HERZLIANA
I.
IN CONSTANTINOPLE
Dr. Herzl was the guest of the Sultan in Constantinople in January, 1902. He was attended by Mr. Joseph Cowen who, with him, resided at the Pera Palace Hotel, and subsequently told the following story:
"We were dining on the verandah, when I noticed that three gentlemen entered and occupied the next table. Herzl grew uneasy; and, reflecting on all that I had heard about Constantinople, I asked him quietly what he thought about the talk of spies in Constantinople. On the instant, Herzl raised his voice and answered loudly in French: 'There is a Turkish proverb which says, If five persons are dining in a public place, three of them are spies. You and I are not spies.'
"The other three guests immediately quitted the scene."
II.
AN ENGLISH MESSIAH
In the sacks of correspondence which were literally flung at the first Congress, was a particularly bulky package from Stockton-on-Tees in England. The contents, which Herzl requested should be perused with care, were neither more nor less than a long-winded claim on the part of the writer that he was the Messiah, and as such, requested to be called to Basle im-
mediately and given the direction of affairs. The proof of Messiahship was quaintly based on the fact that the writer had seen some remarkable words formed by a drift of snow in his English garden.
"One drift of snow cannot make a Messiah and a Congress leader," said Herzl, on perusing a summary of the letter. "Write him that I have no authority over the Jews, much less the power to proclaim him Messiah; but if he is made of iron and fire, he is welcome here." Across the letter he wrote as a memorandum: "The snow of yesteryear."
III.
Herzl could not help knowing that his appearance was striking, and he once used it in a curious way.
He had arrived at the Swiss customs stations, and had to wait to have his baggage examined. There were big trunks, some full of papers, and he was in no mood to open them. The customs official approached him. Fixing the man, Herzl turned to him, saying: "Do I look like an honest man?" "Yes," replied the official, impressed. "Then, believe me, by my honest face, that I have nothing dutiable in my baggage." The official stared, slightly bewildered, and said: "Pass on," and put his inspection marks on the trunks. When he had passed the barrier, Herzl smiled: "That man believes more of me than many Jews do."