On Mediterranean Shores—III.—In a Balloon over Byzantium
[Further articles describing Herr Ludwig's impressions of the Near East will appear in succeeding weeks under the title of " Jewish Pioneers of Palestine " and Smyrna." The book from which these sketches are excerpts will be published by Messrs. Allen and Unwin next year.—En. Spectator.] AT the end of a little valley on the Asiatic coast of the Bosphorus a grey dragon lies sleeping. On three sides, the hills shelter him from the breeze, but he shakes and quivers a little when gusts blow up the valley. Nearby, in the meadow, are twenty diminutive tents, keeping watch over him, ranged in a row. A petroleum engine, too, has been set up in this out-of-the-way spot : lying on the ground are red cylinders looking like explosive shells ; and close to them, coiled up, is something which resembles a huge yellow snake. Couchant camels, twenty or thirty of them, are sniffing superciliously close at hand.
We ride nearer. The master of the dragon calls an order. Men come forth from the tents, run up to the monster, and handle him roughly, as if to wake him. Hardly have they removed the heavy bags of sand with which his master has weighed him down than he awakens, strains upward, and makes as if he. wished to rise into the air.
Into the air ! As the sand-bags are taken away, the balloon tugs at the cords which are held by a hundred hands and are attached to the net which covers it in. Now the great yellow serpent uncoils itself, and crawls towards the belly of the dragon. There is a hissing noise. The snake is feeding the dragon. The more the dragon swells, the more strenuously does he endeavour to rise. Hastily, lest he should escape, they fasten a wire rope to his breast. Snap ! Now he is held fast. Everything is done feverishly, as if there were great haste, and indeed he is in a fever to rise. Next, two thin wires are attached to him, a red one and a white one ; they will be his ears, The camels are restless. Hitherto they have been the largest beasts in the landscape, and they look morosely at the giant. Words I cannot understand are shouted. I am in a world of fable, far away in the East.
At length, from the belly of the dragon, I see an everyday sort of basket dangling. It is as commonplace as the wicker chairs on the terrace of my own house. Jump in quickly ! Once more an order is given in an unknown tongue. Those who are holding the cords let gO and step backwards, looking at us. Are we under a spell, that they stare at us in this way ? What is the dragon overhead going to do ?
He is rising. The captive balloon rises gently, slowly, without a jar. Someone shouts from below, a question in the unknown tongue, in which my companion shouts an answer. Have I been trepanned in the perilous East, Have I been. handed over to the tender mereies of the dragon ?
Around me the "hills are sinking down in the light of the noontide sun ; the earth has fallen away beneath me, silently, smoothly. The jinnee rises without effort, without the clatter made by the aeroplane and airship ; and uplifted by him we swing in a frail basket amid the blue heavens. Shall we fly up to the sun ?
No, for an iron cord, thin but strong, binds the dragon to the earth. Slowly this cord is being unwound from the iron windlass, and I can no longer hear the motor which makes the windlass turn. Soon we can see over the hills. A broad and shining strip has become visible, not straight, but bent, three times, five times. As we rise into the blue on this perfect afternoon the ribbon becomes clearer, more sharply outlined. It is the Bos- phorus, for at either end it expands into a sea. That one to the west, a white mirror, calm, unruffled, with three islands showing on its surface, is the Sea of Marmorai its name being derived from the marble of the islands: The sea that lies to the east of us, huge, stormy, dark, and threatening, well deserves its name of the Black Sea: Far off, on both these seas, ships are gliding through the clear waters and the dark ; but to me it seems as if they were gliding, like myself, through the blue heavens. Are we not all alike floating in the ether, the ships on the severed seas and I ?
Only beneath me, only in the Bosphorus, is the world of reality. There, too, I can see tiny ships, their sails bellying in the wind. Some of them are making their way towards the bright sea, and Others towards the dark one ; some of them sail towards calm, others towards storm. On the shores of the BosphoruS—white specks in the green hills--are towns and villages ; fortresses emerge from the rocks, ancient ruined towers ; I see gardens with meandering paths: Over there, on the far shore of the blue band, lies the huge city, with its domes and its minarets, its cypresses and its palaces, its vast extent of habitations asparkle in the sunshine.
That is Byzantium, betwixt her seas ; Byzantium, round which for thousands of years the nations have thronged, because she reigns as eMpress amid the waters; Above two seas, and above Byzantium, I hoVer in the little basket. Down there men are working and ruling, brains are thinking, but no eye dominates the imperial city so commandingly as does mine at this moment ; and, as I continue to rise slowly in the swinging basket of my dreams, it seems to me as if, for a few seconds, I were holding the scales of universal history in my hands, and were able to ensure that the pointer Shall come to rest between two continents.
I hear a voice. My companion is holding a conversation with those on earth. He gives me the instrument, that I, too, may listen. I comply for a moment ; then quickly hand back to him this thing which ties us to the earth; Where was I but a moment ago ?
Too late. My cOmpanion waves a flag, and, with a slight jerk, our ascent through space ceases. The bond is tightened. I feel myself being drawn doWn. On the slope opposite, a shadow sinks with us, a tiny Shadow aping the movements of the dragon overhead, the Monster I had forgotten. There he is imaged, the jinnee who has been lifting us. Now his master is calling him back to earth. The tents are nearer. They were but points. Now they look like the little castles whiCh chilktien build On the sand of the sea shore. I hear a rattlihg noise as the wire rope is wound up inexorably. The Machine which drives the windlass is eating up my dream, as gods withdraw the gift of beauty after bestowing it on mortals. What has become of the two seas ? Where is the watery road which unites them ? The green hills have risen between and them, and I hear hunian Voices, unwelcome. • Men run up to seize hs, as the crowd always tries to seize what has fallen after a lofty flight. They - grasp =the dream,basket, drag. it doivh earthward,. pull it into their world of turmoil. --T-hey are like prison -warders, locking a captive again in his cell, after letting him have half an hour's run to give him the illusion of freedom.
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