three or four of the crew 
 go overboard, each with a line in his mouth, swim 
 ashore, and haul the boat up stream. Occasionally 
 they come to a projecting point on the bank, where 
 there is no footing: then they go overboard again and 
 swim until there is. 
 
 South of Luxor, at the town of Edfu, is found the 
 Temple of Horus, the most perfectly preserved ancient 
 building in Egypt which means in all the world. 
 Time and weather have done almost nothing to deface 
 it, but the Coptic Christians, seventeen or eighteen cen- 
 turies ago, spent years in scratching out the inscriptions 
 on its walls. 
 
 At Edfu, on our donkey-journey from the Nile to 
 the temple, we were accompanied by Ali Yusef, a young 
 Arab who beguiled the ride across the sands by reciting 
 to us, in fair English, poems by Thomas Campbell, 
 Robert Burns, and Alfred Tennyson. He was a pupil 
 of a neighboring mission school. The donkey-boys 
 looked on him with mingled admiration, contempt, and 
 envy admiration for his accomplishment, contempt 
 that he was not a donkey-boy, and envy because he 
 received money for running by the donkey's side and 
 doing nothing at all but talk, while they were not only 
 obliged to run behind, but in addition to talk, to shout, 
 to swear, and to belabor the donkey's hams. For his 
 
 [322] 
 
Recitations by an Arab 
 
 task, which they looked on as merely a picnic, he gen- 
 erally received a shilling; while for theirs, which is hard 
 work, the sheik of the donkey-boys allowed them only 
 a few pence. I asked Ali Yusef if he had no poems by 
 Robert Browning in his repertoire. He admitted that 
 he had not. I advised him to learn some, and earnestly 
 urged him to recite frequently "Sordello." For this, 
 I told him, the average English-speaking tourist would 
 readily pay from eighteen pence to two shillings, where 
 they would grudge a shilling for Burns or Campbell. 
 Ali Yusef listened to me with sparkling, greedy eyes. 
 I am certain that even now, as I write, there is a youth 
 in Edfu with corrugated brow still studying " Sordello." 
 
 South of Edfu the Temples of Kom Ombos, which 
 stand close to the river, were once some distance from 
 its brink; but now their foundations are threatened by 
 the river undermining them. Here one begins to see 
 many more camels along the bank, as we are nearing 
 the point where the camel caravans arrive from the 
 Soudan, from Dongola, and from Central Africa. 
 
 But it is at Assouan, where the railway line ceases, 
 that traffic is confined to the river boats and the camel 
 caravans. It is certainly singular to see camels kneel- 
 ing down to be unloaded in the railway yards, their 
 packs discharged into ordinary merchandise-cars, and 
 vice versd. At this point on the river the First Cataract 
 begins; here the stream divides into several arms, run- 
 ning around rocks and islands. One of these, called 
 
 [323] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 "Sirdar's Island," which belongs to Lord Kitchener 
 became his property when he was Egyptian Sirdar. 
 The principal island here is Elephantine Island, on 
 which once stood a Greek city. There are several 
 ruins on the island and on the shores of the river, none 
 of them very interesting. Granite and alabaster quar- 
 ries lie near the town of Assouan, from which the 
 ancient Egyptians got their building stone. Many half- 
 cut blocks remain. There is an obelisk, over ninety 
 feet long, partially cut from the living rock, which still 
 lies just as it was when the masons struck work some 
 thousands of years ago. 
 
 Two or three miles up the river, to the south of As- 
 souan, is the gigantic " barrage," or dam, "inaugurated " 
 over two years ago: it may perhaps be considered not 
 yet completed. It is of granite masonry, one and a 
 quarter miles long, and one hundred feet in height. 
 It is designed to store water for irrigation. Within 
 the reservoir lies the Island of Philae, now covered with 
 water. Out of it rise the ruins of the Temple of Isis 
 and other stately structures. This is generally con- 
 sidered to be the most picturesque group of temples in 
 Egypt. Most of the Egyptian temples are surrounded 
 by squalid mud huts, or are only partially excavated, 
 but this at Philae is isolated. The world had feared 
 that Philae was doomed that the contemplated raising 
 of the Assouan dam would completely cover it. But 
 on March 17, 1905, Sir William Garstin, chief of the 
 irrigation works, made a report on this matter to the 
 government, accompanying a report of Sir Benjamin 
 
 [324] 
 
'-Tl 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Philae and the Dam 
 
 Baker, the eminent engineer, who designed the Firth 
 of Forth bridge. Both say that it is inadvisable to 
 increase the height of the Assouan dam; it may there- 
 fore be considered settled that Philae 's temples will not 
 be completely submerged. Much has been written 
 about the stability of this dam; but Sir Benjamin Baker 
 says of the dam in his report, "You need have no 
 anxiety concerning its stability for centuries to come." 
 From this report it would seem that eminent engineers 
 believe the dam, as at present constructed, to be sound, 
 but that they also fear it would probably be dangerous 
 to raise it. The barrage engineers are now constructing 
 a masonry apron below the dam to prevent the water 
 from " scouring." 
 
 There are enormous locks connected with the As- 
 souan barrage, south of the First Cataract, through 
 which light-draught steamers go toward Wady Haifa and 
 Khartoum. Here the cultivated area grows narrower, 
 and the desert touches the river. There is little in 
 the way of scenery, and there are few ruins. How- 
 ever, there are at Abou Simbel two gigantic temples, 
 one of them excavated out of the solid rock. At Wady 
 Haifa a railway begins, which runs to Khartoum; 
 although it is a military railway, ordinary travellers 
 use it. 
 
 If many travellers find even the Nile journey itself 
 monotonous, many more readers would find the nar- 
 rative of a Nile journey tiresome. So I will leave to 
 
 [325] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 others the description of the voyage up the Nile. More 
 interesting to me were the scenes and incidents at the 
 important stopping-places, such as Assouan. So I 
 will transcribe here some of my notes jotted down 
 during our stay at and around the First Cataract, where 
 the fertile fields disappear, where the Arabian and 
 Libyan Deserts come down to the river's edge, where 
 you begin to see natives from the Central African 
 tribes, where you are on the rim of the desert. 
 
 As we disembark at Assouan, other boats are making 
 fast along the river bank, some coming down the Nile 
 from Khartoum, some coming up the Nile from Cairo. 
 The quay along the river is semi- European, or rather 
 Levantine, its buildings with arcaded fronts like those 
 one sees in Algiers and other Mediterranean cities. 
 Germans in the latest damenundherrentouristenkostum 
 fashions may be seen in numbers; likewise many 
 American and English pilgrims pass along this boule- 
 vard, on foot, on horseback, on donkey-back, and in 
 carriages. Every combination of costume may be 
 seen. 
 
 Here comes an old man (a European) in a high silk 
 hat and white kid gloves. 
 
 Behind him skips a Bishareen boy of fifteen, wearing 
 nothing but a breech-cloth; his shiny black skin is ex- 
 posed to the cool breeze, his curly hair lustrous with 
 grease. 
 
 Following him is an American girl in a thin muslin 
 gown and a chip-straw hat, mounted on a donkey. 
 
 At her heels rides an elderly Egyptian official, sour- 
 
Two Mohammedan Women 
 
 faced and fezzed, all crouched up on his donkey, and 
 apparently shivering, with a very heavy cloak gathered 
 about his shoulders. 
 
 Next we see a squad of Soudanese soldiers in khaki 
 uniforms and khaki-colored fezzes, with riding-breeches 
 and puttees on their powerful but lanky legs; they 
 carry little "swagger-switches," like those of Tommy 
 Atkins, and in other respects are modelled on him, but 
 have faces so hideously ugly and so incredibly black 
 that they make you fairly stare. 
 
 Behind them again is another native group, this time 
 of Bishareens; they hail from Nubia, and differ from 
 both the Egyptian Arabs and the Soudanese. There 
 is nothing of the Ethiopian about their faces except 
 their skins, for they have the same rich, glossy, stove- 
 polish black that the Central Africans have. In other 
 respects they are utterly dissimilar, for they have straight 
 noses, fine features, oval faces, kindly eyes, and are 
 often very handsome, except for their color. They 
 usually wear but one garment, a dirty cotton shirt, and 
 are surrounded with a powerful stench. 
 
 From a grim gateway there emerges a Mohammedan 
 lady, richly attired, with immaculate gloves, and neat 
 French boots. She wears a very thin veil, has large 
 black eyes, and from her figure and her eyes is seemingly 
 young and beautiful. A nurse accompanies her with 
 a baby, and they step into a smart carriage behind a 
 span of beautiful Arabian horses. A scowling black 
 eunuch in a fez and a frock-coat seats himself on the 
 box beside the coachman. 
 
 [327] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 We see another Mohammedan woman in the same 
 picture, also in black. But hers is not a handsome 
 gown: it is patched, torn, dirty; it hangs in looped and 
 winded raggedness; it is apparently the wearer's only 
 garment; above it her skinny arms stick out, holding 
 her baby; below it her shrunk shanks and bare feet 
 protrude. She is extending a mendicant hand to the 
 other woman in the carriage. Although still young, 
 she is partially blind probably strabismus and 
 cataract. She peers dimly at her more fortunate sister 
 to see if alms may be expected. The baby with her is 
 so gaunt that it looks like a plucked crow. It has 
 ophthalmia probably pre-natal and its eyes are 
 covered with flies, which it does not even lift a listless 
 finger to drive away. 
 
 Here comes a carriage containing Blank Pasha, with 
 his little daughter and her European governess. Blank 
 Pasha is accompanied by a European lady, a guest of 
 the big hotel. Blank Pasha is stopping at the hotel, 
 and drives, rides, walks, and takes tea with various 
 European ladies there, all of whom are much interested 
 in his pretty little daughter. She has long brown curls, 
 big hazel eyes, and is surrounded by men; yet in a year 
 or two a yashmak will veil her face and she will be shut 
 up in the harem. Mrs. Blank Pasha is never invited 
 it would be the worst possible taste to ask Mr. Blank 
 Pasha after Mrs. Blank Pasha's health. He is evi- 
 dently combining the best of European and Oriental 
 life. In his domestic relations doubtless he is happy. 
 No strangers intrude upon his home, and his harem 
 
 [328] 
 
Camels, Kegs, Cars 
 
 life is probably peaceful. On the other hand, his re- 
 lations with European friends seem to be most agree- 
 able, and Mrs. Blank Pasha does not interfere with 
 them. Blank Pasha's plan seems to work better than 
 the "double life" often attempted by Occidental hus- 
 bands. 
 
 Up the street comes a camel caravan laden with kegs. 
 At the command of the drivers the camels kneel down; 
 the drivers unlash the kegs, which roll all over the road, 
 until at last they are stacked up on end. Curious to 
 see what the kegs contain, for, theoretically, the Mo- 
 hammedans drink no liquors, we approach. A trimly 
 uniformed native policeman politely warns us off. 
 When I endeavor to ascertain the reason, the only 
 English word he can muster is "magazine." From 
 this I gather that the kegs are powder-kegs, and I re- 
 spect him (and them) accordingly. I heard of a French 
 tourist who, similarly warned by a Soudanese sentry, 
 did not obey. The sentry knew no French; the French- 
 man no Arabic. As a result, the unfortunate tourist 
 was collared by the sentry, and roughly used. He 
 complained to his consul at Cairo, but got no redress. 
 Probably he deserved none. Generally speaking, it is 
 wise to obey the orders of sentries and police officers 
 in a strange land perhaps even at home. 
 
 This railway station at Assouan is curious for the 
 reason I have already noted the transfer of mer- 
 chandise from cars to camels, from camels to cars. It 
 is a curious contrast. Into the railway station stalk 
 the long-legged, awkward, shambling, crook-necked, 
 
 [3 2 9] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 snarling camels, guided by their wild-eyed Soudanese 
 or Bishareen drivers. They kneel, and from their 
 backs their freight is discharged into commonplace- 
 looking merchandise- vans, which presently steam away. 
 
 Another curious contrast I note is the elevated steel 
 bridge across the railway yard at Assouan. Even here 
 between the Libyan and Arabian Deserts, between 
 Egypt and Nubia, the European idea of the danger of 
 grade- crossings is strictly heeded. To cross the railway 
 line the natives must mount a stairway and go over a 
 substantial steel bridge. When I see this in Africa I 
 recall with amazement express-trains at fifty miles 
 an hour dashing through the main streets of cities, 
 towns, and villages at the street level, all over the United 
 States. 
 
 To-day there is a gymkana on the sandy beach near 
 the barracks. Here come the native competitors for 
 the donkey-races. In this gymkana the amateur Euro- 
 pean competitors are diversified by natives in sack- 
 races and greased-pole contests, which are more amus- 
 ing than the Europeans' efforts. The Arabs are much 
 more earnest and infinitely more excitable than their 
 white-skinned brothers. For example, we see the 
 fastest animal leaving the field of donkeys far behind; 
 we see him tearing up the course, his rider getting more 
 and more excited as he nears the finish; we see the rider 
 slackening speed in order to yell and wave his arms in 
 joy over his anticipated victory; we hear him yelling, 
 "Zagazig good donkey; me good donkey-boy"; we 
 note that he is losing sight of his competitors; while he 
 
 [330] 
 
Blushing Bedouins 
 
 Camels kneeling to be mounted 
 
Arab Idiosyncrasies 
 
 is nearly falling off in his delirium over his victory, and 
 falling behind in his blind joy, Number Two slowly 
 forges ahead and beats him by a neck. It is amazingly 
 Arabesque. It is exquisitely Oriental. 
 
 Riding up the road, we pass by a little power-house 
 with a pump lifting water from the Nile. The old 
 sakia and the shadouf are slowly disappearing in 
 Egypt before steam, electric, and other power-pumps. 
 As we pass I hear the sound of loud talking, but on 
 glancing through the doorway only one Arab is visible 
 in the pump-house. Arabs are extremely fond of talk- 
 ing, and when a group of them are gathered together 
 the resulting noise is sometimes deafening. But this 
 is the first time I have seen an Arab so extremely fond 
 of talking that he is talking to himself: when alone they 
 generally lie down and go to sleep. My curiosity 
 impels me to stop. I investigate. It is a telephonic 
 talk, and my Arab is having a wordy row over the tele- 
 phone with another Arab, probably some miles away. 
 They love to talk. They love verbal battles. How 
 they must love the telephone ! For an Arab to be able 
 to dispute with a distant Arab must be inexpressible joy. 
 
 At the south extremity of Assouan is a gigantic 
 mound crowned with Roman ruins. Some lover of the 
 dead past has preserved and propped up the gaunt and 
 ragged remnants of these ruins, so that they stand pic- 
 turesquely outlined against the western sky. Under 
 these Roman ruins are Jewish ruins; under them again 
 Egyptian ruins; heaven only knows what ruins of dead 
 and gone peoples may lie in the lowest stratum of all. 
 
 [331] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 All around the mound are Arab ruins, while out of the 
 ruins of dead and gone peoples Roman, Jewish, 
 or Egyptian the modern Arab villages crop up like 
 muddy mushrooms sprouting out of stone. 
 
 Across the river is another mound of ruins, on Ele- 
 phantine Island. Within this mound, we are told, lie 
 the remains of the ancient city of Elephantine. On 
 the crest of this mound there crops up a bit of ruin 
 a column or two all that is visible of the splendors 
 of the buried city beneath. The edge of this mound 
 pitches off straight to the water's edge, and day after 
 day crowds of tourists, personally conducted, drago- 
 man-instructed, and donkey-borne, stand on the edge 
 of the declivity, with dead cities under them, listen to 
 the lecturers, and think great thoughts. 
 
 Not far from the gigantic mound on Elephantine 
 Island is a sakia. Daily, from dawn till dark, this 
 water-wheel revolves, impelled by bullocks. This 
 sakia budget provides for bullocks only, and as there 
 is not enough money in the appropriation to pay for 
 axle-grease, the wheels revolve unlubricated. A strange, 
 weird, moaning sound is produced, which may be heard 
 a mile or more, according to the wind. It is like the 
 sound of many voices. Tradition says there has been 
 a sakia at this particular point on Elephantine Island 
 for two thousand years. Probably the moaning sounds 
 that we hear are the ghostly laments of the phantom 
 jellaheen who worked it for these twenty centuries. 
 
 Looking up the river from Elephantine Island the 
 rocky shores suddenly seem to meet. Yet it is only a 
 
 [332] 
 
Absence of Advertising 
 
 seeming, for it is here that the wild gorge of the First 
 Cataract begins. That the river still makes its way 
 through the rocks we can discern by noting the tall 
 masts of the dahabiyehs cutting through the clefts in 
 the rocks which make the gorge. 
 
 One thing there is in Upper Egypt which gives the 
 travelling American a painful sense of homesickness. 
 It is the absence of advertising. The familiar signs 
 one sees along the cliffs, the trees, the rocks, the fences, 
 and the farm-houses of the United States, are missing 
 in Egypt. Often in riding through the desert there 
 would rise up a granite cliff admirably adapted for some 
 of the mammoth announcements of our patent-medicine 
 millionnaires, but I saw them not. Not far from Shellal 
 there is a Mohammedan cemetery, where a mighty 
 sheik lies buried. Although dead, he is still a wonder- 
 worker, for all day long you may see Arabs rubbing 
 their backs against his tomb and casting small pebbles 
 over their shoulders. This is intended to cure lame 
 backs, which cures are miraculously effected. So 
 long has this gone on that a mighty cairn of stones has 
 been heaped up over the sheik's mouldering bones. 
 What an admirable place to paint on the sheik's tomb 
 the signs we so often see at home: "Have You A Weak 
 Back ? Try McStickem's Porous Plasters They Never 
 Come Off." 
 
 Leaving the desert and going to the Nile, the same 
 painful paucity of advertising is to be noticed. All 
 along the cataracts the Nile is a chaos of enormous flat 
 cliffs and shiny, black bowlders, looking as if destined 
 
 [333] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 from immemorial ages to bear advertisements of soap 
 or pill. Yet we note no soap ; we perceive no pill. The 
 natives use very little soap, and as they have cholera 
 nearly every year they need no pills. 
 
 I saw a rectangular rock which would have done 
 admirably for the legend, "Good morning have you 
 used S queers 1 Soap ?" a perpendicular rock which fairly 
 pulsated to tell of "Pale Pills for Pink People"; and 
 a beautiful curvilinear rock which in America would 
 have borne this quatrain: 
 
 "When Baby was well, she cried for Uproaria; 
 When Baby was sick, we gave her Uproaria; 
 When she grew up, she praised Uproaria; 
 When she got married, she raised Uproaria." 
 
 Yet these black rocks tell no tale of tooth-powders 
 or typewriters, of cereals or sarsaparilla. They are 
 silent. What a waste of profitable space! 
 
 But perhaps there are sermons in these stones. 
 
 One speedily grows used to the odd sights of Egypt, 
 and that which at first surprises fails finally to bring 
 forth an interested look. But the donkeys and their 
 riders are a never failing source of amusement. All 
 the long-legged men seem to be mounted on the short- 
 legged donkeys, and all the short-legged men on the 
 long. You see a personally conducted Don Quixote 
 mounted on an asinine Rosinante, flanked by an adi- 
 pose Sancho Panza of a dragoman squatting on a tall, 
 
 [334] 
 
Donkeys and Their Riders 
 
 mule-like donkey, closely followed by a russet urchin, 
 his shirt-tail flying to the breeze, belaboring the donkey 
 with a club and breathlessly yelling, "Hatt! Hatt! 
 Hatt! Huck-a-luck! Huck-a-luck ! " Thus bellows 
 the donkey-boy. Both tourist and dragoman seem 
 perfectly grave, yet who can gaze on them without a 
 smile ? There are other sights connected with donkey 
 transportation which also bring a smile. Every now 
 and again you will see an elderly gentleman on a 
 donkey, wearing a pained expression on his face and 
 a large rug on his stomach; this latter he has spread in 
 front of him as a lap-robe, to keep off the chill desert 
 breezes; it is fastened behind him with a safety-pin. 
 Shades of Bucephalus! Of Pegasus! Of the sons of 
 Poseidon and Ixion! Shades of all horses and horse- 
 men from the centaurs down to the cowboys! Think 
 of using a saddle beast as a vehicle, and adorning it 
 with a lap-robe! 
 
 Another curious sight may be noted as the crowds 
 of tourists gallop gayly by on donkeys, pursued by their 
 yelling donkey-boys: this is the large number of ladies 
 fat and thin, old and young, spinsters and widows, 
 matrons and maids who have turned Amazons for 
 the nonce, yet who have done so without equipping 
 themselves for the saddle: without preparing their 
 dessousy as the French call it. In the midst of the ex- 
 citement engendered by the fear of collision with other 
 donkeys ; the awful sound of the blows which fall upon 
 their own donkeys' flanks; the dreadful commotion 
 produced by their donkeys wriggling eel-like to escape 
 
 [335] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 these blows from their own donkey-boys; the Arabic 
 yells of ignorant donkey-boys; the English curses of 
 linguistic donkey- boys; the difficulty of steering their 
 own donkeys past other donkeys when both donkeys 
 know not what a bridle-rein means; the danger of 
 colliding with all manner of persons and things, such 
 as two-footed donkeys, four-footed donkeys, galloping 
 camels, trotting camels, sitting camels, snarling camels, 
 Arabs standing in the roadway, Arabs sleeping in the 
 roadway, blind beggars walking placidly right under 
 the animals' feet it is small wonder that the mental 
 confusion brought about by all this hullabaloo causes 
 these unaccustomed Diana Vernons to forget their 
 draperies. Of divided skirts, of riding-tights, of riding- 
 boots, of riding-breeches, they show no sign. The 
 result is a display which causes a modest scribe to turn 
 away his eyes and blush. But the innocent ladies, 
 knowing naught of the cause of his confusion, flash 
 noisily and polychromatically by. 
 
 One day, riding over the desert above the First Cat- 
 aract, we drew near an Arab village. On the outskirts 
 of the closely packed mud huts we saw two children 
 approaching, each with a bottle. When they reached 
 a certain spot they sat down on the sand. Our curiosity 
 being excited, we investigated, and found that the 
 bottles contained water which they had evidently just 
 brought from a sakia well in an adjacent oasis. What 
 did they want with the water? To drink? No 
 
 [336] 
 
Oasis Mud Pies 
 
 guess again. You could not guess it in a thousand 
 years. Well, they wanted it to make mud pies. For 
 the desert is not all hopelessly sterile. There are in it 
 vast areas of drifting sand, but much of it is sterile when 
 dry, fertile when irrigated. As you approach an oasis 
 you see a sharp line of demarcation on one side is 
 the rich emerald-green clover, on the other, the dry 
 brown desert. 
 
 Think of these little children in the desert. How 
 profound must be the love of the mud pie in the heart 
 of childhood when these little black sunbaked Arabs 
 bring water in bottles from an oasis to pour on the 
 thirsty desert in order to make mud pies! 
 
 Outside of one of the mud huts was a group of some 
 score of women holding a conversazione. They were 
 all talking at once, and with that air of keen personal 
 relish which showed that they were flaying their absent 
 friends. It was the desert substitute for an afternoon 
 tea, or for the daily paper's society column. As we 
 passed them, one shiny black lady with a face like an 
 orang-outang rapidly hid her fascinations from my 
 gaze with a dirty black veil. 
 
 "How different the customs of different countries," 
 thought I. "This lady evidently fears the effect of 
 her beauty upon me. She thinks, as the Oriental poet 
 says, that her eyes may turn my heart into burnt meat. 
 Hence she mercifully spares me a further contempla- 
 tion. In other lands " 
 
 At this moment the modest lady suddenly became 
 vocal. We were passing the little boy and girl in the 
 
 [337] 
 
From Thebes to Assouan 
 
 mud-pie business. Seeing that they regarded us not, 
 she shouted to him who surely was her son: 
 
 "Mohammed Hassan Abdallah! Didn't I tell you 
 always to yell 'Bakshish* whenever you see any of 
 those Christian dogs coming along ? and there you 
 are playing with that squint-eyed little Fatima Gazoo. 
 And now you've got no bakshish. Just wait till I get 
 hold of you, you naughty, naughty boy!" 
 
 I know no Arabic save a few emphatic and necessary 
 words. But I divined the maternal meaning from its 
 effect upon the son. When I questioned our drago- 
 man, he admitted with a grin that my interpretation 
 was correct. 
 
 This was the effect upon the son Little Mohammed 
 Hassan rose up as if he had been sitting on a pin, 
 and began to bleat, " B-a-k-s-h-i-s-h! B-a-k-s-h-i-s-h! 
 Boo-hoo!" 
 
 The latter part of the appeal was not directed to us, 
 but was caused through fear of his impending fate. 
 For, young as he was, little Mohammed Hassan was a 
 fatalist, and he knew that his kismet was that when his 
 Mohammedan mamma caught him there would be 
 something doing. And there was. With a despairing 
 wail he took to flight. 
 
 Mohammed lifts his skirtlets up, 
 
 And lays his bottle down, 
 Full featly fly his little legs 
 
 He flees his mamma's frown I 
 
 But his legs were short and his mamma's legs were 
 long. Soon she overtook him, and hovered over him 
 
 [338] 
 
A Desert Tragedy 
 
 like the angel Azrael, terrible, avenging. Little Mo- 
 hammed Hassan's white petticoats were uplifted, and 
 little Mohammed Hassan's black body looked up to 
 the pitiless Egyptian sky. His mamma's dark hand 
 rose and fell regularly, remorselessly. The thirsty 
 sands drank up his tears. 
 
 There on the Libyan desert 
 
 Under the Afric sun, 
 While dark-skinned infants gathered round, 
 
 This black, black deed was done. 
 
 I turned my head away, and kicked my donkey, 
 Helwan, in the ribs. "Get up, Helwan!" cried I; "let 
 us leave this scene. Gee-up!" And I whacked him 
 over the left ear, which meant "go to the right." But 
 Helwan, who always thought little of my desert knowl- 
 edge, disdainfully turned to the left instead, and soon 
 we left this painful scene behind. 
 
 [339] 
 
XX 
 
 THE EGYPTIANS' FOREIGN 
 
 GUESTS 
 
XX 
 
 THE EGYPTIANS' FOREIGN GUESTS 
 
 observations which follow concerning 
 foreigners in Egypt and their attitude 
 toward each other are not based on ex- 
 periences in Cairo. In the Khedive's 
 capital there are several foreign colonies, some many 
 years and some even centuries old; their intercourse 
 among themselves, with other colonies, and with the 
 Egyptians is based on rule and precedent. Therefore 
 I include under the term " foreigners " those people 
 who come to Egypt for a stay of a few weeks or a few 
 months transient tourists, more deliberate travellers, 
 and those winter residents who spend the season regu- 
 larly in Egypt, for health, climate, or pleasure. Few 
 of these, except the tourists, spend much time in Cairo; 
 most of them ascend the Nile in a leisurely fashion, or 
 pass the winter in Upper Egypt. Furthermore, those 
 foreigners who stay long in Cairo do not have much 
 opportunity to become intimate with the other national- 
 ities at their hotels; Cairo is a large and busy city, and 
 there are many ways of passing the time. Not infre- 
 
 [343] 
 
The Egyptians' Foreign Guests 
 
 quently tourists spend some weeks in Cairo and make 
 no acquaintances at all, unless, possibly, if they dine 
 at the table d'hote, they may become acquainted with 
 their neighbors there. There are, of course, not a 
 few travellers to Egypt who bring letters to officials, 
 English or Egyptian, military or civil, diplomatic or 
 consular; but the intercourse which results, frequently 
 very pleasant, can scarcely be called spontaneous. Nor 
 is it calculated to bring forth the sincerity of mental 
 attitude aroused by the chance-medley meetings of 
 Anglo-Saxons and Gauls, of Gauls and Germans, of 
 Germans and Latins. 
 
 Elsewhere in Egypt, on the other hand, conditions 
 are utterly dissimilar to those in Cairo. At the fashion- 
 able resorts in Lower, Middle, and Upper Egypt, the 
 guests are very largely thrown on their own resources 
 for amusement. This entails acquaintanceship among 
 those who spend the whole or a part of the season, 
 although they do not fraternize with the transient 
 tourists who flit through on their hurried way. But 
 their share in the games and sports which they arrange 
 necessarily makes them acquainted. 
 
 After observing these collections of wanderers, no 
 one can doubt that Egypt is the most cosmopolitan 
 of countries, for the people you meet here come from 
 all over the world. After several visits here, and after 
 observing the attitude of the various foreigners toward 
 each other, I am inclined to doubt the ultimate brother- 
 hood of man, concerning which optimists and poets 
 have such high hopes. 
 
 [344] 
 
Europeans Do Not Mix 
 
 "For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, 
 Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; 
 *********** 
 
 " Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were f urPd 
 In the Parliament of Man, the Federation of the World." 
 
 It may be that some day there will be a federation 
 of the world; that the barriers of different languages 
 and different flags will all have faded away; that the 
 black-and-white posts on Germany's frontiers will 
 disappear; that Switzerland will remove the dynamite 
 mines from her end of the great tunnels between her 
 and her powerful neighbors; that Great Britain will 
 disarm Gibraltar and the Sublime Porte open the por- 
 tals of the Dardanelles. 
 
 May be so. I don't know. But I don't think so. 
 The indications of an ultimate brotherhood of man 
 seem to me small, and growing smaller. There cer- 
 tainly seem to be no indications of it among the people 
 one meets in Egypt. The various nationalities mix 
 as little as water and oil. The English do not like 
 the Germans, the Germans dislike the English, and 
 the French dislike them both. The Germans and the 
 Italians do not mingle; neither do the Italians and the 
 French. The Russians do not affiliate with the Ger- 
 mans, and not very much with the French, the only 
 link between them being the use of the French language 
 by the Russians. 
 
 The Scandinavians appear to dislike both Germans 
 and Russians; they seem indifferent to the English, 
 and affiliate with the French only for linguistic reasons. 
 The Dutch dislike the Germans, although most of them 
 
 [345] 
 
The Egyptians' Foreign Guests 
 
 speak the German tongue. The Belgians consort to a 
 certain extent with the French, but only by reason of 
 their common language. 
 
 As for the affiliations of the Americans, there seems 
 to be an absence of hostility between the Americans 
 and the English, and when circumstances so incline 
 they ally themselves together as against all the others. 
 Identity of language brings them together, and they 
 meet on the ground of sports and games, as likewise in 
 dances and such social affairs. But my observation is 
 that in voice, enunciation, accent, inflection, com- 
 plexion, religion, manners, dress, wit, humor, food, 
 drink, views on business, views on society, views on 
 rank, views on government, views on heredity, views 
 on money, views on marriage, and views on sport, they 
 are as wide apart as are the poles. 
 
 Egypt is a good place wherein to study these national 
 likes and dislikes. Here all the European visitors 
 or, to be more inter-continental, let us say all the Chris- 
 tian visitors are on neutral ground. 
 
 The Egyptians are Mohammedans; their guests are 
 Christians. 
 
 The Egyptians are Africans; their guests are Euro- 
 peans. 
 
 The Egyptians are of the Semitic race; their guests 
 are of the Japhetic race. 
 
 The Egyptians are polygamous; their guests are 
 monogamous. 
 
 The Egyptians are teetotalers; their guests are al- 
 coholics. 
 
 [346] 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
A diminutive Dragoman A Dwarf from Dongola 
 
 A Sheik of Donkey-Boys 
 A Descendant of Rameses A Beggar at Luxor 
 
All on a Foreign Background 
 
 In Egypt certainly the foreigner finds a fair field and 
 no favor. In Egyptian eyes the foreign visitors, no 
 matter what their religion or morals, are all tarred with 
 the same brush. Toward their Christian guests, there- 
 fore, the Mohammedan hosts of this country are 
 absolutely impartial. Probably the vast mass of the 
 Egyptians thus classify the European travellers the 
 men as lunatics, the women as trollops. 
 
 In no other country with which I am familiar do 
 similar conditions exist concerning strangers. In 
 Europe, for example, the German when in France, the 
 Frenchman when in Germany, the Englishman when 
 in Italy, even the American when in England, are 
 thrown in contact with a people who are at home. 
 
 Every nation is different when viewed with a domes- 
 tic or a foreign background. Personally,. I think all 
 nationalities appear to better advantage at home. But 
 here in Egypt they all have a foreign background; here 
 no nationality has a domestic background, for the 
 Egyptian masses do not meet their foreign guests, and 
 the Egyptian classes meet them only in foreign ways. 
 Even the English official class, who rule the Egyptians, 
 are not much more at home here than are the other 
 foreigners: they have their own domestic and social 
 life, but it is against an Oriental background. 
 
 Thus there is a fair field for all. It would not be 
 possible for an English colony in Germany to manifest 
 dislike or contempt for Germans. It is quite possible 
 for such phenomena to take place in Egypt. 
 
 Of the antipathetic nationalities, the most marked 
 
 [347] 
 
The Egyptians' Foreign Guests 
 
 enmity seems to exist between the English and the 
 Germans. This is odd, for there ought to be more 
 acrid causes of hostility between Germany and other 
 nations France, for example. Yet, while the Eng- 
 lish in Egypt do not consort with the French, they go 
 even farther than the French in bitter dislike of the 
 Germans. For that matter, the Germans seem to be 
 generally disliked all over the Old World. At one 
 time the English occupied the unenviable position of 
 being the most unpopular people in Continental Europe. 
 Now travellers generally agree in according that du- 
 bious distinction to the Germans. 
 
 Nowadays the wealthier Germans travel a great deal, 
 and in most of the popular resorts of Europe the German 
 tourists now outnumber those of any nationality except 
 the English. In some places they equal the English 
 in number. Yet, according to my observation, the 
 two peoples absolutely refuse to mingle. At the va- 
 rious resorts in Egypt the Germans take no part in 
 those entertainments which involve comparative in- 
 timacy, such as golf, tennis, and croquet tournaments, 
 which, as a rule, are got up by the English guests. The 
 Germans are spectators at regattas and gymkanas, 
 are auditors at concerts, and ride in paper-chases, but 
 they avoid the more intimate sports. The English 
 do not mourn over this aloofness of the Germans, but 
 they rather rejoice at it. They do not hesitate on 
 occasions to stigmatize the Germans as "unsportsman- 
 like." One day, for example, a programme of aquatic 
 sports was in progress on the Nile; it included, besides 
 
 [348] 
 
Antipathetic Nationalities 
 
 a regatta, native swimming races; the Arab competitors 
 were strung out in a line across the river, swimming 
 furiously. Suddenly a pleasure-launch, flying the 
 German flag, steamed down upon them and whizzed 
 through their bare bodies, driving many of the poor 
 devils out of the race and scattering them to left and 
 right. 
 
 The Englishmen conducting the regatta foamed at 
 the mouth. When they testified at the trial that evening 
 before the Grand Inquest in the billiard-room, the 
 English jury's verdict was that the act was unpardon- 
 able. "But," said the court in an obiter dictum, "what 
 can you expect from Germans?" 
 
 I have spoken of the fact that Americans and English 
 come together a little for the purposes of games. But 
 even in this regard the cohesion is slight. The English 
 games and the methods of playing them are often 
 different from the American. (They would say " differ- 
 ent to. 11 ) The very terms used are different, and when 
 they use the same words they pronounce them differ- 
 ently. For example, the warning word in golf among 
 Americans is pronounced " Fo-r-r-r-e : " From English 
 lips it sounds like "Faw!" In croquet, what we call a 
 "wicket" the English call a "hoop"; what we call a 
 "stake" they call a "peg" or a "stick"; they count 
 the "hoops" by "up" and "down," as golf -holes are 
 counted, and not by "wickets made," as we count. 
 
 At tennis they use the word "right" to indicate that 
 a ball is played in the court, a phrase I have never 
 heard so used in America. 
 
 [349] 
 
The Egyptians* Foreign Guests 
 
 Not only in Egypt, but all over the Old World, the 
 English are always the leaders in sports. It is so, both 
 afloat and ashore. Their first move on the India- 
 bound steamships is to elect an amusement committee, 
 which committee at once devotes itself to organizing 
 sports. It is so in Egypt. It is a highly laudable plan, 
 and might be followed to advantage in many American 
 watering-places. In Egypt, the English visitors get 
 up polo matches, tennis, croquet, golf, and bridge 
 tournaments, fancy-dress balls, smoking concerts, and 
 organize gymkanas. Those who know the difficulties 
 of keeping up a golf-club in a green and well-watered 
 country, where there are permanent residents to pay 
 the dues, can readily conjecture what must be the 
 difficulties in a dry and desert country, where the only 
 permanent residents are Arabs and donkeys, and where 
 the golf-players come only three months in a year. 
 Yet there are not a few golf-clubs in the land of the 
 Pharaohs. 
 
 There are many humorous things connected with 
 golf in Egypt. There are what might be called extra- 
 hazardous hazards : for example, at one links in Upper 
 Egypt, the golf-course wound its desert way past an 
 oasis on which was a luxuriant field of clover. A 
 sliced ball was extremely apt to hide itself in this clover. 
 The following new rule was made by the Arabs: that 
 nobody in boots or shoes could enter the oasis limits to 
 ' search for balls; only barefooted people (otherwise 
 Arabs) were allowed to enter. Every day we found a 
 large population of Arabs around the oasis waiting for 
 
 [350] 
 
Extra Hazards at Golf 
 
 golf-balls to go to grass. Sometimes, I fear, they were 
 assisted there, and it required much bakshish to get 
 them out. At last there were so many lost balls that 
 an investigation was made by the green committee. 
 An old woman was discovered hiding near the clover 
 hazard. When you made a fine, long approach, the 
 old lady grabbed the golf-ball and took to her heels. 
 She regarded the balls as her legitimate spoil, and 
 offered them freely for sale to the original owners at 
 cut prices. It took an enormous amount of time and 
 labor to convince her that she must give up her practice. 
 
 What seems to surprise the English greatly is the 
 propensity of Americans to go daft over titles. The 
 littlest homunculoid princelet from almost anywhere 
 will excite a bevy of American girls like a chicken-hawk 
 in a barn-yard. One day I was seated on the terrace 
 of a big hotel in Egypt overlooking the Nile. The 
 Duke and Duchess of Connaught and their daughters 
 were on their way down the river in a government 
 dahabiyeh. They had come ashore for that solemn 
 British function, afternoon tea; your true Briton, royal, 
 ducal, or commoner, never misses his afternoon tea. 
 I had not heard that we had distinguished guests, but 
 presently I observed that something unusual was taking 
 place. Yet the excitement was entirely among the 
 Americans. All of my American fellow-countrymen 
 had their tables drawn up as you see them in dinner- 
 parties on the stage, with one side filled with the diners 
 
The Egyptians' Foreign Guests 
 
 and the blank side pointed toward the footlights. In 
 this case the tables were pointed toward the royal-ducal 
 tea-party, while my American compatriots gazed 
 goggle-eyed at the brother of the English king. So 
 rapt were they in their scrutiny that many of them 
 neglected their tea, toast, muffins, zwieback, cakes, 
 bread and butter, orange marmalade, raspberry jam, 
 strawberry jam, and blackberry jam, which kickshaws 
 constitute the slight snack taken at 5 P.M. by the true 
 Briton. In my mind's eye I could see them when they 
 got "back home," telling about "the time when I took 
 five o'clock tea right next to the Duke and Duchess of 
 Connaught." 
 
 How did the English behave? Well, they behaved 
 the men with British phlegm, the women with Eng- 
 lish calm. No woman neglected her tea, no man his 
 jam. Some even finished their tiffin hastily to go 
 donkey-riding or to play tennis or croquet. Many 
 young men smoked openly and unashamed. I even 
 saw some elderly men and women asleep. 
 
 On another occasion I was stopping at an Egyptian 
 hotel where a royal prince was domiciled. He was a 
 grandson of Queen Victoria ; yet he was as free to come 
 and go as if he were John Smith, of Podunk, U. S. A. 
 Nobody bothered him, no one intruded on him. He 
 was a lad of seventeen or so, accompanied by a tutor; 
 yet no young ladies made eyes at the tutor; even the 
 head-waiter treated the prince just like any one else. 
 We all had our tables reserved for luncheon and dinner, 
 but not for breakfast. The prince took his chances 
 
 [352] 
 
Americans Daft over Titles 
 
 for a table at breakfast just like the rest of us. Among 
 the many English guests nobody turned to stare at him. 
 The assemblage in the dining-hall acted exactly as if 
 he were of the same clay as the rest of us which, by 
 the way, he is. 
 
 Only fancy a royal prince at an American hotel. 
 Let us not say a royal prince, but a princeling, or a 
 royal dukelet, or even the seventeenth son of some 
 pseudo-sovereign seventeen times removed. Why, 
 if you trot out a king of the Cannibal Islands, a saddle- 
 colored sovereign from Siam, a monarch of Boorioboola- 
 gha, a Hottentot highness, a coffee-colored potentate 
 like King Kalakaua any old thing in the way of a 
 king, and the great American public goes crazy. See 
 how we acted over the Russian Grand Duke Alexis, 
 or the Spanish Princess Eulalia, over whom Chicago's 
 " society leaders " fought so bitterly that they nearly 
 took meat-axes and cleavers to each other. When 
 Prince Henry of Prussia was in the United States a 
 year or two ago his presence in our large cities nearly 
 caused a riot. And the American public has even 
 raved over the job lots of Mongol princes who occa- 
 sionally smile upon us with their almond eyes. 
 
 When in Upper Egypt, we were approaching our 
 hotel one day when we saw a column of black smoke 
 pouring from the engine-room and electric power-house. 
 Suddenly swarms of Arabs appeared, running out of 
 
 [353] 
 
The Egyptians' Foreign Guests 
 
 the hotel. Two native policemen, whose post was at 
 the entrance to the great compound, at once shut and 
 guarded the gates to keep out thievish Arabs. On the 
 surrounding hills hundreds of Arabs from the neigh- 
 boring villages gathered, and gazed at the fire over the 
 compound walls. Within the compound the house- 
 hold Arabs ran aimlessly hither and thither, yelling 
 frantically: these were the table- waiters, cooks, cham- 
 bermen, scullions, and such domestic servants. The 
 outdoor Arabs were not so useless : perhaps half a dozen 
 of them worked like Trojans. But all the rest were 
 almost worthless, only getting in the way of those who 
 worked. There arose the usual difficulties in times of 
 danger when white men who are natural leaders 
 direct inferior and native races: they cannot under- 
 stand each other's language. 
 
 The foreigners at this hotel were from all over the 
 world, yet in strong contrast to the Arabs they seemed 
 entirely calm. I noticed no excitement among them. 
 
 The engine-room contained engines and dynamos 
 for electric light and power. The fuel was a petroleum 
 product, called "petrol." One of the natives, in carry- 
 ing petrol in an open vessel to pour into the receptacle 
 feeding the engine furnace, slipped and spilled the 
 petrol. In a moment it was ignited and the place in 
 flames. Nothing but the absence of inflammable 
 material in the engine-room prevented a great fire. 
 But the walls were of concrete; they were a foot thick; 
 the floor was of concrete; the engines and dynamos 
 were of metal: thus there was scarcely anything to 
 
 [354] 
 
Arabs at a Fire 
 
 burn except the door-frames, the window-jambs, and 
 'the petrol in the tanks. Still, this made enough of 
 a fire. 
 
 After many minutes the shouting Arabs were in- 
 duced to bring out from the hotel a canvas hose. They 
 twisted it, burst it, and did everything with it that they 
 should not do. At last they got it laid. By this time 
 a hand-engine was coming from the town, which was 
 followed by a steam fire-engine. By the time the Arabs 
 had got the hose laid on and streams from the two 
 engines were on the building, the fire was out. But 
 only because it had burned out for lack of further 
 material to burn. Two men were burned to death, 
 and two men were fatally injured. 
 
 A large squad of police and a company of soldiers 
 had arrived by this time, and order was preserved: 
 that is, all were orderly except the Arab servants; 
 they had completely lost their heads. Achmed, our 
 dignified table-waiter, chose this particular time to 
 have a fit. He wanted to hurl himself into the flames. 
 It took three men to hold him; they were relieved regu- 
 larly as fast as they became exhausted. Achmed 
 struggled violently with his guardians, and kept up an 
 intermittent howling. Many counselors approached 
 with sage instructions to the guardians and with in- 
 tended comfort to Achmed. One officious donkey- 
 boy approached to give advice. The donkey-boy's 
 words were unwelcome to one of Achmed's guardian's, 
 and as he had both arms around Achmed's middle he 
 stood on one leg and used the free foot to kick the offi- 
 
 [355] 
 
The Egyptians' Foreign Guests 
 
 cious donkey-boy in the stomach, hurling him cata- 
 pult-like, howling. 
 
 The spectacles at this fire, from the standpoint of 
 our admirably equipped fire departments in America, 
 seemed lamentable. But it may be well to point out 
 this fact that not even the engine-room in which 
 the fire broke out was structurally injured, and the hotel 
 was not burned down. There are few watering-place 
 hotels in the United States of which this could have 
 been said. Most of them are constructed of lath, 
 scantling, weather-boarding, and shingles. There may 
 be fire-proof watering-place hotels in the United States 
 outside of St. Augustine, Florida (which contains three 
 hotels built of concrete), but if so I do not know where 
 they are. Most of the watering-place hotels of the 
 United States are fire-traps and death-traps. When 
 they burn they go with such rapidity that most of the 
 guests could never reach the ground. After they are 
 burned their destruction is so complete that you can 
 see nothing remaining but twisted iron pipe and tangled 
 wire. The American way of building watering-place 
 hotels is to construct them of match-wood and then have 
 the best of fire protection. The Old World way is to 
 have inferior fire protection, but so to construct the 
 hotels that they will not burn. 
 
 I was standing on a hotel veranda gazing at a line of 
 snarling camels, and wondering at their unvarying 
 bad temper. 
 
 "Ow//" cried an unknown French lady, suddenly 
 
 [356] 
 
A Perspiring Lady 
 
 turning to me, "I don't do a thing but sweat." And 
 she seated herself beside me under an awning on the 
 terrace. " Vraiment, je ne fais que suer" 
 
 Be reassured, gentle reader, although the French 
 lady was a total stranger to me, she was neither fair 
 nor young. 
 
 I replied hesitatingly, "Vous dites, madame? You 
 don't do a thing but ?" 
 
 "But sweat," replied the frank French lady. "Cest 
 $a 
 
 I became all of a cold I mean I perspired. For 
 I remembered reading an anecdote of a young hoiden 
 who remarked in the presence of her preceptress that 
 she was "all of a sweat." Miss Verjuice thus rebuked 
 her: " Never use that word again, Miss Joy," said the 
 prim preceptress. "Horses sweat; men PERSPIRE; 
 ladies GLOW!" 
 
 This anecdote ran through my mind as I turned to 
 the frank French lady. 
 
 "Indeed," said I with polite interest, "then madame 
 is warm?" 
 
 "Warm, monsieur? OufI je ne fais que suer!" 
 
 "In effect, madame, the weather makes of a warm- 
 ness enough warm." 
 
 "Of a warmness, monsieur! Why the weather 
 makes of a hotness enormous!" 
 
 "You have reason, madame. One finds the heat 
 indeed of a hotness." 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, you have enormously reason. Ouf ! 
 I don't do a thing but sweat!" 
 
 [357] 
 
The Egyptians' Foreign Guests 
 
 "But permit me to indicate to you, madame, that 
 on the other side of the house, in the shade, it is quite 
 cool." 
 
 "True, monsieur, but it is too cool. On the other 
 side of the house I freeze; it is terrible; it is glacial; it 
 goes to me to the marrow. Yet on this side of the house 
 I roast; it is terrible; it is tropical. Ouf! I don't do a 
 thing but sweat!" 
 
 It is only fair to say that the French lady was measur- 
 ably right. The temperature on one side of the house 
 was one hundred and thirt} r degrees in the sun; on the 
 other side of the house it was fifty degrees in the shade. 
 When I suggested to the distressed and perspiring lady 
 that she might find relief inside instead of outside the 
 house, she replied: "Oh, monsieur, inside it is just the 
 same; on the sunny side it is too hot, on the shady side 
 it is too cold. I was advised to take a room on the 
 sunny side. There it is terrible. Ouf ! I don't do a 
 thing but sweat. I shall go back to that dear France!" 
 
 And the French lady perspiringly withdrew from 
 the terrace. 
 
 Yet when she thus expressed her dissatisfaction with 
 the Egyptian climate, "that dear France" was covered 
 with snow. At Paris it was ten degrees below zero, 
 centigrade. Even on the Riviera it was cold the 
 entire flower-crop was destroyed. In Lyons the water- 
 pipes were all frozen, and there was no water; the 
 water-power being tied up, there was no electric light. 
 Vesuvius and the hills around Naples were covered with 
 snow. There was skating on the Arno at Florence. 
 
 [358] 
 
Arctic or Tropical 
 
 In Milan there were fourteen fires in twenty-four hours 
 owing to frozen citizens lighting unaccustomed fires in 
 unusual places. Yet the French lady wished to return 
 to Europe. Truly we are never satisfied. We always 
 rail against our lot when it's cold we want it hot; 
 when it's warm we fret and scold; when its's hot we 
 want it cold. 
 
 [359] 
 
XXI 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT 
 
XXI 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT 
 
 [N my first visit to this country I was more 
 interested in its ancient history and an- 
 cient ruins than in more modern things. 
 On subsequent visits the life in Cairo, 
 the amusements of foreigners and Egyptians, the 
 voyagers on the Nile, the irrigation systems, ancient 
 and modern, the gigantic dams or "barrages" these 
 things engrossed my mind. 
 
 It is only during this recent visit, when our stay has 
 been much longer than before, that my attention has 
 been turned to the English occupation of Egypt. Read- 
 ing, conversation, and observation led me to conclu- 
 sions differing from the vague and general impressions 
 I had held before. 
 
 These impressions I shared with most Americans 
 and many Englishmen to wit: that England's occu- 
 pation of Egypt has been a long-considered and deliberate 
 plan; that from the first England had the settled end of 
 permanently occupying the country and of making it an 
 imperial colony. 
 
 I have now come to the conclusion that this belief 
 
 [363] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 is an erroneous one, and that it has no foundation in 
 fact. The further conclusion is forced upon me that 
 the British occupation of Egypt has been entirely unde- 
 signed; that it has been largely the result of accident; 
 that it has been against the wish of successive British 
 cabinets; that it has not been the desire of the British 
 people; and that the British occupation to-day is almost 
 entirely the result of chance rather than of design. 
 
 Let me summarize briefly the curious chain of cir- 
 cumstances which led the British Government un- 
 willingly to follow the path of occupation and conquest. 
 Omitting the long story of the promoting of the Suez 
 Canal; of Khedive Ismail's magnificent and Micawber- 
 like financiering; of the touching confidence with which 
 the usurers of Europe hastened to lend him money at 
 high interest on low security; of the floating of loan 
 after loan by the Egyptian Government; of the final 
 fears of the European usurers as to the security of their 
 loans ; of the tightening of their nets around the Khedive ; 
 of his struggle against impending bankruptcy; of the 
 danger of Egypt repudiating her bonds; of his forced 
 loans extorted from bankers and wealthy tradesmen 
 in Egypt; of the desperate straits which forced him to 
 offer his Suez Canal shares to England; of the quick 
 decision of Lord Beaconsfield to borrow ;4,ooo,ooo 
 from Rothschild; of the sagacity which led that finan- 
 cier to lend it on an hour's notice on no security except 
 Beaconsfield's word; of this canal purchase leading the 
 financial world to believe that Great Britain was about 
 to finance Egypt; of the Khedive's request for an English 
 
 [364] 
 

 
Anglo-Franco Control 
 
 financial adviser; of the sending of Mr. Cave, a member 
 of the ministry, on a mission of financial investigation 
 to Egypt these were the simple yet fateful circum- 
 stances which first led Great Britian into the Egyptian 
 tangle. 
 
 Shortly after this time Ismail attempted to consoli- 
 date the vast Egyptian debt, bonded and floating, into 
 a single seven per cent loan. English bondholders 
 opposed this scheme; French bondholders were in 
 favor of it. The Khedive requested France, Italy, 
 Austria, and England to nominate Commissioners of 
 the Public Debt. England refused. 
 
 Here we have the first attempt by England to evade 
 Egyptian entanglements. 
 
 However, the Khedive on his own initiative appointed 
 Major Evelyn Baring, now Lord Cromer, as a British 
 member of the Commission. This Commission was 
 succeeded by another, which was succeeded by two 
 Permanent Controllers, to be nominated by the French 
 and English Governments. The British Government 
 again declined to appoint. 
 
 This was England's second attempt to keep out of 
 Egypt. 
 
 Thereupon the British Controller was nominated 
 without the approval of the British Government. The 
 floating-debt creditors, being ignored by the new Con- 
 trollers, brought suits against the Egyptian Government 
 before the International Egyptian Tribunals. This 
 threatened the interests of the European bondholders, 
 as the creditors of the floating-debt were principally 
 
 [365] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 Egyptians and Levantines. The danger to the Euro- 
 pean bondholders led to the proposing of a Commission 
 of Inquiry by France. Lord Derby at first refused 
 to cooperate. 
 
 Thus we see that here Great Britain made a third 
 attempt to avoid Egyptian responsibilities. 
 
 At last, under pressure from British bondholders, 
 Lord Derby gave way, and the Khedive appointed a 
 Commission consisting of a French president, one 
 Egyptian and one British vice-president, and Italian 
 and Austrian members. This Commission endeavored 
 to unravel the tangle between the Khedive's individual 
 debts and those of the State; also to account for the 
 whereabouts of some 50,000,000 borrowed from 
 European creditors, of which there was no trace. The 
 Khedive, in order to baffle inquiry, threatened to de- 
 fault on the current interest on the bonds; but he finally 
 reluctantly consented to permit that it be paid. The 
 Commission at last discovered that the missing moneys 
 were invested in over a million acres which Ismail had 
 purchased and improved as cotton and sugar planta- 
 tions and otherwise. They demanded that he hand 
 over these ill-gotten goods to the Egyptian Government, 
 which was done. 
 
 About this time an Anglo-French ministry was urged 
 on the Khedive's premier, Nubar Pasha. Mr. Rivers 
 Wilson was suggested as the English candidate. The 
 British Government consented reluctantly only on the 
 stipulation that the French minister was to have equal 
 authority, in order thus to render English intervention 
 
 [366] 
 
German Intervention 
 
 in Egypt less conspicuous. It must be understood that 
 Mr. Rivers Wilson was appointed not by the English 
 Government but by the Egyptian Government, and 
 that the British Cabinet contented itself merely with 
 "raising no serious objection to Mr. Wilson's appoint- 
 ment." 
 
 Matters continued under this Anglo-French ministry 
 for some time, until the holders of floating-debt claims, 
 who had secured judgment before the International 
 Tribunals at Cairo, attempted to levy execution upon 
 property already mortgaged as security for bonds. 
 This brought about a financial crisis. As a result, the 
 Khedive, for lack of funds, was forced to dismiss a 
 number of officers from the Egyptian army. A mob 
 of some four hundred of these officers assembled in 
 front of the Ministry of Finance, hustled Mr. Rivers 
 Wilson and the Minister of Finance, insulted them, and 
 shouted " Death to the Christians!" The English and 
 French ministers sent requests to their Governments 
 to protect them and other Christians from the muti- 
 nous officers, but the British Government declined 
 to land any forces, and merely sent a naval vessel to 
 Alexandria. 
 
 Thereupon the Khedive, emboldened by British in- 
 action, dismissed Mr. Rivers Wilson. Yet the British 
 Government did not enforce his restoration. 
 
 A totally unexpected move now brought about im- 
 portant developments. Germany, hitherto entirely 
 aloof, suddenly threatened intervention. Some Ger- 
 man subjects, creditors of Egypt, had obtained judg- 
 
 [367] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 ments against the Treasury before the International 
 Egyptian Tribunals. The Khedive refused to execute 
 these judgments. 
 
 As Germany was a party to the international agree- 
 ment by which these tribunals were established, she 
 therefore threatened that if her subjects' judgments 
 were not executed she would herself take action to en- 
 force them. Bismarck was at that time head of the 
 German Empire, and England was forced to join in 
 intervention lest the Iron Chancellor should conduct 
 matters alone. Thereupon England, France, and 
 Germany demanded that the Sultan depose Khedive 
 Ismail. This was done, and Tewfik, his son, was 
 nominated in his stead. 
 
 This, in brief, was the financial crisis in Egypt at the 
 time an empty treasury, European bondholders 
 pressing for their interest, Egyptian creditors clamoring 
 for their principal. Some drastic measure was needed. 
 France therefore urged England to join with her in 
 demanding the appointment of two Controllers, with 
 the right to be present at Cabinet meetings, the Con- 
 trollers to be nominated directly by their own Govern- 
 ments. This was the beginning of the Dual Control. 
 Far-reaching as were its functions, its beginning was 
 unquestionably due to the threatened intervention of 
 Germany, seconded by the demands of the French 
 bondholders through their Government, for the regu- 
 lation of Egyptian finances. It was only indirectly due 
 to the British Government. The British Controller 
 was Major Baring. Under the Dual Control a Com- 
 
 [368] 
 
Araby's Conspiracy Begins 
 
 mission of Liquidation was theoretically appointed by 
 the Khedive, but in fact selected by England, France, 
 Germany, Austria, and Italy. This Commission, after 
 some months, effected a settlement between Egypt, the 
 European bondholders, and the creditors to whom the 
 floating debt was owed. This arrangement involved 
 placing the various revenue-producing departments of 
 Egypt under certain bureaus of the Dual Control. 
 The railway earnings, the telegraph earnings, and the 
 customs dues of Alexandria went to pay the Preferred 
 Debt. Other customs dues, the tobacco tax, and the 
 revenue of some of the fertile Delta provinces, went to 
 pay the Unified Debt. A special Anglo-French Com- 
 mission was placed in charge of the enormous estates 
 which Ismai'1 had been forced to disgorge. The income 
 from these estates went to pay the Khedive's portions 
 of the loan, which the Commission had succeeded in 
 disentangling from the purely governmental debts. 
 
 It is needless to go farther into this complicated sub- 
 ject ; it is only mentioned here to show that this financial 
 arrangement forced Great Britain and France to rule 
 Egypt comprehensively and in detail. How compre- 
 hensively, may be understood if we were to imagine 
 some foreign power ruling the United States so abso- 
 lutely as to take in every dollar paid for taxes, customs 
 dues, railway charges, and telegraph tolls. Here again, 
 as will be seen, this duty was forced upon Great Britain. 
 Her reluctance to enter on the task alone was shown by 
 the fact that the two Anglo-French Controllers at once 
 nominated a Commission of the Public Debt to share 
 
 [369] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 their functions, which Commissioners were appointed 
 by England, France, Germany, Austria, and Italy. 
 
 Up to this time a peaceful country confronted Great 
 Britain. But the Dual Control insisted on economy. 
 Therefore Ismail's army of forty-five thousand men 
 was reduced to eighteen thousand. This involved the 
 retirement of two thirds of the officers. There existed 
 great jealousy between the Egyptian and Circassian 
 officers, and one Achmed Araby a fellah officer who 
 was dismissed to give place to a Circassian organized 
 a wide-spread conspiracy against the Khedive. To 
 placate these officers, Araby and a number of others 
 were reinstated and promoted. But this evidence of 
 weakness on the part of the Khedive emboldened them, 
 and they demanded that the Minister of War be dis- 
 missed and replaced by a native Egyptian. Araby 
 with three regiments marched to the Khedive's palace, 
 and the mutiny ended by the Khedive's yielding to their 
 demands. 
 
 Following this, various intrigues resulted in the 
 making of Araby Assistant Secretary of War. He then 
 led a movement called "Egypt for the Egyptians." 
 The end sought was the expulsion of foreigners. He 
 availed himself of his power to have some fifty officers 
 of the Egyptian Army arrested on the charge of a 
 conspiracy to assassinate him. He had them all 
 deported. 
 
 The movement against foreigners was gaining such 
 strength that it alarmed many Europeans, and appeals 
 were made to Great Britain for protection. But Mr. 
 
 [370] 
 
Alexandria Massacre 
 
 Gladstone, then the head of the Government, strongly 
 disliked any foreign intervention, and was particularly 
 opposed to intervention in Egypt. France, however, 
 urged Great Britain to join her in armed intervention, 
 which that power finally consented to do, but expressly 
 reserved the right to say that she "did not commit her- 
 self to any particular mode of action." 
 
 In order to avoid even this feeble indorsement of 
 intervention, Great Britain tried to foist upon Turkey 
 the disagreeable task, and suggested that the Sultan 
 land a Turkish army to restore order in Egypt. But 
 to this France positively refused to consent. There- 
 fore Great Britain resigned herself to the inevitable. 
 An English ironclad accompanied a French warship to 
 Alexandria, but the British admiral was ordered only 
 "to protect British subjects and Europeans," and was 
 authorized only "to land a force if required; such force 
 not to leave the protection of ship's guns without in- 
 structions from home." 
 
 Again we see that Great Britain makes a futile stand 
 - her fourth attempt at keeping out of Egyptian occu- 
 pation. 
 
 The rumors as to threatened attacks on Christians, 
 and the open encouragement of these attacks by Araby 
 and his co-conspirators, impelled the English and the 
 French consuls-general to demand the resignation of 
 the Araby ministerial clique and the withdrawal of 
 Araby himself from Egypt. The Khedive yielded, 
 and dismissed the Araby clique. Under fear of their 
 threats, however, he reinstated them the same day. 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 This weakness emboldened the Araby conspirators, 
 and there suddenly broke out in Alexandria a riot which 
 resulted in the brutal murder of some scores of Euro- 
 peans. While Englishmen were being shot and stabbed 
 in the streets of Alexandria, the British naval officers 
 in the harbor there were prevented by their orders from 
 landing forces to defend their countrymen. But the 
 fierce outburst of popular indignation in England, 
 when the news reached there, forced Mr. Gladstone 
 to give way. He was compelled to consent to armed 
 intervention on Egyptian soil. But with the curious 
 tortuous turn of Gladstone's mind, this object was 
 veiled under the verbal guise of " obtaining compensa- 
 tion for losses sustained by British subjects." Driven 
 by the importunities of his ministerial colleagues, and 
 goaded on by the popular wrath, Mr. Gladstone there- 
 upon ordered the Channel squadron to be dispatched 
 to Alexandria. 
 
 Again the stars in their courses conspired to force 
 England to occupy Egypt. The French Cabinet be- 
 lieved that Araby's National Egyptian Party was much 
 stronger than it proved to be; that its suppression would 
 tax the resources of Great Britain's small army; that 
 at the psychological moment France could intervene 
 between England and Egypt with great profit to her- 
 self. So believing, the French Government ordered 
 its admiral to abstain from any share with Great Britain 
 in armed intervention. Therefore, on the morrow of 
 the Alexandria massacres, and on the eve of the fateful 
 bombardment of June, 1881, the French fleet hoisted 
 
 [372] 
 
I 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
I UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
British Take Cairo 
 
 anchor and sailed from Alexandria, leaving the English 
 admiral alone. 
 
 Araby immediately began manning the fortresses of 
 Alexandria. Admiral Seymour ordered the forts to 
 be abandoned and their guns dismantled. This was 
 refused. Thereupon the bombardment began. The 
 subsequent attempts of Araby to cut off Alexandria's 
 water supply forced the British Government to land 
 an army to protect British subjects. This was pre- 
 ceded by a protocol in which Great Britain bound her- 
 self "not to seek any territorial advantage in Egypt." 
 
 Here was the fifth attempt on the part of England to 
 prevent occupation developing into annexation. 
 
 Araby now threatened the Suez Canal. England, 
 instead of defending it alone, requested a conference 
 of all the Powers to determine how it should be de- 
 fended. On all the Powers refusing, Great Britain 
 proposed to France a joint expedition to protect the 
 Suez Canal. France refused to join. Great Britain 
 then was forced to defend the canal herself, being justi- 
 fied in so doing as being the largest stockholder. 
 
 The first military use of the canal was made by Great 
 Britain when she landed a British army at Ismailia. 
 From there the troops advanced on Cairo. Araby's 
 forces first made a stand at Tel el-Kebir, but were 
 routed. Araby next attempted to hold Cairo, but the 
 British took the city without difficulty. With the 
 surrender of Araby, the National Egyptian movement 
 collapsed. 
 
 Two days after the Battle of Tel el-Kebir, Lord 
 
 [373] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 Dufferin was ordered by the British Government to 
 inform the Sultan that, as the insurrection was now 
 over, the British Government intended to bring about 
 an early withdrawal of the British troops. Considering 
 Mr. Gladstone's strong reluctance to military occupa- 
 tion, there can be no doubt of the good faith of this 
 assurance. 
 
 But note the inevitable chain of circumstances. The 
 Commission of Liquidation could not carry out its 
 financial measures unless Egyptian credit was restored; 
 Egypt's credit could not be restored if the British troops 
 were withdrawn, unless some other military force were 
 provided to maintain order, as the Egyptian Army had 
 been in open mutiny. There could be no military 
 force to rely on unless it came from some other Euro- 
 pean power; hence Great Britain was forced to remain 
 until the Egyptian Government was able to maintain 
 order alone. An agreement was therefore drawn up 
 by which Great Britain consented to reduce her Army 
 of Occupation to twelve thousand men, and to bear 
 the expense of the campaign. In this document Eng- 
 land not only agreed to reduce her army in numbers, 
 but to withdraw these troops as soon as possible. 
 
 About the time of the Araby mutiny the British 
 Government urged the Khedive to abolish slavery in 
 Egypt. Most of the slaves in Egypt came from the 
 Soudan. General Gordon had already attempted to 
 abolish slave-trading there before his first incumbency 
 as Governor terminated. At once there appeared in 
 the Soudan a "Mahdi" a holy man who, the Mo- 
 
 [374] 
 
Evacuating the Soudan 
 
 hammedans believed, would lead them to victory over 
 the infidels. He proclaimed himself the Messiah, and 
 was at once believed. Gordon's successor as Governor 
 attempted to suppress him and his followers, but his 
 military expeditions against the Mahdi were all de- 
 feated. The Governor demanded fifteen thousand 
 men from Cairo, saying that if they were not sent he 
 would be forced to evacuate the Soudan. The Khe- 
 dive requested assistance from the British Army then 
 in Egypt. The British Government peremptorily 
 refused. They feared being drawn more deeply into 
 permanent occupation of Egyptian territory. 
 
 Note here the sixth attempt of Great Britain to avoid 
 further entanglement in Egypt. 
 
 The Egyptian Government then sent ten thousand 
 men to the Soudan under the command of Hicks Pasha, 
 an English officer, but no longer in the British Army. 
 Hicks Pasha set out against the Mahdi. His army 
 was utterly wiped out. His ten thousand men, with 
 their officers, guns, and ammunition, disappeared from 
 the face of the earth. They have never been heard of 
 since. 
 
 Just before this time the British Government had 
 again assured the Great Powers in a circular note that 
 "its forces remained in Egypt only for the preservation 
 of order, and that the British Government wished to 
 withdraw its troops as soon as the authority of the 
 Khedive could be properly protected." It might be 
 thought that the disaster to Hicks Pasha's army would 
 fire Great Britain with a desire to revenge him. Not 
 
 [375] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 so. On the contrary, Great Britain refused to help 
 Egypt in the Soudan; announced that the British Army 
 of Occupation would be reduced to three thousand 
 and removed from Cairo to Alexandria. Further, the 
 British Government intimated that Egypt must abandon 
 the idea of retaining the Soudan, and must prepare to 
 withdraw her garrisons. This move was evidently 
 inspired by the idea of avoiding the slightest possibility 
 of Great Britain being entangled in these Egyptian- 
 Soudanese complications. 
 
 This was the seventh attempt of the British Govern- 
 ment to avoid further Egyptian occupation. 
 
 The Egyptian Government, panic-stricken by the 
 British action, at once ordered its garrisons to evacuate 
 the Soudan. This emboldened the Mahdi and his lieu- 
 tenant, Osman Digma, and they invested the Egyptian 
 garrisons so actively that evacuation was impossible. 
 The Egyptian Government sent to the Soudan a mili- 
 tary force under another English officer, Valentine 
 Baker, formerly of the British Army. Like the army 
 of Hicks Pasha, the army of Baker Pasha was destroyed 
 at the Battle of El-Teb. 
 
 About this time the British Government decided to 
 send General Gordon as envoy to the Soudan to bring 
 about the evacuation of the Egyptian garrisons. This 
 move was heartily approved by the Egyptian Govern- 
 ment, as they hoped that Gordon's mission would ulti- 
 mately bring about armed intervention by the British 
 Government. In this forecast they were right. While 
 on the way to Egypt, Gordon changed his mind about 
 
 [376] 
 
 
Gordon's Gallant Death 
 
 acting as the envoy of Great Britain, and telegraphed 
 ahead, suggesting that he should be nominated by the 
 Khedive as Governor- General of the Soudan. This 
 was done. Note the result: By this appointment, 
 Gordon ceased to be under the orders of the British 
 Government; his position gave him a free hand; he 
 acted according to his own judgment; his course ulti- 
 mately resulted in forcing the British Government to 
 send a relief expedition to Khartoum. 
 
 It is needless to relate here the various expeditions 
 against the dervishes and the gradual investment by 
 them of Khartoum. The position of Gordon in the 
 beleaguered city excited the sympathies of the British 
 public to such an extent that the Gladstone Govern- 
 ment was most reluctantly forced to send a British 
 army to rescue him. The attempt at relief by this 
 expedition under Lord Wolseley, and its arrival at 
 Khartoum only a few hours after Gordon had been 
 brutally murdered these facts are fresh in the mem- 
 ory of most men. Gordon's long defence and gallant 
 death made a profound impression in England. The 
 Government was forced by public opinion to prepare 
 to send armies both up the Nile and by the Suakin- 
 Berber route to destroy the power of the Mahdi. The 
 trouble on the Indian frontier with Russia temporarily 
 diverted the public mind, and Mr. Gladstone, taking 
 advantage of this, made haste to withdraw all British 
 troops from the Soudan. 
 
 With the advent of a Conservative ministry under 
 Lord Salisbury, a further attempt was made to with- 
 
 [377] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 draw the British Army from Egypt. A convention was 
 begun with Turkey to replace the British army with 
 a large force of Turkish troops in Egypt. Before 
 these negotiations were finished, there was a change 
 of ministry in Great Britain; still, even under the new 
 ministry this convention was concluded, and by its 
 terms England bound herself to withdraw her Army 
 of Occupation within three years. But the French 
 bondholders became alarmed, and pressure was brought 
 to bear in influencing the Sultan to quash the Anglo- 
 Turkish Convention. Again was England baffled in 
 her attempt to withdraw from Egypt. 
 
 Here was the British Government's eighth attempt to 
 escape from Egyptian entanglements. 
 
 An insurrection led by the Khalifa, after the death 
 of the Mahdi, again forced the British troops to go 
 south into the Soudan. The forts standing around 
 Assouan were erected by the English and Egyptian 
 armies. Starting from Wady Haifa, they made raids 
 which crushed the dervishes under the Khalifa. 
 
 By this time Great Britain evidently considered her- 
 self more than an adviser to the Egyptian Government, 
 as was shown when Nubar Pasha, the Premier, at- 
 tempted to transfer the Department of Police from 
 British to Egyptian officials. This Lord Salisbury 
 vetoed. The Khedive felt mortified by this rebuff, 
 and Nubar Pasha was forced to resign. With the close 
 of his administration the attempt to govern Egypt by 
 native officials was practically abandoned by Great 
 Britain. This was in 1888. 
 
 [378] 
 
Kitchener Destroys Dervishes 
 
 The last attempt of the Egyptian Government to 
 assert its freedom of action was under the present 
 Khedive, Abbas II., about ten years ago. A review of 
 troops was held by the Khedive at Wady Haifa. The 
 troops were commanded by the Sirdar (the title of the 
 Commander-in-Chief of the Egyptian Army), then 
 Sir Herbert Kitchener. After the review the Khedive 
 expressed his dissatisfaction with the manoeuvring. 
 The Sirdar immediately sent in his resignation. There- 
 upon Lord Cromer, British Plenipotentiary, at once 
 informed the Khedive that the censure upon the Sirdar 
 and the British officers under him must be retracted, 
 and the Sirdar induced to withdraw his resignation. 
 This was done. Since that time it may be considered 
 that the Khedive and the Egyptian Government are 
 not free agents. 
 
 In 1896 General Kitchener headed a British-Egyp- 
 tian army against the Mahdists, who had again become 
 active after having been unmolested since the defeat 
 of Baker Pasha. In two years' time the dervish armies 
 were driven out of Khartoum, and their capital, Om- 
 durmann, was taken. It was during this campaign 
 that the historic slaughter of the dervishes took place, 
 when they were mowed down by the British Army's 
 machine-guns. Nearly eleven thousand dead dervishes 
 were counted on the field of battle, and twenty-eight 
 thousand were found wounded. According to official 
 figures, the casualties of the English and Egyptian 
 troops were forty-eight killed and three hundred and 
 eighty-two wounded. It was after this campaign that 
 
 [379] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 Sir Herbert Kitchener was made Lord Kitchener of 
 Khartoum. 
 
 Only three days after the capture of Khartoum 
 General Kitchener learned that Major Marchand had 
 hoisted the French flag at Fashoda, a town on the White 
 Nile, three hundred miles to the south. Khartoum 
 at the time was full of newspaper correspondents. 
 Among them was Randolph Churchill, who in "The 
 River Campaign" relates with some humor how Gen- 
 eral Kitchener carefully bottled up the scribes before 
 going to the Anglo-Franco front, thus anticipating the 
 Japanese attitude toward the press. When he was 
 certain that he was cut off from cablegrams to Europe 
 except his own Kitchener at once hastened to 
 Fashoda and hauled down the French flag and hoisted 
 the Egyptian. This caused great ill-feeling in France, 
 and for a time the friendly relations of England and 
 France were endangered. But the incident served to 
 prove plainly the fact that Great Britain now was in 
 the Soudan to stay. 
 
 Since then the Soudan, under the Convention of 
 1899, has been ruled jointly by the British and the 
 Egyptian Governments. Its Governor- General by 
 this Convention must be Sirdar of the Egyptian Army 
 and a British officer. The Soudan is under military 
 law, and there are no civil tribunals there. This con- 
 dition of things will endure until the various European 
 Powers who have large colonies of their subjects in 
 Soudanese towns demand the erection of international 
 courts and the reception of consular officers. 
 
 [380] 
 
The Destiny of Empires 
 
 To recapitulate the British Government encoun- 
 tered the following curious chain of circumstances: 
 
 Ismail's bankruptcy. 
 
 It precipitates demands by the European bond- 
 holders. 
 
 This forces Great Britain to intervene with France. 
 
 Thereupon repudiation of the bonded debt is 
 menaced. 
 
 An utterly unforeseen threat of intervention comes 
 from Germany. 
 
 This results in the Khedive's deposition and the 
 Dual Control. 
 
 The Dual Control causes official economy. 
 
 War Office economy causes the military mutiny of 
 Araby. 
 
 This leads to the Alexandria riots. 
 
 The resulting massacre of Europeans brings a British 
 fleet. 
 
 Alexandria and Cairo occupied, and Araby insur- 
 rection suppressed. 
 
 Egyptian Government requests British aid to sup- 
 press the Mahdi insurrection. 
 
 British Government sends Gordon to Khartoum. 
 
 His sudden determination to cease to be the British 
 envoy and to become a free agent. 
 
 His refusal to obey British orders. 
 
 Public opinion in England forces a relief expedition. 
 
 Kitchener's capture of Khartoum. 
 
 Sudden appearance of the French flag at Fashoda on 
 the Nile; hauling down of the French flag by Kitchener. 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 Of all these fateful events, not one could have been 
 foreseen by Great Britain. 
 
 Another matter concerning which I have been forced 
 to change my opinion is the defence of Khartoum by 
 Gordon. My opinions were based on the reports in 
 the English newspapers at the time. Like many men 
 who read those ministerially colored statements, I be- 
 lieved that Gordon was a brave soldier but a fanatic; 
 there were even charges made that his mind was slightly 
 affected. But while going up the Nile, above the First 
 Cataract, with the names of Soudanese battle-fields 
 and camping-grounds, of islands and bends in the river, 
 daily sounding in my ears, I read Gordon's journals 
 of the siege of Khartoum. I withdraw my previous 
 opinion of Gordon, based on garbled testimony, and I 
 apologize to the shade of that brave soldier. In his 
 journals Gordon says repeatedly that he could not 
 evacuate the Soudan and abandon the soldiers and 
 civilians who trusted him, leaving them at the mercy 
 of the hordes of bloodthirsty dervishes; that even if the 
 British Government refused to rescue them he could 
 not leave them without being discredited as a soldier 
 and dishonored as a man. 
 
 What goes before is the narrative of some thirty years 
 of effort on the part of Great Britain to avoid entangling 
 herself in Egypt efforts which have resulted, in my 
 opinion, in fixing her so firmly in that country that she 
 will never leave it. Our occupation of the Philippines 
 
 [382] 
 
Monument erected to General Charles Gordon at Khartoum 
 

A Reign of Order and Law 
 
 was quite as accidental, but much more sudden. Since 
 it began there has been no attempt at all by the Admin- 
 istration to evacuate the islands. In a minority of both 
 the great political parties there has been a movement 
 in favor of evacuation, but the Administration and the 
 people of the United States have never shown any such 
 desire. Even had they made the attempt, it is probable, 
 with Great Britain's experience staring us in the face, 
 that it would have failed. Now, however, this may 
 be considered settled: Great Britain will not evacuate 
 Egypt; the United States will not evacuate the Philip- 
 pines. 
 
 A brief record of what England has accomplished 
 for Egypt would include, in general, increase of revenue, 
 development of Nile traffic, expansion of foreign com- 
 merce, construction of great public works, furthering 
 of sanitary reforms, and vast increase in general pros- 
 perity. In detail, it might be added that the Soudan 
 has been completely pacified; slave- trading has been 
 broken up; the natives are being educated; taxes have 
 been diminished, yet the revenues increased; the area 
 of cultivated land has been greatly augmented; the 
 railway between the Nile and the Red Sea has been 
 pushed nearly to completion; a new harbor, superior 
 to Suakin, has been begun; the Assouan dam has 
 brought one and a quarter million acres under irriga- 
 tion; it has added largely to the value of tributary lands; 
 it will, it is believed, add another half million acres to 
 the irrigable area in the near future; Anglo- Egyptian 
 garrisons in the large towns have rendered European 
 
 [383] 
 
England in Egypt 
 
 interests absolutely secure; as a result, European 
 capital is pouring into Egypt; the native population, 
 with cotton, sugar, and other agricultural products, 
 is doing better than ever before. 
 
 In her reluctant occupation of Egypt, Great Britain 
 has brought to the fertile valley of the Nile what never 
 was known there before peace, justice, order, law. 
 But this admirable administration has cost her much 
 in money and men. True, the cost is nominally borne 
 by the Egyptian Government, but he would be a bold 
 man who maintained that the Egyptian occupation has 
 cost England nothing. It is probable that in the years 
 to come the great natural wealth of Egypt, her fertile 
 soil, her sugar and cotton fields, and above all the great 
 reservoirs in which the waters of the mighty Nile are 
 stored, devised and built by British energy and English 
 money that all these things will lead to paying back 
 to England what she has spent in Egypt. 
 
 [384] 
 
XXII 
 RETROSPECT AND FORECAST 
 
XXII 
 
 RETROSPECT AND FORECAST 
 
 FIRST visit to Egypt and the Delta makes 
 an indelible impression on the traveller's 
 mind. For hundreds of miles, as the ex- 
 press-train whirls and shrieks past the 
 toiling fellaheen in the fields, you see them using the 
 same primitive methods their forefathers used when 
 Pharaoh reigned. They still plough with a simple 
 wooden implement dragged by patient buffalo oxen; 
 they still laboriously lift water with a well-sweep to the 
 head-level of irrigating ditches; they still use the sickle 
 as they did in the days when Ruth followed the reapers 
 of Boaz. And they still carry their bundles of fodder 
 upon the backs of patient asses, or, in default of asses' 
 backs, upon their own. 
 
 Of course, all agriculture in Egypt is not on such 
 rudimentary lines. Rich men and syndicates, as well 
 as peasants, own land; many tall chimneys testify to 
 the existence of sugar- works; many steam-pumps and 
 pipe-lines point out extensive irrigation-works. The 
 Egyptian government has dammed the Nile at Assiout 
 and at Assouan, and is engaged in other water-storage 
 
 [387] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 schemes at various points along the great river. These 
 plans will greatly widen the narrow strip of irrigated 
 land on both banks of the river, and thereby enlarge 
 the resources of this wonderful country. 
 
 For it is a wonderful country. The story of its 
 temples, its pyramids, its ruins, and its dead cities, is 
 a thrice-told tale: it no longer causes wonder. But no 
 man can gaze on this flat and fertile river valley without 
 being amazed at its productiveness. In America we 
 have lands which, tilled for two or three centuries only, 
 yet are exhausted by wheat or tobacco- raising; but here 
 in Egypt there are fields still seemingly as fertile as 
 when the First Dynasty began, although they have 
 been tilled for four thousand years. 
 
 Some historians believe that Egypt was the cradle of 
 our Aryan civilization. Here, they say, nomadic man 
 paused at the great river when wandering from Arabia 
 Felix into Africa. Those who were tired of wandering 
 settled on the fat and juicy banks of the Nile, and began 
 a fitful husbandry of the soil. Tickled with a stick, it 
 laughed with a harvest, as the old saw says. Grad- 
 ually villages grew up, and thrift brought peace and 
 prosperity. The rich lands were divided among the 
 thrifty villagers. This was the beginning of Real 
 Property. When the lands Were divided they had to 
 be measured, the lines run, the boundaries set off. 
 This was the beginning of Mensuration, of Mathe- 
 matics, of Geometry. The property boundaries were 
 obliterated each year by the rise of the Nile; regula- 
 tions were made to settle disputes concerning them. 
 
 [388] 
 
UNIVERSITY j 
 
 CAL'FOR^' 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 This was the beginning of Law. Wise men among 
 the villagers, seeing that the sun, moon, and stars had 
 much to do with the volume of the Nile flood, carefully 
 observed and noted their movements. This was the 
 beginning of Astronomy. The simple villagers looked 
 with awe on these wise men who spent their time com- 
 muning with the stars. The erection of an official 
 class followed. This was the beginning of the Priest- 
 hood. The priests claimed supernatural knowledge 
 of the celestial bodies. They imposed rules regarding 
 the manners and conduct of men. They ordered the 
 villagers to follow these rules, and to erect temples 
 wherein they should be expounded. This was the 
 beginning of Religion. But the fierce nomads of 
 the desert found profit in harrying and plundering 
 the weaker villagers by the riverside. Therefore, the 
 priests chose from among the villagers those who were 
 not only brave, but crafty, cunning, and leaders of men. 
 These bold and cunning villagers succeeded in defeat- 
 ing the fiercer nomads by ambuscade and stratagem. 
 This was the beginning of the Science of War. To 
 protect their cities they erected walls, fortresses, fortifi- 
 cations. Thus grew up Engineering and Architecture. 
 At last a bolder leader among the bold parleyed with 
 the priesthood, terrified the mass of men, mastered 
 Priests and Commons, and made himself lord over all. 
 Thus grew up Monarchy, and thus there resulted 
 Church, State, and King. 
 
 Long-forgotten bits of reading faint recollections 
 of Draper, of Harrison, of Winwood Reade came to 
 
 [389] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 my mind as I looked out from an express-train on my 
 first visit to Egypt. We were going up the Delta, along 
 the valley of the Nile. It was towards evening, and 
 the peasants were returning from the fields to their 
 homes. Primitively clad, they reminded one irre- 
 sistibly of old Bible pictures. You would see what 
 was evidently a family father, mother, grown chil- 
 dren, and little ones, some mounted, some on foot, and 
 with nondescript collections of animals, all burden- 
 bearing. In one group I noted a camel, several asses, 
 a buffalo bull, and a herd of sheep placidly pursuing 
 their homeward way, all the animals except the sheep 
 bearing the fodder for their supper on their backs. 
 And the mild-eyed peasants looked up at the express- 
 train with much the same gaze as did their animals. 
 
 The Delta region is not rich in visible ruins. " Pom- 
 pey's Pillar" is all that stands at Alexandria, and there 
 is nothing at Cairo. The Pyramids, which are out in 
 the desert ten miles from Cairo, still stand, it is true, 
 but they are so constructed that they will continue to 
 stand, until removed stone by stone. There used to 
 be an ancient city of Memphis not far from Cairo, but 
 it has vanished so completely that doubt and dispute 
 prevail over the exact sites of its streets and squares. 
 The climate of the Delta region differs markedly from 
 that of Upper Egypt, and the conclusion is inevitable 
 that the difference of climate must have much to do 
 with the absence of visible ruins. For the Delta is full 
 
 [390] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 of hidden ruins. All through this region there are low 
 mounds looking like sand-drifts covered with Nile 
 mud from the river's rise. They generally indicate 
 the sites of large cities and towns. Yet of these ancient 
 dwelling-places of man there are no "ruins" left 
 nothing but broken potsherds and a few burnt bricks. 
 The sun-dried bricks have gone back to their original 
 form. So have the other contents of the ancient cities, 
 including their citizens. For each mound is made of 
 a mass of cement consisting of the Nile mud of count- 
 less overflows, imbedded in which is the rich dust of 
 men and animals, of temples and dwellings. These 
 mounds are fertilizer-quarries for the fellah farmers; 
 they dig up their predecessors, whom they spread out 
 to enrich their fields; this fertilizer, which they call 
 coujri, contains salt, saltpetre, soda, phosphates, am- 
 monia, and other constituents found in the costly arti- 
 ficial chemical manures so much used in the old world. 
 To show how much this soil-enricher is used I may 
 add that the principal commodity carried by the net- 
 work of railways in the Delta region is this coujri fer- 
 tilizer. 
 
 The utter disappearance of these ancient cities in 
 the Delta shows the effect of irrigation and cultivation 
 on climate. But the cultivated area is extending with 
 greater rapidity than ever before. Less than half a 
 century ago, Mehemet Ali ordered the planting of vast 
 numbers of trees in Lower Egypt. Ismail continued 
 the policy. In forty years some of these shade-trees 
 have attained a height of over eighty feet; among them 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 are eucalyptus, acacia, sycamore, tamarisk, mulberry, 
 and lebbek. In addition to the shade-trees, the enor- 
 mous extension of the cultivated area in cotton, sugar- 
 cane, and other modern crops, and the thousands of 
 miles of new irrigating canals in addition to the old 
 ones, and to the great area covered by the Nile flood, 
 have aided to affect the meteorology of Egypt. Cloud- 
 less skies were common in Lower Egypt in Mehemet 
 Ali's time, so old men tell us; now not only clouds but 
 rain-clouds are common; during the winter of 1904-5 
 there were many heavy rain-storms throughout the 
 Delta region, and for days the sun did not shine in 
 Cairo and Alexandria. 
 
 The lack of drainage is another potential factor in 
 the climatic question. In nearly all dry, hot countries 
 in which irrigation is introduced, surface or sub-soil 
 drainage is found to be necessary. There is no such 
 drainage in Egypt, and while the evaporation resulting 
 from the Nile inundation doubtless has caused a gradual 
 climatic modification, the enormous evaporation now 
 resulting from the vast area affected by both irrigation 
 and inundation is rapidly changing the climate of the 
 country. 
 
 The impressions left on the mind of a casual traveller 
 on a first visit to Egypt differ much from those left 
 when one has had his vision dulled and blunted by 
 several visits. The things which at first seemed ex- 
 traordinary have then grown commonplace, and the 
 
 [392] 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 old traveller to Egypt looks with a languid eye on the 
 picturesque processions which so thrilled him a few 
 years before. 
 
 On a second visit, it is generally the less objective 
 things which occupy the traveller's mind the social 
 and moral condition of the people; how they were 
 governed in past times and are governed now; how 
 Occidental methods, manners, machinery, civil gov- 
 ernment, and military occupation are affecting them; 
 the yielding of the Egyptian ladies to foreign fashions 
 in attire; the effect on polygamy of Paris prices for 
 women's gear; the propensity of the natives to travel 
 by rail and tramway; how Occidental teaching in the 
 mission schools is affecting the native mind these 
 and similar topics generally interest the traveller on 
 his second visit. 
 
 The traveller will have seen the ruins on his first 
 visit, but his view will have been an unsatisfactory one, 
 for they are too numerous, too gigantic, too impressive, 
 to be appreciated fully at first. On subsequent visits 
 the traveller may become an enthusiast over the ruins; 
 he may develop into an amateur archaeologist, perhaps 
 even an excavator, if he have the time and means. Or 
 he may remain indifferent to the ruins many so 
 remain. Or he may be deeply impressed not by 
 their grandeur, but by their danger, for the ruins of 
 Egypt, like all of man's creations, are soon to pass 
 away. "Soon" does not mean this year or this cen- 
 tury, but "soon" as measured by the ages they have 
 stood there "soon" as measured by Egyptian time. 
 
 [393] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 Egypt has hitherto been one of the few spots on the 
 planet where man's work seems to have endured. What 
 is most melancholy in human life is its evanescence. 
 Of the work of the artist, whether of him who works in 
 colors, in metals, in stone, or merely in words, the last, 
 which seems the most fleeting, often is the most endur- 
 ing. Great paintings perish by fire, by insects, or by 
 decay. Great statues sink into the ground or are 
 destroyed by vandals. Great buildings fall, either by 
 the elements or by the hand of man. Yet the written 
 word often remains sometimes the spoken word, 
 for Homer's winged words, tradition says, were handed 
 down by word of mouth for many ages before they were 
 set upon the page. Yet even of this work of man, at 
 times, little endures. It is only by tradition that we 
 know of the fame of Sappho as a poet. How much 
 will be left of Shakespeare in a thousand years ? How 
 much of the lesser bards of our own time in a hundred ? 
 
 We are taught to believe that the most enduring 
 work of human hands is the building, the edifice, the 
 monument. Nothing in the elder time was wrought 
 with greater care than the creation of the mason the 
 hall, the castle, the palace, the tower, the temple, the 
 tomb. But even these structures do not endure. 
 Nothing human can. Every creation of man, whether 
 it be a mighty city or a mighty state, must, in the long 
 procession of the ages, pass away. All things human 
 are fleeting. All the works of man are ephemeral. 
 Those things builded by the hands of men pass, as did 
 their builders. Great cities have been born, have 
 
 [394] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 lived, have died, and men know not where they stood. 
 To-day antiquarians squabble over the sites of Car- 
 thage and of Sidon, of Troy and of Tyre. 
 
 Where now the great buildings of London and 
 of Paris stand, some day there will again be lonely 
 marshes. Where once the Grand Louvetier, or Royal 
 Wolf Ward, guarded the Louvre park and its pavilions, 
 there again dense forests will come down to the river's 
 bank, and out of the wilderness wolves will sally forth 
 to prowl once more over the site of what is now the 
 palace of the Louvre. Where now the vast tides of 
 human millions roar through London's Strand and 
 pour over Thames's bridges there will some day be 
 silence. Far down below the foundations of the Tower 
 Bridge, built but yesterday, there are Roman ruins. 
 Below these Roman ruins there are the stilt foundations 
 of Lacustrine dwellers in the mud. Where New 
 York's stately structures of steel and stone make arti- 
 ficial sky-lines on the backbone of Manhattan Island 
 
 where to-day is heard the tramp of busy millions 
 - where Trinity's chimes ring out above the roaring 
 
 of the bulls and bears where hoarse blasts from 
 steamer-whistles sound ever on the river and the bay 
 
 some day there will be no sound on the land save 
 the hum of insects and the twittering of birds; no 
 sound from the water save the plash of a fish and 
 the lapping of the tide. Manhattan Island, which 
 once was swamp and rock, will again be rock and 
 swamp. 
 
 Man's cities, his monuments, his buildings, do not 
 
 [395] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 endure. Out of his handiwork, tombs and temples 
 have melted into the sands from which they sprung. 
 In Farther India one may see stately temples, ruins 
 that once were temples, mounds that once were ruins. 
 So rank and luxuriant is tropical vegetation that the 
 powerful plants grasp at the stones with roots and 
 boughs, and pull them from their places. Who has 
 not seen a ruin in the humid tropics does not know 
 what a ruin is. 
 
 If the ancient peoples who builded as if for all time 
 have left so little trace behind them; if the sites of such 
 cities as Carthage and Tyre are uncertain, how little 
 will be left of our trumpery modern cities. The stately 
 Houses of Parliament, which make the City of West- 
 minster an architectural oasis in the brick-and-mortar 
 desert of London, are already crumbling, although 
 built only half a century ago. Not only is the soft 
 stone fast yielding to the elements, but there have been 
 even fears as to the structural stability of the buildings. 
 Parliamentary commissions have worked upon the 
 problem; millions have been expended in addition to 
 the initial millions; yet still the beautiful buildings are 
 fast hastening to decay. All this in less than a hundred 
 years. So at Oxford the stone in the college build- 
 ings is perishing so rapidly that many structures dating 
 from Tudor or Jacobean times look older than Egyp- 
 tian temples erected a thousand years before Christ 
 was born. 
 
 Hitherto Egypt would seem to have defied these laws 
 of ruin, these edicts of decay. Although she has not 
 
 [396] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 had that rank luxuriant vegetation which In more 
 humid climes pulls down huge masses of stone, she, too, 
 has her enemies. She lies between desert and ocean, 
 a slender strip, and desert and ocean are ever gnawing 
 at her sides. But in the face of ocean and desert her 
 mighty structures have stood. Where other dynasties 
 repose only on tradition, her haughty Pharaohs have 
 left their bodies in colossal tombs, their histories graven 
 on stone. Where other rulers' very names have been 
 forgotten, the Egyptian monarchs have left their records, 
 their names, their ciphers for after ages to read. For 
 forty centuries these gigantic ruins have stood in the 
 shifting sands of Egypt, pecked at by Coptic Christians, 
 scratched at by European Christians, buried under the 
 rubbish of village Arabs, hidden by the kitchen-midden 
 of Bedouins. Yet still have these stately structures 
 stood, defying decay, the work of the elements, and the 
 vandal hand of modern man. 
 
 But not in all of Egypt. Where the humid Delta 
 begins, there begins also decay. Cairo stands at the 
 apex of the Delta, an ancient city, but with no 
 ancient monuments. A city stood there when history 
 began; there was another city when Christ was born; 
 there was a new Cairo when Mohammed uplifted the 
 crescent against the cross. In truth, Cairo can scarcely 
 be called "an ancient city," but rather a succession of 
 cities. Probably there is nothing in it dating back of 
 the middle ages, and its oldest monument is Saladin's 
 citadel. 
 
 So with the city near the ancient Canopic mouth of 
 
 [397] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 the Nile. Under the modern Alexandria lies the Alex- 
 andria of Alexander; for the modern city is but a mush- 
 room of yesterday. What remains of the ancient city? 
 Nothing but its name. Of the magnificent temple of 
 Serapis, of the Cesareum, of the four thousand palaces 
 of which contemporaneous historians wrote, what now 
 remains ? Nothing not even their ruins not even 
 their foundations, for no man knows where they stood. 
 Excavations reveal nothing. Even boring shows no 
 sign of the ancient city; it shows only rubbish, 
 and underlying the rubbish it shows subterranean 
 water. 
 
 Some archaeologists explain the utter absence of 
 any vestige of the palaces and temples of ancient 
 Alexandria by the subsidence of the sandy soil, and 
 the encroachment of the Mediterranean. Others hold 
 that the humid climate of the Delta has wrought the 
 usual ruin found in all humid lands; that had Alexan- 
 dria possessed the rainless winter and the dry atmos- 
 phere of Upper Egypt, many of her ancient monuments 
 would still be standing. 
 
 However that may be, there is no trace left of ancient 
 Alexandria, save its name. Perhaps not even its site 
 is certain, for archaeologists are not agreed that the 
 ancient city lay on the same spot as modern Alexandria. 
 A little Greek fishing village was selected by Alexander 
 as the site of his city a village called Rhacotis. 
 Tradition points out a certain spot on the Alexandrian 
 quays where Rhacotis lies buried. It may or may not 
 be true. If the tradition be true, the little fishing vil- 
 
 [398] 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 lage has left fully as much to after ages as did the 
 mighty city nothing but its name. 
 
 Thus, when it has seemed as if Egypt were an excep- 
 tion to the universal, the melancholy rule of the eva- 
 nescence of human things, it was only a seeming. Again 
 is modern man engaged in tearing down what ancient 
 man had built. So massive are the ruins of Egypt that 
 man has as yet been unable to accomplish this task of 
 destruction with the work of his puny hands. For 
 ages he has used the ruins for quarries, but still they 
 stand. Even what he is doing is unconscious, for he 
 is laboring in other ways. Now as always it is nature 
 which is working, with man as her medium. The 
 gigantic Egyptian ruins which have defied man for so 
 many centuries will at last yield to the elemental 
 forces of nature, those forces set loose by man. The 
 colossal irrigation system due to modern engineering is 
 already changing the climate of the lower Nile. Where 
 once the climate in Lower Egypt was hot and dry it is 
 now hot and humid. Where once rain was almost 
 unknown, now it falls heavily through the winter. 
 Violent alterations of temperature are now quite fre- 
 quent throughout the region of the Delta. This 
 climatic change is slowly creeping up the great river. 
 Many hundred miles above the Delta, where once rain 
 never fell, where from century to century no drop of 
 water dampened the parched bosom of the desert, now 
 light showers are not unknown. As the land grows 
 moister, showers will become more frequent. As it is 
 turned into a garden, rain will fall plentifully, as in 
 
 [399] 
 
Retrospect and Forecast 
 
 other humid lands. The rapid destruction of ruins 
 as is happening at Philae by the construction of the 
 great dam is a mere incident. That is as nothing 
 compared with what will occur when the climatic 
 changes caused by irrigation will bring about a regular 
 rain-fall. Then the great ruins will be subject to the 
 same climatic cataclysms as in other lands. Then 
 the sharply chiselled edges of the royal cartouches, the 
 dynastic histories on tomb and temple and obelisk, 
 will be dulled, crumbled, and finally obliterated. And 
 at last, yielding to the same causes as in other lands, 
 tomb and temple and obelisk will fall. 
 
 [400] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abbas II., 379. 
 
 Achmed, 355. 
 
 Abdul Hamid, Sultan, 119, 170. 
 
 Achmet Mohammed, 257. 
 
 Acropolis, the, 78, 81, 83, 91. 
 
 Agnano, 23. 
 
 Alexander, Tomb of, 104. 
 
 Alexandria, 398; riot in, 372, 381. 
 
 AH, Mehemet, 391. 
 
 AH Yusef, 322. 
 
 Amphitheatres, 23. 
 
 Anglo-Turkish Convention, 378. 
 
 Araby, Achmed, 370, 381. 
 
 Areopagus, 84. 
 
 Army of Occupation, 374, 376, 
 
 378. 
 
 Ashkenazim, 239. 
 Assiout, 308, 387. 
 Assouan, 323, 378, 383, 387. 
 Athens, 77, 80, 81; mountebanks 
 
 in, 94; money of, 96. 
 
 Baia, 29, 41. 
 
 Baker, Valentine, 376, 379. 
 
 Baring, Major Evelyn, 365, 368. 
 
 Beaconsfield, Lord, 364. 
 
 Bernhardt, Sarah, 114. 
 
 Bethesda, Pool of, 174. 
 
 Bethlehem, 231. 
 
 Biarritz, 277. 
 
 Bismarck, 368. 
 
 Bonaparte, 68. 
 
 Bosphorus, 100. 
 
 Cairo, 257, 397. 
 Calvary, Gordon's, 197. 
 Capitulations, 295. 
 Capua, 41. 
 
 Caravansary, Famous, 264. 
 
 Castile soap, 146. 
 
 Cataract, First, 323, 333. 
 
 Cave, Mr., 365. 
 
 Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre, 
 
 200; of St. Helena, 200. 
 Chiaia, the, 21. 
 Choo-Choo Charley, 37. 
 Christians in Jerusalem, 175, 
 
 216, 233. 
 Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 
 
 175; of the Finding of the 
 
 Cross, 20 1. 
 
 Churchill, Randolph, 380. 
 Citadel, the, Jerusalem, 172. 
 Commission of Inquiry, 366; of 
 
 Liquidation, 369. 
 Commissioners of the Public 
 
 Debt, 365. 
 Constantinople, 101, 261; dogs 
 
 of, 109; amusements in, 114. 
 Control, the Dual, 368, 381. 
 Controllers, Permanent, 365. 
 Convention of 1899, 380. 
 Countess of Pierrefonds, 279. 
 Cromer, Lord, 365, 379. 
 Cumae, 41. 
 
 Dardanelles, the, 99. 
 
 Davis, Theodore M., 315. 
 
 Dead Sea, 232. 
 
 Debt, Public, Commissioners of 
 
 the, 365. 
 
 Delta, the, 387, 390. 
 Derby, Lord, 366. 
 Digma, Osman, 376. 
 Dikearkia, 41. 
 Dome of the Rock, 202. 
 
 [ 4 0l] 
 
Index 
 
 Dual Control, the, 368, 381. 
 Dufferin, Lord, 374. 
 
 "Echelles du Levant," 7. 
 
 Edfu, 322. 
 
 Egypt, newspapers of, 285; gov- 
 ernment of, 295; climate of, 
 301, 358; Upper, 313; excava- 
 tions in, 314; foreigners in, 
 343; England in, 363, 383; 
 France in, 365; Germany in, 
 367; agriculture in, 387. 
 
 El-Azhar, University of, 285. 
 
 Elephantine, city of, 332; Island, 
 
 3 2 4, 332. 
 
 El-Teb, Battle of, 376. 
 England in Egypt, 363, 383. 
 Ephesus, 142. 
 Erechtheion, 87. 
 Eriha, 232. 
 
 Eugenie, ex-Empress, 275. 
 European powers in Palestine, 
 
 237- 
 
 Famous Caravansary, 264. 
 
 Fashoda, 380, 381. 
 
 Fire, Holy, 200. 
 
 First Cataract, 323, 333. 
 
 Floriana, 67. 
 
 Floriane, Pietro Paulo, 67. 
 
 Fort, of St. Elmo, 62; Ricasoli, 
 
 62; Manoel, 62. 
 Fothergill, Dr. J. Minor, 225. 
 France in the Orient, 235, 237; 
 
 in Egypt, 365. 
 Funicular railway on Mount 
 
 Vesuvius, 42, 47, 
 Fuorigrotta, 22. 
 
 Gabriel, 183. 
 
 Galata, 101, 107, 112; bridge, 
 
 261. 
 Germany in Palestine, 237; in 
 
 Egypt, 3 6 7- 
 Ghezireh Hotel, 276. 
 Gibraltar, 67. 
 
 Gladstone, Mr., 371, 374, 377. 
 Golden Horn, the, 102; bridge 
 
 across, 132. 
 
 Gordon, General, 197, 282, 307, 
 
 374, 376, 381, 382. 
 "Gordon's Calvary," 197. 
 
 Halikalis, 288. 
 
 Halucca, the, 240. 
 
 Hamid, Abdul, 119, 170. 
 
 Harem-esh-Sherif, 202. 
 
 Hassan, Mohammed, 338. 
 
 Hatasu, Queen, 311. 
 
 Herculaneum, 34, 41. 
 
 Herod's palace, 172. 
 
 Hicks Pasha, 375. 
 
 Hill of Mars, 84. 
 
 "Holy Fire," 200. 
 
 Holy Sepulchre, Church of the, 
 
 175; Chapel of the, 200. 
 Horn, Golden, the, 102; bridge 
 
 across, 132. 
 
 Inquiry, Commission of, 365. 
 
 International Egyptian Tribu- 
 nals, 365, 367, 368. 
 
 Island of Philae, 324. 
 
 Ismail, 275, 364, 381, 391. 
 
 Italian map, 24; stone walls, 25; 
 roads, 25; beggars, 30; boy, 53. 
 
 Jaffa, 153, 244; Gate, 170. 
 Jaffa and Jerusalem Railway, 
 
 !55- 
 
 Jerusalem, 153, 165, 187, 209; 
 Franciscan school in, 190; 
 streets of, 199; sects in, 170, 
 175, 209, 216; Jaffa and, Rail- 
 way, 155. 
 
 "Jerusalem Hotel," 155. 
 
 Jews in the Holy Land, 239. 
 
 Jordan, water from the, 215; 
 Valley of the, 232. 
 
 Karnak, 308. 
 
 Khalifa, the, 378. 
 
 Khartoum, 307, 377, 379, 381, 
 
 382. 
 Khedive, 275, 286, 364, 370, 378, 
 
 379- 
 Kings, Tombs of the, 311, 315. 
 
 [402] 
 
Index 
 
 Kitchener, Lord, 324, 379, 380, 
 
 381. 
 
 Knights of Malta, 69. 
 Kom Ombos, Temples of, 323. 
 
 Lacrimae Cristi wine, 41. 
 
 Levant, the, 3, 5. 
 
 Levantine lines, 8, 253; crews on, 
 
 10; passengers on, n, 253. 
 Liquidation, Commission of, 369, 
 
 374- 
 Luxor, 308, 314. 
 
 Mahdi, the, 374, 377, 381. 
 Malta, 61, 64, 66, 67, 72, 73; 
 
 Knights of, 69. 
 Manoel, Fort, 62. 
 Marchand, Major, 380. 
 Maronites, 235. 
 Mars, Hill of, 84. 
 Maspero, Professor, 315. 
 Mehemet AH, 391. 
 Mohammed, Achmet, 257. 
 Mohammed Hassan, 338. 
 Montefiore, Sir Moses, 167. 
 Mosque of Omar, 202. 
 Mount Moriah, 202. 
 
 Naples, 1 6; reform movement in, 
 17; changes in, 17; hotels of, 
 21 ; villas of, 27. 
 
 Napoleon, 68. 
 
 Neapolis, 41. 
 
 Nike, Temple of, 85. 
 
 Nikita, Prince, 230. 
 
 Nile, the, 305, 321. 
 
 Nubar Pasha, 366, 378. 
 
 Occupation, Army of, 374, 376, 
 
 378. 
 
 Octroi barrier, 33. 
 Old Seraglio, 103. 
 Omar, Mosque of, 202. 
 Omdunnann, 379. 
 
 Palaeopolis, 41. 
 
 Palestine, 226, soil of, 157; 
 Russia in, 166, 237; piety, 
 
 209; quarantine in, 224; Prot- 
 estants in, 236; Germany in, 
 237; European powers in, 237. 
 
 Parthenon, 85. 
 
 Parthenope, 41. 
 
 Pera, 101, 104, 107, 112. 
 
 Permanent Controllers, 365. 
 
 Philae, 400; Island of, 324. 
 
 Philippines, United States in, 382. 
 
 Piedigrotta tunnels, 22. 
 
 Pierrefonds, Countess of, 279. 
 
 Pompeii, 35, 40, 41. 
 
 Pool of Bethesda, 174. 
 
 Port Said, 256. 
 
 Posilippo drive, 22, 27. 
 
 Pozzuoli, 41. 
 
 Propylaea, 85. 
 
 Protestants in Palestine, 236. 
 
 Public Debt, Commissioners of 
 the, 365. 
 
 Puteoli, 41. 
 
 Railway, funicular, on Mount 
 Vesuvius, 42, 47; from Jaffa 
 to Jerusalem, 155. 
 
 Redcliffe, Lord Stratford de, 113. 
 
 Resina, 32, 40, 41; guides of, 48, 
 
 5i- 
 
 Rhacotis, 398. 
 Ricasoli, Fort, 62. 
 Roberts College, 161, 236. 
 Rock, Dome of the, 202. 
 Rothschild, 364. 
 Russia in Palestine, 166, 237. 
 
 Sakia, 331, 332. 
 
 Salisbury, 377, 378. 
 
 "Santa Lucia," 16, 46, 47. 
 
 Saredo, Senator, 17. 
 
 Scutari, 101. 
 
 Sects in Jerusalem, 170, 175, 
 
 209, 216, 233, 239. 
 Selamlik, 121; troops at, 125. 
 Sephardim, 239. 
 Seraglio, Old, 103. 
 Seymour, Admiral, 373. 
 Shadouf, 331. 
 Sir Rudolph Von Slatin Pasha, 
 
 280. 
 
 [403] 
 
Index 
 
 Smyrna, 141; bazaars of, 143. 
 
 Solomon, Temple of, 202. 
 
 Soudan, the, 374, 380. 
 
 "Spots Where," 195, 204. 
 
 St. Elmo, Fort of, 62. 
 
 Stabiae, 41. 
 
 Stamboul, 101, 104, 107, 261. 
 
 Stratford, Lord, 113. 
 
 Suessola, 41. 
 
 Suez Canal, 364, 373. 
 
 Sultan Abdul Hamid, 119; 170. 
 
 Sweet waters, 105, no. 
 
 Syrian coast, 154, 224. 
 
 Tel el-Kebir, Battle of, 373. 
 Temple of Nike, 85; of Solomon, 
 
 202; Square, 172; Enclosure, 
 
 202. 
 
 Tewfik, 368. 
 Thebes, plain of, 314. 
 Toledo, the, 19. 
 Times, London, 223. 
 
 "Tomb of Alexander," 104. 
 
 Tombs of the Kings, 311, 315. 
 
 Tourist agencies, 45. 
 
 Town-Dweller, The, 225. 
 
 Tribunals, International Egyp- 
 tian, 365, 367, 368. 
 
 Turkish money, 242; post-offices, 
 243- 
 
 University of El-Azhar, 285. 
 Uriel, 186. 
 
 Valetta, 61, 65, 67, 72. 
 Vesuvius, 39, 41; funicular rail- 
 way on, 42, 47; crater of, 50. 
 
 Water from the Jordan, 215. 
 Wilson, Mr. Rivers, 366. 
 Wolsely, Lord, 377. 
 
 Yildez, 119. 
 Yusef, AH, 322. 
 
 [404] 
 

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