It has been justly said that the East begins on the other side of Vienna, but, out of deference to the susceptibilities of the Magyars, who consider themselves in the van of civilisation, the Orient Express affects to be extremely European during its transit through Hungary. It bustles and shakes, and is very uncomfortable. In Servia it is more at its ease, though it still makes a pretence of thinking that time is money by only stopping ten minutes at every station. In Bulgaria it ceases to imitate Western ways, and becomes frankly Oriental, reposing for half an hour at spots where there are no passengers and no traffic. The part of the journey which lies on Turkish territory follows a singularly tortuous and corkscrew course, across a perfectly level plain which presents no obvious engineering difficulties. The Porte confided the construction of this line to an eminent Israelite at a remuneration of so much for every kilometre built. The eminent Israelite was straightway possessed by the spirit of his ancestors, and made a large fortune by laying the rails along a road as lengthy and complicated as that selected by Moses when he spent forty years in traversing a distance which anyone else can accomplish in a few days.
On arriving in Turkey we are at once seized by the representatives of the Board of Health. After all, times have indeed changed since _Eothen_ was written. Instead of being put in quarantine by Europe, Turkey now puts Europe in quarantine. It is true that good Moslems still hold that men’s souls leave their bodies when God calls them, and count it impious to suppose that neglect or precaution can hasten or delay the Divine summons. But though the Porte are not disposed to amend the sanitary condition of Mecca, they enforce quarantine regulations all round Constantinople with fanatical rigour. This is due partly to the fears of the Palace, and partly, I think, to a sense of humour. It is an excellent joke to apply a parody of European rules to Europeans in the name of sanitary science: to keep a set of fussy business people waiting a few days because they have come from a country which has not imposed quarantine on another country where there has been a doubtful case of cholera, or to detain a ship with a valuable cargo while embassies and merchants scream that thousands of pounds are being lost daily. On the present occasion we are told we must wait a day under inspection, to see if we develop the symptoms of any terrible malady, and are accordingly lodged in damp little wooden huts on a muddy plain, where we are certainly likely to fall ill even if hale and hearty on arriving. Turkish soldiers prevent us from crossing an imaginary line and contaminating the surrounding desert. The quarantine doctor, however, explains to me that he has a peculiar respect for my character, sanitary and general, and would like to take a walk with me outside the limits of the establishment. He has a remarkable pedigree. His father was a Bohemian monk who found convent life too narrow for his taste, and accordingly embraced Islam. Once within the true fold he made up for lost time by marrying as many wives as his new liberty allowed, and this is one of the results. He confides to me that his one ambition is to wear decorations, and that in return for his civilities strangers of distinction have procured for him the orders of their respective countries. The Siamese Minister, who recently passed through, made him a Commander of the Order of the White Elephant. Could I not obtain for him the Order of the Garter? Doubtless I possess it myself. With blushing mendacity I lead him to believe that I do, but explain that the distinction is only given to Englishmen and not to foreigners. I see that he does not believe me, and meditates revenge. Before we leave the quarantine station we have to be disinfected. The doctor attaches a garden hose to a reservoir filled with a fetid and corrosive fluid. The victims are led up one by one by the military authorities as if to execution, and the jet is turned upon them, causing their garments to burst out into leprous spots. I see by the doctor’s eye that he means to make me pay for my unfriendliness in the matter of the decoration, and therefore, casting scruple to the winds, I assure him that if he will only treat me gently he shall have the Fourth Class of the Garter. He is at once all civility and consideration, and when I am led up in front of his infernal machine, directs an odoriferous douche to the right and left, leaving me unwetted in the middle.