"If Mr. Chester of the U.S. has come here to sweep away all this he is an enemy of Art.
"I love creature comforts—warmth, baths, and perfumes, but I sincerely trust no fever of reform will ever induce the Turks to spoil their surroundings; and, above all, that they will never call in American specialists to teach them building achievements. By all means let them adopt American hygiene; but American architecture, God forbid!
"I will pay honour where honour is due. To all who have so nobly perpetuated the work of Florence Nightingale I bow the knee. But what will American innovations do for Turkey?
"In the East End of New York, America's melting-pot, I once saw a picturesque old Jew reading Spinoza in the original, as he sat absorbed on the sidewalk. His velvet cap was old and shabby, the long grizzly beard maybe none too clean; but in the primitive robes of his ancient race he looked a true Oriental.
"Then appeared his 'American son'—a 'Bowery' accent, many smart rings, a costly gold watchchain across his brightly-coloured waistcoat, spats and patents, and a 'time is money' expression on his alert face. Which of the generations would you prefer?
"If the Turk ever asks our advice, I sincerely hope no 'counsels from Europe' will ever replace the artistic traditions of the East. . . . Europeanised Turks are not the 'best' Turks.
"You have already, alas, in the Hippodrome at Constantinople, that cheap, 'made in Germany' monstrosity of a fountain, which the once-mighty Emperor William bequeathed to you as the 'souvenir' of a visit to 'his brother,' Abdul Hamid! Why has war left it untouched?"
It was a strange comfort to compare the happy faces of these men with those one knew under the late Sultans. In those days, two or three meeting together in a café were always in fear of arrest as "suspects."
