Yesterday, after nightfall, as he was hastening toward the _Zlōtuhb_ he
fell violently upon some blocks of stone, wrenching his ankle and much
bruising himself. Unable to walk upon his foot he limped into this
building to await our coming in the morning. The howling of wolves and
other wild beasts as they prowled about the city drove him, for
safety, to crawl up the ruins of the stairway to the floor above. As
he settled himself in a corner of this hall his nostrils were greeted
with the delicious odor from the grapes about his head. He found them
surprisingly good, and ate heartily. He soon after fell into a sleep
which lasted some hours, for when he awoke the moon was higher in the
heavens, the voices of the wolves were hushed and the city was silent.
As he lay in a revery, much absorbed in his own thoughts, he gradually
became aware of mysterious changes taking place, as if by stealth,
about him. A decorated ceiling appeared to be closing over the hall.
Mirrors and tinted walls slowly crept in place of ivy and crumbling
bricks. A faint glow grew stronger and more intense until it filled
the great room with a dazzling light.
Then came softly into view a table of curious form, set out with flowers
and innumerable dishes of glass and porcelain, as for a feast.
Standing about the room he saw solemn men with beardless faces, all in
black attire, whose garments bore triangular openings upon the chest
to show the shirt beneath. These personages he soon discovered were
servants.
As he gazed in bewilderment, there entered other figures, two by two,
who took their seats about the table. These later comers, sixty or
more, were men and women walking arm in arm, the women in rich attire
of unfamiliar fashion and sparkling with precious stones. The men were
clad like the servants.
They ate and drank and laughed, and formed a brilliant scene.
Lev-el-Hedyd rose to his feet, and moved by a curiosity he made no
effort to resist,--for he is a reckless fellow and knows no fear--he
hobbled out into the room.
They looked upon him in surprise, and seemed much amused at his
presence. One of the guests, a tall youth with yellow mustaches,
approached him, offering a delicate crystal vessel filled with a
sparkling fluid.
Lev-el-Hedyd took it.
The youth raised another from the table and with a slight gesture as
if in salutation, he said in words which my comrade understood, though
he swears it was a language unknown to him,
"We may meet again the fourth of next month."
He then drank the wine, and so did Lev-el-Hedyd.
Hereupon the others smiled as if at their comrade's wit, all save the
women, whose tender faces spoke more of pity than of mirth. The wine
flew to his brain as he drank it, and things about him seemed to reel
and spin. Strains of fantastic music burst upon his ears: then, all in
rhythm, the women joined their partners and whirled about him with a
lightsome step. And, moving with it, his throbbing brain seemed
dancing from his head. The room itself, all swaying and quivering
with the melody, grew dim and stole from view. The music softly died
away.
Again was silence, the moon above looking calmly down upon the ivied
walls.
He fell like a drunken man upon the floor, and did not wake till our
voices called him.
Such his tale.
He has a clear head and is no liar, but so many grapes upon an empty
stomach with the fever from his swollen limb might well explain it.
* * * * *
Bear's meat for dinner.
This morning toward noon Kuzundam, the second officer, wandered on
ahead of us, and entered a large building in pursuit of a rabbit. He
was about descending to the basement below, when he saw, close before
him, a bear leisurely mounting the marble stairs. Kuzundam is no
coward, but he turned and ran as he never ran before. The bear, who
seemed of a sportive nature, also ran, and in close pursuit. Luckily
for my friend we happened to be near, otherwise instead of our eating
bear's meat, the bear might have lunched quietly off Kuzundam in the
shady corridors of the "FIFTHAVENUEHOTEL."
[Illustration: Kuzundam's Narrow Escape]
_17th May_
To-day a scorching heat that burns the lungs. We started in the
morning prepared to spend the night ashore, and explore the northern
end of the city. It was a pleasant walk through the soft grass of the
shady streets, but in those places unsheltered from the sun we were as
fish upon a frying-pan. Other dwellings we saw, even larger and more
imposing than the one we entered yesterday. We were tempted to explore
them, but Lev-el-Hedyd wisely dissuaded us, saying the day was waxing
hotter each hour and it could be done on our return.
In the northern part of the town are many religious temples, with
their tall towers like slender pyramids, tapering to a point. They are
curious things, and surprisingly well preserved. The interiors of
these temples are uninteresting. Nōfūhl says the religious rites of
the Mehrikans were devoid of character. There were many religious
beliefs, all complicated and insignificant variations one from
another, each sect having its own temples and refusing to believe as
the others. This is amusing to a Persian, but mayhap was a serious
matter with them. One day in each week they assembled, the priests
reading long moral lectures written by themselves, with music by hired
singers. They then separated, taking no thought of temple or priest
for another seven days. Nōfūhl says they were not a religious people.
That the temples were filled mostly with women.
[Illustration: In One of the Temples]
In the afternoon we found it necessary to traverse a vast
pleasure-ground, now a wild forest, but with traces still visible of
broad promenades and winding driveways. (Olbaldeh thinks this must be
the Centralpahk sometimes alluded to in Mehrikan literature.) There
remains an avenue of bronze statues, most of them yet upright and in
good condition, but very comic. Lev-el-Hedyd and I still think them
caricatures, but Nōfūhl is positive they were serious efforts, and
says the Mehrikans were easily pleased in matters of art.
We lost our way in this park, having nothing to guide us as in the
streets of the city. This was most happy, as otherwise we should have
missed a surprising discovery.
It occurred in this wise.
Being somewhat overcome by the heat we halted upon a little hill to
rest ourselves. While reclining beneath the trees I noticed unusual
carvings upon a huge block against which Lev-el-Hedyd was supporting
his back. They were unlike any we had seen, and yet they were not
unfamiliar. As I lay there gazing idly at them it flashed upon me they
were Egyptian. We at once fell to examining the block, and found to
our amazement an obelisk of Egyptian granite, covered with Egyptian
hieroglyphics of an antiquity exceeding by thousands of years the most
ancient monuments of the country!
Verily, we were puzzled!
"When did the Egyptians invade Mehrika?" quoth Bhoz-jā-khāz, with a
solemn look, as if trying to recall a date.
"No Egyptian ever heard of Mehrika," said Nōfūhl. "This obelisk was
finished twenty centuries before the first Mehrikan was weaned. In all
probability it was brought here as a curiosity, just as we take to
Persia the bronze head of George-wash-yn-tun."
We spent much time over the monument, and I think Nōfūhl was
disappointed that he could not bring it away with him.
Also while in this park we came to a high tower, standing by itself, and
climbed to the top, where we enjoyed a wide-spreading view.
The extent of the city is astounding.
Miles away in the river lay the _Zlōtuhb_, a white speck on the water.
All about us in every direction as far as sight can reach were ruins,
and ruins, and ruins. Never was a more melancholy sight. The blue sky,
the bright sunshine, the sweet-scented air with the gay flowers and
singing birds only made it sadder. They seemed a mockery.
[Illustration: "Miles away in the river lay the _Zlotuhb_, a white
speck on the water."]
We have encamped for the night, and I can write no more. Countless
flying insects gather about us with a hateful buzz, and bite us beyond
endurance. They are a pest thrice accursed.
I tell Nōfūhl his fine theory concerning the extinction of the Yahnkis
is a good tale for those who have never been here.
No man without a leather skin could survive a second night.
_18th May_
Poor Jā-khāz is worse than sick.
He had an encounter last night with a strange animal, and his defeat
was ignoble. The animal, a pretty thing, much like a kitten, was
hovering near when Jā-khāz, with rare courage and agility, threw
himself upon it.
And then what happened none of us can state with precision. We know we
held our noses and fled. And Jā-khāz! No words can fit him. He carries
with him an odor to devastate a province. We had to leave him ashore
and send him fresh raiment.
This is, verily, a land of surprises.
Our hands and faces still smart from the biting insects, and the perfume
of the odorous kitten promises to be ever with us.
Nōfūhl is happy. We have discovered hundreds of metal blocks, the
poorest of which he asserts would be the gem of a museum. They were
found by Fattan-laïz-eh in the basement of a high building, all laid
carefully away upon iron shelves. The flood of light they throw upon
the manners and customs of this ludicrous people renders them of
priceless value to historians.
I harbor a suspicion that it causes Nōfūhl some pleasure to sit upon
the cool deck of the _Zlōtuhb_ and watch Bhoz-jā-khāz walking to and
fro upon the ruins of a distant wharf.
_19th May_
The air is cooler. Grip-til-lah thinks a storm is brewing.
Even Nōfūhl is puzzled over the wooden image we brought aboard
yesterday. It is well preserved, with the barbaric coloring still
fresh upon it. They found it standing upright in a little shop.
[Illustration: The Wooden God.]
How these idols were worshipped, and why they are found in little
shops and never in the great temples is a mystery. It has a diadem of
feathers on the head, and as we sat smoking upon the deck this evening
I remarked to Nōfūhl that it might be the portrait of some Mehrikan
noble. Whereupon he said they had no nobles.
"But the Mehrikans of gentle blood," I asked, "had they no titles?"
"Neither titles nor gentle blood," he answered. "And as they were
all of much the same origin, and came to this country simply to thrive
more fatly than at home, there was nothing except difference in wealth
on which to establish a superior order. Being deep respecters of money
this was a satisfying distinction. It soon resulted that those
families who possessed riches for a generation or two became the
substitute for an aristocracy. This upper class was given to sports
and pastimes, spending their wealth freely, being prodigiously fond of
display. Their intellectual development was feeble, and they wielded
but little influence save in social matters. They followed closely the
fashions of foreign aristocracies. Great attentions were paid to
wandering nobles from other lands. Even distant relatives of titled
people were greeted with the warmest enthusiasm."
Then I said to him, "But explain to me, O Nōfūhl, how it was possible
for so shallow a nation to become so great."
"They were great only in numbers and too weak to endure success. At
the beginning of the twentieth century--as they counted time--huge
fortunes were amassed in a day, and the Mehrikans became drunk with
money."
Whereupon I exclaimed, "O Land of Delight! For much money is
cheering."
But the old man shook his head. "Very true, O Prince; but the effect
was woful. These vast fortunes soon dominated all things, even the
seat of government and the courts of Justice. Tricks of finance
brought fabulous gains. Young men became demoralized. For sober
industry with its moderate profits was ridiculed."
"Verily, that would be natural!" I said. "But in a land where all
were rich who was found to cook and scrub, to fetch and carry and to
till the soil? For none will shovel earth when his pockets are
stuffed with gold."
"All were not rich. And when the poor also became greedy they became
hostile. Then began social upheavals with bloodshed and havoc."
[Illustration: A Street Scene in Ancient Nhu-Yok (The costumes and
manner of riding are taken from metal plates now in the museum at
Teheran)]
_20th May_
An icy wind from the northeast with a violent rain. Yesterday we
gasped with the hot air. To-day we are shivering in winter clothing.
_21st May_
The same as yesterday. Most of us are ill. My teeth chatter and my
body is both hot and cold. A storm more wicked never wailed about a
ship. Lev-el-Hedyd calls it the shrieking voices of the hundred
millions of Mehrikans who must have perished in similar weather.
_16th June_
It is many days since I have touched this journal. A hateful sickness
has been upon me, destroying all energy and courage. A sort of fever,
and yet my limbs were cold. I could not describe it if I would.
Nōfūhl came into the cabin this evening with some of his metal plates
and discoursed upon them. He has no respect for the intellects of the
early Mehrikans. I thought for a moment I had caught him in a
contradiction, but he was right as usual. It was thus:
_Nōfūhl._
They were great readers.
_Khan-li._
You have told us they had no literature. Were they great readers of
nothing?
_Nōfūhl._
Verily, thou hast said it! Vast sheets of paper were published daily
in which all crimes were recorded in detail. The more revolting the
deed, the more minute the description. Horrors were their chief
delight. Scandals were drunk in with thirstful eyes. These chronicles
of crime and filth were issued by hundreds of thousands. There was
hardly a family in the land but had one.
_Khan-li._
And did this take the place of literature?
_Nōfūhl._
Even so.
_20th June_
Once more we are on the sea; two days from Nhū-Yok. Our decision was
a sudden one. Nōfūhl, in an evil moment, found among those accursed
plates a map of the country, and thereupon was seized with an
unreasoning desire to visit a town called "Washington." I wavered and
at last consented, foolishly I believe, for the crew are loud for
Persia. And this town is inland on a river. He says it was their
finest city, the seat of Government, the capital of the country.
Grip-til-lah swears he can find it if the map is truthful.
Jā-khāz still eats by himself.
This afternoon we reclined upon the deck, the _Zlōtuhb_ drifting gently
in a southerly direction. Land could be seen on the starboard bow, a
faint strip along the western horizon.
It was about the middle of the afternoon, while passing the ruins of a
gigantic tower--perhaps a lighthouse--that Nōfūhl, of a sudden,
clambered hastily to his feet and looked about him. Then he called to
Grip-til-lah, asking how many leagues we were from the harbor of
Nhū-Yok. Grip-til-lah's reply I forget, but it filled the old man with
a gentle excitement. I observed an unwonted sparkle in his eyes, also
a quivering of the fingers as he pointed to the ocean around about,
and exclaimed--
"Beneath us, the bottom of the sea is covered with iron ships--the
wrecks of stupendous navies--the mightiest of all human history!"
At once we all became interested.
"What navies?" I inquired. "And what compassed their destruction?
Was it a battle?"
_Nōfūhl._
A battle of whose magnitude no Persian has conception; a conflict in
which the sea was tossed and the heavens rent by thunderings of iron
monsters. Any one of them would have blown to atoms a fleet of
_Zlōtuhbs_.
_Ad-el-pate._
Verily! A tale easier told than believed. But I would readily
venture my head in the _Zlōtuhb_ against any of these nursery-tale
wonders.
_Nōfūhl._
And with wisdom. For the loss of thy brain, Ad-el-pate, could not
affect the nature of thy speech.
Whereupon there was laughter, and Ad-el-pate held his peace.
_Khan-li._
But tell us of this battle, O Nōfūhl. I remember now to have read
about it at college. These details of ancient history I am prone to
forget. How came it about?
_Nōfūhl._
I have spoken of the Mehrikans being a greedy race. And their greed,
at last, resulted in this war. By means of one-sided laws of their
own making they secured for themselves a lion's share of all profits
from the world's commerce. This checked the prosperity of other
nations, until at last the leading powers of Europe combined in
self-defence against this all-absorbing greed. They collected an
armada the like of which was never imagined, neither before nor since.
Then, across the ocean, came the iron host. And here, upon this very
spot where we are floating, they met the Mehrikan ships.
_Khan-li._
How many ships in all?
_Nōfūhl._
The Mehrikans had eighty heavy ships of iron, with a number of smaller
craft. The allies had two hundred and forty heavy battleships, all of
iron. They also had smaller craft for divers purposes.
_Khan-li._
Allah! A bad prospect for our greedy friends! And being a nation of
traders they had no liking, probably, for the perils of war.
_Nōfūhl._
As to that historians differ. According to the Mehrikans themselves
they were mighty warriors. But certain writers of that period give a
different impression. Nōz-yt-ahl is sure they were cowards, weak in
body as in spirit, but often favored by fortune. In my opinion, this
battle throws considerable light upon that matter.
A day like this, it was, also in June, as the Europeans, coming
northward along the coast to seize Nhū-Yok, met the Mehrikan Admiral
Nev-r-sai-di with his eighty ships. And the struggle was short.
_Khan-li._
Verily, I can believe it! With three ships to one I would give the
Europeans about half a day--a summer afternoon like this--to send
the greedy ones to the bottom.
_Nōfūhl._
Thy guess is good, O Prince, as to the hours of fighting. It lasted
just one summer afternoon. But the Mehrikans it was who sent their
enemies to the bottom. And the sea beneath our feet is strewn with
iron hulks.
_Khan-li._
Bismillah! If that be a true tale--and I doubt it not--these
greedy ones were not so contemptible, at least when there was profit
in it.
_Lev-el-Hedyd._
At what period did this occur?
_Nōfūhl._
Early in the twentieth century. I cannot recall the date, but it was
never forgotten by the Mehrikans. Surely a just pride, for on that day
they accomplished wonders. The Admiral Nev-r-sai-di on his ship the
_Ztazenztrypes_ was at one time surrounded by a dozen German men-of-war.
And lo! he demolished all! And of Frank and Russyan vessels he
put an end to as many more; also sundry Talyans and British.
_Lev-el-Hedyd._
Bismillah! But that was good! What, O Nōfūhl, is the Persian of that
name _Ztazenztrypes_?
_Nōfūhl._
None can tell with certainty. To the Mehrikans it signified victory,
or something similar.
Other miracles were achieved by the Mehrikans that day. _Nōfli-zon-mee_,
a little craft with a pointed prow, jammed holes in nearly a score of
monster ships, and the waters closed over them. There figured also a
long and narrow boat of Mehrikan devising, the _Yankyd-Oodl_. This
astonishing machine sailed to and fro among the foreign ships
upsetting all traditions. Much glory befell her commander, the Captain
Hoorai-boiz.
_Grip-til-lah._
And how many ships did the Mehrikans lose?
_Nōfūhl._
Reports are contradictory. According to one of their own writers of
the period they suffered no loss whatever in vessels. Yet at the same
time he asserts, "We gave them Haleklumbya," which must be the name of
a ship.
_Khan-li._
A gallant fight! But can you explain how such an inferior people
could become heroic of a sudden?
_Nōfūhl._
According to 'Ardfax, an early British historian, they were addicted
to surprising feats upon the water. And this statement is borne out by
a Spanish admiral, Offulbad-shoota, who maintains that the Mehrikans,
being a godless people, were aided by the devil.
_2d July_
We are on the river that leads to "Washington." Grip-til-lah says we
shall sight it to-morrow. The river is a dirty color.
_3d July_
We see ahead of us the ruins of a great dome, also a very high shaft.
Probably they belong to the city we seek.
[Illustration: "We see ahead of us the ruins of a great dome, also a
very high shaft."]
_4th July_
A date we shall not forget!
Little did I realize this morning when we left the _Zlōtuhb_ in such
hilarious mood what dire events awaited us. I landed about noon,
accompanied by Nōfūhl, Lev-el-Hedyd, Bhoz-jā-khāz, Ad-el-pate,
Kuzundam the first mate, Tik'l-palyt the cook, Fattan-laïz-eh, and
two sailors. Our march had scarce begun when a startling discovery
caused great commotion in our minds. We had halted at Nōfūhl's
request, to decipher the inscription upon a stone, when Lev-el-Hedyd,
who had started on, stopped short with a sudden exclamation. We
hastened to him, and there, in the soft earth, was the imprint of
human feet!
I cannot describe our surprise. We decided to follow the footprints,
and soon found they were leading us toward the great dome more
directly than we could have gone ourselves. Our excitement was beyond
words. Those of us who had weapons carried them in readiness. The path
was little used, but clearly marked. It wound about among fallen
fragments and crumbling statues, and took us along a wide avenue
between buildings of vast size and solidity, far superior to any we
had seen in Nhū-Yok. It seemed a city of monuments.
[Illustration: Through the Streets of "Washington."]
As we ascended the hill to the great temple and saw it through the
trees rising high above us, we were much impressed by its vast size
and beauty. Our eyes wandered in admiration over the massive columns,
each hewn from a single block, still white and fresh as if newly
quarried. The path took us under one of the lower arches of the
building, and we emerged upon the other side. This front we found even
more beautiful than the one facing the city. At the centre was a
flight of steps of magnificent proportions, now falling asunder and
overgrown in many places with grass and flowers.
[Illustration: The Ruins of the Great Temple]
These steps we ascended. As I climbed silently up, the others
following, I saw two human feet, the soles toward us, resting upon the
balustrade above. With a gesture I directed Nōfūhl's attention to
them, and the old man's eyes twinkled with delight. Was it a Mehrikan?
I confess to a lively excitement at the prospect of meeting one. How
many were they? and how would they treat us?
Looking down upon my little band to see that all were there, I boldly
marched up the remaining steps and stood before him.
He was reclining upon a curious little four-legged seat, with his feet
upon the balustrade, about on a level with his head. Clad in skins and
rough cloth he looked much like a hunter, and he gazed quietly upon
me, as though a Persian noble were a daily guest. Such a reception was
not gratifying, especially as he remained in the same position, not
even withdrawing his feet. He nodded his curious head down once and up
again, deeming it apparently a sufficient salutation.
[Illustration: "He remained in the same position, not even withdrawing
his feet."]
The maintenance of my own dignity before my followers forbade my
standing thus before a seated barbarian, and I made a gesture for him
to rise. This he answered in an unseemly manner by ejecting from his
mouth a brownish fluid, projecting it over and beyond the balustrade
in front of him. Then looking upon me as if about to laugh, and yet
with a grave face, he uttered something in an unmusical voice which I
failed to understand.
[Illustration: The Feet upon the Portico.]
Upon this Nōfūhl, who had caught the meaning of one or two words,
stepped hastily forward and addressed him in his own language. But the
barbarian understood with difficulty and they had much trouble in
conversing, chiefly from reason of Nōfūhl's pronunciation. He
afterward told me that this man's language differed but little from
that of the Mehrikans, as they wrote it eleven centuries ago.
When he finally arose in talking with Nōfūhl I could better observe
him. He was tall and bony, with an awkward neck, and appeared at first
glance to be a man of forty years. We decided later he was under
thirty. His yellow skin and want of hair made him seem much older than
he was. I was also much puzzled by the expression of his face. It was
one of deep sadness, yet his eyes were full of mirth, and a corner of
his mouth was ever drawing up as if in mockery. For myself I liked not
his manner. He appeared little impressed by so many strangers, and
bore himself as though it were of small importance whether we
understood him or not. But Nōfūhl since informed me that he asked a
multitude of questions concerning us.
[Illustration: The Man]
What Nōfūhl gathered was this:
This Mehrikan with his wife and one old man were all that remained of
his race. Thirty-one had died this summer. In ancient times there were
many millions of his country-men. They were the greatest nation upon
the earth. He could not read. He had two names, one was "Jon," the
other he had forgotten. They lived in this temple because it was cool.
When the temple was built, and for what purpose, he could not tell. He
pointed to the West and said the country in that direction was
covered with ruined cities.
When Nōfūhl told him we were friends, and presented him at my
direction with a hunting-knife of fine workmanship, he pushed out his
right arm toward me and held it there. For an instant Nōfūhl looked at
the arm wonderingly, as did we all, then with sudden intelligence he
seized the outstretched hand in his own, and moved it up and down.
This was interesting, for Nōfūhl tells me it was a form of greeting
among the ancient Mehrikans.
While all this was going on we had moved into the great circular hall
beneath the dome. This hall was of vast proportions, and there were
still traces of its former splendor. Against the walls were marble
statues entwined in ivy, looking down upon us with melancholy eyes.
Here also we met a thin old man, whose hairless head and beardless
face almost moved us to mirth.
At Nōfūhl's request our host led the way into some of the smaller
rooms to show us their manner of living, and it would be impossible to
imagine a more pathetic mixture of glory and decay, of wealth and
poverty, of civilization and barbarity. Old furniture, dishes of
silver, bronze images, even paintings and ornaments of great value
were scattered through the rooms, side by side with the most primitive
implements. It was plain the ancient arts were long since forgotten.
When we returned to the circular hall our host disappeared for a few
moments into a room which he had not shown us. He came back bringing a
stone vase with a narrow neck, and was followed by a maiden who bore
drinking-cups of copper and tin. These she deposited upon a fallen
fragment of the dome which served as a table.
This girl was interesting. A dainty head, delicate features, yellow
hair, blue eyes, and a gentle sadness of mien that touched my heart.
Had she been ugly what a different ending to this day!
We all saluted her, and the Mehrikan spoke a few words which we
interpreted as a presentation. He filled the cups from the stone vase,
and then saying something which Nōfūhl failed to catch, he held his
cup before his face with a peculiar movement and put it to his lips.
As he did this Lev-el-Hedyd clutched my arm and exclaimed:
"The very gesture of the ghost!"