Chapter I: Front Matter

THE BLIGHT OF ASIA

_BY GEORGE HORTON_

LIKE ANOTHER HELEN
THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD
THE MONKS’ TREASURE
THE EDGE OF HAZARD

All men of military age were torn away from their wives and children and led away in groups for deportation to the interior.]

THE BLIGHT OF ASIA

_An Account of the Systematic Extermination of Christian
Populations by Mohammedans and of the Culpability
of Certain Great Powers; with the True Story
of the Burning of Smyrna_

_By_
GEORGE HORTON
For Thirty Years Consul and Consul-General of the
United States in the Near East

_With a Foreword by_
JAMES W. GERARD
Former Ambassador to Germany

INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1926
BY THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY

_Printed in the United States of America_

PRINTED AND BOUND
BY BRAUNWORTH & CO., INC.
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

“What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven
churches which are in Asia; unto Ephesus, and unto Smyrna, and
unto Pergamos, and unto Thyatira, and unto Sardis, and unto
Philadelphia, and unto Laodicea.”

REVELATION, I:11.

THE MARTYRED CITY

Glory and Queen of the Inland Sea
Was Smyrna, the beautiful city,
And fairest pearl of the Orient she—
O Smyrna, the beautiful city!
Heiress of countless storied ages,
Mother of poets, saints and sages
Was Smyrna, the beautiful city!

One of the ancient, glorious Seven
Was Smyrna, the sacred city,
Whose candles all were alight in Heaven—
O Smyrna, the sacred city!
One of the Seven hopes and desires,
One of the Seven Holy Fires
Was Smyrna, the Sacred City.

And six flared out in the long ago—
O Smyrna, the Christian city!
But hers shone on with a constant glow—
O Smyrna, the Christian city!
The others died down and passed away,
But hers gleamed on until yesterday—
O Smyrna, the Christian city!

Silent and dead are the churchbell ringers
Of Smyrna, the Christian city,
The music silent and dead the singers
Of Smyrna, the happy city;
And her maidens, pearls of the Inland seas
Are gone from the marble palaces
Of Smyrna, enchanting city!

She is dead and rots by the Orient’s gate,
Does Smyrna, the murdered city,
Her artisans gone, her streets desolate—
O Smyrna, the murdered city!
Her children made orphans, widows her wives
While under her stones the foul rat thrives—
O Smyrna, the murdered city!

They crowned with a halo her bishop there,
In Smyrna, the martyred city,
Though dabbled with blood was his long white hair—
O Smyrna, the martyred city!
So she kept the faith in Christendom
From Polycarp to St. Chrysostom,[1]
Did Smyrna, the glorified city!