Towards the rising sun; a story of travel and adventure

Front matter

not

WARDSTHER1SING SUN

Of

I

Departure from Constantinople. — The Prince of Samos. — Passenger Types. — The Hellespont and the Coast of Troy. — Suicide at Sea. — An Evening at Mithylene. — Arrival in Smyrna.

For the first time in a week the sun was shining brightly upon the labyrinth of houses forming that part of Constantinople which is called "Pera." It seemed as if Old Sol would share my pleasure as I stood upon the deck of the Austrian Lloyd steamer "Apollo" and saw the Golden Horn, the old Seraglio, the Mosque of St. Sophia gradually disappear on the horizon.

I was overjoyed to escape the dirt, the dogs, the rancid fish odors, and most of all the awful night-watchmen who for the last eight nights had disturbed my rest. The poor devils are, however, excusable since it is an ancient custom of Turkish night-watchmen to inform their constituents by the continual knocking of their heavy iron-shod canes upon the pavement that they are alert in the performance of their duties. Such an uninterrupted tattoo, kept up during the whole night, is not conducive to sleep, and during the past week my nerves had been in a state of extreme tension. Heavy rains had been interrupted only by light snows, and the inch-deep slippery mud upon the cobble-stone pavements had kept me almost a prisoner in the hotel. Under such conditions I was glad to leave old Byzanz behind me, and walked the upper deck with light steps and heart, enjoying the beautiful panorama of the Bosphorus which stretched to the right and left.

The classic and the modern here pass kaleidoscopically before mind and eye. Where to-day modern forts, armed with Krupp guns, threaten from the shores lorded over by the Turk, once the hordes of Darius, the Goths and the Crusaders ruled in succession ; upon these same waters, now furrowed by modern steamships, sailed the vessels of the Argonauts.

Only too soon were we out of the strait and on the Sea of Marmora. The hilly shores retreated on both sides, and the picturesque group of the Prince Islands, guarding the entrance to the Bosphorus, were soon visible only in misty outlines. I now devoted my attention to the steamer and its passengers. The large Turkish flag flying from the highest mast first attracted my attention, since the hoisting of it on an Austrian passenger-boat indicated the presence on board of some high Turkish official. In answer to my question, the captain told me that we had on board the Prince and Princess of Samos with their suite of servants. The Prince of Samos ! What an interesting personality ! While not a direct descendant of the mythical Polycrates, owing his exalted station only to the Sultan's grace, he still rules, almost independently over that classical island off the shores of Asia Minor. I was naturally anxious to see him and when the captain further informed me that the Prince and Princess, beside myself, were the only first-class passengers, and that we were to have seats in the dining-room at his table, I was glad that fate had thus favored my desires.

The passengers of the second cabin, of whom there were but few, and those of the crowded steerage, consisted largely of Greeks, Turks and Syrians, the male sex predominating by far. Here and there a broad face with prominent cheek bones betrayed a traveler from the northern shores of the Black Sea. Of the female passengers only a small group of two women with several children were interesting. They had made themselves comfortable for the trip upon pillows and rugs in a well-protected part of the lower deck. Their costumes and half-veiled faces stamped them Syrian Mohammedans, and the traitorous white Yashmak of one of them showed plainly the

Musurus Bey, Prince of Samos outlines of a youthful face, out of which a pair of brilliant black eyes looked about inquisitively. Close to this group sat, Turkish fashion, an elderly man who occasionally exchanged a few words with the women and whose main occupation was the rolling and smoking of cigarettes. The two women were also smoking, but under difficulties, as they were compelled to lift their Yashmaks carefully for every pull at their cigarettes.

While I was walking about among the groups of travelers, it had become noon, and the steward's bell was calling to dinner. I hurried to my cabin and soon after entered the dining-room. At the only table set, the captain, the Prince and the Princess were already in their seats. The steward showed me to my place, next to the Princess, and a mutual introduction by the captain followed. The Prince was a squatty man, slightly embonpoint, with brown hair and full beard, both mixed with gray. According to Turkish fashion, he kept his fez upon his head during the meal. Although a Greek, his features did not betray the slightest trace of that type. The Princess was an amiable lady of about forty years, whose face, although having lost some of its former beauty, could still be called very attractive. Musurus Bey, I learned afterwards, had married her as the daughter of a rich Greek merchant in Alexandria. Before he had been appointed to his present office, he had represented the Sublime Porte as Minister Plenipotentiary at various European courts, and he, as well as the Princess, spoke six modern languages with the fluency peculiar to natives of the Levant.

The conversation turned upon the occurrences of the day, and at first Italian was spoken, which language I did not understand sufficiently to participate. The captain, on the other hand, understood but little English, and we, therefore, soon fell into French, with which we all were familiar. The subject soon changed to America and American political and commercial conditions, concerning which the Prince showed a lively interest. After dinner we enjoyed our cigars, sitting on the upper deck, in animated conversation, which was this time in English, and later the Princess joined us. In the course of the afternoon I found Muslims Bey to be an enthusiastic amateur photographer, although a novice, and I had occasion to give him some useful points in the art of Daguerre, which tended to make our intercourse more intimate. We photographed each other, exchanged cards, and before the

Female Passenger Types, S. S. Apollo.

steamer arrived in Gallipoli, near the northern entrance of the Dardanelles, I received a kind invitation from Musurus Bey to visit him and his island from Smyrna, which was my next point of travel.

The "Apollo" dropped anchor for a few hours in the Port of Rodosto and did not pass the Dardanelles until the next morning-. With early dawn I was awake so as not to miss any part of the interesting classical shores. The sun rose above a magnificent landscape in which the geometrical lines of forts and hidden batteries were relieved by the soft outlines of barren or wooded hills and white groups of houses which seemed to be pasted to the slopes.

Across what part of this old Hellespont did Leander swim and on what promontory did Hero await him ? To be sure, there is a Leander Tower (also called the Tower of the Virgin) at the outlet of the Bosphorus into the Sea of Marmora, but it is certain that shores of the Hellespont and not the Bosphorus were the nightly meetingplace of the celebrated lovers.

Even more than the Bosphorus, the Hellespont has its historical reminiscences. Almost opposite Gallipoli on the Asiatic side was situated old Lampsacus, to-day an insignificant hamlet. Farther south on the European side, the mouth of the Kara-ova-sou designates the ancient Aegos Potamos, where Lysander conquered the Athenians and thereby put an end to the Peloponnesian war. Then follow the sites of Sestos and Abydos between which places Xerxes struck his famous bridge across the Hellespont. Upon an elevation dominating Sestos stands Castle Zemenik, upon the walls of which the Turkish flag was first planted on European soil by Soliman I. Nearer to the Aegean Sea are situated the castles of the Dardanelles from which the Strait derives its name, and the fortifications of Eski-Hissarlik near which some ruins mark the site of ancient Leontis. At the outlet of the Dardanelles, near Yeni-Shehr, two mounds, which are generally pointed out to the travelers by some obliging officer, attract the attention. They are supposed to be the tombs of Achilles and Patroclus. Not far from here is the mouth of the t

Homeric Skamander which winds its way through the plain of Troy. Hoary reminiscences crowd each other at the view of these classical sites and call forth the shades of Ulysses, Agamemnon and other heroes of the Iliad. The steamer sails close to the shore and keeps its course between the coast and the Island of Imbros. Soon Tenedos comes in sight. From this place came the serpents to which Laocoon and his sons fell prey, and in that bay yonder, the Greeks hid their fleet after leaving the wooden horse of Ulysses before Troy.

With such thoughts as these I sat the whole day upon the deck, only occasionally exchanging a few words with the Prince, who was occupied in taking snapshots of the passengers and the coast. To him and the Princess, all this had become commonplace. They had made the trip too often. Late in the afternoon, Lesbos, the modern Mithylene, came in view. As we approached this island where the "Apollo" was to stop for a few hours, Tenedos was still showing- in the north above the water-line, and Lemnos, with its double summit of volcanic origin where mvthology places the forge of Vulcan, remained plainly visible.

While the steamer rapidly approached the jumbled mass of white houses appearing in the background of the Bay of Mithylene, excited screams from the stern end suddenly rent the air. Everyone hurriedly repaired to that part of the boat. Passengers and sailors were crowding each other at the railing, pointing excitedly to a dark object which appeared at some distance upon the lightly undulating waves. A passenger had jumped overboard. The order to reverse the engine had already been given, and soon the steamer stopped. Within a few moments a boat was lowered and the first officer with several sailors rowed quickly towards the place where the dark object still showed on the surface. After a few minutes they had reached it, and the body, which had been kept afloat by a wide furkaftan, was pulled into the boat. Meanwhile the ship's ladder had been lowered, and the unconscious suicide, a well-dressed Turkish passenger of the second cabin, was soon laid out on deck. The surgeon was already waiting, and, with the help of a few sailors, immediately began work upon the body, trying to fan the dying spark into life again. Although hardly ten or fifteen minutes had elapsed between the jumping overboard and the picking up of the body, there was no sign of life discernible, and after two hours' of hard work the perspiring physician and his assistants gave up as vain all further attempts.

This sad incident prolonged our stay in Mithylene, as a report to the authorities had to be made regarding the suicide, after his body had been taken ashore. It had become dark by the time the necessary formalities were concluded, and since I had waited for the ship's surgeon, who had offered to go ashore with me, we had hardly two or three hours left for a stroll through the poorly lighted streets. It is natural that under the circumstances we could not get a full and correct impression of the town. We could, however, observe that the streets were fairly clean, and that the handsome white houses, many of which were built of wood, indicated a general prosperity. The sound of music coming from several cafes tempted us to enter one for the purpose of taking refreshments and to observe its frequenters more closely. We had not been seated long, when an itinerant vender offered us some illustrated postal-cards of the town. Each of us had a list of names of collectors in our note-books, so we availed ourselves of the opportunity to buy and send off a few of these handy messages.

Concerning this subject of souvenir postal-cards, I should like to give my readers a well-meant warning to keep secret any traveling plans they may have, and more so from European friends and acquaintances. The mania

Male Passenger Types, S. S. Apollo.

for collecting these souvenirs is raging in Europe to such a degree, especially among the dear ladies, that not only relatives and friends, but simple acquaintances and casual traveling companions besiege you most urgently, as soon as it becomes known that you are about to undertake a long voyage. If the journey is to extend to countries off the beaten track of tourists, it may happen that requests for pictorial postal-cards are received verbally or by letter from young ladies whom you have, perhaps, a speaking acquaintance, or even by entire strangers. "Oh ! how I envy you," "How I would like to travel with you," and "I certainly will return the favor," etc., is what they tell you with their most bewitching smile, and it is very hard to deny such a modest request. During a long trip through Europe several years ago, I had a list of not less than forty-four persons, among whom there was even an old Austrian colonel, to all of whom I had promised to send at least one postal-card from every large city which I visited. At first this did not cause me much inconvenience, and I kept my promise conscientiously; very soon, however, I found that I had taken upon me a heavier burden than I could carry, for aside from the not inconsiderable expense (I spent more than $30 for postal-cards during that trip) the loss of time even if I only addressed, dated and signed these cards, was such that I was compelled gradually to cut down my list and at last I retained on it only the names of relatives and intimate friends. On my present voyage I had dropped even some of these and yet I had sixteen addresses in my note-book. However, I derive some consolation from the fact that my cosufferers are legion and in spite of my own troubles I cannot suppress a malicious smile when I see them immediately upon arriving at a hotel, rush to the "portier" for that kind of stationery. They frequently do not even take the time to brush off the dust of travel before hastening into the writing-room.

The rapidity with which manufacturers and merchants have taken advantage of this collecting mania, is remarkable, and one may now get souvenir cards in most out-ofthe-way places, where one would hardly expect to find them, as, for example, in Ephesus, Luxor, Aden, Kandy, Benares, etc. Nearly all of them are "made in Germany."

The postal-card vender was followed by other peddlers who offered various knicknacks, and since we were the only strangers in the cafe, we soon had the attention of the natives centered upon us. A young man offered us some ancient Greek coins, among which I found a really beautiful and rare piece, but the price asked was so high that I had to abandon the idea of buying, much as I would have liked to own it.

My interest in coins was soon noticed and another young man offered to take us to a dealer in the neighborhood, who, as he assured us, kept a fine stock of coins and other antiquities at reasonable prices. As we had more than an hour at our disposal we accepted this offer and followed our guide through several dark and narrow streets into a comfortable-looking house where we were received by a stately Greek matron. The merchant himself was not at home, but we were invited to enter a neatlyfurnished reception-room on the ground floor and a messenger was immediately dispatched for the master of the house.

While we were waiting for the latter, two very handsome young girls of truest Greek type emerged from the upper rooms with some refreshments on a platter. The latter consisted of a cup of conserves in which a small spoon was placed and of two glasses filled with water. The platter was first offered to me, but since I did not know what to do with the things on it I allowed it to be passed to the doctor, ostensibly out of politeness, but in reality, to observe the way in which he would help himself. He had often before visited the islands of the Greek Archipelago, spoke some modern Greek, and in all probability knew how to take the refreshments in the proper way. I, for my part, did not know what to do with a cup of conserves, a single spoon and two glasses of water. The doctor justified my expectations to the fullest degree by mixing some of the conserves with the spoon into a glass of water, which mixture he drank after returning the spoon to the cup. The girls, however, must have noticed the object of my passing the platter for they were giggling together in a corner while observing me with furtive glances. Shortly after the master of the house appeared and the young girls retired with their mother, after heartily shaking hands with us and wishing us Godspeed. We examined with great interest a number of beautiful vases, terra cotta figures and coins which were kept in an adjoining room, but we became suspicious when I discovered several excellent forgeries among the latter, and decided not to buy anything. We, therefore, took leave as soon as possible under the excuse of being in too great a hurry to make a selection. Our boat was waiting at the quay and we were quickly rowed to our steamer, which soon after raised anchor.

Next morning we were near the entrance to the Bay of Smyrna. I made use of the time until landing by photographing several types of passengers who were specially attractive. With the help of an interpreter and a good baksheesh I succeeded in getting a picture, without yashmak, of the younger one of the Syrian women mentioned before. An old Turk furnished a fine model of a biblical Patriarch. Some trouble, but much fun, I had with another Turk whom I tried to photograph, and who, noticing my intentions, succeeded for a long time in thwarting my object. At last I succeeded in getting a snap-shot of him just as he turned around with a satirical smile thinking that he had escaped another attempt. His smile on the picture seems to say: "You can't catch me with your infernal machine."

Coming from the sea, the view of Smyrna is magnificent. In the background appears the city with its white houses, cupolas and minarets stretching in a semi-circle around

Custom House landing in Smyrna.

the blue water of the harbor. To the north and separated from the city by a fertile valley, a range of hills rises against the horizon, while the view towards the south is limited by a sharp line of rugged mountains. Out of these rise the imposing summits of the "Two Brothers." Directly beyond the city rises Mont Pagus, the top of which is crowned by the ruins of a Genoese castle. The coloring of the landscape is thoroughly Oriental, and the sky is of that transparent deep blue which forms the despair of all painters who try to reproduce it.

The landing is made in small boats which surround the steamer immediately after the anchor has dropped, the boatsmen noisily soliciting the patronage of the travelers. After I had taken leave of Musurus Bey and the Princess, who once more invited me to be sure and visit Samos, I was rowed to the passenger custom house next to the landing bridge which stretches out into the harbor. A great crowd of officials, boatsmen, hammals and passengers filled the building. It was well that I had provided myself in Constantinople with a "Teskireh" (Turkish passport) without which no passenger is allowed to land. Foreign passports in the Sultan's domain are only good for Constantinople, and for the purpose of visiting other places, especially in Asiatic Turkey, it is absolutely necessary to have a special passport issued by the Turkish police authorities of the capital.

II

Ancient and Modern Smyrna. — The Quay. — The Rue Franoue and Rue Parallele. — The Bazaar. —

The Caravan Bridge. — Mont Pagus. — Mr. E —

Environs of Smyrna. — A Memorial of Sesostris.

Smyrna, in ancient times one of the wealthiest towns of Ionia, is one of the few historical cities which have preserved at least part of their former importance up to the present age. It is, however, hard to understand to-day by what qualities she may have gained the exaggerated epithets by which she has been known in ancient and modern times, such as "Smyrna the lovely," "The eye of Anatolia," "The crown of Ionia," "The pearl of the Orient," etc. The stranger, at least, cannot find, even during a prolonged stay, anything besides the magnificent climate, the beautiful gulf and the deep blue sky, that would justify these epithets. True, Smyrna at one time was an important city, the commercial center of the whole great territory of Asia Minor and even more distant eastern countries which sent here their caravans laden with Oriental products to be exchanged for the goods of the Occident. Since the introduction of steamers, however, and the growth of other seaports on the coast of Asia Minor, caused by the ever increasing steamship lines, its erstwhile monopoly of trade has been broken. Syria, Armenia and Persia are to-day independent of Smyrna, exporting and receiving their products largely through other channels. There was even a time for Smyrna, about the middle of the last century, when commerce and industry were lying fallow, when its harbor was almost forsaken and its streets bore no sign of the commercial activity which had made the city in ancient times the queen of Asia Minor. Lately long-needed reforms in commerce and industry, as well as two railroad lines leading into the interior, have improved conditions considerably, and the city has regained part of its former importance. Next to Constantinople, Smyrna is certainly to-day the largest commercial city of the Turkish Empire, and its harbor shows again something of the life which characterized it in ancient times.

Smyrna saw its greatest period of prosperity and splendor shortly after its rebuilding by Antigonus and Lysimachus, before which, for nearly 400 years, i.e., since its total destruction in 627 B. C, it had lain in ruins. Since then, its importance as a commercial place has slowly but steadily decreased, while it fell successively into the hands of many conquerors, such as the Greeks, Romans, Venetians, Genoese and Turks.

The glory of the city in antiquity did not rest alone upon its commerce, and there was a time when its inhabitants were known for their love of art and literature. Smyrna boasted once of one of the most renowned schools of rhetoric and philosophy, and disputed with six other cities the honor of being the birthplace of immortal Homer. Of the statue and the temple erected to the poet of the Iliad, there are, however, no traces left. Neither can the grotto on the shore of the little stream Meles be found, where Homer was said to have composed some of his epics. It seems as if the people of Smyrna are lacking that ingenuity which makes out of a water-hole a "Moses Well" and a plume from the wings of the Archangel Gabriel out of a parrot-feather.

There are hardly any antique remains left in Smyrna, and the interest of the traveler centers mainly in the picturesque activity of the Frank, Greek, Armenian and Jewish quarters, the great bazaar, the rug and carpet stores, and the port. The latter now generally harbors quite a number of vessels, among which the German, Austrian and Russian flags predominate. Greece and Italy are also represented by a considerable number of smaller craft.

View of Smyrna.

A stroll along the quays which extend a distance of about two miles, is generally the first thing a stranger undertakes after making himself comfortable in the hotel. A street-car line girdles the harbor completely, and offers a peculiar contrast to groups of camels walking with long strides a 1 ongside the tracks carrying their heavy loads to warehouses and steamers. That part of the port which lies between the landing place and the main custom house contains mostly smaller shops, ship chandlers and steamship-line offices, sailors' taverns and low dives of all sorts, and is said to be a dangerous place at night-time.

The other part of the quay, beginning at the Hotel Huck and extending in an opposite direction would bear almost an European character, were it not for the Oriental architecture of some of the houses and the semi-tropical vegetation. Here are modern hotels, residences and cafes and a number of clubs, . among which the Sporting Club, the Cercle Oriental, the Club Hellenique, the New Club and the Cercle Europeen are the foremost. In one of the cafes here I passed many a leisure hour sipping a glass of sherbet or a cup of Turkish coffee. Seated under the oleander trees in front of the cafe I also tried, like the natives, to smoke a Nargileh, the use of which with the necessary tobacco may be had from the waiters for a small fee. But in spite of my efforts to learn, I could find no pleasure in this method of smoking, which really necessitates a pair of leather lungs, and I had to content myself with cigarettes, which may be had here in excellent quality.

One of these cafes contains a telephone and the proprietor tells in connection therewith the following story of which, if untrue, one may say at leaest: "Si non e vero e bene trovato."

Shortly after the instrument had been installed, a Turkish hammal brought a verbal message to the proprietor with the request for an immediate answer. To give such it was necessary to consult another person by telephone and the messenger was ordered to wait until the man could be spoken to. While the telephonic conversation was carried on, the hammal's eyes came near bulging out of their sockets and the proprietor noticed, expressed in his face, the alternate feelings of astonishment and terror.

The conversation finished, the proprietor turned to the waiting messenger : "Mr. N. . . . says that he cannot procure the promised goods. Tell this to your master !" With eyes still wide open the hammal answered : "All right, master ! I will do so ;" and after a pause : "Excuse me, master, it is said that the Franks are on good terms with the devil, but, by the beard of the Prophet, you cannot make me believe that fat Mr. N . . . . is in that little box there."

The main streets of Smyrna next to the quay are the Rue Franque and the Rue Parallele, both of which run in the same direction. In these two streets, especially in the former, are situated the largest shops, which for Oriental conditions may certainly be called elegant. They are modern in every way and have prettily arranged show windows in which French and English goods predominate. Among them I noticed only one large shop after the pattern of American department stores. The main streets are frequently connected with each other by passages containing smaller stores and cafes. The pavement of the Rue Franque, and the Rue Parallele may be said to be excellent according to Turkish standards, and it is certainly far better than that of the grand Rue de Pera of Constantinople. In other parts Smyrna is badly paved, and nearly all streets lack sidewalks. Lately the municipality has attempted some improvements in this direction, and it is said that they intend to repave all streets in the course of time. The need of better pavements is a pressing one, but with the characteristic slowness of Turkish authorities, it will probably take a long time before this is achieved.

The rug stores of Smyrna are naturally the main attraction for the stranger and there are a considerable number of them in the Frank quarters as well as in the native bazaar. The stranger who visits these with the intention of making a purchase will find, however, to his great disappointment, that the prices demanded are such that, freight and duty taken into consideration, he may as well abandon his object, as he could buy the same goods in every large store of New York or Chicago at lower prices. How far the latter were affected by the circumstance that at the time of my sojourn, two representatives of American houses were buying goods in Smyrna, I am unable to say.

To the European or American the native bazaar certainly offers more interest than the modern business streets. Although it cannot compare with the great bazaar of Stamboul, the exceedingly rich selection of Oriental goods must satisfy the most critical visitor. The character of the thousand and one small stores forming the bazaar is the same as in Constantinople, and the merchants show the same greed and pertinacity. The main staples which attract the eye are arms and embroideries, but it is necessary to exert a good deal of caution in purchasing, since many of the beautiful old yatagans, flint-lock pistols and handjars, as well as some of the prettiest Oriental textile goods are "made in Germany" even if they do not bear that famous trade mark. Furs are also exhibited in great variety and at low prices, and the dried and candied fruits, a specialty of Smyrna, would tempt the most fastidious.