556 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



^5,000 strong, is stationed at Bagdad and 

 is an effective force. In the picturesque 

 old Serai, or Government House, the 

 Vali (Governor-General) holds his court, 

 surrounded by aides in gold braid and 

 fezzes. Every one, civil or military, in 

 the Turkish government service must 

 wear the fez. 



On the flat plain outside Bagdad dap- 

 per Turkish officers, drilled in German 

 military schools, are training the raw 

 Arab recruits, teaching them to shoot and 

 to do the German "goose step." The 

 rattle of the machine gun — like riveting 

 machines on a steel skyscraper — is a fa- 

 miliar sound on the plain outside the city 

 ^ates. 



THS pjjopIve;, too, are changed 



Pilgrims still flock to the ancient 

 shrines of Sheik Abd-ul-Kadir and Abu 

 Hauefah, the Shia Imams, and hordes 

 pour through from Persia en route to 

 Holy Nedjef ; but the sort of men whose 

 quick wits and ready swords lent luster 

 to the stirring tales in the Arabian Nights 

 have departed. In their shoes stand 

 shrewd Jews and Armenians, who ship 

 wool, dates, and rugs to America and 

 import "piece goods" at the rate of $5,- 

 000,000 a year from Manchester. To 

 ride a galloping camel one mile would 

 break every bone in their soft bodies, and 

 the mere sight of an old-time Bagdad 

 blade would give them congestive chills. 



The hard-riding, fierce-fighting fellows 

 of old are gone forever. Grim barter 

 has supplanted the gay life. As has been 

 said, "Trade is greater than tradition, 

 and foreign consuls above the name of 

 Caliph." 



At nightfall the narrow streets of Bag- 

 dad are still noisy with the dull rattle of 

 tom-toms and the shrill notes of the Arab 

 flute. Painted ladies in ear-rings, anklets, 

 and baggy trousers sing and dance on 

 the flat roofs ; but the ear-rings and ank- 

 lets are imported from Austria ; the lady 

 herself came from Port Said, and her 

 dance is better staged in half the cities 

 of America by women who have never 

 seen the East — the home of "le danse du 

 ventre." Her "act" would not be well 

 received in any other place than Bagdad. 



Along the Tigris are many coffee 



shops, where brokers sit at night smoking 

 bubbling "narghiles" and talking trade. 

 Even their red fezzes came from Ger- 

 many. Oil in their lamps came from the 

 Yankee octopus — in British bottoms, of 

 course. Only their red, turned-up shoes, 

 their bright keffeyas, and their long, 

 flowing abbas were made in Bagdad. 

 Squads of Armenian and Chaldean youths 

 stroll by, with here and there a bevy of 

 girls, all clad in semi-European clothes, 

 significant of a changing East. 



Till lately Bagdad, more than any other 

 city in the Ottoman Empire, has been 

 slow to yield to Europe's influence. For 

 centuries Bagdad kept close to the Bed- 

 ouin life, under the sway of nomad cus- 

 toms. Even now Bagdad's famous ba- 

 zaars, despite her evolution in other 

 ways, are conducted as they were a 

 thousand years ago. These Arab trad- 

 ing places have changed not one whit 

 since Abraham's time. Here is barter 

 and sale as Marco Polo found it, as it 

 was in the days of the Three Wise Men 

 who bought gifts for Bethlehem. 



Bagdad's busy bazaars 



Here is such a mob as Christ drove 

 from the temple — a vortex of usury. 

 For a thousand years brown men in tur- 

 bans have bought, bartered and sold, 

 wheedled and cheated in this magic old 

 mart. From Tokyo to Teheran there is 

 no such place where Europe's hand seems 

 absolutely stayed. If Herodotus came 

 back he could see no changes since his 

 day. 



The shopping streets seem like tunnels ; 

 they are arched overhead with brick to 

 keep out the heat ; thus they run, like 

 subways, up and down the bazaar Quar- 

 ter." Through these long, stifling, faintly 

 lighted tunnels throngs the eternal crowd 

 of men, mules, and camels. On each side 

 are stalls no larger than telephone booths. 

 Cross-legged in each booth, his wares 

 piled high about him, sits the Arab or 

 Jew trader. Brown women, their faces 

 hid by 5'^ashmaks, upset the ordered piles 

 of goods and haggle shrilly. Here, as in 

 Peking's famous "Pipe street," men sell- 

 ing similar wares are grouped together. 



What would New York say if all the 

 cigar stands were in Brooklyn, the boot- 



