It is axiomatic that in dealing with the long histories of great empires and nations such as Russia, Britain, Germany and Spain we should come across events that arose both our admiration and censure, the latter especially in the context of past wars. Turks, with their own long historical background, and associated with the Ottoman Empire in many contemporary western texts, have also had numerous victories as well as defeats which have resulted in scores of casualties and losses throughout history.

However, while some peoples are usually remembered and praised for their heroic victories, others such as Turks are for some reason continuously portrayed as appalling stereotypes of cruelty and barbarism. As a consequence of such a negative attitude Turkey can still be found depicted in the last quarter of the twentieth century, albeit with some nuances, as inhabited by people who committed atrocities to others, especially with regard World War I, although Turkey was actually one of these countries who suffered immensely on the side of the defeated at the end of the war.

A number of twentieth century texts about Turkey reproduce previous historical, cultural and religious stereotypes and introduce new ones stemming from several twentieth-century events such as civil wars between the Turks and ethnic groups in Asia Minor, mainly Greeks and Armenians during the First World War. Contemporary accounts still contain pejorative reminiscences of Turkish brutality with reference to the Crusades and subsequent bloody clashes between Christian Europe and the Muslim Orient. These images are often juxtaposed with sensuality and over-indulgence, with a revival of nineteenth-century perceptions of exoticism and pornography in relation to the harem, and with an implicit or explicit comparison of Islam and Christianity in association with arts, culture, architecture and aesthetics as discussed in chapter one. The new dimensions of historical Turkish cruelty which appear in different forms vary from accounts of massacres or genocide to systematic torture by police and unbearable prison conditions, repulsive descriptions of Turkish people, even heroic figures, and emphasis on drug and antiques-smuggling and espionage.

As one of the common characteristics of twentieth century texts such as The Towers of Trebizond, In Xanadu: A Quest, The Eunuch of Stamboul, The Mask of Dimitrios and Journey To Kars, the historical image of Turks as brutal, violent and bloodthirsty, is introduced through fictitious characters or the travellers themselves. Macaulay presents this image through Aunt Dot and Father Chantry-Pigg:

 A similar identification of Turks with the Ottomans, who are supposed to have committed atrocities to the West, in The Towers of Trebizond comes when the history of Trebizond is described: 'the Ottomans, sweeping in with their healthier and more robust strain, armed with the vigour of Islam, had built up a new and noble regime, too destructive' (Towers, 75).

Another negative attribution is made describing the eradication of both Byzantine antiquities: 'Father Chantry-Pigg said his piece about Turkish apathy and squalor having let this noble palace and citadel go to ruin, as all antiquities in Turkey went to ruin' (Towers, 74), and Byzantine addiction to magic, notorious wizardry and alchemy:

Discussing Macaulay’s writings about the Turks, J. V. Guerinot points out that her historical interpretation of the Turks as savage is presumably the main factor in her lack of sympathy for the Turks. Guerinot remarks:
Turks she dislikes and Goths, those disgusting savages who roamed over Europe sacking other people's cities, who are so praised by German historians, and who ought never to have left the Vistula(2).

Through associating the idea of indifference and historical stagnation with the Ottoman Empire in Journey to Kars, Glazebrook moves into another stereotype, that of Turkish brutality and tyranny. He considers the Ottomans as invaders and destroyers in the first place:

 Glazebrook tends to recreate the traditional stereotypes of tyranny which have been backed up with almost the same historical episodes of brutality, massacre and sensuality in association with the places he travels through. While he passes through the Balkans in the early pages of the book, he reminisces about the sensuality of some places, where 'the barges of pashas fluttering with the silks of veiled Circassians, their slave-pulled oars dancing in the watery light' (Journey to Kars, 14), and the brutality of others:
  In Bulgaria he returns once again to Turkish tyranny in the Balkans during the second half of the nineteenth century: 'on a hillside about twenty miles to the west of my train, in the May of 1876, Turkish irregulars butchered or burned five thousand men, women and children as a measure to suppress a Slav rising at Batak' (Journey to Kars, 197). Another story of massacre relates to a Turkish pasha slaughtering the inhabitants of a city in referred to by Skene, the nineteenth-century English traveller who is supposed to have witnessed it:
  Later he moves on to Aksehir, a middle-Anatolian town, and refers to Layard's description of the town in 1839: 'this barbarous and unclean habit of leaving the bodies of horses, camels and other beasts to rot in the streets prevails in most parts of Turkey' (Journey to Kars, 79). When he continues eastward to Kars, the ancient town on the Russian border, he comes across military check-points, as Turkey was under martial law after the 1980 coup, and in order to emphasise the threatening appearance of the Turkish soldiers he inserts another historical episode of Turkish brutality to a Russian soldier during the war between Russia and Turkey in the late nineteenth century:
  To reinforce the view of Turkey as mysterious and hostile territory through reference to Ottoman rule, he evokes history or his imaginings about the past. Watching a parade of schoolchildren in Trebizond, from five years old up to eleven or twelve, marching in step to a military band, he notes, 'whose martial music seemed to me to be thumping and blowing the little feet along the road like the kicks and cuffs of armed men herding crowds into order. A drought of the tyrant's breath chilled me as they marched by' (Journey to Kars, 153).

Apart from establishing a range of negative images of the harem, Eric Newby reminds his readers of Turkish cruelty inflicted upon the Greeks by Ali Pasha during the Greek War of Independence(4). Introducing hair-raising examples of Ali Pasha’s brutality not only against his Christian subjects while he was the governor in Greece, but also to his family members and relatives as he himself murdered his brother, Newby seems to imply that Ali Pasha’s initial incentive is his mother:

 As regards the reproduction of the historical image of Turkish brutality in connection with a particular locale, Istanbul, the imperial capital of the Ottoman Empire, attracted many writers as the setting of their mysterious stories of savagery. In other words, Istanbul is represented as a mysterious and exotic locale more than any other Turkish setting e.g. the historical city is used as the setting for two Nick Carter novels. The hero Carter is reminded of a Marlene Deitrich song about the city in The Turkish Bloodbath (1980), and he designates it in Istanbul as a 'squalid, teeming, dynamic nexus between Europe and Asia'(5), suggesting that Istanbul is 'a natural magnet for intrigue and for the inevitable concomitant of intrigue which is death' (Istanbul, 20). Carter describes various historical 'palaces', 'kiosks' and 'yalis’, such as the haunted Kiosk in Black Amber which is now used as the laboratory for producing heroin as well as the residence of the smuggling family, and which reminds the reader of terrible stories about the execution of women in the harem, put into sacks and thrown into the deep waters of the Bosphorus.

The negative reflections of Istanbul in thrillers and travel books such as From Russia With Love (1955), Black Amber (1965), When I Grow Rich (1962), Journey Into Fear (1966), Diplomatic Death (1961), and On the Shores of Mediterranean  (1984) are created through particular references to different historical parts of the city, like the Bosphorus, the Palace and the Golden Horn, and there seems to be a close identification of these places with different stories ranging from exotic harem intrigues to suicide and brutal punishment as implied by Phyllis A. Whitney in Black Amber when she says that 'the Bosphorus has always been a receptacle for ugly secrets'6. In another part of the book she also adds:

In Forsyte's designation of the city interwoven with both Turkish brutality and his biased religious comment, Istanbul seems to be a 'City of Cats'(7): Later on, he introduces a brutal anecdote about the city with reference to the Seraglio:  In order to emphasise the mysterious disappearance of Dimitrios, a wicked character who is presumed to have committed various crimes in The Mask of Dimitrios, the narrator makes a reference to the cruel image of the Bosphorus:  Eric Ambler in The Light of the Day (1962) tells us that: 'In fact, one of the Sultans got bored with the whole harem had had them all dumped into the Bosphorus(9), and continues to give details through a character about the internal brutalities of the Seraglio during the hero’s touristic visit to the present Museum:

The Ortakapi Gate is a good introduction to the ‘feel’ of the Seraglio. “It was here at this gate that the sultans used to stand to watch the weekly executions. The sultan stood just there, you see the block where the beheading was done. Now, see that little fountain built in the wall there? That was for the Executioner to wash the blood off himself when he had finished. He was also the Chief Gardener. By the way, this was known as the Gate of Salvation. Rather ironic, don’t you think? Of course, only high palace dignitaries who had offended the sultan were beheaded here. When princes of the Royal house were executed - for instance, when a new sultan had all his younger brothers killed off to prevent arguments about the succession - their blood could not be shed, so they were strangled with a silk cord. Women who had offended were treated in different way. They were tied up in weighted sacks and dropped into the Bosphorus. Shall we go inside now?” (The Light of the Day, 117)

Similarly, Joan Fleming reminds the reader of the prevalence of negative stereotypes through a Turkish character in When I Grow Rich (1962): ‘We Turks have made a habit throughout history of throwing anything which is of embarrassment to us either into the Golden Horn or into the Bosphorus’(10). In addition, she reminds the reader of the historical technique of brutality through Hadji as he finally kills Madame Miasme:

As has already been the case almost in every detective novel, the one way of execution highlighted in many novels is the murder, especially of women, by throwing them into the Sea of Marmara in sacks full of stones. When the housekeeper's dead body is found several days after of her mysterious murder in Diplomatic Death (1961)(11), it is easily noticed that 'the body is not eaten by crabs because it was in a sack with some big stones inside (Diplomatic Death, 220).

Rathbone also uses the popular Bosphorus stereotype as an execution point in Diamonds Bid. When Jonathan comes across the dead body of his friend Thomas in his hotel room he panickingly asks himself: 'What could I do? Buy a trunk, put him in it and get a hamal to ditch it in the Bosphorus?'(12). In Istanbul, Glazebrook repeats similar barbaric connotations associated with the Bosphorus, suggesting that 'my feelings were like those of a Turkish woman in a bag about to be thrown into the Bosphorus (Journey to Kars, 202), or 'beyond the Pass lies the dread East, with its frisson of license and cruelty, where women in bags are thrown into the Bosphorus' (Journey to Kars, 202).

Besides the historical stereotypes of Turkish cruelty and brutality, twentieth-century travel accounts refer to incidents of genocide, massacre or ethnic cleansing which are supposed to have happened during the First World War and after. The image of Turks massacring Greeks, Armenians and Kurds during the early decades of the century is implicit or explicit in many travel accounts and thrillers in the twentieth century. For example, it is discussed in The Orient Express (1922), The Mask of Dimitrios (1939), Pascali's Island (1980), On the Shores of the Mediterranean (1984), and In Xanadu: A Quest (1989).

Some travellers such as John Dos Passos take a more neutral stand in reporting different stories about the nature and implementation of the massacres (Orient Express) whilst other travel writers such as Frederick Prokosch and William Dalrymple imply that only Greeks and Armenians were systematically murdered by the Turks. During his long journey from Istanbul to Damascus subsequent to the outbreak of the First World War, when most parts of the country were invaded by Western Allies, John Dos Passos met Armenians and Greeks who maintained that their parents and relatives had been slaughtered in different parts of Turkey; from Samsun and Trabzon in the North to Adana in the South; from Erzurum and Van in the East to Izmir in the West. But a similar accusation is made by Turks and even Iranians: ‘It was there the Sayyid found a Persian who kept a shop. He was a Musulman, and told how the Armenians had massacred and driven out the majority of the Mohammedan inhabitants of Erivan’(13).

When Ambler gives a brief history of Izmir at the beginning of The Mask of Dimitrios he refers to bloody clashes between the local inhabitants of the city, especially between the Turks and the Greeks, which are believed to have resulted in numerous examples of savagery on both sides during the period when the city was captured by the Turks (September 9, 1922). Initially, he points out briefly that the Greek atrocities started when they retreated from the city that had already fallen to the Turks:

But the whole story of massacre and savagery turns the other way round on the same page with detailed descriptions of slaughtering and looting by the Turks:
  He also states that the massacre was, later on, diverted onto the Armenian population of the city as they were believed to have helped the Greeks while the city was under Greek control in the wake of World War I:
  He introduces another hair-raising story of massacre which was continued by the Turks even for some time after the fall of the city:
   Barry Unsworth presents similar accounts of massacres in association with the brutal image of the Turkish figure in Pascali's Island (1980):’my mind began to fill slowly with thoughts of the bayoneted children, disembowelled before they could walk; the clubbed Armenians bleeding their lives away into gutters’(14). Nancy Phelan relates similar account in her Welcome to the Wayfarer (1965):
  Another massacre image is introduced by Mary Lee Settle when she refers at one point to the Trabzon massacre: Christina Dodwell, during her journey to the eastern part of Turkey in A Traveller on Horseback (1987), also refers to the Turkish atrocities:  As far as the image of brutality and massacre is concerned in twentieth century thrillers and travel accounts with reference to early twentieth century Turkish history, writers such as Dennis Wheatley and Nancy Phelan remind the reader of the Turkish national figure, Kemal Ataturk with diverse negative attributes, as he was one of the key military figures during World War I, the chief military commander of Turkish army in the Turkish War of Independence, and eventually the founder of the Turkish Republic.

While travel writer Jan Morris calls Kemal Ataturk one of the Turkish despots(18), Nancy Phelan declares that 'Ataturk was a bloodthirsty tyrant, a fiend, a monster' (Welcome to the Wayfarer, 2). The negative image of Kemal Ataturk propagated in the west also find its expression in popular fiction. For example, in several parts of The Eunuch of Stamboul (1935), Dennis Wheatley describes him with demeaning attributions:

Describing a Turkish military figure within the context of brutality in The Mask of Dimitrios Ambler makes an indirect reference to Kemal Ataturk through a character in the novel that ‘he was one of the Gazi’s own particular man in Anatolia in nineteen nineteen, a deputy in the Provisional Government. I’ve heard stories about him then. Bloodthirsty devil by all accounts. There was something about torturing prisoners’ (The Mask of Dimitrios, 16).

When Mary Lee Settle described the ethnic clashes in Turkey during the First World War as the Turkish massacre of the Armenians in Turkish Reflections, she emphasised the late nineteenth century as the starting point with the key brutal image of the Ottoman sultan of the time:

Although the number of Turkish casualties was higher than the Armenian ones during the First World War, Settle still feels exasperated with the earlier conflict and accuses the Turkish sultan of being the arch-murderer:  In addition, within the context of World War I there are some other Turkish military figures who are represented not only for their cruelty but also for their humiliating defeat. In Greenmantle Enver and Talat Pashas, who participated in World War I on different fronts of the country in alliance with Germans, are described in a sarcastic and humiliating way:  As a consequence of the popular belief that 'the lust of massacring Christians is in the blood of every Turk' (The Eunuch of Stamboul, 44), 'America came to share the popular antipathy in Europe toward the “Unspeakable Turk”'(21) as well. Because there had been serious emigration from Asian provinces of the Ottoman Empire to the United States during the closing years of the nineteenth century, the great majority of whom were Armenians, Greeks and other Christian minorities, there began to be an emotional identification of the American public with the non-Turkish, and especially non-Muslim, subjects in Turkey through the views propagated by Armenian, Greek and Lebanese immigrants in the United States (Middle East Dilemmas, 167-8).

In a number of travel accounts examined in this thesis Turks are compared to minority groups such as Greeks or Armenians. In these comparisons, the minority groups are usually depicted as victims oppressed by the Turkish yoke, whilst the Turks are seen as the oppressors, mainly through anecdotes presented by characters from the minority groups such as Krikor of In Xanadu: A Quest. In the early pages of the book concerning Turkey a similar massacre episode is reflected through an Armenian character, Krikor, who is described with sympathy by the narrator on their first meeting in Syria:

Later on, Krikor takes the narrator to an Armenian nightclub where 'an Armenian band was backing a wailing chanteuse' (In Xanadu, 54) and '“Lovely, lovely”, said Krikor. “This is a famous Armenian song about the massacre in Van”' (In Xanadu, 54). Accounts of massacre increase as Dalrymple travels eastwards. Noting the ruins of the churches in Sivas, a middle Anatolian city, he refers to what he has already heard from an old man in the city: Likewise Newby in On the Shores of the Mediterranean (1984) tells how he hired a taxi in Adana driven by an Armenian who is depicted sympathetically: It is Xenophon, a Greek student in The Towers of Trebizond, who guides the travellers through the Black Sea region. When he describes a group of boys playing around the tent he cannot contain his prejudice by making a comparison that 'they were Turkish bullfrogs and had no shame, and that Greek boys would never behave so' (Towers, 103). Another example of such ethnic prejudice is revealed in reference to the historic barbarism of Turks through another old Greek when the group meet him in Rize, a small Black Sea town. As he converses with Laurie hesitatingly in Greek he expresses his opinion about the Turks: While passing through different cities of Turkey John Dos Passos narrates different stories about the massacre of the minority inhabitants of the places, relaying anecdotes like 'there's another Armenian whose mother, father and three sisters were cut up into little pieces before his eyes by the Turks in Trebizond' (Orient Express, 9). In another place, he encounters another massacre-story: ‘The Turks in Samsoun, the Kemalists, who some weeks ago since deported the men of Orthodox faith, have now posted an order to deport the women and children. Three days notice. Of course that means ...”Massacre”, says some one hastily’ (Orient Express, 17).

Besides accounts of massacres which add a new dimension to the historical connotations of Turkish brutality, another reflection of atrocity comes in the form of accounts of harassment by the Turkish police and the military particularly during the coups, and accounts of the appalling conditions of prisons in the country. As he travelled to Turkey when the country was under curfew during the 1980 coup, Philip Glazebrook met many soldiers at different check-points on his way to the eastern part of Turkey, and infers from their physical appearance as well as from their aggressiveness a close identification with Germans and Mongols:

In addition to the early images of brutality, another widespread anti-Turkish stereotype, especially popular in the second half of the century refers to the appalling prison conditions and the ill-treatment of prisoners by the Turkish security forces. This image, which has become quite powerful through the cinema, with films such as Midnight Express (1978), intermingled with the implementation of sadistic sodomization is also obscenely emphasised in novels such as The Light of the Day (1962), when the protagonist narrates his first impression of a Turkish jail: 'Then he took a rubber glove and a jar of petroleum jelly from the wall cabinet and searched my rectum' (The Light of the Day, 50). Another shocking example of torture and ill-treatment by the Turkish police is pointed out by William Dalrymple through a Turkish youth as he tells the bitter story about his cousin to Laura, another English traveller in In Xanadu: A Quest (1989): Dalrymple implies that torture as a method of interrogation is employed particularly in the case of political prisoners: 'The robbers, they beat up the political prisoners and the guards, they beat up everybody. There are gangs, and many killings' (In Xanadu, 78). In Diamonds Bid (1967), when the hero witnesses a bribery scene in a Turkish police station he is exposed to brutal harassment by the police (Diamonds Bid).

Frederick Prokosch relates how he was arrested in an eastern city in The Asiatics (1935):

Referring to what he has learnt from the guardians of the prison Prokosch proceeds to give some details about the appalling conditions of the prison and the prisoners:  Besides some general attributions to the Turks such as ‘Turkish habit of striking...servants violently in the face when they displeased’ (The Mask of Dimitrios, 13), as far as the image of savagery or cruelty is concerned at individual level, particularly thriller writers seem to create various fictitious Turkish figures who are generally characterised by their villainous acts or records. Apart from bribery, Rathbone tends to make use of brutality in order to make the combined image of drug-trafficking and antique smuggling more sensational. For example, Barish Uz invites Diana's boyfriend David, who is an expert on Hellenistic bronzes, to his villa and he is introduced to 'an Eros and a Zeus. He said the Zeus was as fine as and similar to the one in Athens Museum'(24), but 'two days after he had talked of it all to this Turkish archaeologist he was knocked down and killed. (Trip Trap, 132).

Another Turkish stereotype Timur Urganci, is a psychopathic murderer paid by Barish Uz: 'They were both shot by Timur Urganci. Both times in the pay of Barish Uz. Timur Urganci is probably psychopathic' (Trip Trap, 142). In order to emphasise his wickedness Rathbone remarks:

To increase the impact of Turkish brutality upon the reader, many novelists refer to different methods of execution as commonplace. In The Asiatics (1935) the execution takes the form of shooting an Armenian prisoner already sentenced to death since he killed a Turkish soldier: Sometimes executions are described as taking place in public in well-known parts of Istanbul like Sultanahmet square (a popular tourist centre), as exemplified in Joan Fleming's When I Grow Rich (1962): On one occasion Madame Miasme takes Jenny to another public execution in Istanbul as an implicit sign of warning:
The hangman’s movements were economical and unfussy. In his ordinary well worn European-style suit he looked like a busy draper or any other kind of shopkeeper performing familiar movements amongst his stock. He slipped the noose over the prisoner’s head, pulling the knot round to the back and tightening it against The back of the neck whilst adjusting it in front well beneath the chin. He then helped him upon to the stool, pulling the spare rope twist and tying it firmly against one of the supports. There was absolute silence now in the square but once more the fog horn sounded. Light was rushing up out of the east, but the deed would be done before dawn (When I Grow Rich, 78)



1-Rose Macaulay, The Towers of Trebizond (London: Fontana, 1990), p.75. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Towers'.

2-J.V. Guerinot, “The Pleasures of Rose Macaulay” in Twentieth Century Literature, 33 (Spring 1989), (110-128), p.119. Guerinot makes this comment in particular reference to Macaulay’s Pleasures of Ruins. See: Rose Macaulay, Pleasures of Ruins (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1953), p. 169.

3-Philip Glazebrook, Journey to Kars (London: Penguin, 1985), pp. 223-4. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Journey to Kars'.

4-Eric Newby, On the Shores of the Mediterranean (London: Picador, 1985), p.152. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its shortened title, 'On the Shores'.

5-Nick Carter, Istanbul (London: Universal Publishing and Distribution Corporation), p.20. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Istanbul'. Also see: Turkish Bloodbath (New York: Ace-Charter, 1980).

6-A. Phyllis Whitney, Black Amber (London: Robert Hale, 1965), p.114. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Black Amber'.

7-Charles Forsyte, Diplomatic Death, first pub. London: Cassell, 1961, (Leicester: F.A. Thorpe, 1988), p.180. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Diplomatic Death'

8-Eric Ambler, The Mask of Dimitrios (First Pub. Hodder and Stoughton, 1939) (London:Fontana\Collins, 1966), p.21. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'The Mask of Dimitrios'.

9-Eric Ambler, The light of the Day, (London: Heineman, 1962), p.117. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, ‘The light of the Day’

10-Joan Fleming, When I Grow Rich, 1st pub. (London: Collins, 1962), p. 186. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'When I Grow Rich'.

11-Although it has been published recently, the story was composed in the mid 1950s while the author was working in the British Consulate-General. As the author remarks, 'behind the story of Diplomatic Death lies another story. It began in the mid 1950s in Istanbul, where I was working in the British Consulate-General. During this time my father-in-law in England suffered a severe stroke and my wife had to fly home to be with him. To while away the winter evenings on my own I read a number of detective stories, until the thought came to me that it would be more entertaining to write one myself. I devised a mystery plot set in the local scene - for although the characters and events were invented, the story is set in the Istanbul I knew'. See: Charles Forsyte, Diplomatic Death (Leicester: F.A. Thorpe, 1988), prologue.

12-Julian Rathbone, Diamonds Bid (London: Joseph, 1967), p.127. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Diamonds Bid'.

13-John Dos Passos, Orient Express (New York: Jonathan Cape and Harrison Smith, 1922), p. 70. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its title, 'Orient Express'.

14-Barry Unsworth, Pascali's Island (London: Penguin, 1980), p.42. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Pascali's Island'.

15-Nancy Phelan, Welcome to the Wayfarer (London: Macmillan, 1965), p. 2. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Welcome to the Wayfarer'.

16-Mary Lee Settle, Turkish Reflections (New York: Prentice Hall, 1991), p. 68. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Turkish Reflections'.

17-Christina Dodwell, A Traveller on Horseback (London: Sceptre, 1988), p. 125-6.

18-Jan Morris, Among the Cities (London: Penguin, 1986), p.200. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Among the Cities'.

19-The book was first published in 1935 by Hutchinson. Dennis Wheatley, The Eunuch of Stamboul (London: Arrow Books, 1960), p. 41. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'The Eunuch of Stamboul'.

20-John Buchan, Greenmantle (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1916) Ist pub., p. 226. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its title, 'Greenmantle'.

21-J.C. Hurewitz, Middle East Dilemmas: The Background of the United States Policy (New York: Russell and Russell, 1973), p.168. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Middle East Dilemmas'.

22-William Dalrymple, In Xanadu: A Quest (London: Flamingo, 1990), p. 6. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'In Xanadu'.

23-Frederic Prokosch, The Asiatics, 1st pub. 1935, (London: Robin Clark, 1991), p. 56-7. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'The Asiatics'.

24-Julian Rathbone, Trip Trap (London: Joseph, 1972). Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Trip Trap'.