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Title: The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon


Author: Habeeb Risk Allah



Release Date: February 18, 2011  [eBook #35322]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THISTLE AND THE CEDAR OF
LEBANON***


This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.

                    [Picture: Portrait of the Author]





                               THE THISTLE
                                   AND
                          THE CEDAR OF LEBANON,


                                * * * * *

                                    BY
                        HABEEB RISK ALLAH EFFENDI,
                                M.R.C.S.,
                     AND ASSOCIATE OF KING’S COLLEGE.

                                * * * * *

    “And Jehoash the king of Israel sent to Amaziah king of Judah,
    saying, The thistle that was in Lebanon, sent to the cedar that was
    in Lebanon, saying, Give thy daughter to my son to wife; and there
    passed by a wild beast that was in Lebanon, and trode down the
    thistle.”—2 Kings xiv. 9.

                                * * * * *

                             SECOND EDITION.

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:
                    JAMES MADDEN, 8 LEADENHALL STREET.

                                * * * * *

                                   1854

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:
                      PRINTED BY WERTHEIMER AND CO.
                             FINSBURY CIRCUS.




PREFACE
TO THE FIRST EDITION.


The following pages were written in compliance with the solicitations of
many esteemed friends, who were desirous that I should lay before the
public an outline of my life and travels, and give to the English nation
a description of the domestic habits and religious opinions of my
countrymen in Syria.  However incompetent I may have proved for the task,
I trust that what I have written may not be wholly uninteresting; and
above all, it is my earnest hope, that my feeble efforts to arouse the
generous interest of the English for the welfare and improvement of my
native land, may not prove without use.

In choosing the title which is prefixed to my humble work, I have acted
upon the long-established usage of my countrymen of speaking
parabolically, a practice which has existed from the days of Job down to
the present time.

I cannot conclude without offering my heartfelt thanks to my friend, the
Rev. Wm. Frederick Witts, Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge, for the
valuable assistance he has rendered me in revising these pages for the
press.

                                                                     R. A.

18, _Cambridge-square_, _Hyde Park_,
            _May_, 1853.

                                 PREFACE
                          TO THE SECOND EDITION.

One thousand copies, which constituted the First Edition of this work,
having been disposed of within six months, I cannot allow another to go
forth without expressing the satisfaction I feel at the liberal
encouragement it has met with, and the gratitude I entertain towards my
English readers for their indulgence towards it.  My acknowledgments are
also due to the Press, for the very favourable notices with which it has
been invariably honoured by them.

The same hope which animated my labours, and induced me to present them
to the public, still cheers me on, namely, that of engaging the attention
and exciting the interest of the English nation in the fate and prospects
of Syria, my beloved country: a land dear to every thinking mind from its
sacred associations, and richly meriting the attention of the man of
business and the traveller, from its undeveloped material resources, and
from its picturesque beauty and healthy climate.

I can only allude to, in order to deplore, the state of war which now
agitates and exhausts it; but in whatever manner the dispute may be
settled, I have confidence that England and France will see justice done
to an outraged country; and also, that the patriotic cause of our
government will finally triumph over its enemies; for, under the generous
and tolerant sway of Abdul Medjid Khan, and his enlightened ministers,
far more is to be effected for the welfare of every class of his
subjects, than are likely to arise from the interference of any foreign
power; and I am sure that the more intelligent portion of the Orthodox
Greek population are fully aware of this, and that they are, as they
ought to be, loyally disposed towards the Sultan, their sovereign.

As I am now on the eve of quitting England for the East, I take this
opportunity of publicly giving expression to my heartfelt sense of the
uniform kindness and courtesy I have met with from all ranks in this
mighty empire; also, of once more expressing the earnest hope, that when
this present contest shall have ceased, British energy, philanthropy, and
capital, may be induced to promote the commercial and educational
development of the population and resources of my native land.  She
possesses many natural treasures—she is eager for improvement—she is not
far distant.

If to this end the following pages shall have, even in the smallest
degree contributed, I shall enjoy the high gratification of believing
that neither my life nor my labour has been in vain.

Many inaccuracies, I regret to say, occurred in the First Edition; these
I have done my best to correct.  Should any (I trust no material ones)
have still escaped me, I must crave my reader’s indulgence for them.

   _London_, _Feb._ 11, 1854.




CONTENTS.

                                                                  PAGE
                        INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.
                                                                     1
                              CHAPTER I.
Reminiscences of early Childhood—My Birth-place—Sheikh               5
Faris Biridi—Early Tuition—Family Customs—Position of
Shuay-fât, and Pastures—Inhabitants—Author quits for
Beyrout
                             CHAPTER II.
Beyrout—Piratical Attack—Flight to Mountains—Effects of             14
the Assault upon the Inhabitants
                             CHAPTER III.
Damascus—Author’s First visit to—Description of the                 18
Town—The Inhabitants—The Customs and Manners—The
Ladies—Their Beauty and Freedom—Court-yards and
Houses—Bazaars—Environs—Soirées—Games—Specimens of Poetry
and Songs—Wonderful Legend—Refreshments—Entertainment
given by the British Consul—Privileges of Christians—Padre
Tomaso—American and British
Missions—Population—Antiquity—Ravages by Cholera
                             CHAPTER IV.
Return to Beyrout—American Mission—Original Difficulties            41
they encountered—How overcome—The Estimation of
Physicians—Anecdote of Mr. Zohrab—American
Doctors—Introduction to School—Reminiscences of
School-days—Anecdote of Sheikh Ahmed—Lists of
Missionaries—Adventure of Mr. Bird—The Pacha’s
Revenge—Description of the Rise of the Settlement and
trade at Beyrout—Climate, Hints with regard to
                              CHAPTER V.
Visit to Cyprus—Description of Voyage—Arrival at                    57
Larnaca—Visit to Nicosia and other towns—Cyprus
Wines—Languages—Departure for Tersous—Arrival at
Mersine—Scenery in Cilicia—Gardens—Buildings of
Tersous—Streets—Climate—Inhabitants—Signor Michael
Saba—Adana—Its Shops and
Streets—Inhabitants—Fanaticism—Revolts—Pacha’s Service—The
Pass of Kulek Bughas—Scenery—Departure for Ayas
                             CHAPTER VI.
Ayas to Scanderoon—Scanderoon to Aleppo—Description of              71
Journey—The Aleppines—Their Style and Polish—A Wedding
described—Syrian Step-mothers—Jewish and Christian
quarters—Earthquake of 1822—Pastimes and Garden
Parties—Population—Commerce—Departure for Antioch—Gessir
il Haded—Orontes—Antioch
                             CHAPTER VII.
Antioch—Its Beauty and Fruitfulness—Visit to Suedia and             85
Lattakia—Signor Mosi Elias—Hardships endured by Consular
Agents—Anecdote of English Travellers—Uses and Abuses of
the Protection System—Fanaticism of Moslem
Populace—Produce—Lattakia to Tripoli—Oranges—Abu
Rish—Signor Catsoflis—A fair Intercessor for Justice to
the Injured—Results of the Appeal—Cedars of
Lebanon—Baalbec—Anecdote of English Forces—Turjaman
Bashi—Strange Character of Sayid Ali—Damascus—Djouni and
Sidon—Lady Hesther—General Loustannau—Description of
Sidon—Bombardment of St. Jean d’Acre—Kaipha and Mount
Carmel—Mistaken Ideas of Love
                            CHAPTER VIII.
First visit to England—Sail for Malta—Miseries of                  122
Seasickness—Arrival at Malta—The Emir Beschir—Late Bishop
of Jerusalem—Steam Frigate Gorgon—Arrival at
Portsmouth—Rev. Baptist Noel—London—Souvenir of
Wimbledon—A Duel prevented—Anecdote of Druse Sheikh—Return
to Syria—Sir George Otway—Arrival at Beyrout—War between
Druses and Maronites—Stamboul—Emir Kasim, his History—Lord
Cowley—Dr. Bennett—Mr. Goodall—Return to
England—Malta—Marseilles—Adventure with French Officer—M.
Guizot—Suliman Pacha—M. Thiers—Delicate Mission—Arrival in
England—Prince Callimaki—Mr. Zohrab—Mr. B. Phillips—King’s
College, London—Medical Profession—Lectures—Frightful
Accident—Long Illness—Admission as Member of King’s
College—The Mir Shahamet Ali and Sir C. Wade—Visit to
Manufacturing Districts—Lamartine
                             CHAPTER IX.
Visit to Paris—First Impressions—Boulevards—Champs                 164
Elysées—Description of a Lodging-house—Domestic Habits of
the French—English and French Friendship—Departure for
Constantinople _viâ_ Vienna
                              CHAPTER X.
Reminiscences of Stamboul—Entertainments—Songs—The Tailor          170
and the Sultan—The Sultan’s Condescension—Marriage of the
Daughter of Prince Vogiredis—Turkish Navy—Present Crisis—A
Renegade Girl
                             CHAPTER XI.
Egypt—Abbas Pasha and his Improvements—The British                 184
Consul-General—Mr. Abet—Mr. Larking—Boghas
Bey—Antiquities—Climate—Library—Advantages enjoyed by
European Residents—Festivities—Fulfilment of Prophecy—Late
Gift of Horses presented by Nubar Bey to her Majesty—The
Hon. G. Massey—Impressions made on the Grooms
                             CHAPTER XII.
Visit to Devonshire, Bath, and Cheltenham—Visit to Lady            197
Rolle—Description of Bicton—Travelling by an Express
Train—A Coachman’s Remarks—The Park—Arrival and
Reception—Description of my Life—My Portrait
taken—Amusements—Conversation with Mrs. P--- of Exeter
about the Greek Church—English Young Ladies—Cottage
Visiting—Buildings erected by Lady Rolle at Bicton—Amusing
Anecdote of an Eastern Princess—Drive to
Exeter—Equipage—Cathedral—Frescoes—Gaol—Child in Prison
there—Female Department—Villagers’ Opinions of
me—Bath—Beauties of Country reminded me of
Syria—Springs—Arrival—Sir Claude Wade—Tour of the
City—Society—Diversity of Religious
Opinions—Service—Soirée—Agreeable Rencontre—Second Visit
to Bath—Bachelor’s Ball—Lady Mayoress’s Ball at the
Guildhall—Recognition as a Free-mason—Invitation to “The
Lodge of Honour” to meet the Mayor—Meeting with Dr.
Thompson—Lecture—Quoted from the Paper—Visit to
Cheltenham—Rev. J. Brown—Rev. C. H. Bromley—Meeting—My
Address—Appeal to send over for, and educate young Syrians
at the Normal College at Cheltenham—Case of a young Syrian
Lad—Lord Northwick—His Collection of
Paintings—Conclusion—Reasons for appearing before the
Public as an Author
                            CHAPTER XIII.
Impressions of England—Letters to a Friend in the                  216
East—Voyage to England—Landing—Custom-house—Crowded
Thoroughfares—English Activity—Hotel—Servants—Drive—Motley
Groups—Squares—Park—Houris—Heart-aches—Dinner—English
Splendour, but Syrian Ease and a Chibuk preferred—English
Acquaintances—Society—Young Ladies—Their
Freedom—Matrons—Their
Acquirements—Etiquette—Dress—Widows—Gentlemen—English
Sabbath—Public Schools and Colleges—The Queen—Missionary
and Charitable Institutions—Great Wealth of the
English—The Merchants—The Fashionable World—The
Opera—Expensive Pleasure—Insatiable Craving for
Riches—Desire for an English
Home—Marriages—Children—Schooling—Absence of Reverence for
Beards—Devotion of the Young Fair Sex to Uniforms—Kindness
to Strangers—Interest in the Holy Land—Hospitality—Private
Worth and Public Scheming
                             CHAPTER XIV.
Life, Manners, and Customs of Syria—Ceremonies at                  233
Births—Christian Names—Remedies for Infantile
Diseases—Early Instruction and Training—Syrian
Manners—Reverential Treatment of Priests—Personal
Cleanliness—Education—Betrothal—Marriage—Polygamy of
Mahommedans—Education of Girls—Household Maxims—Domestic
Snakes—Mourning for the Dead—A Lover’s Lament
                             CHAPTER XV.
Syria and her Inhabitants—Description of the Southern              259
parts of Palestine—The Misery of its Inhabitants—Their
Disposition and Labours—Sea-coast Population—Their
Habits—Scriptural Analogy—Sidon, Lebanon, Tripoli,
Lattakia and Antioch—The Children of those Parts—Appeal to
the British on behalf of Syria—Real State of the Turkish
Empire—Safety of English Investments—The Turkish
Dominions—How to purchase Property—English Emigrants would
be welcomed in Syria—Mr. John Barker—Colonel
Churchill—Lady Hester Stanhope—Fruits—Cultivation of the
Soil—Advantages for the English Emigrant and Amelioration
for Syria—Major Macdonald—His Discovery of Turquoises and
Presentation of some to the Queen—Advice to Emigrants—All
Particulars and Expenses of Voyage explained, Outlay,
Working, Expenditure and Profits derivable—Climate
recommended for Health
                             CHAPTER XVI.
Syria, her Inhabitants and their Religion—Religious                279
Teaching in Syria—American Missionaries—Their Zeal—Greek
or Orthodox Eastern Church—Interview and Conversation with
the Patriarch and Bishops at Constantinople—Letter from
Syria—The Conversion of the Son of a Mufti to
Christianity—Lord Shaftesbury and the Protestant College
at Malta—Mahommedan Power and the Christian Churches in
Syria—Claims of the Orthodox Eastern Church and its
Affinity to the Protestant Churches of England—The Four
Patriarchs—Education of the Syrian Priesthood—The Service
of the Orthodox Eastern Church—Dissenters from it—Account
of Karolus their Patriarch—Dispute about the Head-dress
and reference to Constantinople—Decision—Jealousies of the
Christian Sects—Political Animosities
                            CHAPTER XVII.
The Maronites—Their Political Position—Anecdote connected          299
with the Year 1821—Their Customs, Manners, and
Religion—The Number of Roman Catholics in Syria—The
Copts—The Nestorians
                            CHAPTER XVIII.
The Population of Syria continued—The Metoulis or                  317
Heterodox Followers of Mahommed—The Druses—The
Nosairiyeh—The Yezidees
                             CHAPTER XIX.
Appearance and Costume of the People—The Aleppine                  338
Greeks—The Dyers—The Armenians—The Yahoodee or
Israelites—The Turkish Effendi—The Bedouins—The Fellaheen
                             CHAPTER XX.
The Occupations of the People—Lebanon in April—The                 352
Mulberry Plantations—Anecdote—The Silkworms—The Wheat
Harvest—Borghol—The Vintage—The Olive Winter—The Resources
of Syria—The Small Capitalists in Syria
                             CHAPTER XXI.
The Comparative Influences of the Roman Catholic and               370
Protestant Faiths in Syria—The Roman Catholics—Their
Convents—Greek and Armenian Monasteries—The Knowledge and
Practice of Medicine—The Influence of the
Hakeem—Anecdote—Conversions—The Sisters of Charity
                            CHAPTER XXII.
The Remedy—The Early                                               384
Apostles—Physicians—Missionaries—Introduction of the
Silkworm from China—Incorporation of the Medical with the
Clerical Profession—Proposed Society to be formed in
England—Hospital—School-rooms—Dispensary—Purchase of
Land—Its Cultivation—System of Education—Letter of Dr.
Thomson—Mr. Cuthbert Young’s “Notes of a Wayfarer”
                              APPENDIX.
Notes on the Geology of Syria, by Professor Forbes                 397

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.


In presenting the British public with the following pages, containing a
brief sketch of my life and travels, together with a description of the
customs and present condition of my native land, I am actuated solely by
motives which, I trust, a careful perusal of this work will prove to be
disinterested.

All nations are more or less patriotic; none more so than the inhabitants
of the British isles.  With them the inducements to this love of home are
all-sufficient, for their religion is the purest, their government and
laws the best in the world, and they are second to no people in the
enjoyment of privileges and blessings, such as could be only enjoyed by a
“peculiar people,” under the immediate protection of the Almighty
Benefactor.  Next to them we may rank, as promoters of freedom and
enlightenment, the citizens of the United States, those other scions of a
noble stock.

Yet so peculiar is that innate love of man for the particular country and
people with which are associated the early years of his childhood, that
even the son of utter darkness, born and bred a savage, inured to every
hardship and privation, who boasts of no city, scarcely professes a
religion, whose home is the desert waste, his bed the warm sands of
Arabia, even he, the wild Bedouin, in his untutored heart, sets boundless
store by the place and people to which early attachment has rivetted his
affections.  Separate him from these and from his beloved mare, and no
riches or pleasures could compensate him for the loss.  This is also
applicable to the humble and oftentimes oppressed natives who dwell in
the towns and villages of Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine.  Though for
centuries they have been subjected to the heavy yoke of bondage, and of
late years, like the Israelites of old, were bondsmen to Egypt; however
much they may have deplored their hard fate, none have ever dreamt of
quitting the dear land of their forefathers—those ancestors who were
coeval with the patriarchs.  Some till the ground where Abraham once
tended his flocks; others cut timber where the men of Hiram and Solomon
once hewed cedars for the temple at Jerusalem; but the boast and glory of
all these is, that they dwell in the land where the Promise was
fulfilled.  One may be by birth a Nazarene, another a townsman of Cana.
A day or two’s journey enables him to reach that very Bethlehem where the
blessed Redeemer was born, to track His holy footsteps in His pilgrimage
of mercy from place to place, to weep and bemoan Him on the site of the
last closing scenes of His holy life, and to raise up their hearts with
grateful thanksgivings for the great salvation wrought out for their
souls by His glorious resurrection.

Apart from these cherished associations of the spiritual with the
temporal world, the native of the Holy Land is fondly attached to his
country, because its climate is congenial to his manners, its soil
productive, its inhabitants hospitable, its waters the purest, air the
freshest, sun the brightest, fruits the most delicious, and flowers the
sweetest and most wildly profuse.  All these gifts in the greatest
luxuriance are to be found within the Lebanon range—that Lebanon of which
the inspired bard, the wisest of men and the best of kings, sings in his
beautiful metaphor on Christian love. {3}  “Thy plants are an orchard of
pomegranates with pleasant fruits. . .  A fountain of gardens, a well of
living waters, and streams from Lebanon.”

With such a past to dwell on, it is not surprising that the poor,
neglected peasant of Syria may still proudly vaunt himself of his
birthright and country.  I, too, hope, kind reader, for your sympathy in
my sharing this national characteristic, and for endeavouring, as far as
in me lies, to promote the welfare, both temporal and eternal, of my
fellow countrymen and native land.  The former, alas! are gradually
sinking deeper and deeper into the meshes of superstition and idolatry;
the latter groans under a heavy yoke, rendered still less supportable by
the grossest ignorance.  The indefatigable propagators of the Romish
faith are arousing the people from their pristine ignorance, only, I
fear, to plunge them into a more fearful vortex of errors.

I rush to the rescue; for God has blessed me far above my countrymen, by
shedding the true light of the Gospel around my pathway, through the
instrumentality of good and holy men, whom He has chosen for His especial
service, and who have bestowed on me the priceless boon of a Christian
education.  I am willing and anxious to devote every hour of my life, and
all my poor means, to the furtherance of His cause.  Yet, though much may
combine in my favour, I am inadequate to the accomplishment of the good I
desire for my country, without the aid, wise counsel, and support of the
Christian inhabitants of Great Britain.

Reader! in the following pages I have endeavoured to depict as clearly as
I can the evil and the remedy.  I have glanced over the leading features
of my life, to show how circumstances, trivial in themselves, appear to
have combined in my favour, that I should be an humble instrument in the
hands of my Maker, to work out a brighter and better hope for dear Syria.

That “pearl of great price,” pure Christianity, has been cherished and
nurtured within these isles till the true faith has reared itself up like
a mighty mirror, reflecting the glorious light of the blessed truths of
the Gospel far and wide.  May one beam of charity, reflected from thence,
alight upon the mother church of Syria—that church now sunk in misery and
degradation, but from which (remember, O Christian of Great Britain) was
derived the glorious knowledge of an eternal salvation.

“The Thistle that _is_ in Lebanon” is the harassed, weak, yet simple
disciple of the Eastern Church; and “the Cedar that was in Lebanon” is
the true Church of Christ, whose seeds were first derived from those Holy
shores, and are now firmly rooted in England.  The Thistle has sent to
ask thy daughter, Enlightenment, in marriage to her son, Simplicity.  O
refuse her not lest the _wild beast_ in Lebanon should tread down the
Thistle and obtain the ascendancy.




CHAPTER I.
SCENES OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.


My earliest recollections are associated with the lovely and rural
village of Shuay-fât, my birth-place, on the Lebanon; and where, if not
the happiest, certainly the most innocent years of my childhood were
passed.  My late father had no fixed residence at that place, but he,
with the rest of his family, usually resorted there to spend the summer
months and part of the autumn and spring.  In winter the cold became
intense, owing to the elevated position of the village; consequently most
of its inhabitants and summer visitors, including amongst these latter my
own family, invariably wintered at Beyrout.  My uncle, Sheikh Faris
Biridi, filled the important and respected post of _katib_, or secretary
to the Emir Beshir Shahab, the late prince of Lebanon, who resided at the
village of Deyr-al Kamar, situated a few hours’ journey from Shuay-fât.
At least three times a week my uncle’s duties compelled him to visit the
Emir.  Sheikh Faris was universally respected amongst the villagers; his
house was the best—his grounds the most extensive, and he himself in
reality, an intelligent and well-informed man.  For a Syrian, he was
deeply read and well skilled in the use of his pen; but above all, he was
an earnest and devout Christian, a kind father, and a good friend—virtues
which gained for him the esteem and love of all the neighbouring
villagers, as well Moslems and Druses as the Christians.

Under the favourable auspices of this kind man’s tuition, I first learned
to read and write my native tongue; and, as I was afterwards informed,
even at that early age, gave cheering proofs of an active mind, and
evinced an aptitude and love for the acquirement of knowledge.  I could
not possibly have had a better guide, both as regards precept and
example.  So long as I remained under his hospitable roof, his great and
chief care was to richly stock my young mind with doctrines well adapted
to promote the welfare of the soul in after years on all important
business.  His household arrangements were an example for others.  He was
an early riser himself, and insisted on all his household following this
healthful practice: his maxim was that sleep was for the dark hours of
the night—work and recreation for the light—prayers and thanksgivings for
all seasons.

My uncle was accustomed when at home to repair every morning, during the
spring and summer seasons, to the top of a neighbouring hill, which
commanded a view over an extensive range of country.  On these occasions
it was my wont to accompany him.  A servant preceded us carrying a small
carpet and a cushion or two; I carried my uncle’s pipe and tobacco-pouch
with flint, steel, and tinder, in one hand; in the other, the Kitab
Mukaddas, or Arabic Bible, printed in England, by the Church Missionary
Society.  As soon as my uncle had seated himself, and assumed his pipe,
he would make me sit at his feet and read out to him from the good Book,
illustrating and commenting as opportunity occurred.  The hundred and
fourth Psalm, than which none could be better suited to the time and
place, was usually his favourite.

From our elevated position, we could command a view, not only of our own
dearly cherished and beautiful hamlet, but also of many of the
surrounding villages.  At our feet lay Shuay-fât, with its neat little
cottages and cleanly swept court-yards, surrounded by a dense little
forest of mulberries, oranges, lemons, apricots, olives, countless vines,
and many other fruits; the dark leaves of an occasional poplar lending
variety to the beauty and shading of the foliage.  Not a man, woman, or
child, moved to and fro in the narrow little streets, but their names and
occupations were well known to us.  The dogs wagged their tails in happy
recognition of my shrill sharp whistle, and a thousand echoes caught up
the signal.  The verdant hills and valleys that surrounded us were
thickly dotted with cattle and sheep contentedly browsing upon the rich
pasturage.  Peeping over the densely wooded plantations, the tops of the
little whitewashed houses pointed out the locality of some well-known
village.  Clear streams of water sparkling in the glowing sunlight, often
intersected the plains and valleys, or rushed headlong down the steep
sides of some deep dell, abounding with wild flowers and myrtle bushes.
Far below, where the distant fields in square patches of variegated hues,
green bespangled with blue and crimson flowers; sometimes covered, like a
sheet of pure gold, with countless buttercups, and sometimes in
uncultivated patches of sombre brown; but what I most dearly loved to
gaze at was the broad blue sea in the distance, looking so pleasantly
cool and calm, with here and there a patch of deeper blue, where the
breeze sportively ruffled the waves.  I always thought of Nabiy Yunas {8}
and the great fish, and wondered if many such fish were yet taking their
pastime in the deep.  How little I imagined at that time that I was
destined to traverse those mighty waters, and to suffer myself to be
borne away on their waves hundreds of miles from shore, exposed to raging
tempests in a fragile bark!  Such a notion would then have been scouted
by all my friends; and I myself should have been foremost in deriding the
idea, and in opposing, that which has since proved conducive to my best
interests, temporal, and I trust eternal; but I was then a child, and
understood and acted as a child.

From this pleasant spot, my uncle gazed with rapture upon the surrounding
scenery, as the first rays of the sun peered above the snow-capped peaks
of lofty Lebanon, and spread a golden mantle over the vast panorama; from
my childhood, I have known how to appreciate the beauties of nature in
all their poetry; and I admire them still, but with a milder and more
subdued admiration.

“He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills.”
This was a portion of a morning’s reading lesson; the force and beauty of
the verse were illustrated by everything around me.  My worthy preceptor
would impress this fact upon my mind.  The men, the cattle, the trees,
shrubs, flowers, birds, butterflies, even the most insignificant insect
that crawls upon the earth—all these are preserved, he argued, by the
bounty and beneficence of the Creator—without this water how would nature
subsist?  In short the whole of that delightful Psalm seemed as though
expressly composed to illustrate the country around us, especially that
passage which says, “The cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted; where
the birds make their nests.”

Thus profitably and pleasantly the early hours of the day would be
consumed.  I was then dismissed with sage advice, to remember throughout
the day what I had read and heard; and my uncle being called away by his
avocations, I was left to amuse myself with my play-mates in the village,
until the hour of noon summoned us to our substantial mid-day meal.  Like
most boys, we were prone to mischief.  I remember a favourite game
amongst the village lads, which occasionally terminated in a squabble,
and was known by the name of Al Cadi, or The Judge.  The Cadi was chosen
by lot, as were the officers of his court, and the imaginary plaintiffs
and defendants.  Squatted on the ground, under the pleasant shade of some
mulberry-tree, we then held a court.  Sentence was recorded and executed;
and sometimes the boy who personated the imaginary criminal was sentenced
to be bastinadoed.  On these occasions, the executioners laid about them
so smartly with the light switches of the mulberry and olive, that though
the boy’s shoes were never removed, the lash penetrated to the sole of
the foot, and then the pretended culprit, smarting from pain, would lose
all command over his temper; a _melée_ would ensue, which outraged the
dignity of the court, and usually terminated by all the members, the Cadi
included, being summarily whipped for their naughtiness.

When the hour of mid-day was announced by the striking of gongs, which in
Syria are usually substituted for bells at some churches, all our family
assembled for _futar_, and my uncle would enter, followed by the peasants
employed about his plantations, together with his other servants.  This
was the signal for the cook and her assistant to carry into the centre of
the yard a large iron cauldron, containing the _ruzz-mufalfal_, or
whatever was prepared for the day for the supply of the whole household.
Clean shining platters were ranged in piles round this cauldron, and a
blessing having been first asked, the food was ladled out—a goodly
portion for each—enough and no waste.  The only distinguishing mark at
this family meal was, that the members of my uncle’s family were all
seated round a low circular table, and reclined upon carpets and against
cushions.  The others sat where their fancy dictated; but they chiefly
crowded under that side of the court-yard wall which afforded a shade
from the heat of the sun.  In addition to the contents of the cauldron,
there was generally a dish of stewed meat and vegetables; or (if the
season was Lent), of the egg-vegetable, or _batinjan_, and the
vegetable-marrow, sliced and fried in oil—with as many cucumbers,
pickles, lettuces, radishes, and young onions, as any one wished and
asked for.  During the repast, one of the servants usually stood at the
door to watch for any poor wayfarers who might pass, to ask them to
partake of our hospitality.  When all had finished, the fragments were
divided into equal portions amongst the cats and dogs of the
establishment; and what was left by them was given to the fowls and
sparrows.  Our evening meal differed but little from that of the morning,
except on days when the national dish of _Kubbee_ {10} superseded
everything else.  Then we had Kubbees in soup made of _laban_, or curdled
milk, and Kubbees fried, and Kubbees baked; for the Syrian can never tire
of eating of this delicious dish.  The interval between mid-day and the
evening was occupied variously—but first came the indispensable siesta,
indulged in by men, women, and children.  The men would then return to
their respective labours, while the women occupied themselves in
household matters, and most of the children were sent to the village
school; but for myself, my afternoons were occupied with our family
spiritual adviser, an excellent old man, who came daily and instructed
me, from the hours of two to four P.M.  After supper, my uncle would sit
in state and receive the visits of the neighbours, who usually dropped in
for an hour or two every evening.  They sat and smoked, and talked about
agricultural matters or village affairs; and sometimes one of the party
would tell an amusing story, and another would sing a song—sweetmeats,
coffee, and other refreshments being from time to time handed round—and
thus the evenings would be spent in pleasant harmless enjoyment.  This,
with very little variety, is a faithful picture of what was our every-day
life at Shuay-fât: and so passed the years of my infancy.

I have omitted to make any personal allusion to the various members of my
family.  I hope, however, that I shall be pardoned in making a slight
reference to my uncle’s lovely daughters, nine in number; these fair
cousins of mine outrivalled each other in beauty and amiable qualities,
and each had a trait of beauty peculiar to herself.  In Syria, it is the
custom to distinguish the various members of a family by a soubriquet,
which has reference to some perfection or failing.  Thus our groom,
Yusuf, who limped a little, was called “_Topal_,” or the lame; and one of
my cousins, “_Al Shams_,” or the sun, owing to her very bright eyes;
whilst another, who had mild blue eyes, was designated, “_Al Kamar_,” or
the moon.  _Al Kamar_ was so noted for her beauty and sweet disposition,
that two of the chiefs of Lebanon sought her hand in marriage—and this,
though they had never seen her; but _Al Kamar_ was not ambitious of
honors and riches.  The creed of the sheikhs also differed widely from
her own; so she refused them both.  All these nine daughters are now
married and settled in life; so I take leave of them with a fervent
prayer, that the Almighty may graciously watch over them, and crown their
end with eternal happiness.

Shuay-fât, like most of the surrounding villages, produces a large
quantity of silk; but it is in particular celebrated for the excellence
of its wine, its olives, and olive-oil.  Of the first, I can affirm, that
I have, in after-years, heard good judges of wine, when quoting its
excellence, refer to it as verifying the words of Hosea (xiv. 7), “The
scent thereof shall be as the wine of Lebanon.”  It is certainly very
odoriferous.  The olives and olive-oil are not to be surpassed in all
Syria.

The inhabitants, both men and women, are a fine, healthy people, and the
males are particularly athletic.  To describe them well, I cannot use
better or more appropriate language than that of the prophet Ezekiel
(xxxi. 3), “Behold, the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon with fair
branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of a high stature.”

Yet with all these combined advantages, of health, a delicious climate,
and a fertile soil, many of the poor peasants are oppressed and
miserable.  This arises from the iniquitous system of extortion practised
on them by land-owners and subordinate officers.  It must, however, be
confessed, that the mountaineers are, to a certain extent, more
independent than the inhabitants of the plains, who are ridden over
roughshod by the petty and tyrannical under-strappers in office.

I had barely attained my tenth year, when, much to my grief, I was
removed from the family of my kind uncle, and taken to Beyrout, there
permanently to reside; but, alas for short-sighted mortals, an event was
even then brewing, which burst like a tempest, over the Beyroutines, and
which materially affected my father’s plans and wishes with regard to my
future career in life.




CHAPTER II.
PIRATICAL ATTACK ON BEYROUT.


Months rolled on.  Merchants were at that period carrying on a
comparatively thriving trade at Beyrout.  The novelty of the scene that
presented itself on my first arrival there had gradually worn off.  In my
leisure hours I rambled along the sandy beach, gathering shells, and
wading ankle deep into the surf, at first with ill-suppressed fear and
trembling; but the example of other boys emboldening me to venture into
the water, I finished by becoming quite an adept in the art of swimming.
Then the ships were a source of wonder and surprise, as they sailed in
and out of the harbour, like gigantic swans floating over the waves.
These also had ceased to excite interest, for I had been on board,
handled the tarry ropes, walked the deck, and suffered inconvenience from
the disagreeable motion, so that these also had ceased to be a marvel.
Thus time rolled on, and I had well nigh forgotten all my regrets at
leaving Lebanon and the hospitable abode of my uncle, when the unexpected
event alluded to in the foregoing chapter, transpired.

It was on Palm Sunday, in, I think, the year 1828.  The harbour had been
deserted for some few days; there was not even an Arab boat at the
anchorage: and on the eventful evening I am now describing, the eye might
have vainly swept the horizon seeking for indications of an approaching
sail.  This, however, was no uncommon event in those days, when the
commerce of Beyrout was yet in its infancy.  None imagined, on retiring
to rest that night, that impending danger was so close at hand.  Midnight
had, however, scarcely chimed, and the last occupant of the latest open
coffee-house crept home to his hovel, when a tumult arose, and the night
air was filled with shrieks and lamentations, mingled with the startling
reports of fire-arms.  There was a rush in the streets of many people
running for their lives; and all the inmates of my father’s household
being now thoroughly awakened, ran out also, and joined the flying
multitude.  The Bab Yacoob, leading to Damascus and Lebanon, was open and
unguarded.  We fled with the concourse towards the mountains, favored in
our retreat by the obscurity of the night; nor did any one think of
stopping to breathe or repose till they had gained the summit of one of
the neighbouring hills.  Here, finding no signs of pursuit, and the
clamour and report of fire-arms having died away in the distance, the
frightened populace halted anxiously to await the first dawn of day,
which was to enable them to secure their retreat to the neighbouring
villages.  All were totally ignorant as to the cause of the sudden panic,
but many laboured under the absurd notion that the place had been
attacked by Russian troops.  None, however, stopped to be better informed
on the subject; but, renewing their flight with the first light of
morning, each betook himself and family to that village with which he was
best acquainted; and for the next few weeks the Lebanon district was
inundated with the scared refugees from Beyrout.

As for ourselves, we directed our steps to Shuay-fât, and accomplished
the journey as best we could; arriving there weary and half-famished, to
the utter astonishment and dismay of my uncle’s household, who were at
first quite at a loss to account for our sudden appearance in so pitiable
a condition.  Soon after our arrival, official intelligence reached the
mountains of what had transpired.  A ruffianly horde of piratical Greeks,
allured by the hopes of meeting with rich booty, had made this sudden
descent upon the peaceful and unsuspecting inhabitants.  They had entered
the town without resistance, and once in possession of the Quai, had
unhesitatingly commenced the work of despoliation.  Whole warehouses were
stripped—money and rich jewellery carried off—murder and every atrocious
crime, the offspring of villany, had been perpetrated.  To secure the
gold coins and jewellery worn by the women on their heads, wrists, and
ankles, the wretches never hesitated to make use of the knife; and
ear-rings were wrenched forcibly from the ears of the hapless victims.
When the pirates were satiated with plunder, they broke and destroyed
what was left; and then, setting fire to different parts of the town,
they betook themselves with their booty to their boats, and thus
disappeared.  Luckily for house-owners, most of the buildings were
constructed of solid masonry, with domes and vaulted roofs, so that the
fire, even where it had ignited, speedily exhausted its impotent rage.
The Moslem rabble, disguised as Greeks, also joined in the general foray.

By this calamity all the residents at Beyrout suffered more or less.
Many were utterly ruined; and my poor father’s losses were so severe,
that he at first wholly relinquished the idea of ever returning to that
place.  For many months afterwards we resided at Shuay-fât; but here also
an outbreak amongst the mountaineers disturbed us again, and we were
compelled to retrace our steps to Beyrout, which place, from that day
forward, became my home.

With regard to the marauders, they escaped scot-free and were neither
detected nor punished, as this took place at the time of the Greek
revolution and the battle of Navarino, when the government were doubtless
too much occupied to notice it.




CHAPTER III.
DESCRIPTION OF DAMASCUS.


It now became necessary that I should seek out and steadfastly follow up
some fixed profession or calling in life.  There was more than one motive
that urged this measure upon me as a necessity: in the first place, my
father’s resources had been sadly crippled by the piratical affair;
besides, I was of an age when youths in Syria earn their own livelihood,
and my education was sufficiently advanced to enable me to enter upon the
duties of life.  I could read and write my own language; and this was all
that was expected, and much more than many youths of my age could boast.
I had no thought then of acquiring a knowledge of foreign languages.  To
escape from the thraldom of school is always a source of great delight to
schoolboys.

As far as my own views went, I was bent upon going to Damascus; and
though my dear parents opposed this wish at first, I gradually coaxed
them into a consenting mood; and perhaps the greatest inducement for them
to yield to my wishes, was the fact of our having a wealthy and
influential friend, then residing at Damascus, who had been a
fellow-_katib_ of my uncle’s, and who occupied a high post in the service
of the Pasha.

To this worthy man’s care I was confided; and, taking leave of my dear
parents, and accompanied by their blessing, I left Beyrout, and proceeded
to Damascus; a city which existed before the patriarch Abraham’s time,
being referred to as a well-known place, in Gen. xiv.  It was the chief
city of Syria, founded by Rezin, and was sacked by Jeroboam II., king of
Israel.  It is still a comparatively thriving and populous city, and has
those natural resources of climate, soil, and abundance of water, which
cannot fail to perpetuate its fame as the garden of the East.  Here,
shortly after my arrival, I was fortunate enough, through the influence
of our friend, to procure a lucrative and rising situation.  At this
place I remained a considerable time, delighted with its climate and
beauty, as also well pleased with my office and with my associates.

No pen can give an adequate idea of the delights of Damascus.  The
nearest approach I can hope to make to a truthful description, will be
simply to depict what I saw and experienced; and this perhaps will give
the stranger a better conception of the place than the flowery rhapsodies
of many of those writers, whose experience, resulting from a visit of a
few days, has been skilfully converted into some dozen chapters of post
octavo.

Damascus, like most Eastern towns, has nothing to boast of in the outside
appearance of its rough unwhitewashed houses.  Its streets are narrow,
dark and intricate—crowds of people—caravans of camels—mules—and troops
of donkeys—are all perpetually on the move, though not with that rapidity
of locomotion so striking to a foreigner on his first visit to London.

The stranger is struck dumb with amazement and disappointment.  He has
heard so much and he sees so little, that his first exclamation is sure
to be, “Can this really be Sham-al Sharif?—the much praised Damascus;—the
so-styled paradise of the East!”  Yes, stranger, this is the justly
celebrated Damascus; but the secret cause of your amazement lies hid as
the kernel in the shell of a nut, the outer surface of which is the walls
of the houses, while within lies concealed the sweet kernel.  Open the
street-door of rough and unpolished wood; and after carefully closing the
same, as if by magic, the whole train of your thoughts and your
discontentment will be diverted into another channel, and you will be
struck with surprise and admiration, as the hidden beauties of the city
will then burst upon your view.  The same may be said with regard to the
ladies of Damascus, notoriously the handsomest women in the East—Houris,
whose bright eyes have afforded an endless theme for the poet’s song!
Forms carefully enveloped in white and coloured _izars_—features muffled
up and completely disguised by white veils!  That man must needs be a
magician who could identify even his own wife or sister from amidst the
herd of ghostly figures continually flitting to and fro in the streets;
though now and then some Eastern _akruti_ (coquette), may even here be
found slily contriving to allow the light of her sparkling eyes to beam
through this dark screen.  Here also is the same mystery, and the beauty
lies concealed within the outer shell.

Now standing in a spacious quadrangle, exquisitely paved with marble, we
take a hasty survey of all around us.  In the centre is a square basin of
clear crystal-like water, in which gold and silver fish are playfully
swimming about; and in the middle of this _birkat_ a fountain continually
throws its sportive jets to return in showers of pearls upon the many
pretty little flowers that are planted round the borders.  An arcade,
supported by elegant columns, runs round three sides; and the fourth side
of the quadrangle is occupied by the lower apartments of the house.  The
_corna_ (or cornices), are all ornamented with Arabic inscriptions, both
in poetry and prose, being invariably Scripture texts. {21a}  In little
_fistakiares_, or parterres, walled in with marble slabs, a few choice
orange and lemon trees are carefully cultivated; and it is difficult to
say whether the sweet odour of their blossoms is not rivalled, or even
surpassed, by the delicious fragrance of the roses and rich _Baghdad ful_
(or dwarf jessamine), which so thickly cluster about their roots.  Of the
interior of such a mansion no one could have given a better idea than did
His Excellency Mahomed Pasha, {21b} the late ambassador to the court of
St. James’s, who, during his residence in London, gave several balls,
having some of the apartments at the Embassy, so fitted up, as exactly to
resemble the interior of a house at Damascus.  These rooms were the
leading topic of chit chat among the fashionables of London for many
weeks afterwards.

I must crave the reader’s permission to conduct him into one of these
houses; and in so doing to introduce him to the _mistaba_, or alcove, in
the centre, from the back of which two trellised windows overlook a
spacious fruit garden.  A low divan runs round its three sides, while a
soft carpet covers the marble floor.  The cushions, and even the divan
itself, are of the richest velvet stuffs: and the numerous _étagères_ in
the _mistaba_ are filled with costly glass-ware, crystal cups, and
elegant porcelain vases.  On each side is a tray, covered with a snowy
napkin, the edges worked with gold and silver flowers, upon one are
handsome _finjans_ in filigree, silver coffee-cups and sugar-basins; on
the other, cut-glass saucers full of delicious candied sweetmeats, of
which the orange-flower, violet and rose are the most fragrant.  Both
trays rest on low stools, the feet of which are elegantly carved.  One of
the adjoining rooms is fitted up with handsome _narghilies_, and long
pipes with amber mouth-pieces of great value.  In this room there is also
a small _mangal_, or brazier, in which a charcoal fire is perpetually
burning for the double purpose of boiling the often-required coffee, and
of supplying the smokers with fire for their pipes, or _narghilies_.
Servants are constantly in attendance in this room, and the arrival of a
visitor is the signal for activity amongst them.  Lemonade is first
offered, and then smoking materials are put in requisition; after this,
the sweetmeats are handed round; and lastly, coffee is served. {22}

In a Pasha’s house, when people call on official business, the appearance
of coffee is a quiet hint to be off, or in other words, denotes a
termination of that morning’s visit.  The visitor sips his coffee,
returns the _finjan_ to the attendant slave, touches heart, mouth and
head to the Pasha, and then bows himself out.  The room opposite to this
smoking apartment, is usually the dormitory of the servants; its outside
appearance is handsome, and the closed door is tastefully carved and
painted, but the interior is by no means inviting—heaps of mattrasses are
piled up on all sides, and perchance even a small store of provisions for
domestic consumption.  In this respect this lumber-room is quite
different to the usual appearance of things in Damascus, for the outside
is the best-looking part of it.  So much for the interior of the houses;
now let us see how the ladies look when they are within doors, and have
laid aside the _izar_ and odious black handkerchief.  We will first
describe the daughter of the host; a very fair specimen of her sex in
Damascus.  Her eyes are beautifully dark, her eyelashes, eyebrows, and
hair, of a glossy jet black, the latter tinged with _henna_, hangs down
her back and reaches nearly to the ground in a succession of plaits, each
terminating with black silk braid, knotted and interwoven with various
sized golden coins, her features (excepting the eyes) are all small but
compact.  The nose is Grecian, the lips cherry, and slightly pouting, the
chin dimpled, the form of the face oval, and the complexion clear with a
rosy tint.  The bust and figure are unexceptionable, the arms comely, the
wrists and ankles well turned, and the feet and hands perfect models for
a sculptor; yet this is one out of the many nondescript beings that we
encountered out of doors covered with _izar_ and veil.  Her face and
figure are well set off by the head-dress and Oriental costume.  On the
top of her head she wears a small red cap, which is encircled by a
handsomely flowered handkerchief, and over the latter strings of pearls
and pieces of small gold money are tastefully arranged in festoons.  In
the centre of her red cap is a diamond crescent, from which hangs a long
golden cord, with a blue silk tassel, usually ornamented with pearls: her
vest fits tight, and admirably displays the unlaced figure.  In summer,
this vest is of blue or pink satin, bordered and fringed with gold lace;
in winter, cloth, edged with fur, is substituted for the satin; and over
the vest is worn a short grey jacket, chastely embroidered with black
silk braid.  The vest is confined to the waist by a _zunnar_, in summer,
of a silk Tripoli scarf, in winter by a costly Cashmere shawl; and from
under this a long robe reaches to her ankles, and is divided into two
long lappels, lined with satin, and fringed with costly trimmings.  This
latter robe partially conceals the _shirwal_, or full trowsers, which
hang loosely over, and are fastened round the ankles; the tastey mixture
of colors, and the graceful arrangement renders the costume a perfect
study.  Latterly, European shoes have been much used by the Damascene
ladies, especially those gaily-flowered kid shoes, imported into Syria
from Marseilles.  This completes the young lady’s toilet, and her walk
and action are as graceful as her figure and face are prepossessing; but
beyond the _naam_ (yes) and _la_ (no) of conversation, you can seldom get
a word from her unless you are a very intimate friend of the family, and
then these young ladies are as fond of a little romping or quizzing as
their more accomplished and more elegant sisters of the North.  It is a
mistake to imagine that the men of the Turkish empire are wholly excluded
from any friendly intercourse with the women of those countries, a tale
which has gained credence, and been perseveringly maintained by
travellers, few of whom have ever had an opportunity of testing the truth
of the report by personal experience.  In fact, in my opinion, the
Eastern ladies have really far more liberty than their Northern sisters,
inasmuch as they are able when veiled with the _izar_, to go where they
please.  These _izars_ being of the same form and colour, it is almost
impossible to identify an individual; and a man may pass even his own
wife, without recognising her.  In illustration of this, I am tempted to
give the following story, for the authenticity of which I can vouch.  The
wife of a Mahomedan merchant, of Cairo, suspecting her husband, paid him
a visit in his shop, accompanied, as is usual, by a duenna, both
enveloped in the folds of their _izars_.  During the visit, while
inspecting some muslin, the lady contrived to indulge the amatory
merchant with a glimpse of her large dark eyes, which completely
enchanted her unconscious lord.  An interview was brought about, through
the agency of the old woman; and the astonished husband discovered to his
dismay, in the charmer, the features of his piqued and angry helpmate.

Amongst the higher classes of Christians in particular, every freedom
exists in doors; young ladies not only shew themselves, but, after
serving the guest with coffee and sweetmeats, they will seat themselves
on the edge of the divan, and soon manage to join in the conversation.
This state of freedom exists to a greater or less degree till the young
girl is betrothed; then it is not considered decorous that she should be
present whenever her intended bridegroom visits the house, neither should
she hear his name mentioned.  Even amongst Turks, and more especially in
the villages and smaller towns of Syria, the young Mahomedan sees and
converses with the future object of his love, until she attains her
eleventh or twelfth year, she is then excluded from the society of men;
but womanhood has already begun to develop itself in the person of the
girl of ten or eleven years old in these climates where they are
oftentimes wives and mothers at thirteen.  Hence love exists between the
young couple before the destined bridegroom urges his mother to make the
requisite proposals of marriage.  He loses sight of his lady-love as soon
as she enters upon womanhood, though he may, by means of a third party,
catch an occasional glimpse of her features as she passes to and fro,
strictly guarded by matrons and old duennas; but not a single word or one
bewitching kiss can the despairing lover hope for until she is brought
home to his house, his lawful consort and partner for life; then, and not
till then, commences the great seclusion of the ladies of the Turkish
hareem.  Even in country places and villages, though the newly-married
bride may be strictly guarded for a year or two, this feeling eventually
wears off, and the women mix in the every-day occupations of the field or
in the garden, unveiled and undistinguishable from their Christian
neighbours.  Of late years especially much progress has been made in this
branch of civilisation, arising from the example set by the sultan’s
ladies themselves at Stamboul, and by the increase of European ladies at
Beyrout and other towns in Syria, often travelling about the country, and
who, though unveiled, enjoy a high reputation for virtue and honesty,
convincing proof to the Turks, that the face, which is the mirror of the
heart, was meant to be studied as an example, not as a concealed vessel
of craft and guile.

But to return to Damascus.  We have now taken a brief survey of the
court-yards and lower portion of the houses; and having been served with
sweetmeats by the pretty young lady, we follow the matron of the house up
stairs, to reach which we have to cross the yard, for there is no
communication between the lower and upper story, and we must pass into
the arcade for the steps.  Now that we have reached the upper story,
there is a room on either side of the _mistaba_ communicating with a
gallery: and these rooms are the sleeping apartments of the family in
winter.  In summer they serve as dressing-rooms and as a receptacle for
the mattresses, etc., that are nightly spread on the top of the house for
the family to sleep upon; for in summer almost every one sleeps on the
terrace, from the lord and master of the house and the lowest menial down
to the very cats and dogs, whose instinct causes them to seek for
coolness in the more elevated parts of the house.  These rooms are gaily
painted, but contain little or no furniture; a divan or so, a mirror,
some flower-vases, and ladies’ nic-nacs; these constitute the furniture.
Mounting up to the terrace, we come upon a belvidere, surrounded on three
sides by a wall lofty enough to prevent the possibility of the tallest
man accidentally over-looking his neighbour’s court-yard; on the fourth
side there is a wooden railing, from which we command a view of our own
court-yard, catching a glimpse of some of the famed gardens of Damascus
in the distance.

The bazars of the city, crowded with busy purchasers, present a bustling
scene to the stranger.  After Constantinople, Damascus claims precedence
for the quantity and richness of the stuffs displayed for sale in its
bazars from all countries in the world.  Indian manufactures, spices of
Arabia, coffee from Mocha, and endless European wares, are hourly
bartered and sold.  The scent of sandal-wood and myrrh, the _attar_ of
Mecca, the Indian’s curry ingredients, the rich drugs of the apothecary,
the smoky perfumes of the scented _narghili_ and pipe of _Jabaliy_
tobacco; all these tend to confuse and stupify the bewildered European,
who, pushing his way through the dense multitude, follows us into a
native restaurant, where iced lemonade and sweetmeats are tantalisingly
exposed for sale.  The pleasant cold water, playing in artificial jets,
turns a small tin watermill, hung with little silver bells, whose
pleasant music first attracts the attention of the busy stranger.  Here,
seated for a moment, we enjoy the passing scene, and are vastly refreshed
by the good things around us.  Among these we may notice a pleasant
beverage, and one very much in request: it is made by bruising a certain
quantity of raisins, on which water is poured; the liquid is afterwards
strained, and ice is added to render it cool.  The place is crowded with
a thirsty multitude, all eager to partake of this; but the swarms of
flies that alight on one’s face and hands, make quiet and repose
completely out of the question; so we are up again, and hurrying through
the bazars towards the environs of the city.  The day is too hot and the
distance too great for a walk, so we hire horses and a native cicerone.

The beauty of the environs of Damascus I can only compare to some lovely
landscape of fancy’s brightest imagining, in which is combined every rich
and bountiful gift of Providence—flowers, fruits, waters, hills, plains,
rivers; a cloudless, blue sky; a rich, brilliant sunlight; and the
delicious zephyr breathing soft freshness over the scene.  It may well be
believed by the zealous Mussulmans of Damascus, that Mahomed, {28} as he
beheld it from the western hills, declined to enter into the city, lest
the luxurious richness of this earthly Paradise might induce him to
forget the existence of another and an eternal one.  Skilfully did the
prophet make a virtue of necessity in this instance.  He well knew his
incapability of besieging the city.  I am inclined to think that, had it
been otherwise, Mahomed was far too eager after earthly enjoyments to
have relinquished so fair a spot.

Our guide fails not to point out to us two branches of the Barrada,
reckoned to be Abana and Pharpar, rivers which Naaman, the leper, thought
better than the waters of Jordan.  The lions to be seen at Damascus are
numerous.  Amongst these, we visit the _Bab il Gharbi_, where Tamerlane
heaped up a pyramid of heads after taking the city by storm; then the
monument called _Nabiy Abel_, marking, it is said, the identical spot
where Cain slew his innocent brother.  The name of the city is presumed
by some to be derived from this event, the word _damm_ signifying
“blood”; but I must confess, I cannot see much ground for this
presumption.  If any truth be attached to this tradition, our first
parents cannot well have wandered far from the lovely Garden of Eden when
this first tragedy occurred; and Eden must have been situated to the west
of Damascus, as it is said, that the angel of the Lord guarded the east
end of the garden—a proof that our first parents were sent out eastward,
and could only endeavour to return from that side.  Some natives imagine
that the Hammah and Hums of the present day are on the site of the
beautiful garden of gardens.  The eastern gate of the city, now walled
up, is where St. Paul is supposed to have been let down in a basket; they
shew us the very house from which he is said to have escaped.  The
Christian cemetery, containing the tomb of St. George, and the arch where
St. Paul hid himself on escaping from Damascus; the wide road beyond the
cemetery, still highly reverenced as the spot of the miraculous
conversion; all these were familiar to me during my long stay in this
fair city; and I mention them here for the benefit of strangers visiting
the spot.

During the summer evenings, the friends, at whose house I was staying,
gave frequent entertainments to their numerous acquaintances amongst the
inhabitants of Damascus.  On these occasions, the ladies of the different
families honoured us with their presence, and occasionally some of the
European consuls and merchants were invited.  A description of one
evening party will describe the whole.  First, then, we will introduce
the stranger into the house where the _farah_ (feast) is to be held.
Women are busily occupied washing out and sweeping the court-yard; the
flowers and other plants are fresh watered; the marble fountain is
decorated with coloured lanterns and festoons of flowers; carpets are
spread, and divan cushions ranged against the wall; the _mistaba_ is
tastefully lighted, and a highly inflammable torch, composed of the fat
wood of fir, resin, and other ingredients, is planted in each of the four
corners.  In the smoking apartment of the _mistaba_, preparations are
making on a grand scale.  Large bags of ready-washed and prepared
_timbac_ are hung upon nails in the wall, to filter and to be fit for
immediate use when the _narghilies_ are called into requisition.  Tobacco
pouches are filled.  Two additional _mangals_ of charcoal fire, and some
additional coffee-pots are prepared.  Decanters are filled with _arraki_,
wine, liqueurs, orange-flower, and rose-water; and the cut-glass saucers
replenished with candied preserves; whilst two maid-servants and a boy,
assisted and superintended by the mistress of the house, are busy
grinding coffee and decocting huge bowls of deliciously-iced lemonade.
In addition to all this, a side-table is groaning under the weight of
plates of sliced oranges and picked pomegranates, with numerous other
fruits, and a great variety of pastry.  By the time all these
arrangements are completed the night sets in; the whole yard is
illuminated; the members of the household and the servants are busily
engaged donning their best attire, and the company of hired musicians
arrive.  The music striking up, is the signal for the nearest invited
neighbours to make their appearance.  They arrive, the men clad in long,
loose silken robes; the women enveloped in their white _izars_; but these
latter are speedily thrown aside at the invitation of the lady of the
house, who assists in helping the guests to disrobe, and then confides
their _izars_ to the trusty care of the handmaiden.

Now these veils are all of the same make, and they have no initials or
other distinguishing mark.  Notwithstanding this, no confusion ensues on
the breaking up of a party as to identification, every lady is quick to
recognise her own peculiar _izar_ from the mass of white sheets that are
folded and piled one above another upon the divan in the upstairs
dressing-room.  Soon the whole party have arrived, and the amusements of
the evening commence with vocal and instrumental music.  After this, some
of the gentlemen stand up and go through the graceful attitudes of the
Syrian dance, then some others volunteer the sword dance, or the Bedouin
dance, some of the married ladies then take courage; but it requires
coaxing and threats to induce the timid damsel to display her skill.
Persuasion being out of the question, some old gentleman gets up and
pretends that he is going to dance instead of her, and he goes through a
few steps till he comes close up to some girl that he has singled out
from the circle.  Seizing her arm with no very gentle force, he whirls
into the centre of the yard, and meanwhile, some one who has watched the
manœuvre, acts the same part by some other blushing maiden.  These are
confronted face to face, and there is now no escape, so they commence at
first timidly and bashfully, but getting gradually excited by the music,
they lose all this pretended bashfulness, and do their best to outshine
each other; and truly there is rarely a more graceful sight than two
beautiful Damascene girls, elegantly dressed and bespangled with jewels,
displaying their graceful figures to the best advantage, to the slow but
becoming measures of the dance.  All the other young ladies now follow
their example, and as each couple retires at the termination of their
efforts to please, they are hailed with shouts of applause, and liberally
besprinkled with rose and orange-flower water.  The old ladies evince
their approbation by a peculiar vibrating scream, produced by the voice
passing through the nearly closed lips, whilst the under lip is kept in a
continual tremulous state by the rapid application of the back of the
forefinger to that feature.  When dancing is over for the evening,
sometimes games of forfeit are introduced, and promote much mirth,
especially one game called “_Tuthun Tuthun_, _min Tuthun_”—a game of
Turkish origin, as its name denotes, and which is played thus:—Every one
in the circle takes the name of a bird, a tree, or a flower, whilst the
king of the game goes round and collects in a handkerchief some small
article from each one present.  These he afterwards shuffles together,
and then drawing one out, which he carefully conceals in his hand, he
fixes upon some one in the circle, to whom he puts the question “_Tuthun
Tuthun_, _min Tuthun_?” or, “Tobacco tobacco, whose is it?”  The party
fixed upon is obliged to guess, and he names some bird or flower which he
heard some one call himself; if the guess is wrong, he has to hold out
his hand and receive three stripes from a closely knotted handkerchief,
and then the party referred to is next obliged to guess to whom the
“_Tuthun_” belongs, and so on all round the circle till the right name
has been discovered.  Then the king resigns his post and handkerchief,
and is relieved in office by him or her that made the right guess.

After these games some one tells a story or recites a poem, a specimen of
which I am enabled to introduce, literally translated.

    I’ve gazed on many eyes, that shine
       As bright; none ever yet so well
    Have answered to my heart as thine,
       My lovely, little, dear gazelle.

    Oh give me but one smile, to tell
       Of pity from those gentle eyes:
    The thought shall ever with me dwell,
       My love you did not all despise.

    You move in beauty, while each charm
       Subdues the more my amorous soul,
    Until my fainting spirits warm
       To strength beneath thy sweet control.

    Hear then my prayer, to you alone
       I bow—Let those who know me not,
    Mock, if they will, at pangs unknown:
       Your smile, though false, is ne’er forgot.

    Mine eyes have often wearied long
       To catch thine image passing by;
    My saddened spirit grew more strong,
       With thee one moment in mine eye.

    But oh, if love should ever seek
       Its seat within that beauteous breast,
    Drive it afar; you see it wreak
       On me its power to poison rest.

    For bound beneath thy beauty’s sway,
       My days in wasting sadness roll;
    Though deaf to all, this dust can say,
       You’ll meet in heaven, my parted soul.

    Deign but my fevered heart to cool,
       With but one passing word of hope,
    Then shall my tortured spirit school
       Itself, with all beside to cope.

    But thought is useless, words are vain;
       And my bewildered mind can fling
    No effort from this maddening brain,
       That can to thee its image bring.

    For disappointed and beguiled,
       I will not spend another sigh;
    If you had never on me smiled,
       No tear had ever dimmed mine eye.

I will now endeavour to give my readers a specimen of an original Arabic
tale in the familiar and colloquial style of these Oriental storytellers
so famed for their amusing delivery and gesticulation.



THE STORY OF THE JINN AND THE SCOLDING WIFE.


Once upon a time, many years ago, when good people were rather scarce
upon the earth, and such men as Noah had ceased to exist, there dwelt a
certain poor man at the city of Aleppo, whose name was—I forgot now
exactly what; but as his heirs might not take it in good part, we had
best leave the name-part of the business alone altogether.  However, he
was fortunate enough to pick up with a pretty little wife, whose smiles,
so thought the lover, were like the dew of Hermon; instead of which, they
proved to be very mildew in every sense of the word.  Yusuf—so was the
man called, but, I forgot, we must not mention it—married the fair
Ankafir.  First week, honey and kaymak, and everything nice and sweet;
second week, necklaces and other jewellery required; third week, funds
low, dinners scant, temper sour; fourth week, squalls matrimonial from
morning to night, from night to morning.

“I tell you what it is, my dear,” quoth Yusuf, “either you must leave off
blowing up, or I must take to bastinadoing: so just you choose the least
evil.”

To hear her talk of his inhumanity—to hear her talk of her rich relations
and their influence with the Pasha—to hear her storm about broken hearts,
and, what is a great deal more serious and matter-of-fact, broken heads—I
say, to hear her jabber about all this, was enough to turn a quiet,
sober-minded man into a misanthrope for life; but, to feel the argument
in the shape of sundry manipulations, cuffs on the ear, scratches, etc.,
this was beyond the endurance of a martyr; so thought Yusuf, so did his
friends, and so did the evil counsellors that recommended him to resort
to the use of water as an only alternative.

Now, I don’t mean to say, mind you, that they suggested, that water, as
an every-day kind of a beverage, was likely to be productive of very
beneficial effects; neither did they hint that arraki and water, though
this latter has often done the job, would facilitate in ridding Yusuf of
his incubus.  The river Euphrates was thought deep enough—a casualty in
the upset of a boat, plausible.  The desperate husband took the hint.
One day he had a headache.  Next day, change of air was thought
requisite, and the water-side recommended.  He went to Berijek thence to
the river-side.  A friendly old boatman hired him a boat and his own
personal services, and

    “Upon the stream they got ’em.
    The wind blew high; he blew his nose,
    And—sent her to the bottom.”

She sunk, never again to rise, and the light-hearted husband leaped out
of the boat and strolled along the river-side.

By and bye, a damp-looking old customer, half Neptune, half I don’t know
what you may call it, comes walking up the river, just as coolly as a
ship of war might float on the ocean, and as fresh as though he had only
just got in for a dip, instead of having floated ever so many hundred
miles.

“Salām alaykum,” says Yusuf, “I hope you’re well.”

“Peace, thou son of a swine,” says the stranger; “What do you mean by
sending her there to bother us?”

“Who is it you mean, sir?”

“Who,” said the fierce little man, who was nothing more or less than the
Jinn, or Spirit of the Water, “why her, to be sure, that vixen of a wife
of yours, who has completely defiled the water.  Why there is no peace
any more in those regions, and I have come forth to take a signal
vengeance on you: now choose what death you like—hanging, tearing to
pieces, or impaling.”

“Sir,” said Yusuf, very humbly, “if you, who are possessed of so much
power, cannot control her temper, how could I, a miserable mortal, hope
to manage her?”

There was so much truth in this assertion, that the Jinn calmed down
amazingly.  “My friend,” quoth he, “I see you’re a sensible man; you and
I will henceforth unite our fortunes; so just have the kindness to step
upon my shoulders, and we will be off like a lightning-flash for
Baghdad.”  Yusuf did as he was desired; and in the course of the next
hour they were safely housed in Baghdad.  Now the Caliph had an only
daughter, who was reported beautiful as the morning star.

“Would you like to have her,” quoth the Jinn, “for a wife?”

“Who, me, sir; I am very much obliged to you,” quoth Yusuf; “but I don’t
exactly see how that is to be accomplished.”

“Oh, I will manage that part of the matter.  You pass yourself off for a
great _hakeem_.  I will coil myself round the girl’s neck in the shape of
a most venomous snake with two heads.  No one shall be able to approach
but you.  You burn that bit of paper that I have written upon, and throw
the ashes into water, and as it is demolished, so will I gradually
disappear.  The results will be the Caliph’s gratitude and his daughter’s
hand and heart.”

Yusuf was very willing to do as he was bid.  The feat was accomplished.
He married the girl and settled down for life in easy circumstances.
Some time after, the Jinn fell desperately in love with the Vizier’s
daughter, and displayed his attachment in the rather uncongenial form of
a viper.  Now the Caliph had borne in mind the notoriety of his
son-in-law in this peculiar species of malady; so when the Vizier came
moaning and complaining that Yusuf would not go and cure his daughter, he
sent his compliments to Yusuf, with a silken cord and the alternative
carefully tied up in an embroidered pocket-handkerchief—of immediate
compliance with his will—an arsenic pill or strangulation.  Yusuf had no
remedy, though he had faithfully promised the Jinn never to intrude upon
his felicity.  He hit, however, upon a plausible excuse, and being
introduced into the presence of the Vizier’s daughter, he bent over her
neck and whispered to the Jinn—

“I say, I’ve just dropped in to warn you that she is here in Baghdad, and
looking for you.”

“Why, you don’t mean her?” said the alarmed Jinn.

“But I do though, sure as you are a ghost.”

“I say, you wont say where I am off to, will you,” says the Jinn; “but if
you will just pack up your salāms and any other light articles you may
wish to send to your friends, I’ll be happy to be the bearer.  I’m off.”

“Are you, though?” says Yusuf

“Yes I am,” said the Jinn.

    “I’d rather stem an angry wave
       Than meet a storming woman.”

And so saying, he departed, and the Vizier’s daughter was healed.

                                * * * * *

Refreshments have been served at intervals; and the smoking has been
incessant, the married ladies, especially mothers of families, indulging
in whiffs at the _narghili_.  It is considered unbecoming in a young lady
to smoke, and they never do so in public: but as they often serve the
_narghili_ to distinguished guests, they are compelled to take some
whiffs, as it is customary to present it lighted; and as this process
does not appear to make them feel unwell, we naturally imagine that on
the sly these young ladies frequently indulge themselves with a pipe.
This, kind reader, is a fair sample of the manner in which the Damascus
Christians amuse themselves during the evening.

Once Mr. Farren, the then British Consul-General at Damascus, gave a
grand entertainment to celebrate the king’s birth-day.  To this, my
relative and myself were invited, in common with several of the Mahomedan
chiefs and Christian inhabitants of Damascus, who were utterly astounded
at the magnificent display of European luxury.  The rooms were decorated
with flags of all nations, and splendidly furnished _à l’Anglaise_; and
it was probably the first _fête_ of the kind that many of these people
had ever witnessed.  Every one was much charmed with the affable manners
of the Consul, and impressed with the wealth and dignity of the nation he
represented.  And this kind of display was doubtless very beneficial in
curbing the fanatical hatred of the Damascus Mahomedans towards _Kuffar_
in general, which, at that time, raged to such a pitch, that no Christian
could, without insult, traverse the streets of Damascus on horseback,
especially with a white turban, till the interpreter of Mr. Farren
ventured to break through the law.  Amongst the Moslems in Syria, those
only who are direct descendants of the prophet, or who have accompanied
the Hajj or pilgrimage to Mecca, are permitted to wear a green turban,
the other Mahomedans a white one.  In the mountains, it is worn
indiscriminately by all creeds.  In Turkey, those born on Friday are
entitled to wear green.  This fact surprised an English friend at
Constantinople, who seeing so many green turbans, and not being aware of
this latter circumstance, observed, that the prophet must have a large
family.

During Ibrahim Pasha’s occupation of the country, he did much towards
bringing the haughty Mahomedans to a due appreciation of their own
nothingness; and the Damascus of to-day is very different to that of some
twenty years back.  Now Christians, and even Jews, in garbs and costumes,
ride to and fro unmolested; and since the departure of the Egyptians, no
small share of praise is due to the energy and exertions of Mr. Richard
Wood, the present Consul, who is so much respected by the natives, as to
be distinguished amongst them by the Turkish title of Bey, and who has
successfully persevered in maintaining the privileges afforded to
residents and strangers of all creeds, under the iron sway of Ibrahim
Pasha.

Whilst at Damascus, we heard the following story, characteristic of the
manner in which Ibrahim Pasha sometimes administered retributive justice.
A rich Mahomedan, who was an invalid, desired to make the pilgrimage to
Mecca; but being prevented by his health, he offered to defray all the
expenses of a poor and pious neighbour, provided he would undertake this
journey for him.  The poor man agreed to do so; and previous to his
departure, he deposited his money, and the few valuables of which he was
possessed, in a box, which he entrusted to the care of a friend, who was
a banker.  On his return from Mecca, the box was restored to him, but
upon opening it, he discovered that the contents had been taken out.  The
man immediately went and laid his complaint before the Cadi, who ordered
the banker to be brought before him.  The accused, placing his hand on
the Koran, swore that he had taken neither the money nor the rest of the
property from the box; such a solemn declaration was considered
unquestionable, and the poor man lost his cause.  Being utterly ruined,
he wandered about the city in despair; when one day, whilst seated
outside the gate of Damascus, he observed Ibrahim Pasha on horseback.  He
immediately ran to him, and seizing his bridle-rein, stated his case to
the Pasha, and fully described his sorrows and the ill-usage which he had
received.  Ibrahim Pasha listened to his story, and bestowing on him a
few piastres, said, “After seven days come to me.”  In the meanwhile,
inquiries were made regarding the banker, and hearing that he had a son
at a certain school, the Pasha went in disguise, accompanied by his
secretary, and contrived to win the friendship and confidence of the
master.  One day, whilst the professor and his scholars were taking their
customary siesta, the merchant’s son was carried off, and a young bear
deposited in the place which the boy had occupied.  When the rest awoke,
great was their surprise at seeing such an animal amongst them; but their
consternation was even greater, when after the lapse of a short time, the
merchant’s son was nowhere to be found.  The terror of the professor, and
the affliction of the father, may easily be imagined.  In his anger, the
bereaved parent applied to Ibrahim Pasha, and demanded that the heaviest
and most severe penalty should be inflicted on the master for his seeming
negligence.  “I know where your son is,” said the Pasha, “he is safe, and
when you return the money and property which you have taken from the box
of your friend, your child shall be restored to you.”  The contents of
the box were given up, and the banker was beheaded.

The Roman Catholics have made comparatively few converts in Damascus, and
the mysterious disappearance, a few years since, of Padre Tomaso and his
servant, acts as a check upon the Jesuits, who mostly avoid those places
where every security is not afforded, and where great temporal advantages
do not accompany the success of their efforts at conversion.

By the last published report of the British and Foreign Bible Society,
the heart is cheered with the intelligence, that there are now
established at Damascus three American and two Irish Missionaries.  May
their efforts be crowned with success; for Damascus is said to contain
about 140,000 inhabitants, all, more or less, superstitiously ignorant
and blind to the blessed light of the gospel!




CHAPTER IV.
THE AMERICAN MISSIONARIES AT BEYROUT.


After a residence of upwards of two years at Damascus, I was suddenly, in
the spring of the year, recalled to Beyrout, this latter town having, in
my absence, grown into considerable importance as a commercial sea-port.
The traffic with European countries daily augmenting, had given an
impetus to several enterprising young Syrians, who wished to acquire a
knowledge of European languages; and as precedents were not wanting of
this knowledge having led to preferment and subsequent opulence, my
friends conceived the idea of placing me under the care of some of the
excellent American Missionaries, for tuition in English and other
European languages.  It was not without reluctance that I obeyed the
mandate of my friends, but as implicit obedience to their will was a
primary consideration, bidding adieu to my many kind acquaintances, I
retraced my steps, and in the course of a few days was once again in the
bosom of my own dear family.  The Americans have always numbered amongst
their fraternity a medical officer; and it was mainly attributable to
this fact, that myself, as well as many other Syrian lads, were happily
blessed with the opportunity of receiving a good moral education.  I was
just entering on my sixteenth year when I first joined the American
school; still too young to have any deeply rooted prejudices or ideas,
though luckily old enough to appreciate the value of the opportunity thus
afforded me, and consequently to endeavour to profit by it as much as lay
in my power; but I must here explain how it happened that a physician
was, through the blessing of Providence, the means of gaining for us so
priceless a boon.  When the American Missionaries first arrived in Syria,
their advent gave rise to conjecture and suspicion among the natives.
Bishops and priests warned their congregations to be on the alert, and
guard against any efforts made by the Missionaries to convert the people;
these admonitions and warnings were strengthened by reports spread by the
crafty emissaries of the Pope, which were as false as they were
calumnious.  It was no part of Roman Catholic policy to countenance the
good endeavours of these Missionaries to enlighten the natives of the
country, by the establishment of schools and circulation of the holy word
of God, as contained in Arabic Bibles, printed by the Church Missionary
Society in London.  Heretofore, the Papists had to grapple only with the
superstitious but simple-minded followers of the Eastern Church.  In
Aleppo and Beyrout, they had already Syrian Roman Catholics, whose
talents were employed to hinder the work of the Missionaries; but now
they had formidable opponents to combat with—men as infinitely their
superiors in wisdom and acquirements, as they were religiously steadfast,
and persevering with all humility and patience to carry out their ends,
for the accomplishment of which, they had left their distant country, and
sacrificed home and every comfort.  What the Roman Catholics had most to
dread, was the establishment of Protestant schools, a measure which they
clearly foresaw would tend to their ultimate confusion and defeat, and to
overthrow which they left no means untried.  Had not the Americans been
possessed of great Christian patience, and matured sound judgment, they
could not possibly have succeeded; but time proved their deeds and
actions to be the purest; their morals, precepts, and examples, above
praise; the blessing of God was with them, and they watched and prayed
continually.  At length an opportunity presented itself; and they, like
careful sentries, availed themselves of it, and from that time up to the
present date their schools have gone on progressing, and though they have
not succeeded in making many converts, they have prevented much evil by
their watchful care over the natives.  Sickness is a leveller of many
prejudices; and this is more particularly the case in Syria, where
physicians are scarce and must be selected without regard to creed.  From
time immemorial the natives have placed implicit faith in the skill of
Frank _hakeems_.  Of late years I am sorry to say the Turkish empire has
been inundated with numbers of soi-disant physicians, many of whom are
political refugees and renegades, uneducated, and totally ignorant of the
profession they have assumed, and have, by virtue of a piece of parchment
(forged or purchased) and a few drugs, foisted themselves upon the notice
of Syrians, as eminent practitioners; but their exorbitant charges and
unsuccessful practice soon opened the eyes of the people as to their real
position, yet not before these charlatans had worked out for their
medical brethren so foul a reputation, that the natives have become
suspicious of all new-comers, and would rather have recourse to the
simple remedies prescribed by the village herb doctor, than entrust their
lives to be experimentalised upon by foreign quacks.

Apropos of this I may mention an anecdote that was related to me by Mr.
Edward Zohrab, the respected Turkish Consul-General in London.  This
gentleman, once travelling in the interior of Turkey, had the misfortune
to fall ill at a remote village where all hopes of succour were despaired
of; whilst debating with the Sheikh of the village on the feasibility of
despatching an express messenger to the nearest large town in search of
medical aid, there arrived, most opportunely, a European traveller who
had taken up his lodgings for the night at the public khan of the
village; this grandee’s servant soon spread the fame of his master in the
place.

“He is,” said he, “the only learned Frank physician in Turkey.  He has
been _hakeem_ to all the great _pad-shahs_ of Europe, and is only
travelling here to find some rare drugs and medicinal stones for the
great emperor of Moscof.”

“Is he?” said the delighted Sheikh, who had rushed to seek aid from the
stranger.  “Then for Allah’s sake bring him with all speed to my
residence; for there is a _miri liwa_ dying there of fever; and if
anything happens in my house what’s to become of me and my family?”

The learned physician accompanied the Sheikh to his house, and in him Mr.
Zohrab discovered, to his utter amazement and discomfort, the person of a
once respectable Italian ship-chandler who had carried on business some
years back at Constantinople, but who, subsequently failing, had donned
the cap and cloak of a mountebank, and went about quacking the natives.
It is needless to say that the discomfited doctor made a precipitate
retreat from the village.  But to return to the subject after this
digression, the good done by the American physician was peculiarly
instanced in my own family.

A very near relative lay grievously ill at Beyrout—every effort of the
native _hakeem_ to give him sleep proved abortive.  Native astrologers
came, and writing down the names and number of letters in each name of
the patient and of his mother, multiplied and divided the sum total, and
then tearing up the paper into fine shreds, swallowed the whole; but even
this magic failed.  After much discussion, it was finally determined,
much to the disgust of my clerical uncle, to summon the American doctor,
with whom or with whose brethren my family had heretofore carefully
avoided intercourse.

The doctor came—his mild gentle demeanour—his soft sweet words of
consolation—his consummate skill—and his great talents as a man of
learning—all these gained for him the deepest respect and regard, whilst
his indefatigable attention to the invalid claimed our gratitude.  We, in
common with our neighbours, had entertained a vulgar prejudice against
this good man, because it was generally asserted that wherever he could
introduce himself under the cloak of his profession, to the sick and
dying, he invariably profited by the opportunity to sow discord amongst
the members of the family, by propagating doctrines strangely at variance
with their creed.  How false these accusations—how gross the calumnies
heaped upon him, and through whose agency they had originated, now became
clear to my family and their friends, and we now esteemed these kind
Americans the better from a sense of having unjustly injured them, though
it were only in thought.  During my relative’s long and dangerous illness
the doctor’s kindness was above praise—he never intruded a single
question or made any reference to difference of creeds; but when the
patient was convalescent, and when he saw that his visits were no longer
necessary, on taking leave of us the doctor distributed a few tracts on
religious subjects, for perusal amongst ourselves and neighbours, begging
us at our leisure to do so.  Had he done this before we had become
acquainted with his intrinsic worth and merits, the chances are that
these tracts would have been flung into the fire so soon as his back was
turned.  Now, however, we all felt persuaded that so excellent a man
could never be guilty of propagating anything that was not good and
moral.  The result was that his gifts were treasured up and perused with
attention, and whenever the doctor paid us a friendly visit he brought
with him more delightful little stories; the print was so clear, the
pictures and binding so pretty, that these tracts were much prized, and
very soon much sought after.  The children of the native Christians and
those of the American missionaries became playmates; and the prejudices
that had barred the doors of the American school-room against the former
were gradually removed.  It was at this period that I was sent for to
Beyrout; and a few weeks after my arrival I was duly installed as one
amongst other native students under the kind tuition of Messrs. Goodall
and Whiting of the mission.

I can never sufficiently express my deep sense of gratitude to these two
excellent gentlemen.  Under them I acquired the rudiments of a good
general education; and as my knowledge of their language grew apace, I
was afforded free access to such books, both amusing and instructive, as
were well calculated to engraft a thirst after knowledge and develop the
understanding.  Generally speaking, all the native scholars, sooner or
later, comprehended the wide difference existing between the Gospel
truths as expounded in the Roman churches, and the true sense and
comprehensive meaning of the Word of God as contained in the holy Bible,
such as it was our custom to peruse, morning, noon, and night.  We
discovered that the Bible was a pleasant book, full of entertaining
history and adventure, and abounding with illustrations of the marvelous
mercy and love of the Creator for the creature; and that this book should
be forbidden by the Romish priests at first appeared to us singular; then
very wrong: and ultimately we felt convinced that in so doing they were
guilty of a heinous offence.

My education consisted in simple lessons, reading, writing, and
arithmetic.  However I made no great progress in worldly knowledge; but
the precepts and examples of my kind instructors were, I trust, a good
seed sown in season; they took root in the tender soil of childish
simplicity; grew up with our growth and ripened with the years of
maturity; and I humbly hope that, with the blessing of the Almighty, they
may never hereafter be choked by those _tares_ sown by Satan—the sinful
vanities and pleasures of this world.

I remember, amongst the many anecdotes and incidents of those happy days,
one which made a deep impression upon myself and my fellow-students.
During the fruit season, as our school-house at Beyrout was situated
amongst the gardens, we boys made frequent excursions in the night to
pillage the neighbouring orchards of their superabundant loads of fruit;
this was a common practice amongst all the lads of the town of Beyrout;
and though doubtless very wrong, still fruit is so cheap and so plentiful
that, even when detected by the proprietors, our punishment rarely
exceeded a box or two on the ears, and many direful threats as to any
future offence.  Notwithstanding these threats, however, the fruit was
too tempting to be so easily relinquished. {48}  One night I sallied out
with several other of my schoolfellows, and amongst these a young chief
of the Druses, named Sheikh Ahmed,—a boy of undaunted courage, and who,
in after-years, as I will explain further on, was the means of saving the
life of one connected with the mission school.  On this eventful night,
sentries had been set to watch our movements, and we were all taken in
the very act.  The angry proprietor made us bear the brunt of all his
losses; and so, after being very roughly treated and deprived of all our
plunder, we were set free and permitted to run home again as best we
could, with rueful faces and aching limbs.

By some means a report of this transaction had reached the
school-master’s ears by times next morning, though we were ignorant of
this fact till breakfast-time arrived; then, with keen appetites, we
resorted to our usual place at the breakfast-table, when lo! there were
nothing but plates turned bottom upwards laid for such amongst us as had
been engaged in the orchard-rifling affair.  The rest of the boys, who
were well supplied with dainties, were quite at a loss to account for
this deficiency; but our guilty consciences plainly whispered to us the
motives for this punishment; we therefore, sneaked out of the room,
inwardly determined never to expose ourselves to such well-merited
treatment again; and we firmly adhered to our resolution.  This silent
and mild method of punishing an offence had far more effect with us than
rougher treatment; and the chances are that if we had been publicly
upbraided, whipped, and tasked, we should not so quickly have mended.

The Sheikh Ahmed, after having left school, whilst heading his own
people, the Druses, during the war in Lebanon, one day suddenly came upon
a group of angry villagers, who were about to wreak their vengeance upon
an unhappy traveller who had fallen into their hands.  The young Sheikh
authoritatively interfered and swore by his beard no harm should be done
to him.  In the traveller, to his astonishment and joy, Sheikh Ahmed
identified the Arabic professor of the mission school,—a simple, good
man, to whose care and tuition we were all much indebted, and who, having
been mistaken for a Maronite, was about falling a victim to mistaken
identity.  The name of this intelligent and excellent man was Tannoos
Haddad, who had been converted to Christianity by the American
missionaries, and has since been ordained, and is now assisting in the
spread of the Gospel among his benighted countrymen.  The head of the
school at that time was Mr. Hubbard, who a few years after died at Malta,
and many a young man now in Syria gratefully recalls his memory as having
been the means of their education and advancement both in temporal and
spiritual knowledge.

At present, the following is a list of the missionaries at Beyrout:—Rev.
Eli Smith, D.D.; Rev. B. Whiting; H. A. D. Forest, M.D.; Mr. Hurtes,
superintendent of the printing department; Buttros Bistani, and Elias
Fowas, native helpers.  No one has ever replaced the late Mr. Winbolt,
the much esteemed and regretted chaplain of Beyrout; and the Americans
are about to remove to the mountains.  Lord help the souls of the forty
thousand inhabitants now living there, and put it in the hearts of the
English people to establish schools and hospitals in this most promising
field for missionary labour.

Beyrout was, at the period of which I am now writing, under the Egyptian
government, and the whole place was overrun by fierce Albanian soldiers
and recruits, who were the terror of society.  Many are the instances on
record of the outrages committed by these men; but their treatment of the
esteemed Mr. Bird, an American missionary, was perhaps the most glaring
instance of unprovoked atrocity.

Mr. Bird had a country-house in the environs of Beyrout, not far from
where some of the troops were encamped.  This house was surrounded by a
large fruit-garden, and the produce was continually stolen and recklessly
wasted; for which, however, there appears to have been no remedy.  On one
occasion, Mr. Bird’s native servant, seeing some soldiers pilfering from
a fig-tree, threw a stone, which unfortunately took effect and slightly
wounded one of them in the head.  Hearing the uproar that ensued, and
learning the cause from his servant, Mr. B--- immediately ran out with a
few necessaries in his hands to examine and dress the wound.  He was thus
charitably occupied when a number of the man’s comrades who had been
attracted by the noise, arrived upon the spot, and presuming it to be Mr.
Bird who had wounded the man, made a ruffianly assault on that
unoffending person, buffeted and bound him; and finally carried their
cruel vengeance to such an extent, that they actually crucified him on a
sycamore-tree, using cords in lieu of nails, but in every other respect
blasphemously imitating the position of the figure upon the cross, as
seen by them often in pictures and on crucifixes.  Here, spit upon,
slapped, and derided, Mr. Bird was left for some time suffering intense
agony, both of mind and body, for the hot afternoon sun shone fiercely
upon him, and the sharp stings of the sand-flies drove him almost to
distraction; happily the servant had made his escape into the town, and
flown to the residence of the consul.  So flagrant an offence naturally
excited the anger of all the Europeans in Beyrout; and consuls of every
nation, accompanied by their retinue, all armed to the teeth, rode forth
to the rescue.  On seeing so large a cavalcade advance, the troops beat
to arms; and affairs now assumed a most menacing attitude on both sides.
A council was held among the Europeans; and it was speedily determined
that a deputation should dismount and proceed on foot to the tent of the
officer commanding the troops.  This was according done; and the Pasha,
having listened to the complaint, summoned the offenders into his
presence, meanwhile issuing orders that Mr. Bird should be instantly
released and brought before him, that he might speak for himself.  The
soldiers endeavoured to vindicate themselves, by asserting that the
Franks had murdered a true believer of the prophet; and in proof of what
they asserted, they had actually the audacity and folly to cause the
wounded man to be carried on a few planks, hastily knocked together, and
set down on the ground a few paces distant from the Pasha’s tent, where
the impudent fellow so well maintained the rigidity of limb and face,
that he really had much the appearance of a cold stiff corpse.  The
Pasha’s doctor (a European), however, was close at hand; and this officer
was ordered to see whether the man was really dead or in a dying
condition.  The doctor, who was an acute man, soon saw how matters stood;
and producing from his coat pocket a bottle of sal volatile, he
dexterously applied it to the nose of the prostrate soldier, and with
such good effect, that the man started up as though he had received an
electric shock, and was seized with such a violent fit of sneezing, that,
notwithstanding the serious position of both parties, it was found
impossible to resist a simultaneous burst of laughter.  The Pasha was too
much enraged to join in this hilarity, which he speedily checked, by
thundering out to his attendants to seize upon the ringleaders in this
disgraceful riot, and have them hung on the same tree upon which Mr. Bird
had been exposed—a threat that would doubtless have been put into
immediate execution, but for the strenuous interference of good Mr. Bird,
who, though still smarting from the severity of his treatment, was far
too good a Christian to allow his enemies to be punished.  He tried hard
to beg them off altogether; but this the Pasha would not listen to, so
the Europeans returned home to be out of hearing of the cries of the
wretches as they underwent the severest bastinadoing ever inflicted,
where flogging stops short of life.

This account will appear a perfect fable to those who only know Beyrout
in its present civilised state; and vast indeed must have been the change
for the better, when ladies and children can wander about the place,
singly and unprotected, at all hours of the day, and even, I may venture
to assert, throughout the night.

Since the expulsion of the Egyptians, in 1840–1, Beyrout has rapidly
risen into considerable importance; and it may now be considered the
chief entrepôt of Syrian commerce.  At that period there were barely
three or four European families established; and an English vessel only
occasionally touched at the port; now, merchants, artizans, and
shopkeepers, from all parts of Europe have flocked into the town; and
scarcely a week passes by without three or more vessels arriving in the
roads from different ports of Europe.  The roadstead presents a gay
appearance on Sunday, when all the different vessels display the ensigns
of their respective nations, and corresponding flags are hoisted from the
tops of the consulates on shore.  English, French, Sardinian, Austrian,
American, Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish
ships are daily arriving at, or sailing out of the port, bringing
manufactures from Manchester, colonial produce from London, sugar from
Hamburg, assorted cargoes from France and Italy, and numberless
requisites and necessaries from other parts of the world; whilst they
export from Beyrout, silk reeled in the many factories situated in the
immediate neighbourhood and on Lebanon, grain from the interior, raw
silk, of which some portion is contributed from my native village, and
lately an enterprising American has carried off ship-loads of our Beyrout
and Syrian olive oil, timber, nuts, and specimens of dried and preserved
fruits.  The population is rapidly increasing, the wealth augmenting, new
firms are being established, fresh channels of commerce discovered,
houses being built, gardens enclosed, grounds purchased and planted, till
the once quiet, secluded, and almost desolate-looking Beyrout, many of
whose decayed and dilapidated ruins crumbled into dust under the severe
shocks of the great earthquake of 1821, has been rapidly metamorphosed
into a pleasant and flourishing town, replete with handsome buildings and
luxuriant gardens, presenting, as viewed from the sea, one of the
handsomest marine pictures possible for the pencil of the painter to
depict, or the lay of the poet to celebrate.

Please God, I hope yet to see the day when much loved Beyrout shall rival
and surpass in every sense Smyrna, and even Stamboul.  I often hear
people in England talking about the beautiful azure skies of sunny Italy,
and sighing for her shores; but I doubt very much if any part of the
world can surpass some portions of Syria for climate or for beauty of
scenery of every description.  Those who are fond of romantic and wild
scenery, have only to travel over the Lattakia mountains to gratify their
tastes and inclinations.  The quiet woodbine, the pleasant myrtle-shade,
the jessamine and the rose, the murmuring stream and the lovely cot;
these are to be met with all over Lebanon and North Syria—nature, in all
her variety, collected, together—hills, valleys, rivers,
fountains—gardens, ocean—snow and sunshine; all these may be included in
one prospect surveyed from any of the many eminences in the immediate
neighbourhood of Beyrout.  As for cloudless skies, all Syria possesses
this charm, and it has none of the drawbacks that Italy must lament—no
Popish thraldom—no revolutionary crisis always on the eve of exploding,
and always stained with innocent blood.  The land, it is true, is the
land of the Moslem; but the present enlightened Sultan has made it a land
of perfect liberty to the stranger; and more than this, a land in which
he enjoys privileges that he cannot hope for in his own native country.

Beyrout is the spot for many reasons best adapted for missionary
purposes; and I have long wished for the day when I may be enabled to lay
before intelligent men a certain means of promoting the interests, both
spiritual and temporal, of their Eastern brethren with little
pains-taking or trouble to themselves, but with incalculable advantages
to those whom they would benefit.  Of this, however, more anon, in a
chapter devoted expressly to the subject.

A great advantage derivable to Europeans settling at Beyrout is the
immediate proximity of the Lebanon range of mountains; for, though
reputed an excellent climate, Beyrout is subject to great heats during
the summer season, and it not unfrequently occurs that reckless strangers
unnecessarily expose themselves to the fierce rays of the sun with
nothing but a flimsy hat to protect their heads.  The result is
brain-fever and sometimes death.  The latter is very unfairly attributed
to the climate.  One might as well say the same of London, where several
instances of _coup de soleil_ have occurred during a late year; but as
some constitutions cannot stand heat, however well sheltered indoors,
these have only to pitch their tents, or to repair to a neighbouring
village during the summer, a pleasant half-hour or hour’s ride from
Beyrout.  Here they may choose their own temperature, and not only this,
but also gratify their own peculiar fancy with regard to scenery; and
those who love field-sports will find endless amusement and occupation
amongst the hares and partridges with which the neighbourhood is
literally overrun.

But the real fact of the case is, that the climate of Beyrout is
extremely healthy; in proof of which I quote the general health of the
natives and of those Europeans who have resided there long enough to
adapt themselves to the customs of the country, who eat but little meat
during the hot months, eschew spirits and inebriating liquors, avoid
violent exercise or exposure to draughts and the intense heat of the
mid-day sun; rise early, use frequent ablutions, take gentle horse
exercise, and only use fresh and ripe fruit, and vegetables which are
generally of the best.  Even fish is considered by the natives as
tantamount to poison during the months of July and August; and surely
nature is bountiful enough in the supply of an endless variety of
delicious fruits and vegetables to enable one to subsist without much
heavy and unwholesome meat.  Of the benefits arising from this diet and
regimen, the robust natives of the villages give ample proof; their
every-day meals consist principally of bread, fruit, vegetables, rice or
burghal, and cold water; with a little cup of coffee and a pipe of mild
tobacco after meals to promote digestion.




CHAPTER V.
EXCURSION TO CYPRUS.


Quitting my kind friends the Americans in 1839, I was appointed by the
Government to accompany a distinguished European, travelling on a
diplomatic mission through the East.  He was an affable, kind man; and
though I have often since made the tour of the places we then visited, I
never so much enjoyed a journey as in his pleasant and instructive
company.  Our plan of route was to first visit Cyprus and Asia Minor,
then the northern towns and villages of Syria, and so travel southwards
as far as the limits of Syria and Palestine.  All things being prepared,
we set sail from Beyrout late one evening in a small felucca, which,
nevertheless, in fine weather, sailed remarkably well; and, upon the
whole, we were pretty comfortable on board, the entire use of the boat,
to the exclusion of other passengers, having been contracted for.

The land breeze blew freshly all night, and at daylight next morning,
when I staggered up, holding fast by the cords of the mast, there was not
a vestige of Beyrout to be seen; indeed, my inexperienced eyes could
discern nothing but sea and clouds, though the Arab _raīs_ (captain)
positively affirmed, that what I mistook for clouds was the high land of
Cyprus, looming right a-head.  This was the first time in my life that I
had ever found myself so far out at sea.  At first the novelty of the
sight, the lovely, cool, blue colour of the waves—the azure sky, tinged
with a hundred brilliant hues, all harbingers of the rising sun—the fish
sportively bounding into the air—the sea-gulls—the white sails of vessels
in the distance; all these were a source of amusement and speculation for
the mind; but when the sun rose, and its heat soon drove me to take
shelter under the lee of the large mainsail—when I had nothing to do but
to watch the little boat dipping and plunging into the water—when the
smell of tar, pitch, tobacco-smoke, and fried onions, assailed my
nostrils; then I was fairly and dreadfully sea-sick.

I wrapped myself up in my _kaboot_, and only groaned out answers to the
many kind enquiries made by my new friend and the assiduous boat’s
company.  These latter became an intolerable nuisance.  First would come
the fat, greasy-looking old _raīs_, with an abominable skewer of fried
meat and onions in one hand, and a nasty, well-mauled piece of bread in
the other.  “Eat, my son,” he would say; “eat these delicious morsels,
rivalling in flavour and richness the _Kabābs_ of Paradise; it will
strengthen your heart.”  A lizard or a toad could not have been more
nauseous to me than was that man at that moment.  Throughout the morning
it was nothing but “_yar Ibn-i_, _koul_, _yar Ibn-i Risk Allah_” (O son,
eat, O son Risk Allah).  The heat grew intense towards midday.  My
European friend was almost as great a sufferer as myself.  Happily the
sea-breeze held on, and at eleven, P.M., that night our felucca was
safely moored at Larnaca, the sea-port town of Cyprus.

During our stay at Larnaca we were lodged with the English vice-consular
agent at that time, a native of the island.  He was an obliging old man,
who did all in his power to make our stay agreeable.  I was very much
pleased with this place and its hospitable inhabitants; though only so
short a distance from Beyrout, the change was very great.  Here there
were numerous carriages and other vehicles, drawn by horses and oxen; and
a drive in an open carriage was both a treat and a novelty to me, who had
never been accustomed to any other mode of locomotion than walking or
riding on horseback.  The Greeks and the Roman Catholics had neat
churches here, and the loud chiming of the church bells on a Sunday was a
clear proof that the Christians of this island enjoyed more privileges,
and mixed more freely with the Turks than their brethren on the mainland.
To such an extraordinary pitch is this neighbourly intercourse carried,
that they intermarry with each other without any distinction of creed;
the only part of the Turkish dominions where such a license exists.  At
Larnaca the houses were neatly built, and the streets cleanly swept;
there were many pleasant rides and drives about the neighbourhood, but
the climate is insalubrious and peculiarly ill adapted to European
constitutions.  The heat in the summer months is beyond endurance; and
there are many salt-pits and marshes in the neighbourhood, which
contribute greatly towards the sufferings of the inhabitants.  I am sorry
to say that what I saw of the natives, only helped to confirm me in those
prejudices which exist against them in the East.  The men are, for the
most part, notorious gamblers and drunkards, and when drunk or excited,
capable of any act of ferocity.  Besides this, they are possessed of all
the cunning of the fox, and are such lovers of mammon, that for the
acquirement of wealth they would be guilty of any dishonesty or
treachery, and sacrifice even the honor and virtue of their families, at
the shrine of their household deity—gold.  How painful to reflect that so
many precious souls are thrown away for the want of better teaching and
example; how sad to know that they have no opportunity offered them of
throwing off the heavy yoke of sin, and of bursting the bonds of Satan.
But their bishops and priests are a wicked set, full of conceit and
sinful lusts, selling their own souls, as well as those confided to their
care, for the acquirement of filthy lucre; and so long as they encourage
the vices and dissipations of their flocks as a sure source of revenue to
themselves (for however great the crime, absolution may be purchased, and
slight penances imposed to expiate the most heinous sins); so long as
such a sad state of affairs is permitted, there can be no hope of any
amelioration in their degraded condition.  I know not what the motives
for it may be; but poor Cyprus has, so long as I can remember, been more
neglected than other parts of the East by the Missionary Societies in
England and America.  This is much to be lamented, and may, I hope, soon
be remedied.  Doubtless for the first few years, missionaries would have
almost insuperable difficulties to contend against; but, with God’s
blessing, these would gradually disappear.  The climate, though perhaps
unfavourable to their constitution, would be favourable to their cause,
and a skilful physician a boon to an island, where heretofore only quacks
and charlatans have been within the call of suffering humanity.  The late
Doctor Lilburn has left a name behind him in Cyprus still reverenced by
the poorer and sicklier inhabitants; his kind urbanity, his charity, and
attention to the sufferings of the sick, and his skill as a physician,
displayed in many extraordinary cures, all these contributed to work out
for him a fame which would have gradually enlarged itself, and penetrated
to the remotest corners of the island, had it pleased the Almighty to
spare him yet awhile on earth; but he died, and we have every hope that
his good Christian spirit is now reaping an eternal harvest of bliss.

With all the crimes and vices attached to the character of the Cypriote
Greeks, they are all staunch observers of the outward forms prescribed by
the elders of their church.  They are rigid observers of fast days, and
the same man that would hardly hesitate to rob you of your life, would
rather endure any torments of hunger, or any temptation, than break
through the prescribed rules of abstinence.  This, in conjunction with
their frequent attendance at the confessional, clearly shews the implicit
faith they place in the powers and virtues of their priests; and it
appears to me that this strict command over certain lusts of the flesh
might, if diverted into a proper channel, redound much to their credit,
and these very ruffians become devoted Christians, when they have once
learnt the instability of all human hopes, the impotency of man’s agency
to avert a pending destruction, and to give all the glory to God, and no
portion of it to princes or men.

We visited severally Nicosia, the inland capital of the kingdom, Fuma
Gosta, and a few other unimportant sea-side villages.  Nicosia is a very
handsomely built town, with beautiful gardens, and surrounded with
strongly built fortifications.  The streets are sufficiently wide, and
for the most part kept in admirable repair; good roads are a rare thing
to meet in the East.  The _majlis_, or government council, of which the
Pasha himself is president, is composed of Turks and Greeks; but the
greater portion are Greeks.  These are the wealthiest part of the
community, and carry everything before them.  In some caves attached to
the houses of the most ancient Greek families, there are large supplies
of old Cyprus _camandarea_, upwards of half a century in earthen jars.
This wine is very expensive, and is only used as a luxury or for
convalescent invalids.  The supposed sites of Salamis and Paphos were
pointed out to us; in the former place we are told, in the Acts of the
Apostles, that Paul and Barnabas, who landed in Cyprus A.D. 44, preached
Christ crucified; here also, Barnabas, who is reverenced as the principal
Apostle and first Bishop of Cyprus, was stoned, being martyred by the
Jews of Salamis: at Paphos St. Paul struck Bar-jesus with blindness, and
the pro-consul embraced Christianity.  The spiritual blindness of the
people of the whole island is, alas! more appalling than that miraculous
visitation on the blaspheming impostor.  During our stay in the island,
my friend was much occupied surveying and sketching, and from seeing him
apparently so much attached to the elegant accomplishments, I first
acquired a passion for drawing, but he had no time to instruct me; I had
no means of improving myself; and so I was obliged to let the matter rest
till a favourable opportunity should present itself.

The prevailing language of the island is Greek—Turkish is also spoken,
but Arabic is almost unknown in the interior; a strange circumstance,
considering the proximity of Cyprus to the Syrian coast.

After a month’s ramble in the island, we hired a native boat at Cyprus,
and sailed over to Cilicia, a voyage which we were three days in
accomplishing, owing to the then prevalent light winds and calms.
Mersine, the seaport of Tarshish, or Tersous, the birthplace of St. Paul,
and once a city of no mean repute, is a miserable little village
consisting of some half a hundred huts, inhabited by fever-stricken,
flea-bitten fellahs.  There are many pleasant orange groves and citron
walks in the village; and the water and shade, and verdure, form a
picture of ease, and health, and comfort, that but ill accords with the
really pestilential atmosphere of the neighbourhood.  Small and
unimportant as Mersine is in itself, it is of considerable importance to
the commerce of Asia Minor, as being the nearest seaport to Tersous and
Adana, whose merchants ship annually large quantities of linseed, wool,
sessame, and cotton, the produce of the vast plains and valleys on either
side of the Taurus range of mountains.  From Mersine to Tersous is a
distance of about four hours’ easy riding.  We left Mersine the morning
after our arrival an hour before sunrise, so that we reached our
destination before the sun had waxed overpoweringly hot, or the
horse-flies had become annoying.  The beauty of the plains we rode over,
their fertility and variegated aspect, and the whole scenery around us,
is scarcely surpassed in any part of the world that I have visited,
before or since.  Troops of swift gazelles, and hares innumerable passed
our track as we crossed the plains of Adana; whilst the surrounding
bushes abounded with partridges, quails, and such like game; the marshes
and lakes were literally teeming with water-fowl, from the majestic swan
to the insignificant sandpiper and water-rail; foxes were plentiful, and
so were jackals and hyenas; and the high range of mountains that
encompasses the plain on all sides, save that which faces the sea, was
plentifully stocked with chetahs, leopards, and other equally undesirable
neighbours.  The further we rode the higher the elevation of the ground
became, and the land was well laid out in cultivation.  Finally, we
reached the really picturesque and vast gardens on the outskirts of the
town, where we met occasional donkey-loads of the choicest fruits and
vegetables.  Heaps of cucumbers and lettuces were piled up near the
garden-gates ready for transportation to the market, and the passers-by
coolly helped themselves to some without any interference on the part of
the owners or gardeners, so super-abundantly does nature there produce
her choicest gifts.

Tersous is in some parts handsomely built, in others it was disfigured by
wretched hovels, whilst masses of putrifying vegetable and animal matter
were all that met the eye or assailed the nostril.  The inhabitants
seemed equally distinct from each other.  The occupants of the better
sort of houses were stout, robust, and healthy-looking fellows, who lived
upon the fat of the land, and inhabited Tersous only during winter, and a
portion of autumn and spring, decamping with their families to the lofty
and salubrious climates of Kulek Bughaz, and other pleasantly situated
villages of the Taurus, as soon as the much-dreaded summer drew nigh.
The inmates of the miserable hovels were, on the contrary, perfect
personifications of misery and despair—sickly-looking, unfortunate
_Fellahin_ Christians and Jews, who must work, and work hard too, to
enable them to inhabit any home, however humble, and are, consequently,
tied down to the place hot weather or cold, martyrs to fevers, dropsy,
and a few other like horrible complaints common to Tersous at all times
of the year, but raging to a fearful extent during the months of June,
July and August.  The fevers are occasioned partly from the miasma
arising from the marshes in the neighbourhood and the many stagnant pools
and gutters in the town itself, but chiefly from the frightful
exhalations occasioned by the mounds of putrifying camels, cows, oxen,
goats, horses, and mules, which annually die off from a murrain raging
amongst them, and whose carcases are dragged to the outside of the city’s
old walls, and there indiscriminately piled up in the dry ditches
around—a carnival for jackals and glutted vultures who are so amply
provided for, that even they and the packs of savage curs that infest the
streets of the town, grow dainty in their pickings and become worthless
scavengers from excess of feasting.

This is a frightful but faithful picture of the suburbs of modern
Tersous.  The very streets are equally neglected; bestrewed with the
disgusting remains of dogs, cats, and similar nuisances.  Indeed, Tersous
might be aptly termed a mass of corruption; and yet it has not been
neglected by bountiful nature.  The pleasant waters of the famed Cydnus,
which murmur through the very heart of the town, render its banks on
either side prolific with orange and lemon trees; the sweet odour from
whose blossoms, the fever-wasted form, reclining in a pleasant shade on
its banks, inhales with gusto, but alas! each breath is impregnated with
the noxious poisons that float heavily on the atmosphere.

The inhabitants are negligent and careless about what most vitally
concerns their immediate welfare, vainly sweeping out and cleansing their
own particular court-yards and houses, whilst the streets and the suburbs
are teeming with the seeds of pestilence, and the dark night vapour is
bestridden by direful disease and death.  In Tersous there was only one
resident Englishman, and that was the Vice-Consul, who had come there to
die like his predecessors.  There were no missionaries, not even a
Catholic priest, though plenty of Italian and French Roman Catholics were
attached to the various consulates, or employed as merchants and fishers
of leeches.  The native inhabitants, including a great many from Cyprus,
were of all creeds, the greater part being Mahomedans.

During our stay, we were the guests of a hospitable native Christian,
Signor Michael Saba, a notable merchant of Tersous; but almost all of
those whose acquaintance I made, are since dead, our worthy host among
the rest.  He, poor man, fell a victim to a virulent fever, that swept
away hundreds besides himself, within the space of a fortnight.  Sad
indeed is the change for the worse in the Tersous of the present day, to
what that town must have been in the primitive days of the Christian
church, when it boasted of its wealth and commerce, and sent forth to the
world such accomplished men as the great Apostle St. Paul; who, speaking
of his native home, could call it _A city of no mean repute in Cilicia_.
Our stay in Tersous did not exceed the time absolutely necessary for the
completion of my friend’s drawings and surveys; and then, nothing loth,
we turned our backs upon the place, crossing the large handsome bridge
built over the river, and so speeded on towards Adana.  The country lying
between Tersous and Adana, was very similar to that which we had
traversed between Mersine and the former place, a flat country
imperceptibly rising as we advanced.  Most of this country was more or
less cultivated; and we passed countless Turcoman encampments forming
large villages, the whole of whose population was almost exclusively
occupied in making those carpets, for which they are so much renowned.
The great brilliancy of colour and duration of these carpets have
acquired for them a very just celebrity.  The Turcoman dyes, brilliant
yellow, green, and purple (the latter possibly the celebrated Tyrian dye,
now lost to the world), are a secret, for the possession of a knowledge
of which, the princely Manchester manufacturers would, I imagine,
willingly loosen their purse-strings; but no one in the East has hitherto
been possessed of sufficient energy and patient inquisitiveness to coax
this secret from the breasts of these wild sons of the wilderness.  _En
route_ we passed many old wells which supplied these people and their
flocks with water during the summer months.  At some of these wells we
stopped and begged water for ourselves and horses, which was cheerfully
supplied by pretty maidens, who, like Rebecca of old, had come to the
well to supply their father’s flocks with water.

The town of Adana is of very unprepossessing aspect; its houses being
very inferior, both in appearance and dimensions, to those of Tersous.
They have, however, the advantage of being in a much healthier situation,
though, owing to the inconvenient system of excluding windows, which
might overlook the neighbours’ court-yards, the houses are insufferably
close during the hot months; and have more the resemblance of miserable
prisons, with well-secured doors, than of dwelling-houses.  The Turks,
who are seldom at home during the day, suffer very little inconvenience
from the fact above alluded to.  They, for the most part, have their
little shops on either side of the prodigiously long street that
constitutes Adana; and as these are covered in with thatch-work, and are
moreover carefully watered by public water-carriers several times a day,
the _Dukkans_ afford a desirable retreat from the mid-day heat.  If their
wives and families suffer inconvenience from the sultry closeness of the
weather, they are at liberty to lock their doors and resort to any among
the number of pleasant gardens that embellish the suburbs of the town,
there to make _farah_, and enjoy themselves till the hour arrives when
the _Dukkans_ are closed for the night, and the master of the house is
expected home; then all scamper back to receive their hungry husbands,
and if their dinner be not cooked, or be displeasing to their taste, to
receive in addition a few lashes of the _corbash_, in the use of which
they are pretty well skilled in Adana.

The inhabitants are all Moslems—the most intolerably bigoted and
ignorantly proud people to be met with in the whole of the Sultan’s
dominions.  No professor of another creed dares to settle in any quarter
of the town, but have their houses scattered around its suburbs, and
these are in general miserable, mean-looking hovels, tenanted by a
wretchedly poverty-stricken people.  Though Adana is the head-quarters of
the Pasha of that Pashalik, no Europeans, consuls or merchants, reside in
the place, from which fact alone arises the unbearable hauteur of the
Turks of Adana, who are unaccustomed to mingle with more civilised
people, or to bend to the yoke which the rules of official etiquette
demand and obtain.

Adana has often been the theatre of frightful convulsions and rebellions.
The supreme power of the Sublime Porte has been on more than one occasion
set at defiance, and though the results have been terrible, and the
honour of the Sultan been vindicated in blood, time has worn off the
impression, and rising generations have continued to grow up in insolence
and insubordination, till the natives are so void of civility to the
stranger, that, as a recent author truthfully observes, “it was difficult
for any European to traverse the bazars, especially that part allotted to
shoe-makers, without being disgustingly abused, and even spit at.”  In
all other parts, the residence of the Pasha is usually fixed upon as the
residence of the consuls and consular agents; as, for instance, Damascus,
Jerusalem, and Aleppo, the presence of European authorities being always
a wholesome check upon the governors, who have an innate fear of them,
which, notwithstanding their deadly hate and bigotry, they are compelled
to acknowledge by civil words and acts; and if there is one thing that
they fear more than another, it is the facility with which Europeans use
their pens.  “I will write to Stamboul,” is a terrible sentence to the
conscience-smitten official.  In it he pictures to his imagination an
endless array of evils; first, the certainty of answers; then his being
involved in a difficult correspondence, which is almost sure to
terminate, if he does not speedily amend, in his recall, and possibly
still more severe punishment.

Adana had few inducements to hold out to us for remaining.  The Pasha’s
beautiful _serrai_ was the only object worthy of attention.  This had
been handsomely constructed, and was picturesquely situated on the banks
of that rapid stream which flows through Tersous.  Here also was a bridge
of very fine structure, and apparently of very ancient date.  The river
itself was enlivened by a number of floating flour-mills, the rapid
motion of whose wheels threw showers of clear water high up into the air,
and gave a busy and stirring appearance to the, in all other respects,
dull and monotonous town.

We ventured as far north as Kulek Bughaz—that impregnable mountain-pass
which Ibrahim Pasha so strongly fortified, and which modern travellers
state, is now in a ruinous condition.  Having, from this great elevation,
taken a survey of the immense extent of plains both on the Konia and
Adana side, we hastened to descend again, since the mountains were
infested with lawless banditti, and the whole country around was in a
very unsettled state, owing to recent warlike demonstrations between
Mehemet Ali Pasha and the Sublime Porte.

Reaching the plains, we once more skirted the river, till we arrived at a
pathway, that led us, after two days’ weary journeyings, to the village
of Ayas, on the northern side of the Gulf of Scanderoon; thus avoiding a
passage through the territories of the descendants of that late notorious
robber-chief, Kuchuk Ali Oglu, whose infamous name had spread terror far
and wide throughout the Ottoman dominions.




CHAPTER VI.
ALEPPO.


Hiring an Arab boat at Ayas, we crossed over the Gulf of Scanderoon,
passing close to the lagoons near that place, which are very dangerous
for navigation; in fact, so much so, that in speaking of it we say in
Arabic, “As dangerous as the Black Sea.”  They, however, abound in fine
turtle, such as would meet with a ready and profitable market in London.
We landed at Scanderoon, a wretched and deserted village, surrounded with
pestiferous marshes on all sides.  The fever was at that period
prevalent, so that our stay was limited to a few hours, during which
brief interval horses were engaged to carry us to Antioch, and we partook
of some slight refreshment at the residence of my friend, Suleiman Bey.

Leaving Scanderoon, or Alesandretta, as it is also called, we rode for
upwards of an hour through marshes, and hot, humid, unhealthy ground,
till arriving at the foot of the Beilan mountains, we commenced their
rather abrupt ascent, and after half an hour’s scrambling and hard work,
reached an elevation from which we caught an uninterrupted view of the
sea for many miles on either side, and so pushing forward, in three hours
we reached the picturesque village of Beilan, which is situated on either
side of a high mountain gorge, and is one of those natural barriers
which, like Kulek Bughaz, afforded a stronghold in times of disturbance
and war to several rebel chiefs, who from these fortresses set at
defiance the invading armies from the neighbouring plains: but since the
death of Kuchuk Ali Oglu, who so long reigned _in terrorem_ over the
peaceful inhabitants of the plains, this class of people have been
entirely exterminated; and Beilan, being on the highway from
Constantinople to Aleppo, is now inhabited by a civilised though very
poor class of Turks and Armenians, whose constant intercourse with
Europeans and other merchants has tamed them into honesty, and taught
them to respect and fear the prowess of all European nations, more
especially the English, of whose fleets they have sometimes caught sight
when cruizing about the Gulf, and the roar of whose cannon, echoing from
mountain to dell, whispered to them not mildly of the power and valour of
that surprising nation.

From Beilan to Aleppo our journey occupied two days and a half; and as we
travelled with our own tents, etc., we were entirely independant of such
wretched accommodation as is usually afforded to travellers in the
villages.  Aleppo had much the appearance of Damascus when viewed from
the distance.  The bright foliage of the trees dotted with occasional
domes and terraces—the lofty minarets, and the picturesque hill and
castle in the centre, all contributed to render the tableau complete;
besides which, around as far as the eye could stretch, the barren and
desolate appearance of the mountains made Aleppo stand forth a perfect
Oasis in a wilderness.  On our arrival we were lodged at the Latin
convent, but shortly afterwards removed to hired apartments in Jedida,
the Christian quarter of the town, where I had the pleasure of forming
the acquaintance of several wealthy native families.

The Aleppines are with truth styled polished; they are innately gentlemen
and ladies, from the highest to the lowest; the graceful walk—the
well-bred salutation—in short, the whole deportment is such as would well
become, and even grace, an English aristocratic _re-union_.  During our
stay, Signor Fatallah, a wealthy neighbour, who was likewise proprietor
of a silk manufactory, married his son to the daughter of an opulent
fellow-townsman; preparations on a grand scale had long been going
forward, and amongst a vast concourse of friends and acquaintances
invited to celebrate the nuptials, we also were included.  The auspicious
moment arrived, and we proceeded to Fatallah’s house escorted by a band
of native musicians whom we met going there.  On arriving at the
residence of the bridegroom, we were ushered into a long room in which
guests were seated from the door to the upper part according to their
rank in life; the chief guests being seated at the head of the divan on
either side of the master of the house, others were ranged lower and
lower, the poorest guests were close to the doorway, and one or two so
poor that they did not even aspire to a place on the divan, but squatted
themselves cross-legged on the ground.  On the arrival of a fresh guest
the master of the house would rise and come forward to receive him; and
if, as happened on some occasions, the guest from mock humility would
seat himself in a position lower than what his actual rank of precedence
entitled him to, an absurd scuffle would ensue, in which the master of
the house would endeavour to drag the other higher up into the room, and
the guest with many “Stāfer Allahs” (God forbid) and many false
protestations, would pretend reluctantly to yield to the distinction
proferred him, and so gain honour in the sight of the assembled
multitude.  Such scenes brought vividly to my mind our Lord’s parable
about the meek being exalted; and rendered it clearly evident that this
etiquette, so strictly adhered to by the natives of all Syria to this
present hour, existed in the time of the Redeemer, and has been practised
from the Patriarchs downwards.  The very costume—the method of
salutation—the seats arranged methodically for the guests, all helped to
contribute not a little in forcibly recalling to mind several portions of
Scripture often read with pleasure in my childhood.

After we had arrived and taken our seats, the musicians struck up some
popular and lively Arabic air familiar to the ears of us Syrians, as
connected with many pleasant recollections of like spectacles and
occasions.  Numberless servants were busily occupied in handing to the
guests sherbet, pipes, narghilies, and a large assortment of candied and
other sweetmeats.  As the visitors continued rapidly arriving they were
sprinkled by the bridesman with essences, and the scene in the court-yard
outside the reception-room assumed a more animated appearance.  Groups of
young men in gaily-coloured and picturesque coats, were seated in
separate circles each possessing a _kānūn_ or other instrument players of
its own, emulous to surpass the notes of his neighbour.  Occasionally one
or two men from each circle would stand up and go through the wild but
elegant figures of the Bedouin dances, whilst groups of pretty and timid
girls, collected in knots round the walls of the house, watched with the
deepest interest the wrestling matches of their lovers or brothers, and
joined loudly in the plaudits which crowned a successful competitor with
the full-blown honours of championship.  As the evening advanced, their
hilarity increased; strings of servants with heavily-laden trays were
seen occasionally crossing the court-yard, bringing quantities of
confectionery and other gifts of the friends and relations of the
bridegroom, for it is always expected that everyone invited will
contribute in some small way to set up the young couple in life.  To this
intent the presents comprise all sorts of articles, such as
handkerchiefs, caps, scarfs, wax-tapers, coffee, sugar, sweet-meats, live
fowls, wheat, tobacco, etc.  Every one gives his mite; it costs the donor
only a trifle, but in the mass very materially assists the newly married
pair.  This custom of friends sending presents is also adopted upon the
accouchment of a lady; her friends, the ensuing week, send her various
small presents on trays, such as a couple of roasted chickens, or some
delicate tit-bit, well suited to the palate of an invalid.  These small
civilities are productive of much good will, and really cost nothing, but
I wonder what any fashionable lady in London would say, if a friend,
under similar circumstances, volunteered to send her a dish of roast
fowl.  I understand that among the middle and lower classes in England
such presents are not unfrequent, though generally in cases not entirely
above the reach of want; whereas, with us in Syria, when we have any dish
that is particularly nice, or any early fruit that is very choice the
custom of sending a portion to our neighbours is observed by all classes
alike, as a mark of regard and delicate attention.

But to return to the gay nuptials of our friend, Fatallah’s son, the
bridegroom was nowhere visible, neither were there any signs of the fair
bride or her attendant nymphs.  Towards evening, however, the Greek
bishop, marshalled in by three or four priests, made his appearance, and
as soon as his reverence had been saluted and seated himself, servants
appeared with low round tables, which they set before the guests, and
covering them with heavily-laden trays, removed the napkins, and
displayed to the hungry multitude the very choice collection of viands
that had been cooked for the nuptial dinner.

Richly flavoured soups, aromatic dishes of minced meat, gravies, and
numerous other delicacies, both sweet and sour, were all plentifully
supplied; the first course consisting chiefly of light dishes, in which
vegetables and curdled cream figured in abundance; the second, comprising
various kinds of meat; the whole repast terminating with one vast pillaf,
kids and lambs roasted whole, and stuffed with pistachio nuts, currants
and spices.  Before commencing dinner, a small glass of arraki {76} was
handed round to the guests; afterwards, an abundant supply of wine of
Lebanon was at hand for those who wished to partake of it.

Whilst this festivity was going forward indoors, those outside were not
one whit behind in enjoyment.  Sheep cooked whole, were set before the
musicians and singers; also huge platters of pillaf, which made two men
stagger under their weight.  At the conclusion of dinner, all the guests
were served with basins and ewers of water, and very liberally
besprinkled with rose and orange-flower water.

During the repast, the bridegroom, who had entered the room very meanly
clad, was conducted by young men, his companions, into an adjoining
apartment, and there having been shaved and washed, then stripped of his
beggarly rags, he was clothed in splendid bridal attire and led back into
the presence of the guests.  Here he passed round from one to the other,
humbly taking their hands and kissing them, commencing with the bishops
and priests, until he had completed the circle; he then received the
blessing; after which he was permitted to seat himself upon a low chair
placed in the centre of the room, and there, with his head hanging down
from feelings of bashfulness, the young man awaited the arrival of the
propitious hour.  After some little delay, the distant sound of darbekirs
and firing off of muskets warned the assembly that the bride had quitted
her home for the last time, and was now being escorted with all the pride
of Eastern pomp through the streets to the residence of her destined
husband.  The road chosen on this, as on all similar occasions, is the
longest and most circuitous, in order to show that the bride is in no
hurry to arrive at the house of her beloved.  No sooner did the shouts
and acclamations reach the ears of the young men congregated in the
court-yards, than these as though inspired by martial music, leapt up
from the ground and seizing upon their fire-arms, rushed out into the
streets accompanied by drums and other instruments, to be in readiness to
receive the bride’s escort, and exchange with them _feux de joie_ of
musketry.

Some servants of the house now carried into the reception-room a common
low table which was speedily covered with snow-white drapery, and on
which were placed the bishop’s mitre, prayer-books, chalices, censers,
etc., all to be in readiness for the consecration of the nuptials.  The
bishop and attendant priests were speedily arrayed in clerical costumes;
two small crowns of olive branches richly gilt and decorated with flowers
were placed upon the table; and these arrangements had scarcely been
completed, when the bride was ushered in by her attendant nymphs,
followed by a concourse of friends and relations, having previously
thrown some yeast upon the outer door of the house, and broken a
pomegranate over it.  The former signifying that she is to be attached as
closely to her husband as the yeast adheres to the door; while the latter
figures that she is to be as fruitful a mother as this fruit is full of
seed.

The bride was covered from head to foot in a long, loose veil, white as
snow; but of sufficiently thin texture to admit of her features being
partly distinguishable, and to show that over her under garments, which
were composed of richly embroidered silks and satins, she was literally
bespangled with costly gems; large festoons of gold coins encircling her
head, and falling over her shoulders, reached to the ground.

The priest now lighted the candles placed on the temporary altar: {78}
deacons with censers in their hands went the round of the room,
sprinkling benedictions on all around; the bride and bridegroom were duly
arranged before the bishops and priests—a bridesman and a bridesmaid
stood behind, their right hands resting on the crowns which had now been
placed on the heads of the young couple about to be married; the chaunt
commenced, and the serious part of the ceremony began.  As the nuptials
progressed, the bridegroom and bride three times exchanged crowns; then
the rings were placed upon the fingers of both, and the bishop made them
drink out of the same cup of wine; once did they make the circuit of the
altar-table; and then amidst a shower of small silver coins,
confectionary, and flowers, which fell like heavy rain all around, the
bishop gave his blessing; and the young couple were bound by indissoluble
ties from that moment forward, throughout life, as man and wife.  The
bride was shortly after led away into an antechamber, where she was
partly relieved of her many cumbrous veils, and where such of the friends
of the family as desired, had a fair opportunity of admiring her pretty
face.  She then stepped forth and kissed the hands of male intruders, in
token of her humble submission to one of their sex from that day forward.
{79}

The latter part of the evening was passed much in the same way as the
earlier part of the day had been; with music, songs, and dancing.  What
added much to the general effect, was the numerous variegated lamps and
brilliant torches, that cast a light upon and added greatly to the
picturesque effect of the various costumes; for by this time many of the
European residents were present, in some instances accompanied by their
ladies, and some of the military and other officers in the government
service, dressed in their respective uniforms.  It was near upon midnight
when we withdrew, but the festivities were kept up till daybreak; and
then the wedding-feast terminated, the gaieties of which had been
sustained with hardly any intermission throughout the three preceding
days.

Such is the general custom amongst our people; and even the poorest man
on such joyful occasions, as they occur only once in a lifetime, will
spend his last piastre in endeavours to make the ceremony as brilliant an
affair as he can.  When a widower or widow is married, all these
rejoicings are abandoned—the simple nuptial ceremony, in the presence of
a few relatives, is all that is expected or in fact deemed decorous; and
this arises from a very honourable notion, that the memory of a deceased
partner should be held in religious esteem; so as to prevent the
outraging the feelings of their relatives upon the occasion of entering a
second time into that estate, by any display or great rejoicing: indeed a
man or a woman is supposed to marry a second time purely from motives of
mutual advantage; to be a helpmate to each other, especially in the case
of a man having had a family by his first wife, in which case, the
children are often unavoidably neglected, as the husband’s occupations
preclude the possibility of his devoting much time or thought to their
welfare.  A stepmother in Syria is not a proverb of harshness;
stepmothers in that country, in direct contrariety to what is believed to
be the case in Europe, are affectionate and kind to their step-children;
and even in such rare instances as that of a man marrying again, when his
first wife’s children are already nearly grown up, even then perfect
harmony reigns between the different members of the family, for filial
respect is so powerfully inculcated in a young Syrian’s breast, that
however young the stepmother may be, she is always looked up to and
respected as the wife of a father; and with regard to the wife herself,
the rule acts the same, only vice versa, the children are regarded as the
children of her husband; and however many children a second wife may
have, the first one’s always claim the precedence.  It is indispensable
amongst all Syrian families, that every member should know and keep his
or her respective place, and quarrels on this score are seldom if ever
known.

We remained long enough in Aleppo to become familiar with all its
quarters, Christian, Jewish, and European; the latter reside principally
at Kittab, a pleasant little hamlet of neatly constructed houses, which
dates after the period of the shocking earthquake in 1822—an event which
so alarmed the populace that for many weeks afterwards they thought
themselves insecure within the walls of the city, many of the massive
houses, though built upon arches, having given way, carrying everything
before them, and crushing alike inmates and passers-by in the streets.
Aleppo is perhaps the most fashionable town in the East, not even
excepting Damascus.  The fashions change there as often almost as they do
in Paris, and all the young ladies are as particular about their dress as
the more aristocratic belles in the North; the result of all this is,
that an Aleppine lady proves usually an expensive wife; but I must
acknowledge, that their extreme neatness, the snowy-white veils, and
gaily-coloured tunics, add much to the picturesque appearance of the
gardens on festive days, when the whole population throngs these
favourite places of resort as much for air and exercise as from a wish to
shew themselves, as it is only on this day many of them have an
opportunity of escaping from the narrow and confined streets of the city.

“Shamm al Hawa,” is a favourite expression of Aleppines, for they dearly
love the open country, and delight to rove amongst trees and flowers;
Aleppo is a country I should have great hopes for with regard to the
success of missionary labour.  The Aleppines are too courteous to mock at
or hold in derision the tenets of any man, or to interrupt a man when he
speaks, nor indeed to listen inattentively.  Many amongst them are
naturally intelligent: and did any schools or institutions exist from
which their families might derive any clear and indisputable
benefit—education for their children—instruction in any arts or
sciences—physic and medical attendance for the sick and poverty-stricken
(they are by no means an ungrateful people), their attention would most
assuredly be arrested by such attentions to their own and their
townsmen’s wants, and they would be brought to reflect that such kind
benefactors must be trustworthy people, and people that love truth.

The last Report of the British and Foreign Bible Society gives the
population of Aleppo to be 90,000 souls, of which number 19,000 are said
to be Christians of various denominations, and yet there was only one
Protestant missionary on the spot; the Rev. Mr. Benton having been
obliged to revisit America for the benefit of his health.  When it is
considered that at Aintab, a considerable town, only a day distant from
Aleppo, the efforts of a single missionary, the Rev. Dr. Smith, of the
American mission, have been crowned with unprecedented success, and that
chiefly amongst the Armenians, of whom there are also numbers established
in Aleppo, it cannot but be regretted that so favourable a field should
be neglected.  The fact of this missionary being also a physician is
another proof in support of what I shall endeavour to prove in a
subsequent chapter, namely, the advantages derivable from the wide
establishment of Medical Missions, a subject which I trust, under the
Almighty blessing, will attract the attention of the Christian
inhabitants of Great Britain.

Few towns in the East can rival Aleppo in a commercial sense.  Every
resident is more or less of a speculator; and thousands have lost and
gained a fortune in the failures or successes of mercantile speculations.
Even the women are imbued with this spirit of enterprise; and the female
broker is no inconsiderable person in a merchant’s appreciation.  She
penetrates into the restricted precincts of the harem, and displays, to
the admiring gaze of its fair secluded inmates, jewels and tinselled
fineries, such as would barely merit a moment’s pause or attention in the
over-crowded bazaars, but when presented by themselves, prove an
inducement to purchase; and this is a means of no small profit, above all
to the poorer class of speculators who are obliged to restrict their
purchases to their very limited means.  Even children hawk about minor
commodities, and little urchins who have scarcely a rag to cover their
nudity, will offer to the stranger carefully hoarded up bits of glass and
old coins picked up in some of the most deserted and ruinous portions of
the city, hoping that amongst them a valuable antique may invite his
attention.

We left Aleppo after a prolonged stay, and mounting our horses joined a
caravan loaded with produce for the supply of the Antioch market.  The
first few hours, after leaving Aleppo, our road lay over a rocky pathway
difficult to ride over, bleak and monotonous in the extreme; but soon the
glorious plains of the Amuk spreading before us as far as the eye could
reach, burst like a splendid panorama on our gaze.  We rapidly descended
to their level, and the remainder of our first day’s journeying was over
a flat country, whose natural prolific soil, interspersed as it was at
short distances with small tributary streams, would have been a sight to
gladden the heart of any emigrant who should seek for rich pasturages for
his cattle—abundant harvest of wheat and barley—rich orchards and
valuable plantations.

All these doubtless once existed at a time when the ruined cities,
portions of whose past grandeur still remain to gratify the curious
antiquarian, were in their zenith; indeed tradition reports the whole of
this extensive plain (which it took us two days’ hard riding to
traverse), at its narrowest breadth, to have been once an extensive
forest, in some parts almost impenetrable.  Now there is hardly a tree to
be seen; immense pasturages and fields stretch on every side, and numbers
of horses, cattle, and sheep, browse on the luxuriant herbage.  We
arrived on the third day at the Gessir il Haded, or iron bridge, where we
first crossed the Orontes, and after skirting the river for a few
minutes, struck off on a wide pathway leading over a mountainous country,
richly dotted with trees, and verdant with wild thyme and lavender.
Small herds of gazelles, startled from their resting-places by the echo
of our horses’ tramp, darted across our pathway, and sought refuge on the
further side of the many lofty hills that now surrounded us.  The
Orontes, in its meandering course, occasionally took a sweep and glided
close under our elevated pathway; by and bye we closed in with the river;
myriads of water-fowl and other game flew over our heads.  There was a
stately old ruined castle, on a bleak isolated hill; we passed under its
deserted battlements, and in ten minutes afterwards were riding through
the streets of the once famed city of Antioch.




CHAPTER VII.
ANTIOCH AND LATTAKIA.


In Antioch our stay was, much to our regret, comparatively short; for who
would willingly quit so fair a spot—a perfect Paradise, and rich in the
fairest gifts of nature?  A healthy climate, a cloudless sky, luxuriant
fruits and flowers, meadows and pasturages, high hills and valleys; the
mountain and the plain bespangled with trees, the wild myrtle and other
fragrant shrubs, intersected by a glorious river; the earth producing
nourishment for droves upon droves of cattle, and domestic as well as
wild fowl; the river abounding in eels, and the distant sea furnishing
delicious fish of fifty varieties.  What more could mortal man on earth
desire?  All these can Antioch boast of, besides the many pleasant
reminiscences connected with the spot.  Its primitive Christian Church,
the great success that crowned the early efforts of those two devout and
indefatigable apostles, Paul and Barnabas;—the city, the birthplace of
St. Luke, the beloved physician, where originated the name of that faith,
which is our pride, our boast, and the source of all our hope; these are
ties which render Antioch, in the devout Christian’s estimation, second
only to Jerusalem.  When we were at this place many parts of the once
famous walls of the city were still in perfect condition, a wonderful
proof of the skill and persevering labours of those brave but alas
unsuccessful men who strove permanently to plant the cross in the
countries where it had first been raised, and had once triumphantly
flourished.  Though through so many succeeding generations the city has
been subjected to every imaginable disaster, fire, invasion, revolt, and
the terrible effects of violent earthquakes, yet nature still smiles upon
the surrounding country as brightly as ever she shone in the zenith of
her city’s glory.  Its palaces and other magnificent buildings, the
handiwork of mortal man, had, with man, all crumbled away to dust.  Its
millions of inhabitants have dwindled down to some few thousands, and in
this respect the wreck is complete; but the fairness of the morning, and
the freshness of the breeze, the beauty of the prospect, the flowers, and
fruits, and trees, these continue the same as in the wealthiest era of
the Seleucidæ.  Man and man’s triumphant domes are nowhere to be seen; a
few crazily built houses, and a few straggling inhabitants, are all that
now constitute the modern town of Antakia.

Yet, notwithstanding all this, the vast extent of land in the
neighbourhood of Antioch which is devoted solely to the cultivation of
mulberry-trees, and the great space of still uncultivated ground which
might be devoted to a like purpose, gives ample assurance that, in the
one article of silk alone, an immense revenue might be derived, and a
very large population be maintained in easy, if not affluent,
circumstances.  As matters stand at the present day, the silk produced
yields no inconsiderable revenue; but the plantations are the exclusive
property of a few independent proprietors, who, themselves reaping more
than a lion’s share, leave to the great herd of the inhabitants a paltry,
miserable pittance, which can scarcely find them the very barest
necessaries of life, although Antioch is acknowledged to be perhaps the
cheapest place in the known world.

Whilst at Antioch, we visited the water-mills now occupying the site of
the once celebrated groves of Daphne, and thence returning, took horses
and proceeded to Suedia over the selfsame ground once familiar to Paul
and Barnabas, when those two apostles, like ourselves, went down to
Seleucia to take shipping from thence.  The whole space intervening
between Antioch and Suedia, a distance of nearly twenty miles, is
occupied by luxuriant mulberry plantations and orchards of delicious
fruit-trees; fruits that are peculiar to this neighbourhood having been
introduced and cultivated with great care, through a series of many
years, by a philanthropic English gentleman, who distributed cuttings and
grafts throughout the district.

At Suedia we remained two days, the guests of this hospitable gentleman,
visiting in that interval—the site where stood the pillar of Simeon
Stylites—the delightful country seats of Mr. Barker at Bitias and
Huderbey, and lastly, the splendid ruined tunnel and aqueduct, besides
other remains of the once wealthy Seleucia.  This done, we hired an Arab
felucca, which, sailing out of the Orontes, and crossing the Gulf of
Antioch in the short space of seven hours, carried us over to Lattakia,
the ancient Laodicea.

Arrived at Lattakia, we became the guests of the hospitable brothers
Elias.  Signor Mosi Elias is the British vice-consul at that port; and
seldom have I had the happiness of meeting with a more worthy man; but,
in fact, the whole of his family are distinguished for their great
courtesy and hospitality to all strangers.  This eulogy may fairly be
extended to all the native agents established along the sea-coast of
Syria; although, unfortunately, their humble efforts are not always duly
appreciated.  English gentlemen, accustomed to every comfort and luxury
that wealth can command, little imagine the expense and trouble incurred
by many of the humble Syrian agents in their efforts to afford
hospitality to British travellers.  Receiving no salary, and yet
compelled to maintain a certain position to support the dignity of
office, the means in their power must necessarily be limited; but as far
as house-room goes—a bed, a dinner, breakfast, and supper, according to
their limited means; these are always cheerfully offered to the
traveller; and the poor consular agent, who has almost insuperable
difficulties to contend with, so as to enable him to impress the local
authorities with a due sense of the importance and respectability of his
office, is glad to avail himself of the opportunity of having an
Englishman as guest under his roof, to convince the neighbours and his
fellow-townsmen of his influence with the British.  I have known
instances where a poor consular agent has even parted with some valuable
family relic, so as to enable him to afford a hearty welcome to some
Englishman of distinction; while, perhaps, the only return he has met
with, was to be treated with supreme contempt and derision, even to his
face; or to have his name bandied about to the world in some gaudily
bound book of travels, in which authors have seen fit to make sport of
men, who, in all probability, sacrificed a night’s rest and comfort to
contribute both towards them in a strange land.

While on this subject, I may record one instance which came to my
knowledge, and which was really too scandalous not to be made known.

A party of travellers, for I cannot style them gentlemen, five or six in
number, were travelling through Syria and Palestine, accompanied by a
retinue of servants with tents, baggage, and every luxury and comfort
that money could command.  Arriving at one of the seaport towns, where
dwelt an English agent (a good old man, who was a Syrian by birth), they
pitched their tents outside of the town, and sending their insolent
dragoman to the agent, informed him that it was their intention to remain
a couple of days in that neighbourhood, and commanded him to procure them
guides to shew them over the town and its vicinity, so that they might
see all that was worth being seen.  To this, the agent really assented;
and “on hospitable thoughts intent,” dressed himself for the occasion,
and, preceded by his _cawass_, went to the travellers’ tents to pay his
respects, and to offer them any little services in his power.  Finding
that they required no further aid, he then told them, that although they
had placed the possibility of being useful to them beyond his reach, he
trusted that they would not wholly deprive him of the pleasure of their
company; and invited them to dine at his house at an early hour the next
day.  This invitation the travellers, who had barely treated the old man
with civility, thought proper to accept, and the next day they duly made
their appearance.

Meanwhile, the poor consul, whose stock of crockery was rather scant, and
whose knives and forks mustered but a meagre show, endeavoured, by buying
or borrowing, to make things as tidy and complete as he possibly could;
but it often happens, that in such small villages as that in which the
agent resided, and where European vessels seldom resort, European
merchandise is very rare; and such a thing as a plated spoon or a knife
and fork, is not to be met with for love or money.  This was precisely
the case in the instance before us; and the poor agent was put to his
wit’s end in discovering that, after every effort, his stock of knives
still fell short of the necessary complement by a knife.  In this
dilemma, he was quite at a nonplus what to do; till, finally, he resolved
to throw himself upon the known courtesy of an Englishman, and explain
exactly how matters stood; begging of the guests on their arrival to let
their servants fetch from their own tents such implements for table use,
as were indispensably requisite for the accommodation of all.

No sooner, however, had the poor agent explained the state of affairs by
means of the interpreter, than the guests, one and all, fell into a
violent passion, and asked the consul how he had dared to insult them by
asking them to dinner, when he was not in a position to treat them as
became persons of their rank and distinction.  Saying this, they swept
from the room in a towering passion, leaving the poor agent lost in
amazement how to account for such conduct from persons who styled
themselves English gentlemen, and overcome with shame and vexation that
his neighbours should have been witness to such an outrage.

This anecdote requires no comment.  Happily such instances of gross
misconduct are of rare occurrence, but it plainly exemplifies the absurd
system followed by government in placing native agents all over Syria and
Turkey, to whom they do not afford means of maintaining a position which
ought to command respect.

The present system of native agencies is altogether a mistake; they
should be entrusted only to those who have previously had a European
education.  Most of those now employed have been reared in dread of the
very name of the _local powers_, and are inefficient in cases of
controversy between subjects of two nations.

I may here be permitted to deviate a little from the subject of Lattakia
and my travels, to make a few remarks on the uses and abuses of the
protection-system, so largely practised all over Syria and Turkey.

The abuses of the system are very great; this is much to be regretted,
because in the main the arrangements existing between the Ottoman
government and European powers with regard to this particular subject,
viz., that of the privileges enjoyed by Europeans to protect a limited
number of persons actually in the service of consuls, merchants, and
others, is a very great boon to Europeans.  Were it not for this
privilege, Europeans residing in Syria would find it a very difficult
matter to procure good and efficient servants at moderate wages.

In some parts of Syria, where every creature-comfort or necessary is
extremely cheap, the lower orders, who are generally of an indolent
disposition, would much prefer remaining idle for one-half of the year to
engaging in any occupation which might make it incumbent on them to go
through a certain portion of daily labour; and this they can afford to
do, as their habits are frugal, and the amount gained in one day by a
labourer, will suffice to support himself and family for three days.
This applies equally to the fellah or peasant employed in cultivation.
His portion of the silk harvest is sufficient to maintain him till the
wheat crop is gathered in, when he earns with his scythe a sufficiency to
maintain him in idleness till the olive and grape harvests arrive, and
then he is either paid in cash or allowed a certain quantity of wheat,
oil, wine, aqua vitæ, _dibis_, {92} raisins, etc., as recompense for his
labour.  Of this store he lays by a sufficiency for the winter; the silk
and the surplus of the wheat, etc., he either sells or barters for other
household requisites, such as clothing, butter and charcoal.  He brings
his own fuel from the mountains, and, if he be at all a careful manager,
can keep an ass or a mule of his own to carry goods and passengers to and
from the nearest towns and villages.  Thus, with a very small amount of
labour, the peasant of Syria can afford to have an idle time of it, were
he not in terror of government taxes; for although the system of taxation
is fairly and justly arranged, and in reality the sums levied are small
in proportion to the income, still there are understrappers, besides
their own Christian Nazir and Sheikhs, who peculate to a large extent
under the plea of some false necessity.  This induces the peasant gladly
to embrace any opportunity that may offer of entering into the service of
a Frank; for from the hour of his employment he is, to all intents and
purposes, the subject of another power; he is exempt from taxation, and
the officials durst not intrude themselves upon the privacy of his
household, under penalty of being at loggerheads with the consuls and
pashas, and possibly of being exposed to the ignominy of the bastinado.

Now the very possession of this power to protect is sufficient to raise
an Englishman much in the estimation of the Turks, and other natives of
Syria; and were this privilege used with moderation, and not abused, it
would become, as I have already stated, a boon to Europeans.

The great misfortune is that there is no existing line of distinction
which might separate the herd of Syro-European inhabitants, from those
really and virtually Europeans by birth and education.  These two
distinct classes are as separated from each other as light is from
darkness, yet unfortunately possessing like powers and like privileges,
the latter class, who fill the posts of consuls, merchants, clerks,
missionaries, _doctors_, and a few tradesmen being strictly gentlemen in
their principles.

The former class consists of men, whose paternal ancestors were European,
and who scrupulously claim their rights as such.  Most of them have
intermarried amongst their own peculiar class, so as to form a distinct
and new race of inhabitants in Syria.  They have inherited from their
fathers in a lineal descent, their names, nationality, and wealth, and in
many instances their consular dignity.  Some few have inherited the
consulates without proportionate means to support the dignity, and the
mass of this class being linked together by marriage ties, almost every
man is grandfather, uncle, cousin, nephew, father, brother, or son, or
brother-in-law to his next-door neighbour.  It is with this latter class
in particular that the abuse of the protection system prevails to an
alarming extent.

There are in Syria few or none of that troublesome class of Europeans
that so infest Constantinople, Smyrna, and Alexandria.  I allude to
political and other refugees: these find no occupation or encouragement
in Syria, where there are no established gambling-houses, or other dens
to which they can resort.

To be classed as a European merchant in Syria, requires no very great
outlay of capital; take, for example, the following instance:—

Messrs. A--- and Co., a wealthy English firm, established at Beyrout or
elsewhere, receive annually from three to four thousand bales of British
manufactured goods, and they ship goods to an equally large amount.  They
necessarily require the services of not only household servants, but
cashiers, native writers, and warehousemen.  These men are very properly
admitted to the privilege of temporarily enjoying the protection of a
British subject.

Perhaps the next-door neighbour to these gentlemen is a Mr. B--- who is
also styled a merchant, because once, or perhaps twice in a twelvemonth,
he goes through the form of receiving a solitary bale of goods; this
bale, in all probability, being sent through his hands as a blind, by
some wealthier relative, to impress the local authorities with an idea of
his wealth, and to enable him to establish his claim to rank as a
merchant.  This man pretends to find occupation for as many people as the
solid English house does, and every man in his employment, and under his
protection (perhaps the cook only excepted) is a man of substance.  It
would be a problem hard to solve by any uninitiated traveller or stranger
how to account for this; how this man who is notoriously poor, and whose
miserable single bale of manufactures would barely counter-balance the
expenditure of his household for a single week, can manage to support so
vast a retinue, find occupation for so many people, and keep up such an
appearance of state; but the secret lies in a nut-shell.  In his case
_the master is the hireling of the servant_.  His warehouseman alone (who
drives a thriving trade in the wealthiest bazaar) pays him perhaps, sixty
pounds sterling per annum, to enjoy the privilege of European protection;
so that at this rate, and as the list of protected is a long one, the
Syro-European merchant is in the receipt of an excellent income; he keeps
his horses and gives grand entertainments; but as far as conscience or
honesty goes, these are two hard words not to be met with in his
vocabulary.

This is _infamous_!  But even this is a trifle in comparison to what is
done by such as are invested with authority as consuls.  These have a
long list of protected, and the consular secretary, and consular
interpreter has each his own peculiar protégées; and so the number goes
on gradually downwards, until we arrive at the consular _cawass_; and
even he can boast of one or more on his list!  Thus, in lieu of a consul
only protecting a _dozen or fourteen_ individuals (which is about treble
the number he is, strictly speaking, allowed), he in fact is the indirect
means of affording protection to many _scores_ of individuals; each of
whom is a dead loss to the treasury of the local government, and a
burthen to his poorer and less fortunate brethren; and this because the
exact amount of any given tax to be collected being beforehand fixed by
the government, the Nazirs and Sheikhs allot to each man of the village
his own portion; and what should have fallen on the shoulders of the
exempted or protected man, is obliged to be made good by those persons
who are subjected to the tax.

But this is not all: the subordinate officers in some of the European
Consulates are guilty of equally gross offences.  The consuls are apt to
be wheedled over by the cunning dragoman or chancellor, so completely,
that at last they place a blind and implicit faith in their every word or
suggestion, and will on no consideration listen to complaints often too
justly founded against these upstart Jacks in office.

An instance of this occurred to myself; but I will, from delicacy to the
high official functionary mixed up with it, omit names of places and
persons.  A native Prince was anxious to call upon one of the
authorities, but being unacquainted with the English language, he desired
me to accompany him; not but that the authority in question was furnished
with an interpreter, but simply, because the Prince wished, for privacy’s
sake, that the matter of conversation should be confined to ourselves,
without any prying ears being witness to the interview.  Arriving at the
office, we were shown in; but the interpreter ushering the Prince into
one apartment, showed me into another.  I was quite amazed at this
strange proceeding; but as the dragoman immediately left the room, I
could only conjecture that it was some sly trick of his own, or a wish to
be possessed of information regarding the Prince.  Whichever motive it
might have been, the visit terminated without my seeing the official.  On
a subsequent occasion, however, I alluded to the matter; the dragoman was
taxed with it but stoutly denied having done anything of the kind,
declaring that I of my own accord had gone into another room.  I brought
the Prince’s testimony to prove how the man had slighted me; but
notwithstanding all this, that lying interpreter had gained such
influence with this high official, that our testimony was discarded, and
he was believed.

After this long digression from the subject, for which I beg the reader’s
kind forgiveness, I now resume the thread of my narrative.

The staple produce of Lattakia is wheat, silk, and tobacco; {97} of
these, the latter is considered to be the finest and most odoriferous in
the world; and the _aboo reah_, though many attempts have been made to
introduce it into other parts of Syria, will grow nowhere else save at
Jabaliy, a small seaport town about three hours to the southward of
Lattakia, and where one of the Sultans who had abdicated his throne and
withdrawn himself from the world, built a magnificent mosque, and some
other public edifices, the ruins of many of which are still to be seen,
and which render “Sultan Ibrahim,” as Jabaliy is from these circumstances
styled, an object of interest to travellers.

Whilst at Lattakia a messenger arrived with dispatches, summoning us to
Beyrout.  On our arrival there, we found the combined Austrian, Turkish,
and English fleets anchored before the town, to compel the Egyptians to
evacuate Syria, and at the invitation of my friend, Ahmed Bey, I paid him
a visit on board of the Turkish Admiral’s vessel, who despatched me on a
secret mission to the mountains; whilst there I was filled with
consternation by hearing a report that Ibrahim Pasha, having obtained
intelligence of my movements, had set a price upon my head.  I
immediately burnt all my papers, changed my dress, and travelled in
disguise of a beggar, expecting every moment to be recognised and
beheaded.  At last I reached a village called Arrayah, near the road to
Damascus; here I had some relations, and I immediately went to them for
shelter.

After I had been there a few days, the news of it reached the governor,
and he immediately sent two _cawass_ to arrest me; but the servant of my
friend, having received information that I was being pursued, hid me in
the harem apartments, which are accessible to none but the head of the
family, a priest, or a physician; here I was secreted, and on their
arrival, they even sent in a priest to the harem to ascertain if I was
there; but the vigilance of my protectors evaded them even in this, and I
was let down from the window in a basket into the garden, from whence I
escaped to a cave close by till midnight; I then made my way back to my
relations, who told me of the close search the _cawass_ had made, and the
disappointment they experienced at not finding me.

A few days after this an English traveller passed through the place, and
understanding a little of his language, I offered my services to
accompany him to Beyrout, under the title of _turjaman_; and according to
the laws of Turkey, I no sooner joined him than I was under British
protection.  By this means I reached Beyrout in safety; and finding that
the Capitan Pasha had gone to Acre, I joined the English forces, and
then, for the first time in my life, witnessed the consummate skill and
accuracy with which the troops carried on the warfare.

Nothing could have been more ingenious than the plan of attack.  The
Turkish troops, arriving in steamers and vessels of war, were during the
night, with the utmost precaution, transhipped to the British vessel; and
next morning, those vessels, supposed by the forces on shore to carry
troops, were towed down by the “Geyser” and other steamers towards
Ras-Beyrout, which occasioned the whole of the Egyptian forces to
evacuate the town, and take up a strong position in that neighbourhood.
When the steamers perceived this, they altered their course and proceeded
to Dog River.  Here a few Albanians had been stationed to oppose them.
These were mown down by the heavy batteries of the frigates, who landed
their troops and took unmolested possession of the place.  Soon after
they were joined by Beschir Kasir, with a body of men from the mountains,
whom the English commandant supplied with arms, etc.  And thus the
victory was won.

I remained with the army several weeks, and assisted in the operations
against the Egyptians; and after the conclusion of peace, accompanied an
English officer and a numerous body of attendants to Tripoli, or as we
call it, Trablous, the beautiful orange garden of the world.  People talk
so much about St. Michael oranges; for my part, I have never seen any
orange in the world whose flavour and scent could equal that of Trablous;
besides which, they are so plentiful and cheap, that although all the
sea-coasts, and the interior of Syria and Palestine, and even parts of
Asia Minor, are supplied with boat-loads and camel-loads of oranges from
Tripoli, there is still abundance left to cause them to be a cheap as
well as a delicious luxury.  Our duty here, as elsewhere, was to see that
the people of the place and the neighbourhood were well governed—to hear
complaints and bring them in a proper form before the local authorities,
to the end that injured parties might obtain redress—and to enquire into
and make notes of everything that occurred.

The natives had christened my friend “Abu Rish,” which being literally
translated, means “the father of a feather”; they gave him this name
because he always sported a large feather in his cocked hat, which was
seldom set aside in his journeyings.  I have no doubt but that many of
the ignorant and half wild natives of some of the villages that we passed
through looked upon this hat and feathers in something the same light as
the native of the savage island regarded that of Captain Cook,
considering it to be a very strangely formed head, an abnormal
amalgamation of the cock with the man.

We were lodged at Tripoli, with the Signor Catsoflis, the British
vice-consul, at whose house we experienced much hospitality.  Signor
Catsoflis and his brother, the Austrian vice-consul, are twins; and so
strong is the resemblance between them, that it is barely possible for a
stranger to distinguish the one from the other when apart.  The wife of
Signor Catsoflis, the Austrian vice-consul, is the sister of Signor
Elias, the vice consul at Lattakia.  I never before, or since, have set
eyes on any woman that could rival her in beauty, and her disposition was
as sweet as her face was lovely.  This lady made a complaint to me on
behalf of a fellow Christian, a poor peasant from the mountains, who
accustomed to rove about free, and in such dress as his fancy dictated,
amongst his own villagers, unwittingly made his appearance in the streets
of Tripoli, dressed in a light robe of a greenish colour, which excited
the wrath and indignation of some fanatics, who, saying that none but
descendants from the prophet could be permitted to wear any colour
approaching to green, tore the garment from the poor fellow’s back, beat
and otherwise shamefully ill-treated him; this was the instance of the
complaint.  “And now,” said the fair advocate, addressing herself to me,
“let me see if you and your friend are really possessed of such influence
and authority as you vaunt yourselves of, by causing the wrongs of this
poor unoffending man to be redressed.”  If anything could have spurred me
to the deed, it was certainly being thus taunted by one of the handsomest
women in the world.  I immediately agreed to comply with her wishes, and,
girding on my sword, took the Cawass, and proceeded direct to Yusuf
Pasha.  Before going, however, I had donned a pair of Wellington boots
that a European friend had lent me; and the brilliant emerald green of
whose tops must have inspired the gaping Moslems in the streets with the
utmost envy and rage.

I entered into the presence of the governor without even announcing
myself, an abrupt proceeding which not a little disconcerted His
Excellency, who began anxiously to question me, hoping that I was the
bearer of good, not of unfavourable, news.  I stated the case to the
governor, and he replied very civilly, that he regretted that it did not
come within his jurisdiction, being purely a question of creed.  The
Cadi, however, being summoned to the divan, tried to shuffle out of the
matter as best he could; he said it was decidedly against the law of the
prophet, and that the aggressor merited the punishment.  I asked him
whether this law was intended to bear only upon certain individuals, or
upon all.  The Cadi replied, upon all; then, said I, if such be the case,
you had better take me and give me a bastinadoing, for as you see,
pointing to my boots, nothing can be a brighter green than those are;
this completely confounded the Cadi.  I insisted on having the men
bastinadoed on the very spot where the outrage had been committed; the
consequence was, that after some little demur, I carried the day, and
they were punished as I had directed.  This event occasioned immense
sensation amongst the inhabitants, and impressed them with a due notion
of the influence and power of the British nation, tending to keep the
more fanatical within bounds, since no rank, or grade, or riches could
protect them from punishment if they once gave offence to Europeans.

After remaining some time at Tripoli, we proceeded to visit the famous
cedars of Lebanon.  There are at present eleven of these celebrated
trees, seven of which are supposed to have existed from the time of the
building of Solomon’s temple.  I need scarcely inform my readers how
conspicuously these trees have figured in Scriptural metaphors.  The
prophet Ezekiel speaks in glowing terms of their beauty.  Again, Isaiah
seems in a remarkable manner to predict their extinction, “The rest of
the trees of this forest shall be few that a child may write them.”  How
literally has this prophecy been fulfilled!

On my last visit to Syria I found the priest, to whom the charge of these
trees is committed, had planted a number of seedlings, though with what
success I have not yet heard.  A church has also been built on the spot.
The Arabs believe they were planted by the hands of the Almighty himself,
and there are innumerable traditions connected with these trees, which I
hope to give an account of in a future work.  One of these cedars is of
so great a diameter, that a monk actually hollowed it out and formed a
sort of room in which he took up his abode.  The trunks are covered with
names of travellers, many of a very old date cut out with the knife.

From the cedars we proceeded to the wonderful ruins of Baalbec; but these
have been often described by various travellers.  After a beautiful
journey of two days over verdant hills and down deep ravines, we reached
Damascus, where I was pleased beyond measure to meet my connexions and
acquaintances.  At this time several European officers were travelling
over Syria in all directions on diplomatic missions.  These endeavoured
to ascertain the exact capabilities of every town and village, as regards
the number of men that could bear arms; the number of cattle, horses,
etc.; the arms and quantity of ammunition, and the proportion that the
Moslem population bore to the Christians.  Of these gallant officers, one
was sent to Damascus, and whilst residing there, he was very much
captivated by the beauty of the Moslem ladies.  On first arriving, this
gentleman was well received by the grey-bearded authorities; but he soon
lost caste; reports and complaints were of every-day occurrence; this
white stranger would persist in making love to the Moslem ladies, and the
Moslem girls would persist in making love to him.  This was a dreadful
state of affairs; but this was not all, for even the old Armenian
patriarch was roused into wrath by discovering that a timid little
Armenian girl was actually head over ears in love with the
feather-crowned stranger, or rather with his money.  There was no
standing this.  The people said it was a crying shame, and reported it to
the Cadi, who complained to Nedjid Pasha; and the Pasha, who was one of
the old school, and a right down Frank hater, complained to the
Commander-in-Chief of the forces at Beyrout.  The Commander-in-Chief sent
several officers up to Damascus to investigate the case, which was tried
in open divan before the Pasha, who summoned such as had charges against
the gallant officer to appear before him.  The charges brought against
him were twofold.  First, that he had endeavoured to subvert the minds of
the people from rendering due homage to Ottoman authority, by asking them
such significant questions as, for instance, If the English or the French
were to lay siege to the country, with which of the powers would you
side?  The second charge was, the heinous offence of making love to some
score of Turkish damsels, besides the Armenian lady in question.  The
first charge was thrown out as frivolous, absurd, and annoying; the
second was fully proved.

I acted as turjaman Bashi to the Court of enquiry, and from the
circumstance of the gentleman being in a foreign land, I was naturally
disposed to lean rather to the side of the European.  The Mahommedans
observed this, and were very spiteful against me.  The result of all this
was, that the military gentleman was advised to leave Damascus; but he,
availing himself of a moonless night, put a termination to the whole
affair, by starting off for the sea-coast, carrying away with him a fair,
young widow, who had captured his heart by her dancing, and to whom he
was ultimately married; and, for aught I know to the contrary, they are
to this day a very loving and happy couple.  Strange to say, neither
understood a word of each other’s language, and it would appear, from
this example, that words are not necessary where such expressive things
as eyes and flowers are brought into play.

This romantic lady, after a lapse of time, settled at Beyrout, together
with her affectionate husband; the story had preceded them to this place,
but they soon mixed in society as though nothing had happened.  The
Syrians, though strictly moral, mingle humanity with their laws of
etiquette; they do not, as in England, for ever exclude from society such
as have been guilty of so trivial a peccadillo as this lady was guilty
of.  They remember that all are but frail mortals and apt to err.

To me the English appear to be over severe.  It is true, that in Turkey
the Moslems are entitled to four wives, and that in England a man can
only marry one; but I should like to know who is the greater delinquent,
he that avowedly and opening admits of polygamy, or that man, who, as is
often the case amongst society in England, and indeed all Europe, vowing
solemnly at the altar that “_forsaking all others he will keep only with
her_,” marries one wife, and at the same time continues to associate with
half a dozen other women?  For my part, whenever I hear of an English
lady eloping, I cannot help fearing that she has been driven to it by the
inconstancy or neglect of a wicked husband.

In Damascus, at the period I am writing of, there dwelt an extraordinary
man, well known to the English who visited the place as the proprietor of
a large hotel, by the name of Sayed Ali; he also filled the office of
chancellor to the English consulate.  This extraordinary character could
speak and write several languages with the utmost fluency, and no one
could fathom out what countryman he was, or what creed he professed.
With the English he was an Englishman, and none could doubt his
pronunciation.  This was the case with the French; whilst the Turks,
listening in admiration to his high flow of Stamboline Turkish, and his
profound knowledge of the Koran, ranked him amongst the most devout and
most learned of their citizens.  One thing only was positive with regard
to Sayed Ali, and that was, that his wife was a Moslem, the daughter of
some fanatical Sheikh.  Sayed’s wife had an extremely handsome sister;
who having been seen but once, had captivated the heart of an old English
official, who at that time resided at Damascus; and this gentleman,
notwithstanding the great disparity between them in every respect, in
age, rank and creed, determined, cost what it might, to marry the girl.
Female friends were employed as go-betweens, and these so effectually
wrought upon the imagination of the fair lady, that she actually resolved
to embrace Christianity, and fly for succour to the arms of her lover.
Things had arrived at this pitch, when Sayed Ali accidentally got scent
of what was going on; he subsequently declared to me, that had it not
been for the high official position of the gentleman in question, he
certainly would have shot him; as it was, he contented himself with
calling at his sister-in-law’s house, and knocking at the door drew his
sword; the girl responding to the knock, opened the door, when the
infuriated Sayed Ali made a murderous attack upon her, and inflicted a
wound on her shoulder, a repetition of which must have proved fatal.  As
this happened during the day, the noise attracted a crowd around the
house, and the girl was rescued.  Rendered desperate by this, Sayed Ali
made a plunge at himself, and inflicted a wound in his abdomen of nearly
an inch deep; not, however, relishing the sensation, the monster drew out
his sword, and calling lustily for aid was forthwith carried away to his
own house.  Here he was attended by the English medical officers then at
Damascus.  I shortly after called to see him, and to inquire into the
cause of this murderous onslaught.  In reply, he told me that his motives
were what I have already stated; he was determined that his name should
not be defamed, or his wife’s family put to shame by the act of a
thoughtless, capricious child, winding up, however, with—

“I’m glad I have not killed her, and for my part I’ll never be such a
fool again as to stab myself to please any one in Damascus.”

The doctor dressed the wounds, and both shortly afterwards recovered,
whilst the greatest delinquent in the affair suffered neither pain or
inconvenience from his gross misconduct.  He is now in high office under
the government at Constantinople.  This is a fair sample of the abuses
practised by many of those in authority, who in lieu of holding out a
pattern for imitation, both by example and precept, are unfortunately too
prone to indulge their own vicious propensities, setting all propriety,
honour, and justice at defiance.  I do not mean to say that all incline
in the same way—that all are addicted to falling desperately in love with
every girl they meet; but this I assert, with very few exceptions, they
have their peculiar fancies, for the gratification of which they stoop to
many acts of meanness.  In illustration of what I say, I may be permitted
to quote one more instance,—a case widely different from the foregoing,
and yet equally offensive to honourable minds.

“One man, a sycophant, partly to curry favour with a great man whom he
wished to oblige, partly to satisfy his avaricious propensities, delayed
a steam packet twenty-four hours beyond its fixed time of departure,
because the vessel chanced to sail upon a Saturday, and the great man in
question was a Jew; he detained the steamer till Sunday morning to
accommodate the fastidious Hebrew, and to profit by his commission on the
lordly passage money.

“Now this man is professedly a Christian, but he prefers breaking the
Christian’s sabbath to inconveniencing his friend or his pocket; but
apart from all this, we have still to calculate the losses arising from
the expenses incurred by such a vessel lying unnecessarily idle—the risk
of insurance, and the loss of time to money, cargo, and letters.” {107}

But let us turn to a more pleasing subject.  In these latter days of
progression and civilisation, Damascus happily has kept pace with the
other towns in Syria; there has been a large influx of European
merchants.  The Greek patriarch has, in the true spirit of civilization,
and after great exertions, established a school which will be productive
of much good.

From Damascus we went down to Sidon, visiting, _en route_, the residence
of the late Lady Hester Stanhope, at Djouni, which was even then fast
falling to decay.  Lady Hester I had known personally, and although
clever and eccentric, with a head full of strange fancies, yet she had a
heart not devoid of good feeling and kind intentions.  For my part, I can
always recollect, with grateful pleasure, the kind reception I met with
at her house, and if there is any thing which I consider base, it is the
conduct of her biographer (who was also her physician), and who has
abused a sacred trust to pander to the inquisitiveness of the European
world; or else to contribute to the depth and weight of his own purse,
has raked up the ashes of one, who at least towards himself, was the best
of friends and patronesses; and whether the book contains much of truth
or much of imagination, it is either a breach of confidence of the very
worst order, or a libel on the dead which there is none to controvert or
dispute.

At Sidon there, at that time, resided General Loustannau, whose life
abounded more in romantic incidents than all the novels of our most
celebrated writers.  In India he had served under a native Prince with
such courage and distinction, and through so long a period of years that
he had amassed an immense fortune.  He was at the time of my visit a
half-witted mendicant, one of the many objects of the late Lady Hester
Stanhope’s benevolence, and one who, like herself, was subject to many
extravagant eccentricities.  The story of Loustannau is so remarkable
that I cannot refrain from quoting part of it from Mr. Kelly’s work on
Syria:

“General Loustannau was a native of Aidens, in the department of Basses
Pyrénées; his family was not wealthy, and his youthful ardour impelled
him to seek his fortune in foreign lands.  Arriving at Bordeaux for the
purpose of embarking for America, he found a vessel about to sail for
India with M. de Saint Lubin, who was commissioned by Louis XVI. to
propose to the Mahrattas a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive,
against the English.  Loustannau took advantage of the opportunity, gave
up his American project, and in due time found himself amongst the
Mahrattas.  This was in the year 1778, when he was twenty years of age.
War had for some time existed between the Mahrattas and the English, and
Loustannau, who wished to take service with the former, obtained a letter
of recommendation to M. Norogue, a Portuguese officer, who commanded
their forces.  That General received him very courteously, but thought
him too young to be entrusted with any command.  Loustannau, however,
accompanied the army in its movements, and was witness to the continual
advantages afforded the English by the unskilfulness of General Norogue.
The Mahrattas, though thrice outnumbering their enemies, were constantly
forced to yield their ground; at last the prince succeeded in bringing
the English to an engagement in a position unfavourable to the latter,
inasmuch as it allowed of their being out-flanked by the superior number
of their adversaries.  But this did not avail them; the English
entrenched themselves on an eminence from which their batteries committed
great havoc among the Mahrattas.  Loustannau observing a height which
commanded the English position, immediately mentioned the fact to
Norogue, who received this communication with supercilious indifference.
Stung to the quick by this contemptuous treatment, Loustannau addressed
himself to a Mahratta chief through an interpreter, and with the reckless
enthusiasm of youth, pledged his head that he would be successful if he
were given the command of a few pieces of cannon.  Three thousand horse
and ten guns were placed under his orders; the result surpassed his
hopes, and the English were driven from their position with great loss.
In spite of Norogue’s jealousy, a choncadar with a gold stick was soon
sent in quest of the young Frenchman, who had rendered such essential
service to the national cause.  Loustannau was presented to the chiefs
who exercised the regency, and received a magnificent present.  He
remained in the service of the Mahrattas, and soon had a corps of 2000
men under his exclusive command.  He took part in all the subsequent
operations against the English, and was mainly instrumental in inflicting
upon them those losses which for a while seemed to place our Indian
empire in such imminent jeopardy.

“At the battle of Chassepachrer, he routed our seapoys with great
slaughter; the battle was ended, the English artillery alone continued to
fire a few volleys in its retreat, in order to protect the fugitives,
when a grape-shot struck Loustannau in the left hand and carried off the
four fingers and half the thumb.  It was long before he recovered from
the effects of this wound.  When the stump was healed, he had a silver
hand of very ingenious workmanship fitted to it.  The first day he
appeared at the head of his troops with this new kind of hand, a priest
threw himself prostrate before his horse’s feet, crying out, that the
‘prophecy was fulfilled, since it was written in the temple of the God
Siva, that the Mahrattas were to reach the summit of their glory under a
man from the far west, who should have a silver hand, and prove
invincible.’

“Loustannau was thenceforth looked upon as something almost superhuman.
Diamonds, precious stones, the richest presents of every kind, were
lavished on him from all sides.  He was assigned a magnificent palace,
with all the appurtenances of royal luxury.  His stables contained thirty
elephants sumptuously caparisoned, and a hundred and fifty horses, the
best that India could produce.  His body-guard consisted of 2000 men,
with four pieces of cannon; and the principal chief had two colossal
silver hands planted before the entrance of the palace that all men might
know, by that token, that the man of destiny was the leader of the
national forces.

“Another campaign took place, in which Loustannau was again successful,
and which terminated greatly to the satisfaction of the Mahrattas.  On
his return to Azra, he was received with honours such as were used to be
conferred only on princes and sultans; and the ruling prince solemnly
declared him ‘The Lion of the State and the Tiger in War.’

“Loustannau married the daughter of a French officer in India; he had now
been eighteen years among the Mahrattas; he had several children, and his
wife urged him to return to Europe to enjoy the fruits of his toils.

“Notwithstanding his excessive generosity, the wealth he had accumulated
was enormous; but, from the moment he quitted the territory of the
Mahrattas, fortune, which till then had been so lavish to him of her
favours, forsook him all at once, and the rest of his life was but one
series of disasters and sorrows.  He converted his whole fortune into
paper, for he had not yet made up his mind where he would settle, and he
did not wish to purchase any estates before his arrival.  His homeward
voyage was long and difficult; and he was several times in danger of
shipwreck.  When, at last, after a seven-month’s passage, he reached
France, the assignats had fallen into such utter depreciation, that he
found the 8,000,000 of francs he had remitted home dwindled down to
220,000.  This first blow made a terrible impression on a temper so
violent as his, and so spoiled by prosperity; but he still possessed a
considerable amount in diamonds, some of which he sold, and with the
proceeds he settled in Tarbes with his family, consisting of two sons and
three daughters.  Shortly afterwards, he lost his favourite son, and his
grief was such as to occasion him an attack of insanity, from which he
did not completely recover for two years.  When he was restored to his
senses, he set about constructing extensive iron works on the frontiers
of Spain, in order to afford his restless energies an object on which to
employ themselves.  For three years, his sole pleasure consisted in
superintending his engineers and workmen, and watching the progress of
the great constructions he planned.

“Things were in this state when fresh misfortunes befell him.  He was on
the point of realising the profits of his enterprise, when war broke out
between France and Spain.  Immediately upon the first disasters of the
French arms, his buildings were burned, his furnaces destroyed, and his
hopes annihilated.  The ruin of his fortune was almost complete, and he
only supported himself by selling, one by one, the costly jewels he had
brought from India.  All these misfortunes impaired his reason; he had
continued fits of overwrought devotion, amounting at times to insanity.
His family lived on in this way until 1815, in a state of mediocrity very
hard to endure after their brilliant condition and their opulence in past
years.

“In 1815, Loustannau’s only surviving son, who was a captain in the
imperial guards, was dangerously wounded at Waterloo.  His father saw
himself on the point of losing him, and this shock seemed to restore to
him the possession of his faculties.  When he recovered, all the revived
energies of his character were concentrated on the thought, how destitute
would be the state of his family after his death; he determined,
therefore to return to India, though many years had elapsed since he left
it.  His son wished to go in his stead, but he would not hear of this;
and in 1816 he embarked for Egypt, having raised the necessary funds for
his journey by pledging a ruby of rare value, the last gift of his
Mahratta patron.  Not finding in Egypt an opportunity of pursuing his way
by the Red Sea, he crossed over to Syria, with the intention of joining
the caravan from Damascus to Bassorah; but he fell dangerously ill at
Acre, his brain being again affected; he squandered away all his money in
his delirium, and destroyed bills of exchange and other valuable papers.
After this, he suffered for awhile all the horrors of penury, and the
renowned Loustannau—’The Lion of the State and the Tiger in War’—was
reduced to earn his bread as a day-labourer.  In this deplorable
condition he was found by M. Catafago, a wealthy Levantine merchant, who
relieved his wants and took him into his house.

“Loustannau had occasionally lucid intervals, in which he talked of his
past greatness, and related the history of his life and his afflictions;
but he had the mortification of seeing that everything he uttered seemed
to his hearers but an additional proof of his insanity.  To make all
sure, however, letters were written to France, requesting information
respecting this extraordinary man; and at last his son, who had heard
nothing of him for two years, made all haste to Syria, and found his
unfortunate father almost wholly deprived of reason.  His journey to
India was henceforth clearly impossible.  The Captain had gathered
together the last remnants of his fortune; and he remained for some time
in Syria, doing everything that affection could suggest, in the hope of
restoring his father to himself.

“It was at this period that the old man’s melancholy story reached the
ears of Lady Hester Stanhope.  She was then in the hey-day of her fame,
and she offered Loustannau and his son an asylum in her house.  At the
first sight of the latter, she was struck with the resemblance that he
bore to the gallant lover she had lost.  From the lines of his hand, the
form of his foot, and the aspect of the stars, she gathered that the life
of Captain Loustannau was destined to be inseparably connected with her
own.  The Captain, however, had not lost sight of his Indian project, for
he still hoped to recover some remains of the vast property his father
must have left in that country.  Lady Hester dissuaded him from going to
India, and undertook to employ every possible means of recovering what
remained of the old General’s property or fortune; but great changes had
occurred since the old man had left the country.  Wellesley’s
(Wellington) victories had put the English in possession of a great
portion of the Mahratta territory; Loustannau’s princely protectors were
no more, and his property had passed into other hands.

“It was a singular chance that brought together in a corner of Syria two
beings so remarkable as General Loustannau and Lady Hester Stanhope; they
had long, mystical conversations together, and Lady Hester looked on
Loustannau as a prophet who was come to prepare the way for her, and to
be the forerunner of her triumph.  The Captain sought to beguile the
tedium of his existence by managing the household and the pecuniary
affairs of Lady Hester.  She treated him with the most assiduous kindness
until his death, which happened, I believe, in 1825.  Her feelings
towards him were those of pure friendship, tinged by the memory of her
youthful affections and stimulated by the fantastic notion that a secret
bond irrevocably united his destiny with her own.  After his death, she
had him buried in her garden, and twice every day she visited his grave,
decorated it with flowers, and remained by it absorbed in long reveries.

“General Loustannau’s insanity became more intense after his son’s death,
his delusions being greatly augmented by his intercourse with Lady Hester
Stanhope.  Celestial music floated round him; for a while he believed
himself called to give battle to Bonaparte, who, he said, had returned to
the earth under the form of Antichrist; and in 1831 he declared it his
destiny to become king of Jerusalem when the fulness of time should have
been accomplished.  He had now warm altercations with Lady Hester; for he
asserted his right to the bay mare with the natural saddle, whilst her
ladyship was to have the white mare, and to ride with him into the Holy
City as his wife, her place being at his left-hand and a little behind
him.

“Her ladyship very soon saw it written in the stars that Loustannau and
herself were to part.  Accordingly she had a house fitted up for his
reception at Abra, a village within five miles of her own residence, on
the road to Sidon.  But she continued her benevolent protection towards
him, and did not let him want for anything requisite for his comfort.

“Lady Hester died in June, 1839, a few days before the battle of Neizeb,
which she had foretold with rather surprising accuracy.  Her wealth was
all gone.  She even left considerable debts, and her property was
instantly seized by her creditors.  Loustannau being thus once more
reduced to entire destitution, the French consul of Sidon took charge of
him, and gave him a humble lodging in the French khan.  Thus this
venerable old man, who had once possessed immense wealth, commanded great
armies, and enriched multitudes of Europeans, now subsisted on charity.
It has long been generally supposed that he was dead, as asserted by M.
Jouay.  He is dead, it is true, to all purposes of active life, but he
has still a few lucid intervals in the midst of his harmless religious
insanity.  Happily for him, he has almost wholly lost his memory, and of
all his past greatness he recollects nothing distinctly except the title
he bore in India.  Often does he proudly repeat that they called him
formerly ‘The Lion of the State and the Tiger in War;’ and then, sadly
reverting to his present condition, he subjoins, ‘And now I am nothing
but an unfortunate beggar.’”

Such is the admirable account given by Mr. Kelly of this singular
individual, who passed through all the stages from happiness and
affluence to misery and destitution.  Loustannau is now dead, not only to
purposes of active life, but dead in the literal sense of the word, and
his bones repose in the European cemetery at Sidon; the life of this man
and the site of his troubles affording a fresh incentive for strangers to
visit Sidon, in addition to its ancient fame as a city of the days of
Solomon.

Sidon is perhaps the most delightfully situated town in all Palestine.
Abounding with pleasant gardens, and rides and walks; the climate is
healthy, and the commerce of the place is rising into importance, and the
harbour capable of great improvement.  In May, 1851, the families of two
American missionaries established themselves in this neighbourhood, and
already the schools and the works of the mission are prospering.

From Sidon we visited Tyre!—poor, solitary, desolate Tyre—in whose meagre
forsaken town and bare rugged rocks, we had manifest proof of the
never-failing veracity of Scripture prophecy.  How else would the once
greatest city of the earth, whose ships visited all parts, whose
merchants had a world-wide reputation, be now an utter desolation,
inhabited only by a few traders and wretched fishermen and their
families, whose daily occupation of spreading out the nets to dry are so
many consecutive proofs of the fulfilment of the words of the prophet.
But so many modern travellers have described these parts, that it would
be useless for me to dwell upon the subject in this work: so we quitted
Sur, the modern Tyre; and a night’s pleasant sail in a small shaktoor
brought us to Acre.  St. Jean d’Acre was at this period still suffering
much from the explosion of the powder magazine, which so much assisted
Admiral Napier in his siege; the houses were all tottering ruins, the
mosques minus their minarets, and the stench from the accumulated mass of
decomposed matter, the carcases of camels, sheep and oxen, and in some
places the sun-bleached bones of unhappy beings, in the twinkling of an
eye as it were hurried into eternity; these were a loathsome and
melancholy spectacle.

I may here state, that I was present at the bombardment of Acre, and from
a favourable situation witnessed the terrific result of the “Geyser”
bombshells, which were thrown with such unerring certainty, that, knowing
the position of the powder-magazine, they fired upon it with so nice an
aim, that each succeeding shell struck upon the last in such a manner
that the first thrown was thus forced through the wall, and occasioned
the explosion; but I may further state what is yet a hidden mystery to
the British public, and which in a great measure accounts for the
facility with which this almost impregnable fortress was captured, and
that is, that the Imams and the Cadi of Acre secretly warned the soldiery
not to resist the arms of the British force there assembled, _because_
they were fighting for the Sultan, whom it was their duty, as Mahomedans,
to obey; and, moreover, that in the sight of God and the prophet, there
was no other lawful Moslem king; none to be acknowledged, save the Sultan
of the Sublime Porte, Abdul Medjid; and that if they acted against his
interests, then the Prophet would utterly forsake them, and such as fell
in battle might fully make up their minds to be hurled into eternal
perdition, and that such as fought in his favour would assuredly go to
heaven.  Such an exhortation and threat, at such a peculiar time, was
sure to have the desired effect. {119}

Not only did the soldiers fight without spirit, but many of the artillery
actually spiked their guns.  Of this latter fact I myself had ocular
demonstration when the engagement was over, and the allied forces landed
at Acre.  After this fact, it becomes not the English admiral to boast
too much and compare his success with the failure of Napoleon.

From Acre, still journeying southward, we passed the famous brook Kedron,
so often alluded to in Holy Writ, and passing through the miserable
village of Kaipha, ascended Mount Carmel, and sojourned a couple of days
in the hospitable convent of the Carmelite monks.  Leaving Carmel, we
passed through Cæsarea, now an utter desolation, and visited Jaffa and
Gaza, and from the latter place, striking inland, took in succession
Hebron, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, the Dead Sea and the Jordan, besides
visiting all the other towns of any note or importance, all of which have
been often described by European travellers, so that the best thing I can
do is to avoid repetition, and content myself with observing, that the
reality far exceeded my expectations as regards the beauty of the scenery
and the wild picturesque position of almost every town of note in
Palestine.  At the same time I deem it most essential to warn the English
travellers to be very careful in the choice of a guide-book, as many,
even up to a very late date, have been published with apparently no other
aim than to puff up the author’s vanity, containing mostly a tissue of
unaccountable misrepresentations from first to last.  If the traveller,
in a spirit of knight-errantry, goes forth to visit the holy shores of
Palestine and Syria, hoping there to bask under the bright light of large
sunny-loving eyes—if he thinks to lead the Arab maid captive by the
heart—to win over the smiles of the Grecian, or scampering over desolate
mountains—to fall in with untutored Syrian maids, who sally forth and
carry him from his horse, fatigued and fever-smitten, to be watched over
and cared for by female philanthropists,—if, I say, the traveller quits
England with any such notions, he will return to these shores grievously
disappointed.

Although myself a native of the country, dressed in the costume, and
speaking the language, still, with all these advantages, the maidens
always fled at our approach, not even if they mastered their coyness,
would they ever exchange a syllable with us strangers.  Possibly, my
friend and myself were not possessed of that charm which a recent gallant
author, according to his own account, seems to have carried about with
him wherever he went; for he says, that in many parts fathers of families
rushed out and endeavoured to force him into a marriage with their
daughters, or else the maidens themselves, in _villages he had never
before visited_, came forth, having heard of his notoriety (this in parts
where there is no post, and where news travels at the rate of a mile a
week), to meet him with timbrel and dance, and other welcomings.  The
only note that ever welcomed us to such villages, was the angry tongue of
a scolding harridan, or else the hooting of the owls, or the cry of the
jackal.




CHAPTER VIII.
FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND.


It sometimes happened that the naval officers belonging to the
ship-of-war stationed at Beyrout, took up their temporary residence with
some friend on shore, being always welcome guests at the houses of the
inhabitants.  It was in this way that I first came to cultivate an
acquaintance with the captain of Her Majesty’s steamer, “Hecate,” so that
we were much thrown together.  On one occasion, whilst he was a guest at
our house, he proposed that I should accompany him on a pleasure cruise
as far as Malta; a proposition I gladly acceded to, more particularly as
the Emir Beschir, with his family and a relation of my own, were at that
time residing on the island.  I had long had a desire to see Malta, for
many had described it to me as a species of little world, where one might
sit down in a _café_ and study the characters of every European nation.

The alarm and grief of my relations on learning my determination was only
to be equalled by the envious jeerings of my companions, who, whilst they
pretended to pity my infatuation, would, I feel persuaded, have parted
with every para in their possession for a portion of my good luck.

The steamer was to sail at the end of the week; and I was so busy making
preparations, packing and taking leave, that I really had not a moment’s
leisure for calm meditation,—and I am very glad I had not, for the
chances are, that this, in conjunction with some of the melancholy
forebodings of my friends, would have unnerved me for the trip.  Seeing,
however, that I was determined on starting, my neighbours changed their
annoying prognostications into good acts, which acts consisted in
inundating me with as many presents of sweetmeats, biscuits, etc., as
would have kept me during a twelvemonths’ passage round the world.  I
selected some of the best of them for the officers’ mess, and at last the
word ready being given, got my luggage together and embarked; the
dispatches being received on board, and the “Hecate” soon after getting
up her steam, we proceeded on our voyage to Malta accompanied by the
prayers and blessings of a multitude of friends and relations assembled
at Ras-Beyrout to witness our departure.

The day after we had sailed, I awoke at early dawn and crept up upon deck
as best I could.  The motion of the vessel was so strange and violent,
that I reeled and staggered like a tipsy man, and felt confused,
miserable, weak and sick.  The horrible sensations I experienced on first
awaking that morning cannot be easily erased from my mind.  I was awoke
by a singular and deafening noise, which seemed to proceed from directly
overhead, which, as I afterwards discovered, was occasioned by the daily
process of holy-stoning the decks.  I managed to reach the main-deck just
in time to be handed to the larboard gangway by the officer of the watch,
who there left me alone in my misery with my head hanging over the
bulwarks—a wretched victim to sea-sickness.

Bitterly, during that moment, did I lament having ever quitted Beyrout.
My sufferings were so intense that I thought I must have died during the
day.  This was the first time I had ever found myself so far out at sea.
There was no land in sight.  The morning was gloomy and boisterous; and
altogether my spirits felt so depressed that I resigned myself to Allah,
and wrapping the loose folds of my large Cyprus cloak carefully around
me, I sat down cross-legged in a corner behind the man at the helm, and
vainly endeavoured to fall off to sleep.  A nice cup of coffee which the
captain’s steward kindly brought, in a great measure revived me; this
relief, however, was only temporary, the dreadful odour of the victuals
cooking for breakfast, fried fish, ham and eggs, etc., these made me feel
so ill that I was compelled to retire to my berth, and there I lay more
dead than alive during the whole passage, utterly callous as to what
became of me, and as to whether the vessel was steadily pursuing her
voyage in safety or was in imminent danger of going to the bottom.

Some Capuchin friars were on board, returning from Jerusalem to Malta,
accompanied by two young Syrian females who were going to Rome to be
educated in the principles of the Roman Catholic religion, and they not
only enjoyed the passage amazingly, being possessed of capital appetites,
but they very uncharitably, though not very unlike human nature, mocked
at my calamities and tried to heighten my alarm and sufferings by
frightening me with false reports as to the vessel’s danger, and as to my
own weak state of health.

After intense sufferings and encountering much really rough weather, we
had at length the satisfaction of finding ourselves safe at anchor in the
harbour of Valetta.  I doubt whether any of the passengers that
accompanied St. Paul on his disastrous voyage and shipwreck, suffered
greater fear or pain than I had undergone; certainly they could not have
rejoiced more than I did at its happy termination.  Blessed be God, who
is not forgetful of His children, even in the vast unruly deep!

On arriving at Malta, we had eleven days’ quarantine to perform; but the
tediousness of this imprisonment was much alleviated by the kindness and
attention of the good Mr. Schlicnz, whom I had known in Syria, and who
now daily visited me at the Lazaretto, supplying me with books to fill up
the tedium of dull hours.  On the eleventh day, being admitted to
pratique, I accepted the hospitable invitation of that gentleman to take
up my quarters at his house.  I was, through his politeness, introduced
into the society of several of the leading families at Malta.  On leaving
Beyrout, I had been furnished with letters of introduction to Sir
Frederick Bouverie, the then governor.  His excellency received me with
the utmost urbanity and kindness, and, indeed, I shall ever have cause
gratefully to remember Sir Frederick’s polite attention, as it was mainly
through his instrumentality that I first visited the shores of Great
Britain.

One of my first visits was, of course, to the Emir Beschir of Lebanon,
who, with his family, were then residing there as political exiles.  I
had several long conversations with this once-powerful prince; and the
Emir suggested that his wife and son should accompany me to London, there
to exert their influence in endeavouring to prevail upon Her Majesty the
Queen to interpose her influence on their behalf.  They communicated with
the British Government, both at home and in the island on this subject;
but no encouragement was held out by the authorities there or in England
for the furtherance of this scheme; and the subject, after a long
correspondence, was, therefore, reluctantly dropped.  The Emir, being
hurt and displeased at this apparent neglect, sent his son to
Constantinople, who, being well received by the Ottoman Government,
wrote, at its suggestion, to invite his father to the Porte, an
invitation he readily accepted; upon which the governor of Malta placed
at his disposal a British war-steamer, and the Emir and his family
immediately quitted the island.

I may here be permitted to deviate a little from my journal to give a
brief description of these Emirs, their origin and end.  The family of
the Emirs were originally Moslems, natives of Shaahbah, a village on the
southern plain of Lebanon; and they are said to be descended in a direct
line from the renowned Moslem Prophet, and to have ruled over the Lebanon
for many years.  The founder of the family, Yusuf al Husn, or the
handsome or beautiful Yusuf, so called from his great personal
attractions, was, on account of his bravery and influence, chosen by the
mountaineers of Lebanon to be their prince.

Before consenting to the choice, however, he himself stipulated that the
power of life and death should be invested in his hands; and this having
been agreed to, he was duly elected Emir, came to the mountains, and
settled amongst his people, over whom he was to rule with a despotic
sway.  During the time this prince held the supreme power, he preserved
the greatest order amongst the unruly tribes over whom he was placed, and
travellers passed and repassed with the greatest safety.  Some time after
he had settled amongst the Druses and Maronites, after mature
consideration, he came to the resolution of embracing the Christian
religion, although such a measure was sure to prove disadvantageous to
him, by estranging the Druses and occasioning the Sultan’s displeasure;
he, however, retained undisputed the right of his position and authority,
and on dying, was succeeded by his son, the Emir whom I then met at
Malta.

The cause of this second Emir’s disgrace was his having fallen into
disrepute with the government, by not immediately joining the Seraskier
Pasha on the occasion of the expulsion of the Egyptians from Syria.  But
the cause of the poor man’s conduct was one that few can help
sympathising with.  His son was at that time with Ibrahim Pasha; and had
it been known to that warrior that the Emir had joined the forces against
him, there is little doubt but that he would have caused the son to be
cut to pieces.  Under these circumstances, the Emir was constrained to
remain on the mountains till the expulsion of the Egyptian troops had
been effected.  He then went down to Sidon and surrendered himself to the
English, and was by them conveyed in a frigate to Beyrout.

The Seraskier having given out that he was in possession of a Firman, by
the authority of which, could he lay hold of the Emir, he would
undoubtedly behead him, and send his head as a trophy to Constantinople,
the English authorities strongly recommended his departure for Malta,
where once on English ground his safety would be ensured.  The Emir
accordingly came to that island, and was very well received by the
governor, who placed a palace at his disposal.  I must acknowledge that
all that the Emir said about Sir Frederic Bouverie redounded much to his
Excellency’s credit.  He spoke of him as a humane and kind governor, and
one who knew how to respect fallen dignity.

I have already said the Emir ultimately left Malta for Constantinople.
On arriving at Stamboul he was exiled to Zafron Boli, a place notorious
for the animosity of its inhabitants towards Christians, and where his
eldest son, pining on account of the miseries endured by his father, soon
succumbed to misfortune.  Here he remained some time subjected to much
mental suffering.  Often in after years he told me, in familiar
conversation, that what afforded him some small consolation was the
similitude between his own fate and that of the late King Louis Philippe.

After some time, through the kind intervention of one of the European
ambassadors, the Emir was brought to Broussa, and ultimately removed to
Constantinople, where, within a short time, himself and his remaining son
sunk into the grave.  Every respect was paid to his memory; by the
Sultan’s order a public funeral was awarded him, and masses said for the
repose of his soul at the government expense, a striking proof of the
liberality and toleration of the government of the Sublime Porte.

During my stay at Malta, the late Dr. Alexander, the first Protestant
bishop in Jerusalem, arrived at that island, accompanied by his family
and suite, _en route_ for his new see.  I shall never forget my amazement
on being introduced to that prelate, to find that he wore no beard.  A
bishop without a beard was a perfect marvel to me, and a thing unheard of
in the East; in short, perfectly fabulous.  This excellent man
condescended to ask my opinion on many points connected with the East,
and I made so bold as to tell him, that if he wished to pass for a bishop
amongst the natives of Syria, he must let his beard grow without further
delay.

Malta was a great novelty to me—the beauty of the scenery—the bustle of
the place—the frigates, steamers, schooners, boats, carriages, soldiers,
bands of music, friars, nuns, and a vast concourse of people in every
imaginable costume, and speaking every known tongue.  All these
perplexed, astonished, and delighted me at one and the same time; and a
drive in the environs of Valetta was a perfect treat.  At Malta I first
got an idea of European manners; and I must own, my astonishment was very
great to see the females, with faces perfectly uncovered, chatting in the
greatest familiarity with the opposite sex, and it was to me quite
incomprehensible.  But my greatest astonishment was excited at a ball to
which I was invited.  The waltzing, polkaing, etc., appeared to me a most
ridiculous and indecent exhibition; and it was a long time before this
feeling wore off.  I have to this day been unable to find out how any
pleasure can be derived from a constant spinning round like the sails of
a mill.

It was not without much regret that I quitted the island—a perfect scene
of enchantment—and the kind, hospitable acquaintances I had formed during
my brief stay.  His excellency the governor had been good enough to exert
his influence in procuring me a passage on board of a war-steamer on the
point of leaving for England.  Such an opportunity was not to be thrown
away, so hurrying down to the water-side, I embarked, on board H. M.’s
steam-frigate Gorgon, Captain W. H. Henderson, C.B., 28th February, 1842.
I had leisure to survey the busy scene around us before the vessel
finally started.  Shore-boats were plying around, offering for sale
fruits, cigars, and canary birds.  On board all was order and silence;
around, all confusion, shouting, and quarrelling, and whilst mentally
occupied in drawing this comparison, the anchor was weighed and we
steamed rapidly away from the pleasant shores of the island of Malta.

After an agreeable voyage, marked by no particular incident, we duly
arrived at Portsmouth.  On my arrival, I was made happy by meeting the
Rev. Mr. Marshall, chaplain of Nelson’s ship, the Victory, and whose
acquaintance I had the pleasure of forming when that gentleman was
travelling in Syria.  Mr. Marshall and all the officers of the ship were
extremely kind to me, and shewed me over the old ship of the renowned
admiral.  At this place I landed, and having got a permit, was kindly
shewn over the splendid dockyards.  Here also I tasted some water twenty
years in cask.  I afterwards went round in the same steamer to Woolwich,
and having shewn my letters of introduction to the captain, he kindly
undertook to advise me.  He recommended me to proceed at once to the
house of the Honourable and Rev. Baptist Noel; and acting upon his
advice, I came to London, and thence proceeded to Hornsey, at that time
the residence of my reverend friend.

Confused and amazed as I was with the noise and bustle around me in so
vast a place as London, I was sufficiently alive to my own interests to
have my eyes open, so that I should not be cheated.  This led to a
ludicrous altercation between myself and a toll-collector at a turnpike.
The man insisted on his money being paid; I, on the other hand, as
obstinately refused, assuring him that, though a foreigner, I was well
acquainted with the tricks practised upon travellers; in short, I thought
the man was asking for what, in my own country, is termed a _bakhsheesh_,
which means nothing more or less than a present.  Some gentlemen,
however, came up and explained how matters stood, and then I paid the
trifle and bade the driver proceed.

Nothing could exceed the Christian brotherly reception I met with at the
excellent Mr. Noel’s house.  He actually busied himself with helping to
carry in my baggage; and I was lost in admiration to observe how, in the
bosom of his own family, he would play and sport with his own children,
doing anything for their amusement and to make them happy.  His early
rising and great taste for gardening quite astonished me.  Pleasant
indeed were the days that I spent under his hospitable roof; and if any
in this world have a claim upon my esteem and gratitude, it surely must
be Mr. Noel and his amiable lady.

Leaving my kind host’s house, which I did with unfeigned regret, I lived
some time in London with Mr. W. Brown, in order to make myself familiar
with the many sights so well worthy of visiting; and I then proceeded to
Wimbledon, in order that, under the care and tuition of the Rev. William
Edelman, the clergyman of the place, I might improve myself in English,
and be prepared for a college education.  I was placed there by the
kindness of the Rev. W. Neven and the Hon. Capt. Maude, belonging to the
committee of the society raised to promote education in Syria, by Assaod
Y. Kayet’s exertions, and also noted for their civility to all my
countrymen that have ever visited England.  In Mr. Edelman’s house, I
found a happy home, for I was considered and treated in every respect as
one of the family.  Mrs. Edelman was a very accomplished lady; she kindly
undertook to teach me drawing, and she was well versed in Latin and
classics.  Of the many kind friends I met with during my stay at
Wimbledon, I may particularise and thank the kind-hearted Mrs. Marryatt,
mother of the celebrated novelist, who, at the advanced age of eighty,
looks as blooming as though she were in the prime of life.  The venerable
lady is a great botanist and very fond of gardening.  Mrs. Russell and
her two daughters shewed me great civility, as did the gifted Mrs.
Hudson, who is unfortunately blind.  I am also much indebted to the
attention and civility of Major Oliphant, one of the East India directors
and to Mr. Mallison, Mr. Jones, and Mr. Peach, and their kind families;
in short, without enumerating their names, I thank all my good friends at
Wimbledon, and in the neighbourhood.

One day at church I was surprised and gratified at recognising in the
person of a very tall gentleman sitting in a pew some distance from me,
the late Captain Murray of the Rifles, an old friend who had been a
visitor at our house in Syria; he was as pleased as myself at the
recognition, and having introduced me to his mother and sisters, insisted
on my going home with him to lunch.  Such acts of attention and kind
civility were of daily occurrence during my stay at Wimbledon; but I must
not forget to thank Miss C---, who was so good as to be at the trouble of
taking my portrait.

I witnessed a cavalry review before His Royal Highness Prince Albert; the
dazzling splendour of the accoutrements surprised me very much.  Here
also I was once nearly being made eye-witness to a detestable duel.  The
circumstances of this adventure were as follows, viz.:—I was one day
walking with Mr. Walmsley, now of the Foreign-office, and Captain John
Nunn, a military officer from Ireland, when passing near
Wimbledon-common, we saw some people busily occupied in measuring the
ground.  Imagining them to be engineers occupied in a survey, I was glad
of the opportunity likely to be afforded me of improving myself in this
science by closely watching their proceedings.  With this intention I
asked my friends to approach nearer to them; judge then of my horror when
informed by them, that these preliminaries were evidently being arranged
for a duel about to take place between two gentlemen, who had probably
quarrelled about some trifle, or possibly _un affaire de cœur_, and who
were going to settle their difference in this disgraceful manner.  One of
my friends ran and fetched a constable, who speedily terminated the
proceeding by virtue of his staff of office.

I cannot say how detestable and absurd this crime appeared in my
eyes—such bloodshed to occur in civilised England appeared to me
marvellous—in a country professedly Christian.  I really began to wish
myself back in Syria again; for if this was to be the result of
civilization and education, ignorance were bliss indeed.

On my first arrival in England, and for many months afterwards, I was
greatly at a loss to comprehend the many idioms of the language; and the
result was that I was perpetually the victim of some ludicrous error in
either speaking or misunderstanding the English.  Previous to my
departure from Syria, I had become acquainted with Captain Charles
Shadwell, in Her Majesty’s navy, the son of the late respected
vice-Chancellor, Sir Launcelot Shadwell.  On our parting he had desired
me, should I ever visit England, to call upon his father, from whom I
could readily obtain his address.  Soon after my arrival I bethought
myself of this invitation, and called at the court-house at Westminster.
On enquiring of an attendant if Sir Launcelot was within, the man replied
in the affirmative, but at the same time gave me to understand that Sir
Launcelot was _sitting_, and that therefore I could not hope to see him.

This reply naturally very much amazed me, and I therefore persisted in my
request.

“I tell you, Sir, that Sir Launcelot is _sitting_,” was again the answer
of the servant.

This rather annoyed me.  “Well, Sir,” rejoined I, “I know that Sir
Launcelot is _sitting_; I never supposed for an instant that he was lying
down or asleep at this hour of the day, and that is just the very reason
why I have called to see him.”

I need not say that my reply as much astonished the official as I was
confounded at his obstinacy.  After some little altercation, however, I
was made to understand that the term _sitting_, as used in this instance,
referred to Sir Launcelot’s official occupations, and not a little
abashed, I apologised for the error, at the same time explaining to the
man the motives of my visit.  I begged him to take in my card, and in the
mean time walked into the court, not however, without a fresh difficulty
occurring, for the official requested me to take off my cap, for I then
wore what I have been accustomed to all my life, the _fez_ or _tarboush_.
On this request being repeated, I told the man that I would much sooner
take off my boots, as it was disrespectful in my country to go bareheaded
into the presence of one’s superiors.  I suppose the man had never seen
such a curious customer as I seemed to him to be; he however implored me
not to remove my boots, and without further demur, allowed me to remain.

I afterwards saw Sir Launcelot in the private office of the Chancellor.
He received me with stiff _hauteur_ and distant politeness, and on making
known my errand, regretted that he could not give me his son’s address,
but said that if I left my own, he would forward it to his son.  This I
did, and rather hurt at the frigidity of his manner, speedily withdrew.

A few days after this, I received a very kind letter from Sir Launcelot,
enclosing me one from his son, and in which Sir Launcelot, after
apologising for the apparent want of courtesy displayed in his reception,
which he justly attributed to the impostures often practised by persons
of foreign appearance on the credulity of English gentlemen, concluded by
hospitably inviting me to dinner, when I should have the happiness of
once again meeting my friend, his son.

About the same time that I had come to England, there also arrived a
young Druse Sheikh from the mountains of Lebanon, who, attended by his
two servants, had left his home to be educated; and government had placed
him under the tuition of the Rev. Mr. ---.  Some time afterwards, one of
the servants from some misunderstanding, attempted to stab that
gentleman, but was fortunately prevented.  A great disturbance, however,
occurred, and the police were obliged to interfere and disarm them.  In
1843 the Prince went raving mad, and was sent back to his friends.  One
day, paying a visit to Aali Effendi, at that time Turkish ambassador
here, he suddenly flung a beautiful and expensive watch which he wore
into the fire, exclaiming that he would no longer carry the devil in his
pocket.  I afterwards met him on one occasion on the Lebanon, and he told
me that he was very ill, as the English had put a charm into his stomach;
and he begged of me to give him an English lancet to perform an operation
and cut the charm.  Luckily there are instances directly opposite to this
case, or else one might be discouraged in carrying out the good cause of
Syrian education.  The fate of Assaad Shidiac (whose brother is
considered one of the first Arabic and English scholars, and has been for
many years employed by the Church Missionary Society in translating the
Bible from English into Arabic), who fell a martyr to the cause, shews
triumphantly that few people can be more sincere converts than the Syrian
Christians.

This admirable young man was originally a Maronite, but having been
educated by the missionaries, was led to see the errors of the Romish
faith.  While travelling amongst his own native villagers he was seized,
and the people tried to force him to renounce the faith he had adopted.
On his refusal, they imprisoned and otherwise ill-treated him.  A
merchant residing at Beyrout very soon flew to his rescue; but alas! he
arrived too late, the noble soul of Shidiac had fled for ever, and the
immediate cause of his death remains to this day enveloped in mystery.

I remember well that on first arriving in England I had a habit of
sitting cross-legged on a chair or an ottoman.  This position used to
amuse my English friends very much, and on one occasion when I detected a
number of young ladies laughing among themselves and pointing at me, I
anxiously enquired the cause of their merriment, and one of them
volunteered to tell me that it was only tailors in this country that
resorted to the use of such a droll position.  I assured them that in
Syria the nobles of the land sat cross-legged; but thanking them for this
gentle correction, I ever after endeavoured to sit as much like an
Englishman as I could, a task which I at first found both difficult and
disagreeable.

At this time I received intelligence of the death of a very dear friend
and relative, and this melancholy news urged on me the necessity of
returning to Syria.  I accordingly began to make preparations, and was so
fortunate as to meet Sir George Otway, who was going up the Mediterranean
in command of the “Virago” steamer, and who very kindly gave me a passage
as far as Malta.

On board the “Virago” I had the happiness of meeting those amiable
noblemen, the Marquis of Worcester and Lord Clarence Paget.  We touched
at Gibraltar, and were there joined by the bishop of that diocese who was
about to pay a visit to Malta.  We had a remarkably pleasant voyage out,
and on arriving once more at Malta, I immediately occupied myself in
preparations for landing, not displeased at the idea of once again
visiting that pleasant little island for a few days.  In the midst of all
this, my attention was suddenly attracted to the constant succession of
flags that were being rapidly hauled up and down and changed.  I was of
course ignorant as to the motives of these signals.  In a short time,
however, Sir George Otway enlightened me on this subject by informing me
with a smile on his countenance, that the “Medea” steam frigate, Captain
Warden, with the Lycian expedition, was about to leave for Rhodes, and
that he was glad to say he had been successful in procuring me a passage
by her.  Accordingly, taking a hearty leave of the excellent commander
and gallant officers of the “Virago,” and bidding adieu to my noble
fellow-passengers, I was quickly transferred from one vessel to the
other.

On the deck of the new steamer I was delighted to recognise the features
of my old acquaintance Mr., now Sir Charles Fellowes, who was then
proceeding to conduct the expedition to Lycia in Asia Minor.  In a few
days the steamer landed me at Rhodes.  I joined the Austrian boat at that
island, and was soon, to my great joy and satisfaction, safely landed at
Beyrout.

On joining my old acquaintances, I was much amused at the ridiculous
reports in circulation as to the results of my visit to England.  Some
imagined I had been made a bishop, whilst others stated that I had given
myself out as the Prince of Syria, and had persuaded the English
government to grant me a fleet to conquer the country.  I was frequently
asked by the chiefs when I expected the ships to arrive.  All concluded
that I was thoroughly versed in medicine, as the people of Syria imagine
all Europeans, and those who visit that country, to be well acquainted
with this science.

After I had been a short time at Beyrout, I went on a visit to the
mountains, when a desperate war broke out between the Maronites and the
Druses, through the machinations of the priests.  The Druses immediately
made a desperate attack upon the village of Deyr Al Kamar, where at that
time the Emir Kasim was residing at the palace.  The village was nearly
destroyed, and much blood was shed.  The palace was sufficiently strong
to resist their attack.  The government was so amazed at this outbreak,
that the Emir was ordered to go to Beyrout, whence he was sent to
Constantinople.  I myself remained a short time at Beyrout to arrange
some private affairs.  This being settled to the satisfaction of all
concerned, I took my passage to Constantinople on board of one of the
Austrian steamers, and after a prosperous voyage was duly landed at
Stamboul.  This was the first time I had ever visited the great Moslem
capital; but I came here after having seen and been resident at London,
and it consequently had few charms for me, though I must admit, that as
seen from the sea in approaching it, I thought Stamboul one of the most
lovely spots I had ever set eyes on.

Here I soon joined my old acquaintance the Emir Kasim.  The story of this
prince is as follows:—

His childhood was passed on Lebanon, and ultimately he became possessed
of large landed estates, to the cultivation of which he devoted much of
his time.  Living in a fine mansion in the village of Hadded, about four
hours’ journey from Beyrout, the greater portion of which belonged to
him, his house was at all times open to the traveller, whether poor or
rich; and, indeed, no person ever passed his door without experiencing
the hospitality of the owner.  The chief objects of the Emir’s attention
were silkworms, of which he kept immense numbers.  He was also celebrated
for his fine breed of Arabian horses.  Devoted to the pleasures of
hunting wild boars in the neighbourhood of Damascus, and shooting, his
great delight was a _battue_ of partridges; for the perfect enjoyment of
which an excellent system had been established.  The unfortunate birds
(of the red-legged species), having been gradually accustomed to be fed
in a small open spot, whenever the Emir felt inclined for the sport, he
ensconced himself snugly behind a bush especially prepared for the
purpose, and blazed away at his victims at his ease.  It is quite certain
that the Emir had not had the advantage of a sporting education in
England, but it cannot be denied that the natural cunning of the man had
led him to imitate closely a European practice.  In other respects he was
an ignorant and unlettered man; his only accomplishments being a little
reading and writing.

When the Emir Beschir had been called upon to join the allies with his
forces against Ibrahim Pacha, but was unable to comply with the call,
Kasim collected all his followers and went down to the sea-coast to join
Sir Charles Napier, who, in return, promised to make him Prince of
Lebanon, and to add Beyrout and Sidon to his principality; his losses in
money and property were immense for Syria, but he listened to the
promises of the English, which were to the effect that he should be amply
recompensed.  These promises were, however, never fulfilled.  The title
of Prince of Lebanon was certainly granted him; but the disturbance
before narrated broke out, and his removal was the result.  It was
imagined at the time that the political influence of another power
outweighed that of England, and caused this measure to be brought about.
On his arrival at Constantinople from Beyrout, the Prince was brought
before the divan and called upon to answer certain charges brought
against him.  This he succeeded in doing to the satisfaction of the
authorities, and he was accordingly acquitted; but it was thought that
his presence amongst the mountaineers might again cause a revolt, and the
government, therefore, ordered him to remain in Turkey.

While in Stamboul I had laid his case before Lord Cowley, the British
ambassador, who, upon ascertaining the real state of affairs, promised to
exert himself in his favour, which promise his lordship fulfilled to the
utmost.  The prince, not understanding the integrity of his lordship’s
character, and being a total stranger to the system of European
diplomacy, wished to force on his lordship the acceptance of some very
valuable Arab horses, which present, of course, was instantly refused.
This very much astonished the Emir, who had all his life been accustomed
to Oriental tactics in policy, in which such an argument was the only one
ever likely to be productive of beneficial results.  This, in fact has
been the system practised from the earliest ages up to the present date.
We read in the Bible of the wife of Nabal riding forth from Carmel,
accompanied with donkey-loads of presents, to meet David, in order that
by soft words and rich presents she might propitiate the king in her
favour, and turn his wrath away from her husband.  The meeting between
Jacob and Esau gives another instance of this method of conciliating
favour being resorted to.

The Emir remained for some time under surveillance at Constantinople,
when, through the strenuous exertions of Lord Cowley, a small pension was
obtained from the Government.  Some time after this, when I was in
England, I received some letters and enclosures from him.

After perusing the whole of the letters, I came to the resolution of
delivering one intended for Sir Charles Napier personally.  Sir Charles
received me with the rough cordiality of an English sailor, and after a
long conversation about the affairs of Syria, told me, that now he much
regretted the part he had taken in Eastern politics, and promised to
exert himself in favour of the Emir Beshir Kasim, and of Syria, at the
same time exhibiting great interest for the welfare of its inhabitants.
He applied to Lord Palmerston in behalf of the prince, and through his
influence, after a long correspondence, instructions were forwarded to
Sir Stratford Canning to exert himself in his favour; but, during this
interval, a severe illness had deprived my unfortunate friend of his
sight.  At length, through the kindness of Aali Pasha, the then minister
for foreign affairs, permission was obtained for his return to Syria,
upon the Emir undertaking to live there strictly as a private individual,
and to interfere in no way with the politics of the country.  He is now
living on Mount Lebanon, where, at the advanced age of about eighty
years, he exerts himself as far as age will permit, in promoting the
happiness of those around him.  But to return to my narrative.

During my stay at Constantinople, I was fortunate enough to make the
acquaintance of many warm friends, and among others, of the late lamented
Lord William Clinton, who, at that time, was fulfilling the duties of
secretary to the embassy, also of Mr. Wood and Mr. Allison, a gentleman
distinguished by his profound acquaintance with the languages, customs,
and manners of the East, also attached to the embassy, Mr. Cumberbatch,
the consul-general, and his brother.  I further had the pleasure of
making the acquaintance of the late Doctor Bennet, chaplain to the
embassy, a truly good man, and one who did credit to his creed.

Dr. Bennett had a large family of sons and daughters, all scattered about
over the world.  One is, I believe, now high in the East India Company’s
service in Bengal, another attached to the consulate at Varna; and there
is one, I believe, in England, who has embraced his father’s profession
and entered the ministry.  Mrs. Bennett was a most exemplary wife.  From
her I received my first impression in favour of English wives; her
never-tiring and affectionate attendance upon the good doctor when seized
with his last fatal illness, seemed to me, who was then unaccustomed to
the devotion displayed by English women in time of sickness, truly
angelic, and quite disheartened me when drawing a comparison between them
and my own countrywomen, ignorant of reading and writing, though
doubtless, if educated, susceptible of all the more refined feelings of
civilisation.

Though on the point of falling desperately in love with one of the fair
daughters of the land, this consideration effectually checked my
enthusiasm.  A lady-friend had given me an eloquent description of a
young Greek damsel, to which I was more than half inclined to listen,
when the example I have already quoted made me suddenly remember that
such things were not to be hoped for save in an English wife.

During my stay at Stamboul, I renewed my acquaintance with the Rev. Mr.
Goodall, my former kind instructor, who had left Syria and come to reside
in that city, where, in conjunction with the other American missionaries,
he carried on his arduous duties with unremitting zeal.  Though not long
resident at Constantinople, I was witness, on more than one occasion, to
the havoc committed by the fires that are incessantly occurring.  From
one of these I myself was a severe sufferer.  Once, while spending the
evening with Lord W. Clinton, a fire broke out in the house next to his.
As mine was only a few doors further off, I hastened away to rescue my
property, and with the assistance of the _hammahls_, or porters,
succeeded in removing it into the centre of a neighbouring field, where
it would be out of harm’s way.  Having done this, I returned immediately
to Lord William’s to give him what assistance I could in helping to
remove his property to a place of safety.  The fire committed fearful
ravages.  A whole quarter of Pera was destroyed.  When it was at last
extinguished, I hastened to look after my own property, but such had been
the devastation committed by the flames, that the whole face of the
district was changed; and I found it utterly impossible to recognise any
spot or mark which might afford the slightest clue as to the whereabouts
of my late quarters, and thus lead to the recognition of the field.
After a long and unsuccessful search, I was obliged to give the matter
up; and I was thus deprived of the whole of my personal effects.  This
was in the winter of 1846.

After some months’ residence at Constantinople, through Lord Cowley’s
kind exertions with the Turkish government, I was sent to England, and
was furnished with letters to Prince Callimaki, then ambassador at the
court of St. James’s.  Lord Cowley gave me a passage to Malta in an
English war-steamer.  We touched at Corfu, where I was so fortunate as to
make the acquaintance of Lord Seaton, who at that time held the office of
Lord High Commissioner of the Ionian Isles.  Both himself and family
treated me with the greatest hospitality.  During my short stay, I had
time to discover that his lordship’s popularity amongst the residents was
very great.

From Corfu we came to Malta, where I had the pleasure of meeting several
dear friends again.  I stayed here for a fortnight; and on one occasion,
I regret to say, I witnessed conduct most unusual in British officers,
who, with few exceptions, I have found ever mindful of their position as
gentlemen.  One evening, at the theatre, a number of the junior officers
were present, and, in spite of the quiet remonstrances of the audience,
persisted in placing their feet on the ledge in the front of the boxes.
The Maltese at length became so exasperated that a number of them left
the house and awaited the departure of the officers, when they assailed
them in a most furious manner, and would certainly have inflicted serious
injury upon them had not a guard arrived opportunely to separate the
combatants.  At the height of the riot my curiosity was much excited on
observing a peasant, who had struck down an officer, and seemed
apparently about to follow up his attack, suddenly desist and render the
utmost assistance to his late foe.  Being acquainted with the gentleman,
I next day enquired what could have caused this change, and was much
surprised to find that this strange occurrence arose from the peasant
having, by a secret sign, discovered that the officer was a brother
mason.  I could not but admire a system productive of such benevolent
results, and a few evenings after, happening to be dining with my friend,
Captain Ford of the artillery, and understanding from him that he was
engaged to attend a lodge on the island, I begged he would procure me
admission.  This he kindly consented to do, and I was, therefore, duly
initiated.  The kind feeling and brotherly love I have met with among
masons, has rendered this event one of the happiest of my life.

From Malta I came to England through France, _viá_ Marseilles.  At
Marseilles I put up at the Hotel de l’Europe.  Being at that time
ignorant of the language, I found myself awkwardly situated, for shortly
after my arrival, having washed my hands, I could find no place wherein
to empty the basin, and being amongst strangers, I felt great diffidence
in making known my wants.  In this dilemma, I resorted to the expedient
of throwing the water out of the window.  I did so, and was chuckling at
the success of my plan, when my attention was attracted by a great noise
in the street, and, to my surprise, I heard foot-steps and angry voices
approaching my bed-room door.

On their entering, I found that the water had unfortunately alighted on a
French officer, who at that moment chanced to be passing in full-dress
uniform.  His indignation was such that I expected to be annihilated on
the spot.  I presume, however, that the people of the hotel would not
permit him to wreak his vengeance on me, and so he contented himself by
giving me into the charge of the police, who desired me the next day to
appear before the magistrate (the complainant appearing in person).  I of
course made ample apologies through an interpreter, and the matter was at
length satisfactorily settled.  This officer and myself afterwards became
very good friends; he explained to me that he had imagined I was an Arab
from Africa, who had thus sought to revenge myself for injuries I might
have received from their hands whilst in Algeria, and that this had
determined him to have me punished, adding that had he known that I was a
Syrian, and above all from Mount Lebanon, he would certainly have been
disposed to be more lenient.  This _contretemps_ shewed me the necessity
of being acquainted with the customs and languages of the places through
which I might be necessitated to travel.

I left Marseilles by the diligence, and was very surprised at the slow
method of travelling adopted by the French.  As compared to the railroad
transit in England, they seemed a century behind.  The idea seems quite
absurd that a country like France, which aspires to rivalry in arts and
sciences no less than in accomplishments, should compel unhappy
travellers to lose three days in performing a distance that could almost
be done in a few hours in England.

I made a short stay at Paris, where I met with great kindness from the
Ottoman ambassador, Suliman Pasha, and was fortunate enough while there
also to make the acquaintance of that celebrated statesman and profound
scholar, M. Guizot.  M. Thiers, also honoured with his friendship.  With
this last eminent statesman I had a long and interesting conversation
respecting the Syrian campaign of 1840–41, and he evinced a most lively
interest in the fortunes of the grand Emir Beschir.  Under the pretence
of collecting money for the sufferers of Mount Lebanon, an association
was formed at that time in Paris, with the secret intention of making a
tool of one of the Emir’s family, and through his instrumentality
exciting a rebellion amongst the inhabitants, and then taking advantage
of their civil discord.

Being a native of those parts, the ambassador thought that I could
without exciting suspicion gain some information as to the real projects
of these people.  I obtained possession of a pamphlet, in which their
benevolent views were set forth as a blind to their proceedings, from the
treasurer of the society, with whom I was formerly acquainted, but who,
ignorant of my intentions, declared its real purposes.  Their object was
to excite commotions, and through the medium of these civil discords to
increase the influence of France in those parts.

On my arrival in England in October, 1847, I presented my letters of
introduction to Prince Callimaki, who introduced me to the members of his
suite.  After some deliberation, the Prince and my English friends
thought it would be better for my interests to study a profession than to
remain simply attached to the Embassy: but they left it to me to choose
what that profession should be.  After mature reflection, I fixed upon
surgery, which I thought would more than any other render my services of
use to my fellow-countrymen.  On making my choice known, the Prince and
Mr. Zohrab kindly undertook to consult with Mr. Benjamin Phillips, the
eminent surgeon of Wimpole-street, now retired from practice, and living
at Hendon, to whom I was furnished with a letter of introduction.  The
parental conduct of this gentleman towards me I shall ever call to mind
with the deepest veneration, and in the phraseology of my countrymen,
_the ashes of my bones will not cease to retain this feeling_.  It was at
last determined that I should reside with Mr. Drewitt, of Curzon-street,
May-fair; this gentleman and his kind-hearted lady exerted themselves to
the utmost to procure my comfort and further my views, and whilst under
their hospitable roof, I enjoyed every domestic happiness.

In order still further to advance my interests, the Prince Callimaki, Mr.
Phillips, and other friends, most kindly addressed letters to the
Directors of King’s College, introducing me to them, and stating my
earnest wish to attend the valuable lectures of this institution.  In
reply, the much respected principal, Dr. Jelf, immediately sent me an
admission to the College, and he himself received me in the most generous
and noble manner, and exhorted me to use my endeavours to persuade my
countrymen to follow my example.

I now regularly attended these lectures, and from both professors and
students received every civility and attention.  At first my repugnance
to the dissecting-room was so great and overpowering, that I went to the
prince and earnestly besought of him to let me relinquish the profession,
telling him that I thought it quite an act of barbarity thus to mutilate
the dead.  The prince, however, after many arguments, induced me to
persevere a little longer.  I took his advice, and soon found that this
feeling of repugnance gradually subsided; nay, more than this, I began to
take peculiar pleasure in the study, when the whole magnitude of its
wonderful philosophy burst upon my understanding.  One day a trifling
accident occurred to me—trifling in appearance, but which very nearly
terminated fatally.  The event, however, was productive of one good
result, it shewed me the sincere and unaffected esteem of English
friends, and made me happy in the knowledge that I was fortunate enough
to have hundreds, even in England, deeply interested in my welfare.

Whilst assisting in the dissecting-room in November 1849, I accidentally
pricked my finger with a poisoned knife, but being engaged on that day to
dine with the excellent and good Lord Cranworth, the present Lord
Chancellor, the hospitalities of that nobleman, and the cheering music of
his lady and her sister, Lady Eardley, entirely drove the circumstance
from my memory.  This was the ninth of November, and I was engaged to
join the festivities at the Guildhall in the evening.  At midnight,
whilst in the midst of my enjoyment, I was seized with sudden illness,
and my good friend, the late Sir Felix Booth, immediately sent me home in
his carriage.  After a night of extreme wretchedness and misery, I next
morning summoned around me a host of my medical acquaintances; but these,
alas! were but Job’s comforters, for they one and all assured me, that
should erysipelas supervene, death would be the certain result.  I need
not here relate the depressing effect this news had upon my already
exhausted spirits.

My English friends may smile at what I am now about to relate, but the
impression made at that period on my mind was so great, that I cannot
refrain from mentioning the matter.

While in my own country (according to the universal custom of the
inhabitants), I had sought to dive into the secrets of futurity through
the aid of a _munajjim_, or magician, who predicted that on a Friday I
should be seized with a dangerous illness or be shot, either purposely or
by accident, and that in all probability either misfortune would prove
fatal to me.  In my almost helpless state, this circumstance coming
vividly to my mind, was all-sufficient to have brought about the foretold
result, for it certainly for some time hindered my recovery.  I sent for
a Syrian friend and made my will, and he committed to paper all my good
wishes towards my kindred at home.

During this sad time, my first English friend, the Hon. and Rev. Baptist
Noel, was most indefatigable in his attentions; and this good man
comforted me with prayers, and taught me to lean on the word of God for
comfort and succour, not only in this affliction, but in every
tribulation.  I likewise received a visit from Cardinal Wiseman, who,
meeting my friend and medical adviser, Mr. Phillips, at the door, asked
permission to see me.  This was reluctantly granted, and only upon
condition that the cardinal should attend to my spiritual concerns, and
leave my corporeal cure to Mr. P.  My illness continued for three months;
but at last, through the untiring labours of Mr. Phillips, and under the
Divine blessing, I was once more restored to health.

My apartments were every day besieged by numbers of kind friends, who
called to ascertain the state of my health, and to leave me fruits, and
such tokens of esteem as they thought most acceptable to an invalid.

I well remember that, at a period during the most dangerous part of my
illness, I called to mind, that in my country a superstition was
prevalent, that the broth made from a young black cock, whose head must
be severed by a knife with one stroke from the body, was very efficacious
in curing such cases as mine; and my strict injunctions and earnest
entreaties to those around me to prepare me this broth, must have made
them imagine me imbecile.

Before quitting this subject, I must here record my grateful thanks to
Mr. Zohrab, the Turkish consul-general, and his lady, whose friendship
and kindness to me upon all occasions I can never sufficiently
acknowledge.  On my partial recovery, they insisted on my taking up my
abode at their mansion at Hampstead; and owing to their kind attentions
and _recherché_ fare, I soon recovered my strength.

The 12th of April, 1850, was one of the proudest days of my life.  On
that day I had the great honour of being admitted a member of the Royal
College of Surgeons of London; and whilst yet blushing beneath my new
honours, more came pouring upon my head.  I went to King’s College on the
27th of the same month to witness the distribution of prizes, and there I
had the pleasure of meeting the amiable and learned professor, Doctor
Jelf; from him I was surprised and delighted to learn, that, listening to
his kind recommendation of my attention to studies and lectures, His
Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury had been graciously pleased to confer
upon me the honour of being an associate of the college.

Having thus been admitted among the surgical staff of England, I am
naturally jealous, as well for the honour and privileges, as for the
efficiency of the profession, in this great country; and I think it will
not be out of place if I briefly record the opinions entertained by a
foreigner on the anomalous and unsatisfactory position which it at
present occupies.

Although, then, the medical profession, as a body, is held by the people
in very considerable estimation and respect, and although the individual
practitioners are received in the families, whose confidence or
friendship they have obtained, with the utmost cordiality and unreserve,
giving place only to ministers of religion, nevertheless, they have good
reason to complain of the manner in which they are treated by the
Government, and the little care that is taken of their interests.  Being
all of them men of somewhat extended education,—with very few exceptions,
gentlemen by birth—and very many of them deeply versed in various
scientific subjects, it would not be too much to expect that the
Government would at least throw around them the shield of its protection,
even if it did not stimulate them to increased activity and exertion, by
holding out honours and rewards, as prizes for the most distinguished.
Yet how stands the fact?  The law permits any man to call himself
surgeon, and to perform the most capital operations; moreover, the
Executive will not take the trouble to publish a list of the authorised
practitioners in the three kingdoms.  No authentic document exists,
enrolling in one compendium the names of all who are entitled to practise
in their respective departments, and, consequently, the public are kept
in ignorance of those whom in medical matters they may with safety trust.
Nor is this all.  It absolutely encourages unlicensed and ignorant
pretenders, by permitting the sale of quack medicines for a paltry duty
on each parcel vended.  It derives, indeed, no small revenue from this
disgraceful source, not only to the injury of the regular members of the
profession, but to the imminent danger of the community also.  In legal
matters, no man can give you advice without being duly licensed to do so;
but in medicine and surgery any man may prescribe the most deadly poison,
or amputate a leg without the least authority, and, unless death result
from his temerity, without being amenable to any penalty.

As a proof of the contemptuous treatment to which the profession is
exposed at the hands of the authorities of the nation, great and small,
reference need merely be made to the surgeons attached to the Poor-law
unions, and to the assistant-surgeons of the navy.  The latter—gentlemen
who have passed through their education, and must of necessity be in
their twenty-third year—are not allowed a separate cabin, in which to
prosecute their studies, until after three years of service, but are
doomed to the noise and inconvenience of the midshipmen’s berth.  They
are thus put on an equality with youths, six or seven years younger than
themselves, and who are still in a state of pupilage.  Whilst from the
former, for the most part, is exacted a quantity of physical labour,
sufficient to exhaust the stoutest frame, for a stipend considerably less
than would be accepted by a skilled artisan; the threat having been in
many instances put forth against the established practitioner of the
neighbourhood, that if he will not undertake the duty on the terms
proposed, the “Board” will invite some fresh man into the district, to
whom, of course, an opportunity would be given of shouldering his elder
rival off his stool, and acquiring for himself a part, at least, of the
professional emolument of the place.

Again; who would have presumed, that in this intelligent country the
General Board of Health would only contain in its composition one medical
man?  Who would have believed that the important sanitary affairs, which
come under its jurisdiction, should be investigated and adjudicated upon
by a committee of gentlemen, with that one solitary exception, totally
unconnected with medicine?

One great drawback against entering upon the duties of medical life, as a
profession, will be acknowledged in the fact, that there are no high
places of honour or emolument set apart for the members of that
profession as there are for divines and lawyers.  The utmost a medical
man can hope for, because it is the highest point he can possibly attain
to, is to have the honour of knighthood or a baronetcy conferred upon
him—distinctions which are bestowed upon Lord Mayors and Sheriffs with a
much more profuse hand than on the scientific portion of the community.
The Archbishop of Canterbury ranks next to the members of the Royal
Family, and the Bishops take precedence of all temporal Barons.  The Lord
Chancellor’s rank is next in order to the Archbishop; and thus the two
highest offices in the realm are open to the ambition of the most obscure
student in divinity and law, while to the professors of medicine not even
a commissionership is ever offered.

With an equally niggardly hand are pecuniary grants and pensions
distributed.  There must indeed be something very extraordinary in the
case that would induce a minister to recommend to the Sovereign a grant
of money, as a pension or otherwise, to any member of the medical
profession, however benefited mankind might have been by his discoveries,
and however old and indigent he might himself have become.  Nor do widows
and children fare much better.  Should a pension be vouchsafed to the
family of a distinguished professional man, left in straitened
circumstances, it is, for the most part, comparatively inconsiderable in
amount.

Successful soldiers are titled and pensioned, and any man who has
invented a destructive weapon of war is held in high veneration; while
those who have devoted their lives to the mitigation of human suffering,
and have even discovered a certain means of abrogating pain under the
most severe surgical operations, are passed by as unworthy of regard.

Unfortunately, the remarks I have penned above are applicable, for the
most part, to all literary men, equally with the professors of medicine.
In no country is literature more highly prized by the people, or less
patronised by the Government.

Such is surely a suicidal as well as narrow-minded policy, because it
tends to drive young men of high talent and promise, who might otherwise
be disposed to seek medicine as a profession, into some other walk of
life.  Every encouragement, on the contrary, ought to be held out to the
flower of the rising generation to enter into the medical profession as a
study, since the health, and, consequently, the happiness of the
community are entrusted, under Providence, to their keeping.  One would
suppose, indeed, that if no higher motive was the actuating principle, a
selfish regard for their own well-being would induce those in power to
render it worth the while of youths of genius and extensive acquirements
to devote themselves to this noble pursuit.  For this purpose some posts
of distinction should be put aside, or new ones created, and appropriated
to the professors of medicine; and in that case it would soon be
discovered, that a preliminary scientific education, and the knowledge
acquired in the intimate intercourse with society, enjoyed by the medical
practitioner, by no means disqualified him to undertake places of trust,
and to execute delicate and important services.

Another complaint, that the profession might justly make, is, the want of
any representatives of their interest in the lower House of Parliament.
Both in the Lords and Commons assembly the law possesses a large and even
overwhelming force; and although the constitution of the country
precludes the ministers of religion from holding seats in the Commons,
yet that want is well supplied by the talent and eloquence of the members
sent by the universities of Oxford and Cambridge into that chamber; and
the omission is, moreover, fully and excellently made up by the number,
learning, and energy of the bishops having seats in the House of Peers;
while the professors of medicine are altogether without any one to stand
up in their behalf.  The consequence of this is, that if a medical
question is started, or one having reference to sanitary measures—which,
indeed, are interesting to every individual in the state, inasmuch as his
own health and safety may be involved in them—it is either shelved on the
first decent opportunity, or discussed languidly in a thin house.  If the
University of London, the Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, and
some of the northern Universities, had the privilege granted them of
sending representatives to the Legislature, the addition might be found
to be as much for the benefit of the nation as for the honour and
advantage of the profession itself. {157}

About this time, finding that my friend the Mir Shahamet Ali intended to
visit the north of England, I availed myself of the opportunity, and
joined him in the excursion.  This gentleman was the most remarkable
stranger I have met with in England; he was a native of Delhi, where he
received his education.  The Mir was a most intelligent and learned man,
and had travelled much in Bengal with Sir Claude Wade, whom he had
accompanied to the Punjaub and Bahawalpur, when that gentleman went there
for the purpose of negotiating with those States for throwing open the
navigation of the Indus and the Sutledge.  The Mir was afterwards sent
with presents from the English Government to the Court of Lahore, and he
subsequently published, in English, two books, the “Sikhs and Affghans,”
and a “History of Bahawalpur,” besides one or two little pamphlets on
Indian affairs; he also long held the situation of _Mir Moonshee_ in the
Upper Provinces.

Perhaps I may here be allowed to give an anecdote illustrative of London
_haut ton_ and society, showing how scrupulous they are, and how a
stranger may inadvertently fall into disrepute; and also, how easily a
foreigner, by slight mistakes, may suffer severe consequences.  I once,
mistaking the designation of my friend, the Mir, introduced him at the
houses of some religious fashionables as a prince, supposing the term
Mir, in Hindustani, to be equivalent to the word Emir in Arabic.  Some
person chose to bestow this title on _myself_ instead of my friend, and I
was supposed to be the prince.  An intimate friend afterwards told me
that I had been accused of introducing _myself_ as a prince.  Thus a
report, arising from a mistake of which I was wholly unconscious, was for
some time circulated to my prejudice.

But return to the Mir, he came to this country to obtain a better insight
into European manners and society.  Her Majesty the Queen of England was
graciously pleased to receive him, and he was presented at court by the
Earl of Shaftesbury.  General Duncan Macleod, of the Indian army, whose
engineering talents have been so justly admired, as exemplified in the
splendid palace erected under his sole direction for the Nawab of
Moorshedabad, also a friend of the Mir, was present.  During this
presentation, a very pleasing incident occurred, illustrative to the
latter of the urbanity of Scottish aristocracy.  Being very much struck
with the splendid Highland costume of one of the gentlemen present, the
Mir wished to be allowed to inspect it nearer, when General Macleod, with
characteristic amiability, apologetically explained to the object of his
admiration how much his _protégé_, the Oriental, was struck with his
appearance.  The chieftain very good-naturedly invited the Mir to
approach, adding, “Perhaps you would like to see a chieftain’s wife
also,” and forthwith introduced him to his lady, the Duchess of ---.

As may readily be conceived, it was most agreeable for me to travel about
with such a companion as the Mir.  We visited all the manufacturing
districts together.  The Mir was indefatigable, active, inquiring, and
desirous of obtaining knowledge in every acquirable shape.  We proceeded
to Birmingham, where we were received by our consul, Mr. Collis, and
entertained at his house during our sojourn; he shewed us whatever sights
in that wonderful town he deemed at all interesting to us.  The various
places we travelled through are so familiar to my English readers, that
to relate them all, would prove tedious.  Suffice it that we got on very
well together, till we were one day leaving Sheffield for Edinburgh.  At
Sheffield we had nearly exhausted our funds in purchasing cutlery, etc.,
so that when we came to the railway-station we had not enough ready money
between us to pay our fare onward to Edinburgh.  We were, however,
bearers of letters of credit, and stating our circumstances to the head
booking-clerk, he kindly consented to allow us to proceed by the train on
condition that we paid on arriving in Edinburgh.  Accordingly we took our
seats in the carriage, and began to condole with each other on the
awkwardness of our position.  There was one other person beside ourselves
in the carriage, and this gentleman, though a perfect stranger, kindly
came forward and pressed upon us the use of his purse.  After some little
altercation and hesitation, Mir Shahamet Ali and myself agreed to borrow
five pounds of this worthy stranger, on condition that we should be
permitted to return it immediately after our arrival at Edinburgh.  Our
promise to pay was, as the reader may imagine, promptly met.  This
stranger proved to be Mr. Walker, the celebrated engineer, of Great
George-street, and on returning from London to Scotland, I called to
thank this estimable gentleman for his unsolicited kindness to myself and
friend; and through this slight incident, I still enjoy his friendship
and acquaintance.

While in Edinburgh, we were much delighted at our visit to Holyrood in
its quiet and decayed grandeur—majestic with age—replete with tragic and
romantic reminiscences.  This impressed us much, and the whole aspect of
Edinburgh, especially as viewed by night, struck us as singularly
Oriental; and we, in imagination, could with ease have conjured up some
additions to the Arabian nights.  The dim outline of the castle on the
rock—the old town, dark and confused beneath, whilst on the opposite
height, row upon row of twinkling or brilliant lights flashed across the
sight; these might have made one easily suppose that the grovelling
creatures of earth inhabited the lower portion, guarded by some
portentously frowning power; whilst above danced the fairies in their
exquisite mother’s light (called by the common people, “Bonnie Jumpers”);
and in the new town dwelt the _Magi_, all illumination, life, light, and
splendour.  The hospitality and warmth of kindness of the Scotch to us
strangers, was irresistibly gratifying, and we were most kindly
entertained by many of them.

In our walks, the boys frequently screamed after and cheered us, loudly
vociferating, “_Ibrahim Pasha_!”  I presume that they had heard of him,
and imagined that every Oriental must be _the man_.  The English almost
invariably, even amongst the better classes, call everybody that wears a
_fez_ or _tarboush_, _a Turk_, much upon the same principle as our people
call every one with a _hat_ (_chapeau_), _Franji_ or a man from European
countries, without distinction as to sect, creed, nationality, or the
vast variety that exists amongst both people of government, laws,
manners, and histories.  The English also have an idea that every one
wearing a turban must be a follower of Mahomed.  Apropos of this subject,
I may here recount an anecdote which will doubtless amuse my readers.

One day when I was at the hospital, there was a woman waiting for a
surgical operation to be performed.  After explaining its nature, the
surgeon, much to my delight, asked me to perform the needful operation.
Up to this moment the woman was lying on a bed perfectly resigned, and
with both hands clasped over her eyes.  No sooner, however, did I take up
the instruments, and draw near to perform the needful service, than she
started up in bed, and glaring wildly at me with terror depicted in her
countenance, and doubtless alarmed at my Oriental garb and beard, she
screamed out with all her might, “The Turk! the Turk! the Turk is going
to cut me!”  Nor could any arguments of mine persuade her to submit to
the operation at my hands.

My friend, Shahamet Ali, had for some time rented a cottage at Ryde, in
the Isle of Wight, where on our return he invited me to pass a few days.
I cordially accepted this invitation, and whilst at Ryde had the
happiness of meeting Lord and Lady Downes, together with Sir Claude Wade
and his amiable lady, from all of whom I received much kindness, which
has not ceased to this day.  My visit to Ryde extended over a month, and
my friend, Shahamet Ali, was during that time making his arrangements for
a journey to Constantinople and thence to Mecca, which last place he
visited for the express purpose of purifying himself, he having mixed so
much with Christians that his religion required his pilgrimage thither.
I accompanied him as far as Paris, where I left with him letters of
introduction to my friends in the East.  I have since heard from him; he
had reached Mecca in safety, had performed his ablutions to satisfy the
prejudice of his countrymen, thus washing away all impurities supposed to
be contracted by mingling for so long a time in the customs and manners
of the infidels.  He is now settled as agent for the East India Company
at Selana in Malwa.

We both were much pleased with the Parisians.  No introduction was
needed—our position in society was a passport everywhere.  The French are
so amiable, _au dévant de vous_; perfect in grace, fascination and
_toilette_; more cheerful, and perhaps warmer-hearted than the
English—but far less stable.  A Frenchman may form a violent attachment
to a person to-day, and to-morrow be wholly indifferent as to his
whereabouts or welfare.  An Englishman may be some months before he
evinces the least symptoms of even a partiality; but when a friendship
really exists, you may count upon its sincerity and continuance.

I returned to London and remained for some time, when my good friend,
Mahomed Pasha, being recalled to Constantinople, it was arranged that I
should return to Paris and reside there.  Amongst others whose
acquaintance I had the honour of renewing in France, was that of M.
Lamartine, the great admirer of Lebanon, whom I had met in Syria.  We
were mutually pleased to renew our friendship.  He wrote a very flowery
letter to the Sultan Abdul Medjid, in which he said that having a map
before him of all that mighty potentate’s dominions, he had fixed upon a
little spot in Syria (Lebanon), whither he would wish to withdraw himself
from the turmoil and strife of life to settle down; but the Turkish
government, considering that the Maronites, who already possessed much
influence through French protection might choose him as their Emir,
consequently, in lieu of the small bit of ground begged for in Syria,
presented him with an immense tract of fertile ground in Asia Minor,
where the poet-statesman of France might sow every seed, save the seed of
political discord, which in such a wilderness would never take root.




CHAPTER IX.
VISIT TO PARIS.


Orientals who visit Paris for the first time are at a loss to conceive
anything more magnificent than its streets and its palaces and gardens.
After having been in England, however, their opinion is materially
altered, though I must still admit that there are some striking features
in Paris; amongst these, the Boulevards, Champs Elysées, Tuileries, the
Louvre and Luxembourg, are the most attractive.  Of the greater part of
the streets of Paris I can say but little; and there are some so filthy,
narrow, and almost impassable, as to outstrip the meanest town in Turkey.
Nothing but the uncouth wooden _sabots_ of the French could at any season
traverse them.  Though I must acknowledge that nothing can surpass the
easy elegance and refinement of the higher classes of society, it would
appear, from what a poor countryman of mine told me, that the second-rate
lodging houses are miserable in the extreme.  One would imagine, from his
description, that they went to the opposite extreme to luxury.
Complaining bitterly of his fate, for he had all his life before been
accustomed to opulent independence in Lebanon, he wrote to me the other
day as follows, viz.:—

    “The disagreeable first-impression made upon my mind on first taking
    possession of my lodgings here (Paris), was the melancholy
    resemblance existing between my chimney-place and a Syrian
    church-yard, for I can assure you that its shape resembles exactly
    one of our ordinary tombstones.  For the first few nights I hardly
    dared look at it before going to bed, lest I should have my rest
    broken by dreams of spectres and other horrid sprites of the
    imagination.  In addition to its disagreeable appearance, it smokes
    so terribly that I dare not light a fire, though shivering with cold,
    lest I should lose my eyesight from the effects of the smoke; but
    this is not all; the door will not shut well, the floorings are of
    damp bricks, and the rooms are built without respect to proportion,
    elegance, or comfort.  The house I am living in is eight stories
    high, and heigho! poor me, I live on the fourth floor, so that I have
    a hundred steps to mount up and down a dozen times a-day.  The
    greatest nuisance of all is, that the street door is continually
    being left open, so that any one given to pilfering is at perfect
    liberty to walk up and down stairs and help himself to whatever the
    fates may throw in his way.  There certainly is nominally a
    _concierge_.  This old worthy, however, is either so engrossed with
    an old newspaper or so comfortably napping, that he is perfectly
    unconscious of all passing around him.

    “I have vainly complained to him of this negligence, and pointed out
    the inconvenience and interruption I was perpetually being exposed to
    by people rapping at my door, under the pretext of inquiring if M.
    So-and-so lodged there, but evidently with the intention of finding
    out if there was any one within to hinder their forcing an entrance.
    His invariable reply used to be, ‘_Eh bien_! _que voulez vous que je
    fasse_.’  There are no bells, so that I may die in a fit, or be burnt
    to death before any assistance could be obtained.”

Such is the deplorable picture drawn by my poor friend, who, on the other
hand, lauds up to the skies lodgings of a similar class in London, and as
he is a sharp, acute man, I have little doubt but that he is correct in
his ideas.

What surprised me very much in Paris was the apparent ignorance of the
French with regard to the cities and towns of the Holy Land.  I forgot at
that period that they were restricted from reading their Bibles, and that
consequently very few of them were likely to have the names of places,
and people familiar to the English and ourselves, so firmly impressed
upon their minds.  My appearance and costume never excited curiosity.
When they asked me whence I came from, and I answered _Syria_, the word
made no impression on them.

“Where is that?” said one man to another in my hearing.

“_Ma foi_, _je ne saurais vous dire_—unless it be some obscure village in
Algeria which our colonists have not yet explored.”

Of course the higher classes are not guilty of such ignorance, for who
could have thrown a better light on the beauties and localities of Syria
than the learned and amiable Lamartine, whose accurate work, _Souvenirs
de l’Orient_, is deservedly popular over Europe.

I have many pleasant _souvenirs_ of the friends I met in Paris.  The
hospitable _reunions_ of their Excellencies the Turkish and the English
ambassadors—the kindness of the American representative, Mr. Rives—the
brilliant balls I was invited to by various families of fashion—and an
adventure at the hotel V....—never to be forgotten, and which it is my
intention at some future period to publish, which I have no doubt will
interest many of my English readers—all these I recall with pleasure, and
I avail myself of this opportunity with gladness to thank my many friends
in Paris for the courtesy and kindness I have ever met with at their
hands.  But putting these aside as elegant exceptions, I prefer on the
whole England, and the friendship of an Englishman to that of a
Frenchman,—the private character of the former has a sounder foundation,
and they know how to appreciate real moral, domestic comfort and
happiness, such as our countrymen seek for and find amongst the citron
groves and gardens of Syria.

Now it can hardly be said that a Frenchman knows what domestic bliss
signifies.  With him the Café is a _sine quâ non_; he may have an amiable
and charming wife, a young and attractive family, every charm of domestic
happiness that should link his heart and thoughts with home, and draw him
towards it as the only true and rational source of enjoyment; but he
leaves all these, and looks upon them as insipid; his sole delight is to
wander about from café to café, varying his amusements by an occasional
game at billiards or a _petit verre_, else he strays from theatre to
operas, from operas to balls, and some of the wealthier classes live for
weeks, and sometimes months, in the country in the strictest seclusion,
practising an economy amounting to penuriousness, in order that they may,
on their return to town, be enabled to gratify this passion.  The wives
of these gentlemen, continually deserted, left to themselves, and
naturally of a gay turn, which in many instances arises from a neglect of
a proper moral education, form those _liaisons_ with others, which are
publicly known and talked about with the utmost _nonchalance_, and which,
in my humble opinion, are an outrage to the name of Christianity, and a
disgrace to a nation acknowledged in every other respect to stand high in
the scale of civilization.  I cannot describe what a painful effect it
has upon the mind of Syrian strangers to witness such things countenanced
in France; they leave the country with very poor opinions of its
civilization—poorer still of its Christianity; and they disseminate these
opinions amongst our own people on their return to Syria; hence it arises
that oftentimes the poorer and more ignorant inhabitants of Syria, who
cannot distinguish one European nation from another, but who set all down
under the head of Franks, and suppose all to be of one creed and manner
of thinking, are apt to imagine that the English are only next-door to
infidels, and consequently a people to be feared, if not entirely
avoided; but this is an error which I will occupy myself in rectifying as
soon as I can find time to distribute tracts in Syria descriptive of the
laws, manners, customs, and religions, of the different nations of
Europe.

But to return to the French, or rather the middle classes of the French.
I found it almost invariably the case that should a Frenchman invite you
to a _café_, he does so in the full expectation that you in your turn
will give him a treat.  His character is inconsistency personified—he is
fickle and capricious—he enters freely into conversation with you, and
lets you into all his secrets during the first five minutes of his
acquaintance, and he entertains you with a string of personal adventures.
With him every one is _mon cher_! _mon brave_! _mon ami_!  He could kiss
and hug you on parting, and swears eternal fidelity.  The next day his
ardour has cooled—the third he restricts himself to a bow—the fourth, and
he mingles with the crowd—and you never meet him again perhaps in a
life-time.

For a ball-room society give me Paris—for a quiet untiring friend, give
me England.  And of the two my heart prefers the latter.

From France I travelled to Vienna.  After delivering my letters to the
minister in that city, I proceeded to Constantinople.  On arriving there
I took up my abode with my old friend the Emir Sayed, the grandson of the
Emir Beschir.




CHAPTER X.
STAY AT CONSTANTINOPLE.


Even at this distance of time, my spirit is filled with melancholy, when
I think of that kind friend with whom I passed the greater portion of my
time whilst at Constantinople: perhaps a description of one evening spent
in his society may be of interest.

The Emir Sayed—a wreck of greatness, whose fond dream of life’s realities
can only find an echo in the past—the shattered fragment of one born to
command—second only to a supreme sovereign—he is a helpless
broken-hearted man, supported on the alms of those who could once barely
claim the high honour of admission into his presence.  So much does
misfortune level the creatures of the Creator—so great the fall from a
princely estate to a beggarly dependence; thank God, however, even the
gloomiest hours of existence, a light, however feeble, of the brighter
hopes of life, breaks in upon the soul like an April sunbeam, and chases
from its darkened caverns all the moist drops of a tearful heart.  It was
thus with the Emir Sayed.  His favorite resort in Stamboul was a _café_,
where of an evening, furnished with a _chibūk_ and a cup of coffee, he
would sit, surrounded by his most intimate friends, and listen from hour
to hour to the marvellous or amusing tales told there nightly by
professional tale-tellers.  On such occasions it was a privilege to me to
accompany the fallen prince, for, besides the instruction I derived in
learning _au fond_ the technicalities of the Turkish language, I learnt a
lesson in the experiences of life—how to bear up against misfortunes like
a man—how to bow the head to the will of Providence, and submit to what
might appear a calamity, and still doubtless might be intended as a
safeguard or a blessing to him, whom the Great Benefactor has seen fit to
surround with troubles, lest his soul should stray from the narrow path
of righteousness.

We will now, by the reader’s permission, fancy ourselves threading the
narrow streets of the Turkish capital, following a servant, who carries a
_fannar_, or lantern.  At length we reach the _café_.  A thousand lights,
strung upon every conceivable hook, lend their enlivening brilliancy to
light up the _salon_; the open space in front is filled with attentive
auditors, all seated on diminutive stools, or carpets, all silent, all
sedate, mostly wearing beards, and every one smoking or sipping his
coffee.  We pass through a kind of human alley.  We enter the
coffee-shop: the seat at the furthermost end—the seat of honour—is always
reserved for the Emir.  “He is a Bey still, and also a stranger.”

At length we are all seated, all served, and the amusements of the
evening commence; the violin and the guitar, both have been tuned, and
the first piece commences: a short symphony of lively music, and then the
bard of the company sings a song, of which the following is a specimen:—

    Breeze of the West, I pray thee roam
    Toward my moon-faced lady’s home;
    To her my flight forlorn declare,
    Tittle by tittle, hair by hair,

    Parted from thee, thou form of grace,
    My heart hath been grief’s dwelling-place;
    And love has drawn my wandering feet,
    From grove to grove, from street to street.

    My heart, when bent on beauty’s chase,
    Ne’er found so sweet a form and face;
    Although with roving step it went,
    From house to house, from tent to tent.

    While others smile, and play, and flirt,
    This bleeding heart bemoans its hurt,
    Like a young rose, blood-stained with grief,
    Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.

    The garden where I loved to trace,
    Sweet blooming flowers in thy face,
    How _low_ and _dead_ all gardens seem,
    Alley by alley, stream by stream.

    Sweet jasmine-bosomed love,—I pray
    Fondly to heaven by night and day,
    Once more to see that form and face,
    Lip pressed to lip, and face to face.

    Of all the garden flowers that be,
    Why is the rose most dear to me?
    ’Tis that it’s like thy heart so true,
    Odour to odour, hue to hue.

    Though far from Allah’s loving sight,
    The Fates have borne my soul’s delight;
    Go, Western Breeze, this message bear,
    Where’er thou art, my heart is there!

The song is no sooner concluded, narghilies, pipes and coffee handed
round, than the story-teller’s abilities are called into requisition, and
he tells us the story of

                         “THE TAILOR AND THE SULTAN.

    “Formerly when Baghdad was flourishing, when great men sometimes
    condescended to sink themselves to a level with the common herd of
    mankind, there lived and reigned the Sultan Houssein.  He was a
    famous man and a just judge, but rather eccentric withal.  As his
    Grand Vizier had, on more than one occasion, given him cause of
    dissatisfaction, he was determined at any cost to get the cleverest
    man in the kingdom to perform the duties of that office; but he
    resorted to a curious trial of their talent.  A proclamation was
    issued, that the sultan offered the highest dignity in the empire to
    him amongst his subjects, who should be able satisfactorily to
    perform what he should require; on the other hand, the penalty in
    case of failure being, that the man so failing should forfeit his
    head.  Under such circumstances, the aspirants were not over
    numerous, but still there were not wanting ambitious men, who were
    willing to place their heads in danger for the attainment of a
    position, which perhaps they least of any of the people of the
    country were fitted for.  At last, a presumptuous tailor offered
    himself as a candidate, and was in due course ushered into the
    presence of royalty.  The poor maker of garments found the sultan
    reclining on a carpet; and, hanging on a nail in the wall of the
    room, was a solitary counterpane; and in this counterpane the
    solution of the whole of the difficulty lay—the task being to cover
    the sultan entirely over with it.  When the tailor first tried, to
    his consternation he found it too short by two good spans.  He then
    suggested that another should be introduced; but the sultan laughed
    and hooted at the idea.  At last a bright notion flashed across the
    tailor.  He had long been accustomed to the nefarious art of
    cabbaging, so he set his inventive faculties to work, to find out how
    he could best cabbage a piece from the length of the sultan’s body,
    or, in other words, reduce it into as small a compass as could
    possibly be effected.  Bethinking himself luckily of a little cane he
    usually carried in his girdle, he first covered the sultan’s head,
    his feet remaining uncovered; he removed the embroidered slippers,
    and stealthily bringing out his cane, caught the sultan a severe blow
    across the soles of his feet, that he involuntarily tucked them up,
    thus drawing himself into a sufficiently small compass, and the
    tailor, availing himself of this circumstance, instantly tucked the
    counterpane round him, and thus effectually succeeded in entirely
    covering him, at the same time telling him he must always take care
    to stretch his legs according to his covering.”

With songs and stories, such as I have given above, the time passes until
nine o’clock, at which hour most of those assembled take their departure;
and the Emir, attended as when he arrived, returns to his disconsolate
dwelling to talk over the misfortunes of other days.

Perhaps here it would not be out of place, to show the fallacy of the
opinions usually entertained in Western Europe as to the state of things
in Turkey.  People talk of the fanaticism of the Turks; and in England
more especially they seem to entertain an innate terror of the very name
of Turk.  Anything ferocious, anything ugly, and black, and dingy, is
called “like a Turk.”  Now what can undeceive this excessive ignorance
better than the conduct of the present amiable and excellent Sultan, of
whom many instances might be given, shewing the utmost liberality of
conduct towards those of his subjects professing a different creed, and
their admission to some of the most responsible public offices.  It is a
fact worthy of remark, as illustrating this toleration of spirit, that
his representatives at the courts of London, Paris, Vienna, and Berlin,
{175} have on several occasions been of the Greek faith.  Also, on the
event of the marriage of the daughter of the Prince Etienne Vogorides.
(Prince Etienne was a native of Bulgaria.  He was during ten years Prince
of Samos.  Latterly, however, he resided at Constantinople, and is high
in favour with the Sultan, who for a long time has been accessible to the
Prince at any hour; and he is a faithful devoted servant of the Sultan.
One of his daughters is married to our present respected ambassador in
London, and it is not necessary for me to inform the reader of the
manifold virtues and amiable qualities of this lady; but her father’s
excellence was such as has obtained for him a notoriety and honour
unrivalled in the annals of Mahomedan history.  When I was last at
Constantinople, a daughter of the prince, a younger sister of our
ambassadress, was married to a wealthy gentleman.)  To the astonishment
and intense gratification of every one present, His Majesty the Sultan
attended with his mother at the ceremonial, a most unprecedented act of
courtesy, and one least of all to be expected in Turkey, where the
extreme fanaticism once existing between the two creeds would, we might
have imagined, have raised an insurmountable barrier.  What is more
remarkable, the Padishah stood up; the prince seeing this, whispered the
patriarch to curtail the ceremony.  The sharp eyes of the Sultan noticed
and understood this hint, and he immediately desired the patriarch to
perform the rites as usual, as he was anxious to witness the ceremony
fully performed.  By departing on occasions such as these from the strict
rules and regulations of the Mahomedan code, and by disregarding the
reproachful remonstrances of the Ulemas, who are the most determined
advocates of perfect uniformity to their doctrines, Sultan Abdul Medjid
Khan, has evinced a strong desire to introduce a thorough social reform
into his empire, and he has hereby conciliated the good will and gained
the affection of his non-Mahomedan subjects.  Indeed, among all the
present rulers of the world, and especially those whom Providence has
endowed with ample means of improving the condition of their subjects,
the Sultan occupies a distinguished position; and to him more credit is
due for the reforms he has introduced among his people, than to any other
sovereign of the civilised globe, and for this evident reason, that in
the path he had to follow the greatest difficulties have been met with
and overcome; namely, those powerful ones which spring from religious
bigotry and prejudice.  These he has either overcome or obviated with the
utmost wisdom and perseverance.  And even her enemies are obliged to
confess that Turkey, under the rule of Abdul Medjid, is in a far more
vigorous and flourishing condition than they either believed or hoped.
And during the whole of this critical period, in which the affairs of
this empire have been agitated, what a noble example of calm and
dignified moderation has both his public and private conduct exhibited.
To the violent and uncourteous menaces of his enemy, and to the
extravagant character of his pretensions, he has opposed a conciliating,
yet firm line of policy, which has won for him the respect and support of
the more intelligent portion of Europe; and when his character becomes
better known to the English public, which it will probably in the course
of events, I feel convinced it will claim and win all the admiration it
deserves from a people whose public judgment is perhaps the most
impartial in the world.  My object is not to flatter; but I will avow,
that I wish by facts and truth to remove some of that prejudice which is
more or less associated in this country with the idea of a Turk.  What I
have said concerning my sovereign, is borne out by all intelligent
travellers who have recently visited his dominions.  For his love of
literature—for his liberal patronage of men distinguished by literary or
other merit—for his patriotism, evinced in his unceasing endeavours to
bestow on his country all the advantages to be derived from modern
scientific discovery, and for the amiability and gentleness of his
personal character, I feel no hesitation, from what I have read of them,
in ranking him with the most distinguished sovereigns of ancient
times—with Frederick of Prussia, and I will add Peter the Great.  But
while he far excels the two last in the amiability of his character and
disposition, he equals any of them in his efforts to advance the glory of
his country and the welfare of his people.

Owing to the ignorance which prevails in Europe on the subject of Turkey,
a great outcry is frequently made by many persons about events which
occur in that country, without for one moment taking into consideration
the difference in the temperament of the people, arising from their
Asiatic origin.  Our great cause of surprise, is the sudden rise of
individuals in comparatively indigent circumstances to places of great
power.  When, however, it is considered that the Orientals view the
various grades of society in another light to the Western Europeans, the
sudden aggrandisement of individuals from the lower classes will cease to
be a matter of surprise.  In Turkey, men of the noblest birth mix
indiscriminately with all ranks, and he who is possessed of wealth,
talent, or interest, may rise to offices of the greatest trust; and, as
“knowledge is power,” I can see no reason why talent should not be
brought into the notice which it merits.  As a proof of the justice and
benefit accruing from this system, I may adduce the case of a Kapudan
Pasha, whose station in life was very humble, but, being gifted with more
than ordinary abilities, he was promoted to the chief command of the
Turkish fleet, which was never better managed than whilst under his
control.  Other instances of a similar character are of frequent
occurrence, more particularly in the subordinate departments of the home
service.  A favourite eunuch, or the brother of a Georgian or Circassian
concubine or wife, has had honours suddenly and most unexpectedly
showered upon him in the civil and military service; and there are at
this date many pashas of both services, who owe their rise to similar
unforeseen but fortuitous circumstances.  It is true, many of these can
neither read nor write, but they are possessed of great power of
discernment, and are accompanied by two or three individuals who possess
sufficient education to carry out the views of their leader in a becoming
manner.  A good secretary, generally an Armenian, is an indispensable
requisite.

The evil arises here in the choice of the subordinates; who, if they be
of a bigotted and selfish turn of mind, the benevolent intentions of the
government are but imperfectly carried out, or frustrated in spite of the
most strenuous efforts.

Sultan Abdul Medjid, and his ministers, {178} deserve the highest credit
for the various attempts which have at different times been made, to
introduce a thorough reform into the financial system of the Porte.  It
is undoubtedly a herculean task, for I do not believe that there has ever
existed in any country in the world, so perfect and general a system of
corruption and extortion, on the part of the inferior officials.  Though
not oppressive in themselves, the taxes levied upon the people have, in
consequence, become an intolerable yoke.  Every village and individual
taxed generally pays much more than the legitimate amount ordered to be
levied by the government.  The emirs and district governors, the sheikhs,
kekhiahs, and heads of the tribes, live upon the villagers, and oblige
the poor tenant-farmers to furnish their establishments with horses and
servants, and practise other extortions.  To meet these urgent exactions,
the poor villagers are obliged annually to raise loans guaranteed on the
ensuing season’s crops at a most usurious rate of interest, as high as
from twenty-five to thirty-five and forty per cent. per annum, either
from wealthy Jews, Armenians, or Greeks, and formerly even many of the
protegés of the different European consulates took advantage of this
state of things, and fattened upon the misfortunes and miseries of the
poor peasants, over whom they rode roughshod.  The existence of so
terrible an evil could not long remain unknown to the inquiring mind of
the Sultan, and though his sources of correct information have
necessarily been meagre, he acquired an insight into it, sufficient to
convince him of the necessity for a change.  Accordingly, he ordered
certain taxes to be abolished, others to be reduced; and he, above all,
is endeavouring to organise an honest and simple system of collection.
To this end all his ministers and employés have been obliged, before
taking office, to promise, upon oath, to discharge their several duties
impartially and justly; above all, not to receive bribes in any shape.
He has been foiled to a great extent in these attempts; and hence may be
derived the clearest and simplest explanation of the financial
embarrassments of his government.  _Apropos_ of this, I may quote from
the letter of a friend, which has just come to hand.

“Everybody seems to imagine that the speedy downfall of Turkey is
inevitable, that its doom is all but sealed, and that she is passing as
rapidly as she can into the hands of Russia.  But it ought to be well
known in Western Europe, that the so-much-talked-of balance of power in
the East, cannot be thus so easily or so recklessly sacrificed by the two
great powers, England and France.  The jealousy of these powers is a
sufficient safeguard for Turkey; and they will protect her from any
aggression on the part of Russia or Austria on her rights and territory;
and it is to me evident that Russia’s long course of policy with regard
to the Ottoman empire in Turkey, will be frustrated from a quarter whence
she may least expect it.”

That which, in my opinion, establishes the resources and vitality of the
Turkish empire is, that if one of the serious struggles to which it has
been exposed for the last forty years, were to have happened to any other
power, it would either have crippled it or caused its entire destruction.
Turkey, on the contrary, has, during this space of time, experienced the
severest trials, as, for instance, the Greek revolution, the destruction
of the Janissaries in 1826 (who at that time constituted her army), the
annihilation of her fleet at Navarino, the protracted war with Russia,
the civil war with Egypt, and the many partial outbreaks caused by the
machinations of European powers; in spite of all these, so far from
sinking, Turkey, at this time possesses, besides irregular troops and
auxiliaries, a regular and well-disciplined army and a splendid fleet,
and is endeavouring still further to increase, and re-establish peace,
and internal security; and also to find the best means of enriching her
treasury without burdening her subjects; and I trust, that, under the
beneficial government of the present benign Sultan, and his enlightened
ministers (in spite of the fanatical party), Turkey will yet make great
progress in civilisation and all its concomitant blessings.  At least, if
she does not, it will not be for want of exertion on the part of Abdul
Medjid to introduce into his empire a thorough reform, himself setting an
example to his subjects of forbearance and goodly feeling towards the
many sects dwelling within the boundaries of his empire.  The truth of
these views has been amply proved by the gallant resistance offered by
Turkey at the present crisis to the unjust aggressions of Russia.

Just before leaving Constantinople, a circumstance occurred which created
quite a sensation amongst all classes and creeds.  An Armenian girl, the
daughter of very respectable parents, formed a secret attachment to a
young Moslem, in the service of the Sultan.  The lovers managed to
contrive interviews without exciting the suspicion of the girl’s friends;
and eventually the girl fled to her lover, embraced the Mahommedan faith,
and was regularly married to him.  Sometime after they had been married,
the young girl went to call upon her mother, most probably without her
husband’s consent.  The mother and all her relations bemoaning with many
tears her apostasy, implored of the girl not to return to her husband,
but to be received once again into her mother church.  The girl, overcome
by emotion for the moment, yielded a ready consent; and for her better
security, it was agreed that she should be placed within the Armenian
asylum.  This was accordingly done, and the husband made vain search for
his missing bride.  Meanwhile the young lady got tired of her
confinement, and very possibly of the treatment she received from the
over-zealous attendants at the asylum, and accordingly contrived, through
the window of the room where she was confined, to convey a message to her
husband.  The husband immediately complained to the authorities; who
without delay demanded the girl of the bishop.  The prelate at first
denied any knowledge of the person in question.  A military force was
then sent to bring her away at any hazard; and a parley commenced between
the commandant and the bishop, in which the latter gave his _parole
d’honneur_, that if the troops were withdrawn he would conduct the girl
himself next day before the divan, and she should there declare publicly,
which of the two faiths she of her own free will would wish to embrace.
Meanwhile the ambassadors of all European powers had exerted themselves
on the woman’s behalf, but all to no purpose.  Next day she was brought
up trembling before the divan, to answer the important question about to
be put her.  Most of the European authorities were present, and so was
the husband; and no sooner did her eye meet his again, than all her
resolution failed her; and so powerful was the effect of her love, that
she relinquished parents, family, friends, creed, and nation, all for his
sake; and when asked the question, to which creed she gave the
preference, her reply was—“_I am a Moslem_, _the wife of a Moslem_, _and
I will live and die as such_.”  This settled the affair at once.  The
Turk took his wife to his house back again, and the poor bishop
sorrowfully withdrew, lamenting as he went along the unfavourable result
of the affair.

Before quitting the subject of my sojourn at Stamboul, I cannot forget
the great kindness I received from Alfred Churchill, the proprietor of
the Turkish newspaper, “Djeridei Havadis,” which he supplies with
translations, by himself, of the leading topics of European news.

The father of this gentleman was an English merchant established there.
Being very fond of shooting, it happened one day that on sport intent, he
crossed to seek his game on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus—I would
observe that a prejudice exists among the more bigoted natives against
Europeans crossing the straits—our gallant sportsman was also
unfortunately somewhat short-sighted, and as one does not commonly shoot
in spectacles, nor employ that species of eye-glass which some of the
young English ladies are so fond of bringing to bear upon any object of
their curiosity, the natural consequence was that Mr. Churchill fell into
a misadventure, and unluckily wounded a Turkish child.  This of course,
brought the relations and friends, and indeed the whole neighbourhood
upon him, who attacked him with sticks, stones, and slippers, and
anything at hand.  After half killing him, they dragged him off to
prison.  This was a natural, perhaps a deserved, punishment for going
about and taking bad aims in dangerous localities.

His ambassador made a dreadful noise about this mishap.  Colonel --- was
sent from England to enquire into the circumstances, who very fairly
reported that our friend was certainly wrong, considering the state of
his vision, to be shooting near the place, and the Turks were also to
blame for the manner of their attack.

But the government of Turkey, after all the trouble and correspondence it
caused them, nobly and generously allowed him a reparation, namely, the
privilege of trading duty free in salt, which put several thousands into
his pocket.




CHAPTER XI.
EGYPT.


Resuming my narrative, my readers will be interested by a slight sketch
of Egypt.  This country, now called by the natives “Messir,” was styled,
in the Hebrew Scriptures, “The land of Mizraim”—a strange similarity in
the two names, which places it beyond a doubt that, however much the face
of the country may have been changed since the days of Moses and the
children of Israel, and though consecutively under the sway of
governments and people whose language and dialects varied in the extreme,
the same original name has been faithfully preserved, though corrupted
and abbreviated by various pronunciations given to it by various people.
A land of troubles and misery it has been through many long centuries,
from the fearful days when Aaron’s rod manifested the supreme power of
the God of Abraham before the eyes of an unbelieving and stiff-necked
people, down to within the last few years.  The frightful devastations
committed by the plague, and the extermination of the Mameluke power;
these have been the last manifest outpourings of the wrath of God.  Let
us hope that the full cup of indignation has been poured out and emptied
to the dregs; and that the prophetic words of Isaiah have been fulfilled
as far as regards the curse, and that the predicted blessing is about to
fall upon the land.  “The Lord shall smite Egypt: he shall smite and heal
it; and they shall return to the Lord, and he shall heal them,” etc.
(Isaiah xix. 22–25).

The striking allusion made to the fertility of the soil of Egypt in Gen.
xli. 47—“The earth brought forth by handfuls”—is still exemplified by the
produce.  Corn is so plentiful, that cargoes are annually shipped for the
maintenance of other lands, and when the famine was sorely felt in the
neighbouring countries, whole fleets of vessels, laden with corn from
Alexandria, brought to England timely succour to starving multitudes, and
enriched the coffers of not a few speculative merchants, who made the
miseries of their fellow-beings a means of advancing their own welfare in
the world.

There is little doubt but that Egypt has made great strides in
civilisation under the sway of the present enlightened viceroy; for we
have daily evidence of her continued improvement.  Abbas Pasha is now
only about forty-five years of age; he is the son of the eldest son of
Mahomet Ali Pasha, and, therefore, according to the Egyptian rule, which
gives precedence to the brother or his children, became entitled to the
throne after the decease of Ibrahim, whose children, in some countries,
would have been considered lawful successors.  Abbas Pasha, unlike his
predecessor, whose habits greatly contributed to curtail his life, is a
man of very moderate and temperate style of living; he has but one wife,
and, by this lady, an only son, now about twelve years of age.  At the
recommendation of the honorable Mr. Murray, the late British
consul-general in Egypt, the viceroy sent to England to engage a tutor
for the education of this son in English, and Mr. Artin, an English
lawyer, was the lucky individual fixed upon.

No sooner had Mr. Artin arrived in Egypt, than Abbas Pasha promoted him
to the dignity of Bey, and he now ranks amongst the nobles of the land.
The Pasha having set the example himself, strongly recommended all his
ministers to have their children educated in like manner; and I have
little doubt but that this good advice will, in the course of time, be
adopted.  He also sends annually a number of young men to England to be
educated, who naturally take back with them a strong predilection for the
people with whom they have for some time resided.  This will tend greatly
to introduce a love of English civilisation and improvements in the
country.

Amongst other improvements, Abbas Pasha has built himself a magnificent
palace, Darr il Bedah, midway between Cairo and Suez.  This good work
excited the satire and spleen of the French people, who insisted that it
was an act of insanity, throwing away money upon such a palace, situated
in the desert; but, apart from its having given occupation and bread to
thousands of starving inhabitants, the very fact of the Pasha making this
place his favourite summer resort, has drawn the attention of the natives
to the capabilities of the soil in the neighbourhood, and the place, from
being a barren wilderness, is being rapidly brought into cultivation;
villages are springing up; and, in addition to all this, the roads have
been put into excellent order—not a trifling boon conferred upon the vast
number of English travellers that are continually crossing this desert.

The steamers on the Nile, and the railway now in course of construction,
are still greater proofs of the Pasha’s enlightened and civilised mind.
Abdallah Pasha, an Englishman who some time since embraced Mahomedanism,
was appointed director of the transit, and the Pasha promoted him to that
grade because he thought no one else competent to discharge the duties of
the post.  The truth of the matter is, that the English never commanded
greater influence than they do at this present day in Egypt; they are
looked up to and considered as everybody and everything; and for this
they have much to thank the able and honourable Mr. Murray.  To give an
example of how far this influence with the Pasha extended, I may mention
that, some time since, two hundred Copts were compelled to enlist as
soldiers.  Now these Copts are Christians, and their sufferings amongst
the Moslem Fellahs can be more readily conceived than described; their
friends and families succeeded in interesting Mr. Murray on their behalf,
who interceded with the Pasha; and the result was, that they were
immediately discharged from the army.  But to shew how much and how
sincerely Abbas Pasha appreciates the worth of such a man as the late
British consul-general, the best proof I can give is, that when a sad
calamity befell Mr. Murray, and his amiable lady died, the viceroy
ordered all his ministers and head officials to go into mourning for her,
and to follow her remains to the grave.  Such a funeral was never
witnessed in modern Egypt.  All the nobles of the land, and the first
gentry, without distinction of creed, with black crape round their left
arms and round their red caps, following in mournful procession this
highly respected English lady to her grave.  If a potentate had died,
greater honours could not have been rendered; this act is without
precedent in the East.

During my stay in Egypt, I resided with my kind friend Mr. Raphael Abet.
Mr. Abet is one of three brothers; they were from Syria, and eventually
settled in Egypt.  These three brothers were all eminent for their piety
and their charity.  One unfortunately died prematurely; but he has left
behind him an undying name, having bequeathed an immense fortune for the
support of charity schools and other similar philanthropic institutions.
The brother, of whose kind hospitalities I so abundantly partook during
my sojourn in Egypt (and whom I cannot refrain from thanking through the
medium of these pages), is equally well known for his benevolence and
good deeds.  On the occasion of the revolution in Greece, in 1823, when
the Turks took several females and children prisoners, and carried them
away to be sold as captives in other countries, several of these
unfortunates found a friend and deliverer in Mr. Abet.  Not a few of the
captives were carried into Egypt, and there sold.  Many of these were, at
a great outlay, purchased by him, who treated them in every respect as
though they had been his own children; he fed, clothed, and educated
them, and eventually they married and settled comfortably in life.  One
of the Messrs. Abet is now established in London as a mercantile man; and
I am sure all who know him will bear me out in pronouncing him to be a
good man and a devout Christian.

Whilst on the subject of Egyptian friends and acquaintances, I must not
neglect to mention the name of that good man Mr. Larking, who has left
behind him in Egypt many a souvenir of which any Englishman might well be
proud; his name is gratefully remembered by all classes in Egypt, from
the viceroy himself down to the meanest peasant.  Mr. Larking, on first
establishing himself in Egypt, so ingratiated himself with the Pasha,
that in a very short time he was permitted to purchase whole villages,
over which he ruled with as absolute sway as any Egyptian landowner.  The
country round these villages he soon brought into the richest state of
cultivation: and so lenient a master, one under whom they reaped so many
hitherto unheard-of benefits, made the peasants almost adore the name of
Mr. Larking.  Not only did he ameliorate the condition of his own land by
the introduction of a superior method of cultivation, but he conferred a
boon upon the whole of Egypt by procuring at some expense and trouble,
the Sea-Island cotton seed, which has succeeded beyond the most sanguine
expectations, and for the sample of it, which was shewn at the Great
Exhibition, Mr. Larking obtained the prize.  The viceroy was, of course,
much gratified and pleased at this; and he has bestowed many costly gifts
on Mr. Larking as expressive of his approbation; besides which, that
gentleman has been appointed to act as the Viceroy’s confidential agent
in England.  This is only one of the many instances in which commoners
have been raised to a high rank by Mehemet Ali Pasha, who being of
obscure origin, took delight in raising to power those whose personal
merits and talents brought them before his notice.  Amongst the Viceroy’s
favourites was one who particularly deserves our notice, viz., the late
Boghas Bey.  An Armenian by birth, and of no great opulence or particular
parentage, Boghas Bey was possessed of all those good qualities which
cannot fail to endear one even to the most savage breast: his charities
were proverbial even to the detriment of his own personal interest.  Step
by step he rose in the Viceroy’s favour, till he had so far ingratiated
himself with the Pasha, that Boghas was created a Bey, and had other high
distinctions conferred upon him.  He might have accumulated immense
wealth, for the Viceroy’s heart and hand were ever open to confer great
benefits upon him, but Boghas Bey preferred to serve his master
gratuitously; and even the produce of the gifts of land forced upon his
acceptance, went towards the maintenance of the poor, and many widows and
orphans bless his name even to this day.  But to shew how dangerous it is
to be a favourite at Oriental courts, and how it subjects one to the vile
jealousies of courtiers, even Boghas, favourite as he was, was well nigh
falling a victim to the viceroy’s susceptibility and the villany of
others.  Some miscreants had misrepresented his character and actions to
the Pasha, who, in a paroxysm of rage, ordered an officer in attendance
to go instantly to the supposed delinquent’s house, and have him drowned
in the Nile.  As good fortune would have it, Boghas had on some previous
occasion saved this very officer’s head, and the man gratefully
remembering this, hid Boghas in his own house, intending to facilitate
his escape to some other country.  This was a bold stroke, and one worthy
of great praise.  Next morning the viceroy was sadly out of spirits; his
wrath had not only calmed down, but circumstances had actually transpired
which cleared his favourite of all suspicion.  Great then was the
viceroy’s consternation and grief on being informed that his orders had
been executed to the letter: he tore his beard and gave way to
exclamations of such sincere sorrow, that the officer took courage to
prostrate himself at the viceroy’s feet, and explain how matters really
stood.  It is needless to say that he was readily pardoned, and Boghas
received into higher favour than ever.  At last, however, a sterner
executioner than the one sent by the Pasha knocked at Boghas Bey’s door.
Death came armed, and the good man died, to the universal sorrow of the
Pasha and all Cairo.  Such had been his munificence during his lifetime,
that at his death he was almost a bankrupt.  The viceroy, determined to
carry his esteem to the last, ordered him a public funeral, at which all
the Egyptian officials and European consuls and merchants were invited to
attend.  So that Boghas was buried with honours such as are rarely paid
to a prince in that country.

Of course during my stay in Egypt, I had often opportunities of visiting
all the known antiquities, and amongst others the celebrated Pyramids,
those noble testimonies of the bygone splendour of the land, and whose
age and founders seem destined ever to remain a mystery.  A friend of
mine, a great antiquarian, and one deeply read in profane and sacred
history, used to delight in holding forth to me his speculations as to
their origin.  His opinion was, that it must be erroneous to imagine that
these pyramids were the handiwork of the Israelites.  In support of this
argument he quoted from many authorities, and amongst others from a
well-known traveller who saw at one place the people making bricks with
straw cut into small pieces, mingled with the clay to bind it.  Hence it
is, that when villages built of this brick fall into decay, the roads are
full of small particles of straw, extremely offensive to the eyes in a
high wind.  These persons were engaged, exactly as the Israelites used to
be, making bricks with straw, and for a similar purpose, viz„ to build
extensive granaries for the Pasha—“_treasure cities for Pharaoh_.”  Hence
my friend argued that the Israelites laboured in making bricks, not in
hewing stones such as the pyramids are constructed with; but I do not
pretend to enter into any argument upon so learned and obscure a subject:
I certainly was surprised at the magnificence of their structure, and
often wondered within myself where the stones came from, by what means
they were transported, and by what now unknown force or lever such huge
blocks were raised up one above another, and so left a firm memento
through centuries, despite convulsions of the earth, to stand forth as
objects of surprise and admiration to the visitors of the present
generation.

With regard to the climate of Egypt, I believe it to be as good as many
parts of Syria, though the heat is certainly more intense, and even I
myself suffered from languor and oppression; but then the mornings and
evenings fully recompense you for the sultrier heat of the day, and I
never recollect to have enjoyed a summer’s moonlight night more than I
did upon the Nile.  The European residents in general enjoy excellent
health; and few that have resided there long would wish to change their
method of living, or the country they live in.

In Cairo, the Consular Square contains many very handsome buildings,
inhabited principally by the consuls of various nations, and some of the
more wealthy European merchants.  With my friend Mr. Walne, the British
Consul at Cairo, I have spent many a pleasant hour, and for his great
kindness and hospitality, I am glad to have an opportunity of thus
publicly thanking him.  Mr. W. is the head of the Egyptian Society, who
have a very fine library, consisting chiefly of works relating to the
antiquities and country of Egypt.  The valuable books contained in this
library are at all times, with perfect goodwill, placed at the disposal
of strangers; and I gratefully acknowledge having derived useful
information and amusement from the well-stocked shelves of this
institution.

A great source of comfort to English families residing in Egypt, is the
punctual regularity with which the European mails arrive and depart; for,
besides meeting almost weekly with swarms of their countrymen and fair
countrywomen flocking to and from India, they have constantly fresh news
from home, and can, upon any great emergency, transport themselves from
the warm clime of Egypt to their own much-loved foggy island within the
fortnight.  Besides this, they are continually receiving newspapers from
all parts of the world possessing the advantage over England of being
cognisant of Indian and Australian news a fortnight before such
intelligence could reach London; and this for merchants connected by
trade with both places, must naturally be of paramount importance.

During winter, the Europeans at Cairo are much given to festivities;
dinner-parties and balls and soirées are then the order of the day, and
great good feeling exists amongst the residents.  Even private
theatricals have been attempted; but it is during the Carnival that Cairo
resounds with merriment, and masques and grotesque-looking figures, with
torches and music, parade the streets from house to house till long after
midnight, few enjoying the fun better than the native Cairines
themselves.  The gentlemen have shooting parties and coursing matches;
the ladies ride out in the environs; they have healthy exercise, good
houses, and the best of fare—all the productions of the East blended with
the luxuries imported from European markets; and in this respect, as well
as in conversing with and meeting more frequently ladies and gentlemen of
their own nation, the English at Cairo possess advantages over the
English in Syria.  All the former have to complain of is the sultry heat
of the weather, whilst the latter are isolated, and bemoan their solitude
and the great lack of intelligent society.

On leaving Egypt, I came back to England _viâ_ Marseilles.  I had barely
arrived at this latter port before I again had the misfortune of coming
into contact with the gendarmes.  On a former occasion, as the reader may
recollect, I got into a scrape by inadvertently emptying a basin of water
out of the hotel window over the head and shoulders of a fiery French
officer.  This time I had brought with me a little parcel of tobacco, to
distribute amongst a few of my friends.  They wanted to make out a case
of smuggling against me; but no sooner did I produce my passport, to shew
that I was attached to the Turkish embassy, than these officious
officials changed their conduct, and quite overpowered me with their
civilities.  Truly Marseilles is an unlucky place for me.  I here also
had a sample of the bad management of travelling in France.  I took a
first-class ticket direct from Marseilles to Paris by diligence.  On my
arrival at Lyons, I was told that I must remain until next morning,
unless I consented to travel in an inferior part of the carriage.  This,
notwithstanding my urgent remonstrances, I was compelled to do, owing to
the necessity of my being in Paris by a certain date; and, though exposed
to many inconveniences, I was so fortunate as to arrive there in time.
My stay at Paris was limited to a few days, and I then came on to London
and delivered my despatches to his excellency our respected ambassador,
who immediately recognised me as one of his suite, and who has ever since
continued to treat me with the greatest urbanity.  So soon as my official
duties permitted, I went the round of my kind friends in London, and
amongst others, was delighted to see the Honourable George Massey, my old
and well-tried friend, who insisted upon my taking up my abode at his
house, where I remain surrounded by every comfort and luxury that
kindness and forethought can provide, and happy in the enjoyment of the
society of a genuine English family.

The handsome present of horses lately sent by Abbas Pasha to the Queen of
England, clearly testifies the good feeling existing between the two
governments, and how much the viceroy wishes to keep up those friendly
feelings so successfully cultivated and maintained.  One of the horses
above alluded to is of the largest and most valuable and rare breed; and
there is little doubt but that the English nation will hereafter be
indebted to Abbas Pasha for the possession of a breed of horses now
unknown in England.  The horses were sent to this country under the
charge of Nubar Bey, an Armenian, a native of Smyrna, a relative of
Boghas Bey, who is much esteemed by the Pasha and the Egyptians.  He
received a first-rate education in Europe, and speaks several of its
languages with fluency; he accompanied Ibrahim Pasha on his visit to this
country a few years back as interpreter-secretary, and since that time
has visited several European courts on various diplomatic missions, and
now holds a high appointment under the Egyptian government.

The grooms who accompanied these horses were much astonished on seeing
the Queen; they could not believe that so mild and gentle a lady could be
possessed of such power and influence over the whole world; they were
confident she must have a most clever magician in her employ, through
whose arts she had attained so elevated a rank, and won such a share of
their viceroy’s admiration.  When they called to see me at
Cambridge-square, amongst other articles of furniture, etc., which
attracted their attention and admiration, was a little mantle-piece
ornament, representing the three graces, of exquisite workmanship; they
immediately set these down as household gods of the English, and it was
with difficulty I could convince them to the contrary, and assure them
that these, in common with many other nic-nacs, were simply used as
ornaments to the room.  These poor fellows were very grateful for the
kindness shewn them by Mr. Massey and his family, who procured for them
tickets of admission to many of the most interesting sights in London;
and after partaking of his hospitality, they returned in a few days to
Egypt, begging me to assure my friend and his family that, if ever he
chanced to travel in Egypt, they hoped to have it in their power to shew
him the antiquities of that country; and, though they could not boast of
so magnificent a seraijah, or such furniture, or such sumptuous fare,
still a good pillaf, a chibuk of tobacco, and a finjan of coffee, should
be always at his disposal.  Mr. Massey was much pleased at the simple
good nature of these people.  Before taking leave, I asked them their
opinion of England and its people.  They replied, both were wonderful;
but they still preferred their own native country.  That the English
thought but of the present, and lived for this world alone; but that they
looked forward to a hereafter, in which they hoped to be amply
recompensed by all the sensual enjoyments a Mahomedan paradise promises
for the numerous mortifications now endured in the flesh.




CHAPTER XII.
VISITS TO LADY ROLLE AND TO BATH AND CHELTENHAM.


Engaged in completing my manuscript preparatory to publication, I had
devoted myself unweariedly to the task, and was about to correct the few
last pages, when I was hindered by an invitation to pay a visit at Bicton
in Devonshire, and there to recruit my health a little after my labour.
Having accepted it, I purpose, for the present, to give a short account
of my visit there; also to Bath and Cheltenham, which afforded me great
pleasure, and which I hope will interest my readers.

Lady Rolle had kindly invited me to visit her at Merton, which invitation
I was very glad to accept; and I left London by an express train in full
anticipation of much enjoyment.  I had often heard the gardens at Bicton
described as amongst the finest in this county; no pen, however, can do
justice to their attractions, and the loveliness of the surrounding
scenery, which burst forth in all the majesty of a warm spring day,
agreeably contrasting with the dark and murky atmosphere of London.

The rapidity of travelling by an express train really seems magical.  If
I were to write to my friends in the East and tell them I had travelled
about two hundred miles within five hours, they would at once come to the
conclusion that my head was turned like the unfortunate Druse Sheikh to
whom I have alluded before.  An Indian friend who was residing with me
near a railway station, always compared the approach of the express train
to that of Satan himself, rushing through the land direct from the
infernal regions; a simile, according to my notions, not at all bad.

As soon as I had arrived at Exeter, I found a fly waiting for me, when I
took my seat by the driver, preferring it to the closeness of an inside
seat.  I observed a great number of boys who indulged in various remarks
concerning my beard, dress, etc., and frequently called after me “Kossoo!
Kossoo!” the meaning of which puzzled me not a little.  I thought they
meant the discoverer of the plant of that name so lately recommended for
its medicinal properties, thinking they meant some allusion to my having
studied medicine.  In my perplexity I asked the driver for an
explanation.  “Why, maister, you sees they’ve never afore seed any
foreign gentlemen like yourself, but that ’ere one they calls Kossoo, so
they ’sposes you be he.”  The subsequent conversation between the driver
and myself turned upon Kossuth’s merits.  On my asking him if he had ever
seen the Hungarian governor, “No, maister, I wishes I could send such
publican foreigners into the sea instead of having them in our country.”
I told him that this is not the way in which we treat foreigners in our
country, he replied, “You be come from the Holy Land which be’ant our
country.”

After a beautiful drive we arrived at the park-gates, where I was
welcomed by the presence of a herd of beautiful deer, who seemingly were
as inquisitive as human beings, they would not, however, permit me to
approach them, but bounded gracefully away, thinking no doubt that so
strange a looking being as myself should be first acknowledged and
welcomed by their fair owner ere they would deign to become familiar with
me.  On arriving within sight of the mansion, I was struck with its fine
appearance and noble proportions, and scarcely believed that any private
individual could be the possessor of such a magnificent residence, which
resembled more a royal palace than a country-seat of an English nobleman.
I charged the driver with bringing me to a wrong place, but he resolutely
persisted in affirming that this was the seat of Lady Rolle.  On my
arrival, a great many houris simultaneously appeared at the window, with
what seemed to me to be wands; but soon the truth flashed upon me, and I
discovered that the houris which my imagination had conjured up, were no
other than Lady Rolle and her fair guests, who were amusing themselves
with a game of billiards.  The noble mistress of the mansion immediately
introduced me to a large assemblage of wit, beauty, and fashion.

It would be difficult to describe the various charms of this truly
magnificent seat, placed in the midst of scenery of the most enchanting
loveliness.  The noble park in which it stands studded with giant trees,
that appear to be the children of centuries, spreads over a wide extent,
and presents the most pleasing variety.  The grounds which more
immediately surround it are beautifully laid out, and in their taste and
arrangement reflect the character of its noble mistress.  The mansion
itself is placed on the crest of a gentle hill; the splendour, the
comfort, the hospitality, which are to be met with within its walls,
formed altogether a scene well calculated to strike and astonish the
Eastern pilgrim, who for the first time beheld it.  Day by day, as the
place grew more familiar, new treasures would rise upon my bewildered and
wondering eyes.  In the grounds there is a beautiful arboretum, which I
believe contains every specimen of tree likely to reward the trouble of
cultivation, and arranged with regard to its botanical classification.
The various green-houses and hot-houses filled with the choicest flowers
and fruits of tropical climates, delight the eye and inform the mind;
and, thanks to the presiding care that overlooks and regulates the whole,
all in the highest state of cultivation.  Here, in the compass of a few
miles, and belonging to one possessor, the plants and shrubs of the most
distant countries (among others I noticed the coffee and banana) are
brought together, and under the fostering care of art and intelligence,
made to live and flourish in the greatest luxuriance.  Among the
numberless things which won my admiration, I will add the mention of a
lofty tower which is built in one part of the grounds, and which is
reached by a pretty drive through a wood of pine, and from whose top a
view of the most magnificent kind presents itself, of hill and dale, wood
and meadow; and a little distance, bounding the prospect at one point,
the blue sea may be seen, adding another beauty to the landscape.

Never, in short, have I seen anything to rival this lovely human
paradise, though I have had the pleasure of travelling through many
English counties.  I must leave my kind and indulgent reader to draw
largely on his imaginative powers, and in thought translate himself to
some fairy land, where nature’s beauties revel and disport in all their
glory, and exhibit to the view of the entranced beholders all that is
grand, beautiful, and ennobling.  At Bicton time sped rapidly on, as time
always will speed when spent in such charming and agreeable society.  Our
usual daily routine was prayers at half-past eight A.M., at which all the
guests and servants attended, when her ladyship read the prayers herself.
What an example thought I to thousands of the aristocracy of Europe!
After prayers we repaired to the breakfast parlour, where a sumptuous
repast was always provided.  After the meal, the company separated into
different parties—some for a drive, some for a walk, whilst others went
shooting or fishing.  At one, all usually re-assembled and partook of an
excellent lunch; afterwards, there were billiards, bagatelle, and books;
in short, each did as he thought fit.  We dined, and after that there was
abundance of amusement; in the evening, the ladies delighted us by
playing and singing.

Towards the close of my visit, I may inform the reader that my own stock
of amusements were varied (I am happy to say that it was towards the end
of my stay), by the discovery that two of her ladyship’s guests, Mr. P---
and Mr. W---, were skilful with their pencils, and insisted upon handing
me down to posterity in their sketch-books, so that I was suddenly
assailed right and left (I think it must have been a concerted plan
between them for their mutual convenience), which kept me pretty quiet in
attendance to be sure—to their ease and my dis-ease.  Mr. W---, not
content with conferring on me the above advantage, insists on the further
distinction of hanging me up at the exhibition—a sentence which I really
believe he will carry into execution.

The time thus passed pleasantly away, and the recollection of these
delightful hours will always be vividly engraven on my mind.  Amongst the
performers on the piano was one who, _par excellence_, was divine: this
was a Miss W---.  We often had a round game invented by Mr. P---.
Something similar to “My Lady’s Toilet,” only more refined.

Lady Rolle kindly introduced me, during my residence at her abode, to a
Mrs. P--- of Exeter, with whom I had a long conversation respecting the
Greek church and the state of female education in Syria.  I have heard
that her daughters often visited the poor cottagers, with a view to
improve and ameliorate their condition, a custom I am happy to find
becoming very prevalent among the upper classes in England during the
last few years.  I wish some philanthropic young ladies would follow
their good example, and make a step still further by setting out on a
crusade against the ignorance of their sex in Syria.

On the grounds attached to the mansion, my hostess has built a very
beautiful tower filled with valuable and rare samples of china; it
resembles an Indian pagoda.  This amiable lady has also built a very fine
church in memory of her husband, and also a mausoleum.  But what
surprised me still more was to find a cottage on her grounds which was
paved entirely with sheep’s knucklebones—a novel spectacle to me, and
very ingenious and curious.

Whilst at Bicton, I heard a very amusing anecdote about an Eastern
princess, who it appears had come there on a visit from London, and was
much noticed by the nobility.  This lady was very fond of vegetables and
fruit, and in order the more freely to gratify her appetite, she used to
rise early and go into the garden, and amongst other delicacies, she
never spared the young onions, of which she was exceedingly fond.  The
gardener could not account for the depredations committed on his
_potager_ till accident led him to discover the mystery.  One day he
locked the gate before the princess returned from her morning walk, and
consequently she remained there some considerable time, and had to
breakfast and dine off her favourite vegetables.  At length, after a long
search, the gardener heard her crying out, and accordingly released her.

One day during this agreeable visit was devoted to a drive to Exeter to
see the cathedral, gaol, and hospital, with which I was much interested.
I must here bestow a passing note of admiration on her ladyship’s
“turnout,” which conveyed us to the town: suffice it to say that it was
appointed in the best English style, and with four fine horses of
imposing stature, with their gay silver trappings and postillions, made
an excellent _coup d’œil_.  With the architecture of the cathedral I was
particularly struck, on account of its resemblance to the old churches in
Syria.  I much admired the small paintings in fresco underneath the
organ, which I was told had only recently been discovered, and these were
very similar to those in our churches throughout my country, and which
may be seen at the present day.  After having inspected the cathedral, I
visited the gaol, which pleased me from being kept so scrupulously clean;
and I highly approved of the regulations and rules which were laid down
and enforced.  But one circumstance in particular pained me very much,
that was to find a child only eight years of age imprisoned for arson.  I
was told that he was much happier in gaol than at home.  Before leaving I
visited the female department, which was equally clean and well arranged,
and all the women were usefully occupied.  Upon enquiring of the governor
of the gaol whether the female prisoners gave him much trouble, his
answer was, “I would rather have to do with a dozen men than one woman.”
This speech rather startled me, and, as it was time to return to Bicton,
I left Exeter, having been highly gratified and pleased with my visit.
During my stay in the neighbourhood, as we proceeded though the village,
many and very amusing conjectures were made concerning my country and
station.  By some I was considered no less a personage than a Persian
prince; others deemed me a Turkish Pasha, whilst many even exalted me so
high as to be somewhat of more importance—an Indian Rajah.  Soon after, I
bade adieu to Bicton, but not without deep regret and sorrow at leaving
our amiable and hospitable friend and her assembled guests.

From Bicton I proceeded to Bath.  It was about mid-day when I started;
the weather was lovely, and forcibly brought to my mind the contrast
between the murky and ungenial atmosphere which pervaded London when I
left it, and the bright clear air of this favoured portion of England.
Could my readers, who spend so much of their time in the metropolis, have
felt as I did on this morning, when the sweet breeze, wafting the odours
of the fresh-turned earth, seemed to breathe health upon the cheek, and
purity and peace into the heart, they could never again declare that the
country possessed no charms.  Contemplate but the rising of day’s bright
luminary, which in the west of England is especially glorious, making its
appearance as it does from behind lofty and undulating lines of hills,
overlooking the loveliest of valleys, which must in spring present more
the appearance of a Syrian glen than anything I have hitherto seen.  The
verdant moss, the delicate white violet, and the modest primrose, which
hid their loveliness beneath a variety of trees, and amongst them the
first that puts forth its blossoms is the sallow, whose yellow downy buds
emit a honeyed odour, all combine to constitute this beautiful part of
England a very Garden of Eden in which an humble mind might dwell for
ever.

The impression produced on my mind by these scenes, was very similar to
that which so painfully affects the Swiss, when in a foreign country he
is reminded of his wild and mountainous home.  I felt all the sensations
of the indescribable “mal de pays.”

But I must proceed on my journey.  I entered the railway carriage, and
quick as lightning sped from all those who had shewn me so much kindness
and attention, and to whom I shall often travel back in thought to dwell
with grateful satisfaction and delight on this happy period of my life.
Should any of my readers, who have not yet visited Bath, have occasion
hereafter to do so, they will not fail, as I was, to be struck with the
picturesque appearance which meets the eye just before arriving at this
beautiful city; the numerous pretty meadows—the spires of churches rising
here and there to remind the beholder that he is in a Christian
country—richly cultivated pleasure grounds surrounding neat villas—the
village inn and its busy scene—carriages, omnibuses, and vehicles of
every description, travelling in all directions, giving to this fair city
of the west a miniature resemblance to the mighty metropolis in a far
more agreeable sense.

But now the engine begins to slacken its pace; the shrill whistle sounds,
and the heavy train, though seeming to grow tired yet reluctant to rest,
arrives at the terminus.  All now is hurry and bustle; friends, parents,
assistants, are on the platform, eager to welcome or render their aid, as
the case may be, yet provokingly kept back by the railings, which are
pertinaciously kept for a while closed.  At last all are free; and Bath,
that elegant city, with its beautiful surrounding hills, and dazzling
white houses, and decorated architectural public buildings, now bursts
upon the view; the smoke curling upwards towards the clear atmosphere,
dispersing ere it reaches the azure sky.  The mildness of the climate
surprised me, and particularly the warm mineral springs.  There is an
idea prevalent in Syria, that England being an island, there are no
springs, that all the streams are brackish, and that the inhabitants are
supplied with drinking-water from the clouds.  On my first arrival in
this country, seeing wine so plentiful and water so scarce at meals, I
was inclined to believe that the supposition was a true one.

Arriving at Bath, I immediately proceeded to the house of my valued and
excellent friend, Sir Claude Wade, whose services in India will
deservedly hand his name down to future generations as a distinguished
character in the annals of European history.  The following day after my
arrival was devoted to making a tour of the city, in the course of which
I saw the Royal Crescent, one of the finest piles of architecture I ever
beheld, commanding quite a panoramic view of the surrounding country; I
also walked through the Victoria Park, and examined the column erected in
commemoration of the Queen’s visit to Bath in 1839.  The inhabitants
express their regret that their sovereign has not since favoured their
fine city with her beloved presence.  The rides and promenades in and
about the city are very pleasant and delightful, reminding one so much of
the _agréments_ of a foreign town, that I am surprised it should not be
more generally visited by the English fashionables, instead of going
abroad to spend their money.

I found that the society here is on a very pleasant footing, and their
genuine hospitality and kindness to me I shall remember with gratitude.
Here, as well as elsewhere, there exists a great diversity of religious
opinion.  At one place I was asked whether I attended the High or Low
Church, and imagining, at first, that they alluded to an upper or a lower
part of the building, I replied that I preferred the body of the church,
as I did not like mounting stairs.  My answer afforded much amusement;
but on discovering what was really intended by the question, I was too
much occupied with thinking about the divisions amongst professing
Christians to heed the smiles which I had caused.

On Sunday I attended the Octagon Chapel, to hear a celebrated young
preacher, and was handed by the pew-opener into a seat where there was a
charming lady, who shewed me every attention, and even gave me her own
book with the different parts of the service marked.  I was most sensible
of her civility, and thanked her for her kindness, which she politely but
distantly acknowledged.  The next day, I went with my friends to Mrs.
F---’s soirée, in the Circus, where, to my surprise and pleasure, I again
met this houri, when we soon got into conversation.  She told me how
astonished she was when she heard a “Turk” read and sing, etc.; she asked
me many questions regarding my opinion of England and English customs,
etc., and particularly what were my first impressions on hearing the
vocal music of this country.  I candidly said, that it seemed to me like
the howlings of my own countrymen over the bodies of departed friends; I
added, however, that in my case the old proverb “use is second nature,”
had proved true, for now that I had become accustomed to it, the vocal as
well as instrumental music of this country possessed great charms for me,
especially since I have heard the enchanting voice of Miss S---, whom I
met at Mrs. B---’s.  This has effected a total change in my opinions; and
if I were now asked the same question, remembering these sweet sounds I
allude to, I should compare hers, at least, to the song of the Bulbul.
My fair questioner was highly amused at my description of “first
impressions” on this subject, from which we diverged into other matters
of conversation; and I finally left my kind entertainer’s house with an
impression of her hospitality, and of the fair community of Bath, more
agreeable than were my first impressions of English music, and certainly
not so likely to be changed.  I desire also publicly to thank the
inhabitants of Bath generally, as well as the municipal authorities of
the city, for the practical kindness I experienced from them during my
visit.

As I am on the subject of Bath, I may as well mention my last visit to
that gay and delightful city, in the course of which a grand ball was
given by the bachelors to their friends.  I was kindly invited to it by
Mr. Nugent, whose zeal and activity in promoting the harmless gaieties of
the place are the theme of praise with every one, and of whose polite
attention to strangers I cannot speak too highly.  Nothing that money and
taste could effect was spared to make the ball one of the most brilliant
and magnificent entertainments that I have witnessed in this country.
The Rooms were celebrated, I hear, in former times as the scene where
many a fair houri made her _début_ in the fashionable world, and were
decorated in a style of elegance which reflected the greatest credit on
the artists.  I can only say, that whatever may have been their by-gone
attractions, it is impossible that the display of bright eyes and
graceful forms could ever have surpassed what I gazed upon that night.
To attempt to describe this fairy scene would require the pen of a poet,
that I might give adequate expression to my admiration of the beauty by
which I was surrounded.  I will quote, however, a passage from an Eastern
author, which I think apropos to the occasion:—

“Their beauty is perfection, they are loveliness itself; their elegant
shapes glance like javelins by moonlight; their tresses float down their
backs like the tendrils of the grape; they are slayers and piercers with
their arrows and their darts; archers and strikers, the enchantresses of
the _minds and hearts_ of men.”

While at Bath I also had the pleasure of attending another splendid ball,
given at the Guildhall by the Mayoress, Mrs. Allen, at which the _élite_
of society there were present.  The amiable hostess and her lord received
their guests with great kindness and affability, evincing a desire to
please, which completely succeeded, for every one seemed to enjoy the
dancing exceedingly, as well as the sumptuous supper.  The Mayoress’
health was proposed in a suitable manner by the Marquis of Thomond, which
was drunk with all the honours in sparkling champagne.  During the
evening, I was observing a Masonic symbol suspended over the insignia of
the Mayor’s office, which led a gentleman, who was standing by, to
recognise me as a brother mason.  He at once introduced me to several of
the brethren, and a few days afterwards I was invited by “the Lodge of
Honour,” at Bath, to meet the Mayor at dinner, where we had “the feast of
reason and the flow of soul?”

I shall always retain a lively recollection of the pleasure which they
afforded me, and the kindness I experienced.  Whilst walking out one day
I encountered my friend, Dr. Thompson, whom I had known in Syria, and who
hailed me in Arabic, in the words of an old Eastern proverb, viz., _that
though mountains never meet_, _the sons of Eve will_.  Dr. Thompson, at
my request, gave two lectures, one at Cheltenham and one at Bath, the
notice of which I think worthy of being inserted, {210} and I now beg to
thank him for the interest he takes in the affairs of my country.



VISIT TO CHELTENHAM.


From Bath I went to the above place, and during my stay I took up my
quarters at the Plough Hotel, where I was most comfortable, and received
every attention from the proprietor.

I should be unmindful, and thankless indeed, were I to forget to express
my grateful thanks to friends generally for the kind reception given me,
and for the interest evinced on behalf of my beloved country, and I shall
ever retain a lively remembrance of the Rev. J. Brown, Incumbent of
Trinity Church.  Wherever he is known, the deepest respect and regard are
evinced towards him and his family.  Oh, would that poor Syria were
blessed with a few such philanthropic men with hearts and minds so
capable of diffusing wisdom and knowledge wherever they go.

I shall never forget the brief address delivered by this kind-hearted
man, at a lecture given by Dr. Thompson, on behalf of female education in
the East.  In a few words he expressed all the wants of my country, which
went home to my heart.  I trust that the interest shewn by all on this
exciting occasion may be the means of benefiting neglected Syria, and of
promoting the interest of her benighted children, as regards educational
institutions.  I must also here record my sincere gratitude to the Rev.
C. H. Bromby, M.A., the principal of the Normal Training College.  How
well, and how admirably this noble school is managed!  How suitable it
would be to the children of Syria!

The few sentences I addressed to the meeting at Cheltenham, were
expressive of my hope that they would enable me to send over for a few
young Syrians of both sexes, to participate in the benefits of their
college; and that it was my firm conviction the period was not far off
when this institution would embrace a more extensive field of usefulness,
and become the means of introducing Gospel truth and its accompanying
blessings to my much loved Lebanon.  Then shall the Cedar once again and
for ever flourish in its native soil, spreading its luxuriant branches to
shield the Thistle from all rude assaults—which may then grope even in
its own humble way to thrive, and flourish, and raise its crowned head.

Visitors to Cheltenham cannot but feel deeply indebted to Lord Northwick,
for his liberality in admitting them to his interesting and unique
collection of paintings.  I was much gratified at the privilege thus
afforded me; and it is due to his Lordship to say that the arrangement of
the valuable paintings is exceedingly good.  Both myself and a friend,
who accompanied me, were much surprised on our entrance at the extent and
magnificence of the apartments, especially the modern room called the
_Pantheon_; we much admired the painting of the Earl of Surrey, by
Titian, and were struck with its Oriental caste of features and
complexion, which called to memory some one with whom we were mutually
acquainted in Syria.  Our attention was next directed to the portrait of
Mahomet II., and if I may judge from the engravings of this Sultan, which
I have seen in the houses of some of the nobility of Turkey (before the
strict prohibition of the Koran on this head), this picture is an
admirable likeness of him.  We are told that it was expressly painted by
the artist in deference to the wishes of the Venetians, who sent Bellini
to Constantinople in the year 1458 for this purpose.

The Flight into Egypt is another fine specimen of painting, and though of
modern date delineates Oriental travelling; the face of the Virgin is
exquisitely beautiful, and has a heavenly expression; this figure
forcibly brought before me the Countess of K---, whom I had met on the
day preceding my visit to this place.  I would gladly have spent days
instead of hours in this delightful residence, ornamented with such
valuable and beautiful specimens of the fine arts; those only who come
from distant lands, can fully appreciate the luxuries of all kinds which
meet the eye of the spectator when in Western Europe, and especially in
Great Britain.  The magnificence which I encounter on all sides makes a
sadness steal over me; and I cannot but lament for the barrenness of my
native land, which once teemed with works, both of art and science.  “How
are the mighty fallen!”  But hope shall shine in the Eastern skies, and
the bright morning star arise again.




CHAPTER XIII.
IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND.


Many of my fair friends have been exceedingly anxious for me to give them
my first impressions of England.  After so long a residence in the
country, I must confess my habits have become completely Anglicised; I
have, however, the pleasure of offering them a translation of portions of
some letters written to a friend at Constantinople during my first visit
to England:—

                                * * * * *

“You asked me, before leaving Stamboul, to convey to you as well as I
could by letter my first impressions of England and the English.  Your
Excellency can hardly conceive the difficulty of the task which you have
allotted me.  However arduous the undertaking may be, I shall endeavour,
to the best of my poor abilities, to satisfy your curiosity, and fulfil
my rash promise.  In our own dear village, and indeed in the most active
and bustling towns of Syria, the silence and monotony of the houses are
only occasionally broken in upon by the busy hum of human voices—the
clattering hoofs of horses and mules—the braying of donkeys, and the
merry tinkling bell of the caravan.  The sweet song of the bulbul and
other summer birds, with the buzzing of the honey-bee, are the familiar
sounds to which we are from our infancy accustomed.  Stately forest
trees—mountains and hills—valleys and dales—citron groves and
orchards—the bright plumage of birds and the painted wings of butterflies
are the every-day pictures, furnished by the hand of nature, and on which
alone our eyes have been content to dwell.  The sound of chariot wheels
has through centuries been hushed and sunk into oblivion, together with
the fiery-spirited warriors that guided them.  Such is the quiet state of
affairs in our own loved country of Syria.  Now, therefore, imagine
yourself blindfolded and transported as though by magic into the very
centre of the city of London.

“Previously, however, a vast extent of ocean has to be traversed, which
is accomplished in an incredibly short space of time, during which period
much suffering from sea-sickness is to be expected, and many are
compelled to keep to their cabins, creeping only upon deck occasionally
to cheer the heart with a distant glimpse of land, as Malta and Gibraltar
have appeared to view, and as speedily vanished from sight, leaving, like
the false mirage, no trace behind.  At last the shores of _Ingleterra_
are discerned.  The announcement is heard with indescribable delight, for
the term of purgatory is about to expire.  Well wrapped in a _burnoos_,
for, although midsummer, the air is keen, you scramble upon deck, and
being comfortably seated, take a first survey of the famed shores of
Britain.  As far as the eye can stretch, the whole land appears to be
what is really the case, in a high state of cultivation.  Houses and
windmills innumerable meet the view, and a vast number of smoking
minarets, which on inquiry prove to be the chimneys of countless
factories.  But you are not left long to consider these matters—what is
occurring in the more immediate vicinity of the steamer rivets your
attention.  Thousands of vessels of all sizes, shapes, and nations, are
moving up and down the channel.  Gigantic men-of-war steamers—still
larger mail-packets, ships-of-the-line, frigates, sloops, gun-brigs,
Indiamen, schooners, barks, boats, all puffing and sailing, pitching and
rolling, and getting entangled with one another in the most alarming
manner.  Frenchmen shouting and screaming to fishing-boats—Italians
stamping at pilots—Greeks throwing their red caps overboard, pulling
their hair in despair at not being able to make themselves understood.
In short, the confusion of this Babel of tongues is so great that you
stand and look on stupified and bewildered with amazement, and so
overcome with alarm and the novelty of the thing, that you have ceased to
watch the ship’s progress till the anchor is down, and you find yourself
in the custom-house surrounded by boxes and inquisitive people, whilst
thunder seems to be rolling along the streets outside.

“A kind friend passes your luggage through the custom-house and hurries
you into a cab, so imbecile and helpless have you become.  If you had
eyes all around your head, they would not suffice to look at the people
and the sights in the streets.  Thousands of people are pushing and
running, and shouting and walking, in every direction; hundreds of
carriages, three and four abreast, blocking up every thoroughfare.  Now
come waggons and carts of every description, omnibuses innumerable, and
cabs; all these being the _arabaz_, or wheeled conveyances, varying in
size, shape and colour, the number of wheels on which they move, and the
number of horses by which they are drawn; some conveying mountains of
bale goods, others laden with beer-barrels, whilst some are exclusively
for the use of passengers.  The noise created by these numerous vehicles
jolting over the hard roads is greater than the roar of the Sultan’s
artillery.  What are all these people come out to see;—is your first
natural inquiry.  Is there a fire, or has there been an earthquake, or
are all the suburban villages and towns pouring in their multitudes to
witness some grand spectacle?  You are inclined to doubt your friend when
he tells you that this is an every-day occurrence in London; but
experience proves him to be correct.  _Wallah yar effendem_.  If Stamboul
were in flames, and all the Sultan’s harem burning, there could not be a
greater concourse of people than may every day be encountered, between
the hours of three and five, in one single street of London, and all the
other hundred streets are almost equally well filled.  Men, women, and
children, all busy, all intent on some errand or occupation.  Perhaps
few, if any, of the vast crowd you encounter have come out simply for air
and exercise.  The reason for all this is, that London is a very dear
city, talent plentiful, occupation scarce, so that every one is obliged
to depend upon his own individual active exertions to enable him to
procure even a crumb of bread.  _Inshallah Būkera_ (to-morrow, please
God) is a phrase wholly disregarded in England, and not to be found in an
Englishman’s vocabulary.  If you were to put off till to-morrow what
might be done to-day, you would find yourself a beggar.

“The English run a race with time; and though they cannot catch and
overtake him, they keep close upon his heels.  An old merchant dies at
eighty, who, from the age of eleven or twelve, has been hard at work six
days in every week from ten in the morning till four in the evening,
amassing wealth, leaving riches, a good name, and a vast inheritance
behind him.  That man has made more use of his time than five hundred of
the most active of our countrymen; and there are a thousand instances of
such as these to be met with in the city.

“But whilst we have been thinking about this, the cab stops opposite to a
splendid _seraiyah_, a veritable palace.  You image that this must be the
Queen’s residence, and begin to expostulate with your friend for ushering
you into the presence of royalty before you have had time to pay some
attention to your toilet; he laughs at your ignorance.  Two gentlemen,
handsomely dressed and without hats, rush into the street and officiously
carry in your luggage.  You are quite shocked to see the nobility thus
debased, and struggle with them to relieve them of their burden.  The
friend again interferes, and you find to your amazement, that the palace
is nothing more than a large _khan_ for the accommodation of wealthy
travellers, and that the two gentlemanly-looking men are _khudâmeen_, and
that there are at least a dozen more, all in the same capacity, all as
well dressed and as good-looking.  You are then ushered into a room
splendidly furnished; mirrors and chandeliers, tables and chairs,
pictures and divans, all in profusion, and the commonest article in the
room worth at least one thousand piastres.  Your friend touches a spring,
a bell rings in the distance, the door opens, and a _houri_ enters.  This
must be the lady of the palace; but she is young and tender as a dove,
and blushes like the rose of Damascus in acknowledging your _salams_.
Alas! even this beautiful creature is one of the _khudâmeen_, and you
sigh to hear your friend order her to bring up the scuttle of coals,
whose black dust cannot but soil her snowy and tapering fingers.  It
takes you a good week to settle down into anything like peace and
comfort, or to get accustomed to the ways of the place and the hours for
eating and sleeping.  It takes you a month to reconcile yourself to the
perpetual roaring and din in the streets, occasioned by the countless
vehicles passing and repassing in the streets.

“At last, however, you feel tired of being shut up alone, and ordering a
carriage, step into it, and bid the driver take you to one of the
fashionable drives.  You go on at a rapid pace for a few hundred yards,
and then there is a dead halt; vexed at this, you stand up in the
carriage to endeavour to discover the cause, and then a sight meets the
view quite sufficient to paralyse a stranger.  In front, as far as the
sight can reach, and behind, as far as the eye can see, as well as on
either side of you, is one dense forest of human beings, horses, donkeys,
carts, carriages, waggons, chimney-sweeps.  Officers, lords and ladies,
policemen and rabble.  You move slowly along as though you were in a
funeral procession, until a favourable opportunity presents itself for
the coachman to display his skill, and then he dashes at full speed
through carriages, and carts, so close together that none but his
experienced eye could ever have imagined it possible to squeeze one’s way
through uninjured.  Expecting every instant to be crushed to death, you
throw yourself back in the carriage, and shut your eyes on what was too
fearful to look upon.  By-and-by the easier motion of the carriage
re-assures you—you look up, you have been disentangled from the dense
crowd, and are driving along in comparative solitude through street after
street of magnificent palaces.  By-and-by, you pass through a square, and
the verdure of a few trees comes like a refreshing shower to the seared
up heart, and recalls to mind the lovely home of our ancestors in
Lebanon.  After awhile, we emerge from the turmoil and smoke, and dust of
the city; and lo! before you, a magnificent garden—such a one as the
Pacha of Damascus would be proud of.  Real, fine, stately trees, and
plenty of grass—plots of flowers—and imitation rivers and lakes, covered
too with wild ducks, and geese, and numberless other water fowl, now
become so domesticated, however, that you see them running out of the
water at the approach of little children who carry baskets full of crumbs
to feed them with.

“Here, in roads railed off, the fashionable world drive and ride about
for a few hours every evening in the season.  A carriage passes with two
_houris_ in it, whose faces leave an impression on your heart, which
latter is as susceptible as wax.  Another carriage, and two still more
beautiful—a few minutes afterwards three pass at the same moment, with
such eyes that the glances from them emit brilliant sparks of love; but
there is no end to the _houris_ and no end to the heart-aches, so we bid
the driver speed home again, and close our eyes, firmly determined not to
be exposed to any fresh onslaught from these _houris_—these daughters of
the finest people in the world.  Arrived at home, dinner is served in
magnificent style.  The silver dishes, and the knives and forks—the
spoons, etc., would alone suffice to purchase a property in Lebanon that
would yield you or me a comfortable revenue for life; and as the thought
strikes me, I sicken at the waste and splendour whilst millions are
starving in the world; and though the dishes are excellent and rare, and
well chosen, I would willingly resign them all for one good Syrian
_pillaf_, and the pleasure of a _chibuk_, and a few minutes’ chat with
your Excellency.

“Nothing is more difficult than for a stranger to form acquaintances in
London, unless he is furnished with good letters of introduction, or
holds an official position.  In the latter case, his rank at once
entitles him to the _entrée_ of a certain circle of society.  Being the
guest of a nobleman or some notable man, is a passport into the society
of his list of acquaintances; and once having been introduced, your
number of friends is rapidly augmented.  Thus, supposing I dine at Mr.
P---’s to-day, there, amongst others, I meet Mr. W---.  This gentleman
invites me to his house, and there I find an entirely new set, who, in
their turn, again introduce me to their friends and acquaintances.
English ladies are the stars of English society.  The married and elder
ladies I may term the planets; their destinies are fixed, and they are
placed in one particular position for life; but true to this theory, like
planets, they emit a steady light; their language is refined, their
manners fascinating, their bearing commanding respect, their conversation
agreeable and instructive, and their wit brilliant and full of point.
The young ladies are the satellites that revolve round these planets,
more brilliant in the pride of youth and beauty, more active, and much
gayer; their hearts would hardly counterbalance a feather.  Poor doves!
affliction and the trials of life have as yet no stamp on the soft
waxwork texture of their sensitive affections; they talk and laugh, and
ride and dance with young men without the least restraint, and the voice
of calumny is never heard.  How different from our poor, ignorant
countrymen!  What would all the old men and women of Lebanon say, if
their daughters and granddaughters were seen taking long solitary rides
and walks with the young men?  With us, in the present uncivilized state
of affairs, such liberties would be highly improper; but it is vastly
different in England and Europe, where men and women are, from early
childhood, educated with the strictest attention to morality as well as
accomplishments.  Girls of fifteen have sufficient confidence in their
own strength of mind, and in the integrity and high honour of those with
whom they associate, ever to feel embarrassed in the society of young
men, though these young men be comparative strangers; they know
themselves to be ladies, and that their associates are gentlemen; and in
England these two words comprise everything that is virtuous and
honourable.

“The smallest deviation from the rigid path of religious virtue or
worldly honour is visited with the severest penalty, and the delinquent
is irrevocably lost, and for ever excluded from the pale of society.
With such a punishment hanging over their heads, apart from the natural
instinct to virtue, a _faux-pas_ is rare indeed amongst the highest
classes of society.

“Ladies are the leading features; many of them are renowned for great
literary acquirements; most are accomplished; and the highest honours are
inwardly awarded them by the opposite sex.  If a lady enters a room, all
the gentlemen rise from their seats, nor will they be seated again until
she has chosen one for herself.  If a lady drops a handkerchief, the men
all rush to pick it up, so as to save her the trouble of stooping; when
she speaks, all are attentive; and when she sings and plays, the whole
company are hushed into such profound silence, that you might hear a pin
drop.

“When dinner, supper, or whatever the repast may be, is announced, the
master of the house leads out the lady highest in rank present, the
others being handed out by respective gentlemen; the lady of the house
remaining till the last, when she is conducted to the refreshment-room by
the gentleman of the highest rank present.  In England men and women
usually wear no covering on the head whilst in-doors, with the exception,
however, of _matrons_, who wear caps made of some elegant lace material,
and _widows_ who, according to custom, put on _weeds_ for a certain
period after the husband’s decease.  _Weeds_ means a peculiar cap,
composed of white muslin, in shape both ugly and unbecoming.
Notwithstanding this, my friend Mrs. ---, who is a widow ever looks
charming and beautiful.  But to return to the dinner; when it is
finished, the ladies at a given sign from the mistress of the house, rise
and leave the table.  The gentlemen remain seated for about half-an-hour
longer, during which interval they sip their wine, eat fruit, and
converse.  In England they offer wine and meat in abundance, but _water_
and _bread_ is but scantily supplied.  No smoking is allowed within
doors, nor is it genteel to smoke in the streets—or even to smell of
smoke when you enter the society of ladies; in fact they smell it as
quickly as the gazelle does the hunter.  Gentlemen who are fond of
tobacco, have regular smoking rooms, or go to their clubs to indulge in a
cigar; but the majority eschew smoking altogether.  Our nation labours
under a very false impression in supposing that the English are a people
with very few ideas of religion; and in imagining that because they do
not observe fasts and festivals, and cross themselves, they are almost
worse than infidels.  In no country is the Sabbath more strictly or
rigorously regarded than in England.  Not only are the shops and places
of public entertainment closed on that holy day, but in some families in
England even cooking is not allowed.  The churches and chapels are
literally crowded with well-dressed men and women twice a day.  And there
are many families that attend Divine service once or twice a week.
Besides this, they support many splendid charitable institutions,
hospitals for the sick and maimed, poor-houses for the paupers,
foundlings for the unfortunate, and in fact, have institutions for the
relief of every description of disease and infirmity to which human
nature is subject.  Nor must I omit to mention the public schools, and
colleges for children of both sexes, where thousands are clothed, housed,
fed and educated at the public expense, and where they will receive
instruction that will fit them for any sphere; besides these, there are
also innumerable private charities, and Her Majesty the Queen herself,
takes the lead in distributing large bounties annually in the cold winter
time—fuel, clothing, blankets, and many other requisites to the
friendless and needy.  Nor is it only for the temporal welfare of others
that they exert themselves.  Missionary establishments are supported by
voluntary contributions, and the annual revenue or income of these
institutions, consisting of millions of piastres, is expended in
supporting missionaries and schools at home and abroad.  Ladies and
gentlemen who die worth immense fortunes, leaving no heirs to inherit,
bequeath the bulk of their fortunes towards the furtherance of charitable
objects.

“There are merchants in London, and in some of the other principal towns
in Great Britain, who are in possession of princely fortunes, and they
always go on augmenting their wealth by any feasible scheme for the
improvement of commerce—such as the laying on of a new line of steamers,
or the construction of railroads.  Schemes that require millions of money
as a first outlay, and before any profits can be hoped to be realised,
are discussed with the utmost _sang-froid_ by the merchants _on Change_,
that is, at a large elegant building, set aside and built expressly for
merchants to congregate and transact business.  If the scheme is approved
of to-day by a number of leading merchants, and the sum requisite be five
millions sterling, by this day fortnight, at latest, the money is
contributed and safely lodged in the banker’s hands.  Such, _Mashallah_!
is the expeditious method adopted by English merchants, the richest
commoners of the richest kingdom in the world.

“The fashionable world of London has fashionable hours for everything.
Ladies sometimes do not get up before mid-day, and then usually breakfast
in their private apartments, and not unfrequently in bed.  The afternoon
is the fashionable time for receiving visits; they dine when, in our
country, people are thinking of going to bed; and this is not all, for,
by the time that the son of Lebanon’s first refreshing siesta may be said
to be over, these people are thinking about amusing themselves for the
night.  At about ten o’clock, fashionable evening parties commence.  Some
people are invited to four or five of these in the same evening, and they
may perhaps go to all, remaining but a few minutes at each.  Ladies and
gentlemen dance till past midnight.  Bands of delightful music are
playing; the rooms are arranged like fairy land; the girls are so
beautiful, and dressed so elegantly, that the whole scene is like a
realisation of the fabulous tales of the Arabian Nights.  Then there is
also the opera, where professional singers and dancers are employed; and
the magnificence with which the stage is decorated, the lights, the
music, the dancing—so airy that the girls barely touch the ground with
their toes.  All is as a scene of magical enchantment, till the curtain
drops amidst thunders of applause, and you are led out by your friends in
a state of mental aberration.  The next morning you awake, and look over
your last night’s expenditure, and you find a few such items as the
following:—



                                 £       s.       d.              Piastres.
Grapes (ten paras’ worth in         0       10        0    =              55
Syria)
Opera-ticket                        1        1        0    =             110
Supper, Cab-hire, etc.              1       11        6    =             165
                                                                         ---
                               Total                                     330



“Three hundred and thirty piastres for a few hours’ entertainment!  Such
is but a trifling instance of the daily expenditure accruing in London,
this great mart which offers such numberless enticements to spend money;
but, on the other hand, few, if any, places in the world present greater
opportunities for amassing wealth.  The very atmosphere of this great
city seems to infect its inhabitants with an insatiable desire of
becoming rich; such is, indeed, my own case, and it will be my constant
endeavour to gain such a fortune as shall entitle me to be the enviable
possessor of an English home, and become a domesticated man, and at the
same time enable me to forward the interests of my own dear country, by
contributing to the construction of hospitals, schools, etc., where my
brethren and ‘the stranger that sojourneth in the land’ may receive
relief.

“Men in this country seldom think of marrying before they are thirty or
forty years old; girls never before they are sixteen; but I must mention
one thing which will rather surprise and amuse your Excellency.
Children, especially daughters, are excluded from society until they are
thoroughly educated, and considered by their parents fit to make their
_début_.  You may visit and dine continually at a house, without being
aware that there are any children under the same roof.  When young, they
are kept almost exclusively in the nursery, under charge of a governess
and nursery-maids.  When old enough to go to school, they are sent off to
these establishments, rarely coming home, except in cases of sickness or
for the holidays, and even then they are seldom permitted to dine at the
same table, or keep the same hours as their parents when there is
company.  Fancy a Syrian mother being separated from her children for
months, and not seeing them, though easily within reach; knowing that her
sons, if disobedient or naughty, have no mercy to expect from the
schoolmaster, no sparing of the rod, or of heavy tasks either; and that
their daughters may be going supperless to bed, for some trivial offence
against the schoolmistress, whilst she, the mother, is supping
sumptuously.  If you tell them that this seems unnatural and cruel, their
reply is, that they went through it themselves; but you will barely
credit what I write, when I tell you, that there are many instances where
mothers of young families, seldom see or inquire after their offspring
more than once a day, sometimes not so often; and even sometimes they go
out of town for a week or ten days, leaving these troublesome
incumbrances to the tender mercies of a nursery-maid.  What would our
mothers have said, if any one had suggested to them, that it would be
best to place us under the care of servant-maids?  Would they ever have
tasted food before they knew that we were served, or rested till they had
wrenched the cane from the hand of the schoolmaster, torn his beard, and
carried us away home?

“However great the Western Europeans are, they cannot, in general, be
said to possess that attachment and love which binds and links most
oriental families together.  I must here mention that beards are at a sad
discount in England; moustaches hooted at, or only used by military men.
Alas! for the reverence paid to the long beards of Syria.  The possessors
of such in this country would be set down as Jews; they are considered
inconvenient, unsightly, and not reckoned as contributing to cleanliness.
I knew a Frank in Syria, a hakeem, whose flowing beard was the admiration
of all beholders; his patients used to seize it and make him swear by it,
that he would do his best to cure them; and as for the damsels, happy was
she that could make him vow fidelity to her, on the strength of his
beard.  Well, your Excellency, I met this hakeem in the streets of
London.  I knew him not; but he recognised me and spoke to me.  The cruel
razor had been at work, and his face was as smooth and beardless as the
newborn babe.  I asked him what had caused him to commit such an act of
insanity, and he told me that, when he first landed, the children in the
streets hooted, pelted him, and cried out ‘Halloo Moshes!’ and so, for
quietness’ sake, he was obliged to submit his beautiful beard to the
hands of a ruthless barber.  In England no one wears beards.  Bishops are
beardless; Cadis are beardless; lawyers, hakeems, even the
solicitors—wonderful indeed! but what is still more wonderful and absurd
is, that these great men wear long curly wigs, which vastly resemble the
sheepskins worn by our buffoons and tale-tellers.

“Young ladies in this country are devotedly attached to handsome
uniforms; and fine uniforms are devotedly attached to handsome fortunes
as well as faces.  Sometimes young officers elope with heiresses worth
millions of money, whereas the officer, perhaps, has nothing but a gay
uniform and a good-looking face and figure to shew: but in all cases,
young ladies are very fond of red and blue coats; and an officer in the
guards is irresistible.  Even the beadle, that is, the _Indilaft_, is an
object of admiration to the lower classes, as he struts about in his
gold-laced cocked-hat and uniform.

“It may of a truth be said of the English, that they strive with each
other in their efforts to oblige a stranger, and heap civilities and
attentions upon him.  With them it is a matter of earnest regret that any
foreign friend should find cause of complaint against any of their
countrymen.  One great advantage that we Syrians possess, is the very
fact of coming from the Holy Land.  Say to an Englishman, of whatever
grade, ‘I am a Syrian,’ and he will immediately know how to appreciate
your worth, and the excellence of your country; he will talk to you of
Hebron and many other towns with unabating pleasure; and the reason is,
that, from his infancy upwards, with him Syria has been a familiar
household word; as a lisping infant, he has read at his mother’s knee of
King Solomon and the cedars of Lebanon.  At school, his prize-essays have
been about Jerusalem; and if, mayhap, he is a poor man, unable to write
or read, still, from the pulpit, he has long been accustomed to hear of
the great patriarch, the prophets, and the kings, of Israel, the temple
of Solomon, and other marvellous facts so intimately linked with his
creed; the scene of all which was Syria and the Holy Land.  Though most
true that it is not an easy matter to cultivate the acquaintance of an
Englishman, still, when you do once become acquainted with him, and are
well known to him, then you are his friend in the true acceptance of that
term, and you continue his friend for life, whether you remain in England
or go abroad (I have found this by experience).  Moreover he takes a
pride in introducing you to his own circle of acquaintances, and
endeavours, in concert with them, to promote your best interests and
welfare; he abides by you as your friend during your absence, and if
anything should reach his ears derogatory to your character, his best
energies are brought into play; he sifts the matter thoroughly, hushes
the voice of calumny, or exposes the infamy of the calumniator; and if
perchance you are guilty in his opinion of any breach of etiquette or a
misdemeanour, he weighs the matter maturely in his own mind, and is as
ready to correct and reprimand, as he is to overlook the offence, and set
it down to the score of your being a stranger, and necessarily
uninitiated in the strict etiquette of the land.

“The English do a good action solely from a wish to do good, and from no
other earthly inducement.  I am now speaking of Englishmen as
individuals, for, when acting in numbers, I must confess I do not hold so
high an opinion of them.  This is proved by the many companies
continually advertised and puffed up before the public, but which are
nothing more or less than a hoax to catch the unwary, invented by
unprincipled men, of which I myself have more than once been the dupe.”




CHAPTER XIV.
LIFE, MANNERS, AND CUSTOMS OF SYRIA.


An addition to the family of a Syrian man is always an event looked
forward to with the greatest anxiety, more especially in cases of a first
child.  The mother secretly prays and hopes that it may be a son; so does
the father, but he seldom alludes to the subject.  When the propitious
event takes place, no hakeem, except of late in extreme cases, since the
introduction of European medical men, is ever called in.  Such a thing
would be considered highly indecorous and improper.  Dyâhs (midwives)
{233} are plentiful in Syria, and these females are ready at a moment’s
notice.  If the result be a son, then the whole household is overjoyed,
and the husband is besieged by friends and acquaintances, all anxious to
outvie with each other in wishing him joy, and in hoping that the
newly-born son may live to prove his comfort and support in old age.  If,
however, a daughter be born to the family, it is looked upon rather in
the light of a misfortune than otherwise.  The husband looks as if he
were quite ashamed of himself, the subject is seldom if ever broached,
and if any of his intimate friends allude to the matter, they do it with
the view of consoling the father.  The usual form of expression in such
cases is, “She that has brought a daughter will bear a son,” “Inshallah!
if it be the will of God.”  Soon after birth the child is wrapped in
swaddling clothes, and is at once nourished by its own mother.  Wet
nurses are almost unknown, and are only employed in cases of death or
great debility.  The care of attending upon the mother devolves upon the
female relatives; but the women in my country are usually so strong and
robust that little attention is required.  No muffling of knockers—no
strewing of straw in the streets—no doctor anxiously expected—no dosing
of both parent and child.  Amongst the peasants and lower classes in
particular, the women are so hardy that it is by no means an uncommon
event for a mother, four or five hours after her accouchement, to be seen
propped up with cushions, busily engaged in mending or making baby-linen.
On the fourth day after her confinement, the _Kanum_ or lady is expected
to receive the visits of her acquaintances and friends, both male and
female; and for this occasion a brand new coverlet usually handsomely
worked in silk, has been prepared.  Propped up by pillows and covered
with _farooa_, she receives lying-in state visits.  Her visitors do not
remain long, but during the whole of the time they are complimenting her
on the fortunate event; and the new-born is paraded round, and gazed at,
and admired; but no one dares to praise him without commencing with
“Mashallah!” “God be praised for it!”  This custom of visiting the mother
proves clearly that the usages which existed in the time of our blessed
Saviour, when the wise men from the East came to look upon the newborn
babe, and brought with them offerings, continues up to the present day,
each friend or acquaintance bringing or sending his or her offerings.

The first thing to be done after the birth of the child is to fix upon a
name.  This name, if it be the firstborn son, is usually the name of the
child’s paternal grandfather, or else, if the birth takes place on the
anniversary of any great saint’s day, it is called after him; as for
instance, Paul, or John, or Peter, and that saint becomes his patron
through life; this necessary preliminary being arranged, the child is
baptised within a week of its birth for fear it should sicken or die.
The priests usually come to the house, sometimes the child is taken to
the church.  The godfathers and godmothers, two of each, and all the
relatives assemble, a large basin of water (made tepid in cold weather),
is placed upon a table and duly consecrated by the priests; the mother
undresses the infant, and hands it naked, as it was born, to the hands of
the officiating priest, and this minister, repeating prayers over it, in
which he is assisted by others, immerses the whole body of the infant
into the water three successive times in the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.  Consecrated oil is then used, and the
mark of the cross made with it on the forehead and chest of the infant.
This also is done three times, the sponsors standing by and answering for
the child.  It is then wiped dry and carefully swaddled up again, and in
a few minutes the ceremony terminates with the priest’s blessing.

The rest of the day is usually devoted to pleasure, and the parents now
feel more at their ease, as the child has been admitted within the pale
of the Church, and in case of any untoward event, would be entitled to
Christian burial.  The father, if this be a first son, drops the name by
which he was formerly known; thus, supposing the name to have been Yusuf
or Michali, and his friends used to call him Sowajar Michali (the father
of Joseph), now that his son has been christened by the name of Yacob,
for instance, they call him Aboo Yacob, or the father of Yacob—a proud
title for a Syrian; for not to have children is looked upon as the
greatest misfortune and disgrace that can happen to a married couple;
whereas, however poor the family, a multitude of children (especially if
they be males) is considered a blessing.  The greatest pride of an old
man in Syria is to sit at the doorway of his house, or at the city gate,
of an evening, pipe in hand, surrounded by his sons and grandsons.  From
the day of the Psalmist David down to the present day, it may truly be
said in Syria, Blessed are they that have their quiver full of them.  “Lo
children and the fruit of the womb are an heritage and gift that cometh
of the Lord.  Like as the arrows in the hand of the giant: even so are
the young children.  Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them;
they shall not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate”
(Psalm cxxvii. 4, 5, 6).

Although from the first the infant is tenderly cared for, still, it must,
however healthy, have occasionally some slight ailment, and then great
consternation prevails in the household.  The devices to heal it are
many.  In every Christian family a remnant of the holy palm-leaves,
distributed on Palm Sunday, are very carefully preserved to serve on such
occasions; these are now mixed with olive-leaves, salt, and aloes, and
the whole is then thrown into a small brazier of charcoal, and the smoke
thereof constitutes an incense supposed to expel the evil eye. {236}
Sometimes, strange to say, the ashes of this composition bear strict
resemblance to a human eye.  This is taken and crushed on the floor with
the child’s slipper, and the mother expresses a wish that the eyes of the
envious which have brought the illness on the child, may be destroyed in
like manner.  After this, if the child is not better, the family priest
is in this interval sent to, and offers up prayers for its welfare.  Oil
of almonds is usually applied externally, and rubbed in warm, generally
with very beneficial results.  There is also a peculiar kind of soft,
fine earth in Syria, which is much sought after by mothers; this, when
collected, is brought and warmed near the fire; it is then placed in the
cradle, and, being covered with a fine counterpane, the infant, wrapped
in its swaddling clothes, is laid on this, the warm earth retaining
dryness and heat for many hours.  Many of the poorer people lay their
infants on the earth itself, and then cover them over warmly.  In all
cases it appears to have a beneficial effect on children, who seldom or
ever catch cold.  If you wish to incur the displeasure and dislike of a
young mother in Syria, there are two certain methods of gaining this end;
the first is to step across any baby-linen that may be lying about the
ground; the second is to rock the cradle when the child is not in it;
both these are considered very unfavourable to the child, and some
mothers carry these ridiculous superstitions to such an extent, that they
dislike any notice being taken of their children, even though the praise
be accompanied with the indispensable “mashallahs”; but if there is one
thing more than another that young mothers have a superstitious horror
of, it is the visits or enquiries of a barren woman; she, it is supposed,
must entertain a jealousy of those more fortunate than herself, and her
praises be insincere and terrible.

To such an extent do these ridiculous superstitions prevail, that if, by
any misfortune, a child should happen to die, even though it be a year
after any remarks may have been applied to it by a childless woman, these
have been, nevertheless, treasured up, and the evil is laid at her door.
Children are usually weaned in their fourteenth or fifteenth month, and
then they are for a short time nourished principally on cow’s or goat’s
milk; but by the time a child is eighteen months old, it has learned to
eat all manner of dishes, and they are so pampered and indulged in this
respect, that from the minute they awake, till they fall asleep again,
their stomachs have hardly any respite.  Fruit, bread, cheese, meat;
anything and everything is set before them from the very false notion
that, the more they eat, the faster and the stronger they will grow.

This notion prevails throughout Syria, and it is imagined that strength
cannot be gained except by hearty eating.  So that when a man is very
ill, and a doctor is sent for, his friends are all clamorous and anxious
to tell him how many hours has elapsed since he last partook of food, and
beg of him to insist on the patient’s eating something forthwith, or to
give him some medicine that will give him an appetite.  It is quite
beyond their comprehension to understand that in some instances food
would be very injurious in its effects.  A man or a child has only to
say, “_Ena-juaan_,” or “I am hungry,” and it would be considered a
heinous sin not to gratify this craving instantly.  All this, however, is
pardonable when the real motives, those of sincere love and pity for the
sufferer, are considered, mistaken though they may be; but time and
education can alone remedy this evil.  So soon as the boy is able,
unaided, to run about and talk, he is then taken in hand by his father;
his dress is always of the best obtainable materials, and if his father
be a merchant or shopkeeper, he accompanies him to his office, and there,
seated cross-legged, begins to ape the actions and conversation of his
father.  He is early instructed in lessons of sedateness and
self-respect, and if not cheerfully willing to obey and listen, a few
taps of the rod soon bring him to his senses.  For the Syrian father acts
upon the proverb, which says, “If you wish the tree to grow up straight
and be fruitful you must prune its branches when young.”  Slight
castigations are generally inflicted by them in the absence of the
mother, for otherwise they would be of no effect.  Some mothers are very
attached to their first-born so that they would willingly sacrifice their
own lives rather than that their darling should suffer ever so slight an
affront.  Whipping a child in a mother’s presence would invariably lead
to high words and ill feeling, and the result would be, that the child,
whipped by one parent and petted by the other, would naturally imagine
itself very ill used—hate the father and love the mother.  The good
effects of the punishment would be lost, and the child only grow more
wary and naughty.  To avoid these family broils, the father early
accustoms his son to accompany him to his place of business; bearing the
key in the same manner as it was done in the days of the prophets, upon
his shoulder.  Is. xxii. 22.  There, unseen by the mother’s eye, the
child soon learns implicit obedience to his father’s will, and as this
obedience is at first always rewarded by some small present of fruit or
so forth, the boy grows in love as well as in obedience.  It is
surprising what sage little fellows, of only five years old, one meets
perched up cross-legged in the shops of their fathers; they are so well
versed in the every-day business of the profession, that the father can
repose every confidence in them, and leave them for hours together to
deal with customers, weigh out, bargain, and effect sales.  A child
naturally takes a pride in thus early finding itself useful and
important, and there are few children in the world that are more
precocious than those of my native country.  A child brought up in this
way would think it highly indecorous to romp and play about during
business hours.  In the evening, however, he is permitted to repair to
the fields with his companions; the onus of business has been laid aside,
and the perfect child shows itself once more in the merry game or joyous
laugh of the sportive crew.

By the time a child is six years old, he seldom, if ever, requires
chastisement; indeed, he thinks to be scolded is a perfect disgrace, and
is consequently ever on the guard not to incur his father’s displeasure.
The father who now thinks it is time that his son should be instructed to
read and write, works upon the feelings of the boy so as to excite in him
a great desire for learning.  He usually commences by telling him that he
is quite ashamed of having such an ignorant son whereas his neighbours’
children are all well instructed, and know the whole of the Psalms by
heart, for the acquirement of these invariably forms the commencement of
Syrian education; the child protests that he only lacks opportunity, and
the next day his schooling begins.

The etiquette of Syrian manners is early instilled into the mind of the
Syrian boy; he is taught, on first rising in the morning, after prayers
and the necessary ablutions, to wish the “_Saboh il Kahir_” (“good
morning,”) to every individual of the household, commencing with the
father and finishing with the lowest menial in the establishment.  After
this, the son sees that his father is supplied with the necessary coffee,
a slice of toast, and his _narghili_, and then next to his father he
ranks himself, excepting when strangers are present.  On the arrival of a
guest, he is taught to go forth and welcome him as far as the threshold
of the entrance-door, and this he does meekly, taking and kissing the
hand of the visitor if a man of advanced age, at the same time
overwhelming him with such flattering compliments, as, for instance, “The
day at this moment has become bright.”  “My thoughts have always been
concentrated on you, O light of my eyes!”  The boy then follows the guest
to the _mistaba_, where his father is ready to receive him, and having
busied himself ordering necessary refreshments, he returns to the divan,
and seating himself at some distance from the others, listens in
respectful silence to their conversation, or pulling out the brass
inkhorn from his side (Ezek. ix.), which contains likewise his stock of
pens (and is an inseparable companion, being always thrust into the
girdle and carried about with him from morning till night), he possesses
himself of some stray piece of paper, may be the back of a letter, and
improves the moments as they fly by furthering his knowledge in
arithmetic.

When a priest calls at the house, then the son is all attention; none but
himself is permitted to serve him; he replenishes the pipe-bowls, fetches
the fire, hands him the coffee and other refreshments, and each time
retires from the presence of the rev. father with fresh blessings heaped
upon his head.  The son is early taught to listen, but never to speak
unless first spoken to, to be deferential to all old people, kind to the
poor, and especially to the blind, sympathising with servants, whose
faults he must correct with mildness and leniency, and above all, to
abhor and hold in utter detestation all strong drinks and drunkards.  You
may travel from one end of Syria to the other, and mingle with every
grade of every creed, and I may safely state, that drunkards are rarely
met with.  None but those who have travelled in Europe, or have mixed
with European society, are addicted to this vice.

The son is taught to adhere strictly to all laws of cleanliness.  There
are few people that are more rigid in the observance of them than the
Syrian.  On first rising, and on going to bed, before and after every
meal, before and after every little promenade, hands and face are washed
with soap and water and a few leaves of the lemon-tree; the mouth is also
rinsed out, sometimes with simple water, sometimes with rose or
orange-flower water, according to the opulence or poverty of the man.
Tooth and hair-brushes are unknown among the Syrians.  On entering a
house, he is taught to leave his shoes before intruding into the
visitors’ hall, and with light yellow slippers on, treads over the
carpet; he advances to all the elders who happen to be present, kissing
their hands and placing them on his head to intimate his respect and
obedience.  On entering a church in some parts of the country, he leaves
his shoes outside. {242}  This practice dates from the period of Moses
and the burning bush, when the Lord addressed Moses, saying, “Draw not
nigh hither: put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon
thou standest is holy ground” (Exod. iii. 5).  Likewise he also lifts the
turban off his head for a while, and then replaces it.  During the
reading of the Gospel and Belief all the males remain uncovered.

So soon as a boy’s education is completed, and this simply consists in
his being able to read and write Arabic, with a slight knowledge of
arithmetic, then the father anxiously looks out for some opening which
may enable his son thus early to acquire a knowledge of the world, and of
the necessity of fighting one’s own battles, so as to be independent of
the support of others; but though the son may earn a sufficiency to
maintain himself without drawing on his father’s revenue, he still
remains an inmate of the parental roof; indeed, in many instances he
never quits it, and it is not uncommon to see the son a man of mature
years himself, with his own children fast growing up to manhood, paying
the most implicit obedience and respect to his father’s commands and
wishes, just with the same deference that a child six years old would
obey an austere father; indeed such is the universal reverence with which
parents are treated, that (though these instances are rare) fathers have
been known to chastise their sons when they had attained the mature age
of thirty-five or forty; and the son, though father of a family himself,
and though smarting from shame and indignation at such an exposure before
the eyes of his own wife and children, has meekly borne the correction
and kissed the hand that chastised him.  “Honour thy father and thy
mother that thy days may be long in the land,” is a commandment acted up
to the letter in Syria, and any son transgressing this law, would meet
with small sympathy from his countrymen, would be shunned by all, and be
an object of indignation and scorn to all Orientals of whatever creed.
Even that ferocious tyrant, Djessar Pasha, who never hesitated to
sacrifice human life, whose wives and concubines were all massacred by
his own hands to satiate his furious jealousy and rage against one
unhappy girl, who had been discovered carrying on a flirtation with an
officer of his court; even he, villain though he was, respected this law
and enforced others to respect it.  A story is told of a young Christian,
who, being newly married, took possession of the whole of his father’s
house, leaving the poor old man, who was a widower and a cripple, barely
sufficient rags to cover his nakedness, or food to satisfy his hunger.
The Pasha, hearing of this atrocious conduct, sent for the miscreant, and
when he was brought trembling into his presence, exclaimed, “Hast thou no
fear of God?  In an hour’s time let me hear that your father, dog that
you are, is in the possession of every comfort and luxury; or, by my
beard, your head shall answer for this crime.”

When the son is about twelve years of age, his parents begin to look
about them to choose out from amongst the neighbours a suitable wife for
their first-born.  This is an arduous undertaking, and the son is often
consulted as to whether he has any particular choice amongst his
playmates and companions.  Sometimes he has, sometimes he leaves all to
the good judgment of his mother, always, however, stipulating, that the
girl must be young, pretty, and good-tempered.  Old women who go from
house to house with trinkets and other articles to sell are sometimes
commissioned by the mothers to look out for such eligible objects.  If
they know any party likely to suit, they acquaint the mother.  They next
find out when the maiden attends the bath, and inform their employer, who
goes there at the same time, and if, upon seeing the girl, she thinks her
likely to suit her son, she contrives to make her acquaintance.  The old
woman also, on her part, mentions the youth to the maiden and her family
with the greatest possible praise, and the affair may be considered
accomplished.  The choice having thus fallen upon some one or other, and
the preliminaries arranged, the dower to be paid for her settled,
handkerchiefs bought, rings ordered, and a choice party of intimate
friends invited, who, accompanied by the priest, repair to the house of
the intended bride’s father.  Sometimes the girl is brought into the room
closely veiled, the young lad being present also—vows, and rings, and
presents, are exchanged—the priest pronounces his blessing—the pair are
betrothed, and from that day till the wedding takes place, become utter
strangers to each other.  They may have been bosom companions only the
day before, romping with each other from early childhood, but the moment
that the betrothal had taken place, there is an inseparable barrier to
their meeting or conversing again till the church shall have pronounced
them man and wife.  This generally lasts six months, but sometimes mere
children are engaged, and then they have to wait till both have arrived
at years of maturity before they can get married.  It seldom, if ever,
happens, excepting, of course, in cases of death, that these betrothals
are put aside or broken, the church considering the vows then pledged as
binding on either side as the marriage vow itself.

In order to give my readers some idea of an Oriental courtship, I will
quote the account which my friend, the well known Assaad Kajah gives of
his own:—“I went to my friend H. Khooja Hahib Giammal, a liberal and
enlightened gentleman.  He allowed his beautiful eldest daughter to hand
me the sherbet, and the moment I saw her, as we say in our Eastern
language, ‘a thousand of my vertebræ got broken,’ and she took my heart
with her when she left the room.  I knew I was a favourite with her
father, and I returned home resolved not to delay making my proposals.

“I told my father the state of my heart, and requested him to take a
diamond ring and a fine white handkerchief, the emblem of betrothment, to
the father of the damsel, and entreat him to allow me the joy of being
betrothed to his daughter Martha.  With a view to shew that I acted on
the impulse of my own heart, and not merely by the guidance of my
parents, I followed the example of our Patriarch ‘Isaac’ in the case of
his beloved ‘Rebekah’ (Genesis xxiv. 22).  I therefore sent to my own
beloved ‘a golden ear-ring of half a shekel weight, and two bracelets for
her hands of ten shekels weight of gold.’  Thus, the ancient custom of
upwards of three thousand years old is retained by the people; and a
Syrian does not inquire what a purse his bride is to have, but whether
his Rebekah is such a one as was brought up like Nahor’s Milcah; their
popular proverb is this: ‘_Khud alasseil walanah alhassir_,’ ‘Take the
one of good root (i.e., of good parents), though she may be on a mat’
(that is, though her parents may have no more furniture in their dwelling
than a mat).

“My beloved father, in his kind way, took my message, and with a beating
heart I waited for the answer.  In about an hour he returned, and said,
smiling, ‘Assaad, all thy affairs seem to go smoothly.’”

I am continually asked by my fair friends the number of wives I have left
in Syria; my reply is, that I am not married, though I fervently hope
some bright day to crown my earthly bliss with an English wife; the
ladies seemed quite incredulous on my informing them, that only one is
permitted by our law.  The Mahommedan religion, it is true, admits of
four lawful wives, besides concubines; but I can confidently assert, that
the majority even of Mussulmans have but one wife.  Possibly, in default
of issue, another may be taken—this, however, is the _exception_, not the
_rule_; and though polygamy has existed to a greater or less extent in
the East since the days of the Psalmist David, and his son, the wise King
Solomon, still where it is mostly practised now-a-days is amongst the
wild Arab tribes, south of Gaza and the Nosairiyeh.  Of these latter I
have known an instance of a man marrying two wives on the same day, both
young maidens, from different villages.  But amongst the Turks the
practice is anything but prevalent; in proof of which I may quote as
instances, the late Grand Vizier Aali Pasha, the former one, Reschid
Pasha, and Cabuli Effendi, the present talented Secretary for Foreign
Affairs, and most of the leading Turkish gentlemen who have resided in
Christian countries, have but one wife.  As a proof of this I will relate
an amusing story current in the East:—

A certain Mahomedan had two wives, one of these occupied the lower, the
other the upper, chamber of the house in which he lived.  To prevent as
much as possible all appearance of undue preference, he made it his rule
to visit them alternately.  The communication between the upper story and
the ground floor was by a short ladder.  One evening as he proceeded to
mount this precarious staircase, in order to visit his beloved above, his
down stairs wife immediately vociferated, that his memory had failed him,
and that, in the due course of things, he had to remain with her.  This
the husband denied, and continued to mount the steps of the ladder.  In
despair, and still protesting loudly her right, the lady flew to the
ladder, and the moment his head emerged into the floor of the upper
chamber, seized her husband by the legs and arrested his further
progress.  The lady up-stairs, however, who had now got an inkling of the
contest, and fearful on her part of being outwitted, rushed to the top of
the ladder, and while the lady beneath was partly succeeding in pulling
the unfortunate man down by the legs, suddenly seized him by that tuft of
hair which is left on the head of every true believer, pulled as
vigorously as her rival though in an opposite direction.  While they
tugged at their victim alternately, and doubt seemed to hang over
victory, and it even appeared possible that the contested property might
be rent in sunder between them, accompanied with all those noisy
vociferations with which the fair sex are accustomed to conduct their
combats, especially in the East, a thief introduced himself into the
house, and was an unperceived spectator of the scene.

Some time afterwards, the thief was apprehended and carried before the
Cadi, to whom he related the circumstance of which he had been witness.
“Well,” said the magistrate, “your punishment shall be either to lose
your head, or like the man you have robbed, immediately possess yourself
of two wives—you shall have the option.”  “After what I have seen,”
replied the criminal, “I have no hesitation; better to lose my head and
go at once to Paradise than live to be torn in half between two jealous
wives.”

Although it is most true, that in Europe polygamy is disallowed, I need
not say how often the marriage vow is broken, and how many are the
delinquents.  Often old men even have mistresses in addition to their own
lawful wife.  Much of this corruption evidently arises from the
iniquitous practice of _mariage de convenance_, so often speculated in by
most match-making mothers, in the two greatest capitals of Europe.  Men
and women, who have not a single idea in common, and no sympathy with
each other, are inveigled into marriages because the one has wealth and
the other titles, or what is worse, beauty is bartered for gold.  I am
quite at a loss to account for the utter want of feeling in those parents
who can ruthlessly sacrifice the happiness and peace of mind of their own
child, by marrying a girl, perhaps of sixteen, to a half-idiotic or
toothless man, in infirmity or age, thus ill calculating either for the
happiness or protection of inexperienced youth.  (_I know of such
instances_).  It is not in nature that such a couple should be happy; for
a young man cannot be fascinated by the charms of a haggish old woman,
neither is it possible, where such disparities exist, for a young girl to
nourish one spark of that warm affection which should ever exist between
man and wife.

Now, in Syria, such marriages never occur.  A man takes a wife for a
_helpmate_ not for a puppet—for a companion in health—a consolation in
sickness, to help him in enjoying the bounteous gifts of nature, or to
soothe when the cloud of affliction rests over his pathway.  This was why
marriage was constituted, and this is why people get married in the East.
It is true that an Oriental wife cannot paint, or play the piano or harp,
but she can sing in her own quiet way, and that sweetly, too—never
sweeter than when she is hushing her first-born to slumber; and she can
dance on any very festive occasion, not the giddy flaunting waltz or
polka, but a quiet measured tread, graceful and becoming without being
indecorous.  It may be that a man does sometimes marry a girl possessed
of a wealthy dower; but these instances are rare, and when they do occur,
the dower is, for the most part, invested in jewels or in lands.  If in
the latter, the husband enjoys a life-interest in them—he is indeed lord
and master of the property, and can make any improvements he sees fit:
the former generally decorate the wife’s turban on festive occasions; but
in case of misfortune, then these are pledged or sold off one by one to
meet the emergency.  I trust many of my fair readers will, after perusing
this, feel convinced of the binding and solemn nature of the marriage tie
amongst Christians in Syria.  Far be it from me by these observations, to
throw any slur upon the married life of the people of Western Europe; I
merely wish to show to those who imagine that polygamy is universal in
the East, that the same thing, but in a different form, is as prevalent
in their own country.  The English, indeed, are, upon the whole, freer
from this vice than most other civilised nations, and their domestic
felicity far exceeds that of any other people.

But to return to the immediate subject.  The son, as soon as he is
married, is fairly embarked in life, and if his father be a widower, then
the whole of the household arrangements devolve upon the young wife.  The
son is generally master of the house, and the old man retires from
business and the bustle of life, passing the rest of his days as a guest
or sort of pensioner in his own house, and seldom meddling with its
domestic economy.  Should the mother, however, still survive, she devotes
her time to instructing her daughter-in-law in domestic matters, and also
accompanies her when she goes out.

There is one thing very praiseworthy amongst the Syrians, and a trait in
our character which many civilised nations would do well to take for an
example.  I allude to untiring love and charity between not only members
of one household, but all relations or connexions, however distantly
connected.  One seldom or ever hears of a father and his children being
on bad terms, or of quarrels and broils between sisters and brothers.  Of
course they are not exempt from angry passions; high words may rise
between them, and even ill feeling rancour in their hearts, but they
never allow “the sun to set on their wrath;” and if only for appearance’
sake, they make it up again speedily, and converse and chat as freely as
ever.  In this respect they act up to a wise, if not elegant, French
proverb—“_Le linge sale doit être lavé en famille_.”  No strangers are
permitted to rejoice at their discords, or mock at their infirmities.

Then, again, so long as one member of a family is well off, he will never
suffer his poor relations to feel want.  If he can find them employment,
well and good; if not, they have the shelter of his own house, and food
from his own table; and in return, all he expects is, that they will lend
a hand at being useful.  Every want is supplied them: and if even clothes
be necessary, these are provided.  When two or more relations of a poor
man are well to do, they join together to assist him; and this in a great
measure accounts for the scarcity of street-beggars in most parts of
Syria.  A Syrian would consider it a disgrace to his name, that any
member of his family should be suffered to want whilst he had a crumb to
spare, and it would be looked upon as a heinous sin in a religious point
of view.  In England, perhaps, it would not be fashionable to have a poor
relation out at elbows, tarnishing the splendidly furnished drawing-room
of a wealthy relative; or it would not be convenient to curtail the
luxury and voluptuous display of every-day wealth, to contribute a
pittance for the maintenance of a starving nephew or a crippled brother.
This may not be fashionable, but it would be Christian-like; and rest
assured, O slave of the world, so full of all “the pomps and vanities of
this wicked world,” that when He comes, who gave even His life for your
salvation, then the poor uneducated Syrian—the man who has received
little—will have a far lighter account to balance with the Great Author
of eternal life, than you who have possessed and have withheld.

Public prostitution was a thing entirely unknown in Syria until
intercourse with Europeans introduced it first into the sea-ports; from
thence it gradually spread inland.  Formerly the most severe punishments
were inflicted for this crime, and where the authorities failed to
interfere, the relatives took the law into their own hands, and very
summarily disposed of an offender against their honour.  Even now-a-days,
such poor creatures are rare; and if by chance one meets with one, she is
invariably under the protection of some European—of itself a sufficient
guarantee from punishment.  I remember a most shocking instance of the
punishment inflicted upon a woman of this class some eighteen years ago,
at Beyrout.  Her family were neighbours of mine.  She was several times
warned to be on her guard, but totally disregarded these warnings, till
at length, some of the men connected with her family, entered (with the
father’s knowledge and consent) the house of her paramour at night, and
after hewing her to pieces, threw her remains into a well attached to a
house belonging to my uncle, the Rev. Kouri Georgius Risk Allah.

The girls in Syria are principally educated in housewifery, such as
baking, washing, cooking, etc.  Starching and ironing are as yet unknown,
except to a few aspiring geniuses at Beyrout, who, from this knowledge,
derive no small emolument.  The girls are also instructed in the
management of all household affairs, the care of poultry, and even of
making cream-cheese, bread, pastry and _leban_, and also in household
superstitions.  Amongst these last, they are taught—

Never to rock a cradle when it is empty, because evil spirits are very
fond, so say old crones in Syria, of being rocked.

Never to sweep the house after sunset, as this is only practised when
there has been a death in the family and after the body has been carried
out.

Never to look into a mirror after sunset, for an _afreet_ is sure to be
peeping over their shoulder, and he may shew himself to them in such a
very unpleasant manner as might frighten them to death instanter.  Only
think of this, ye opera-going and ball-frequenting young ladies!  What a
hard case it would be if you were forbidden to look into a mirror after
candles have been rung for.

Never to cut their finger or toe-nails near a basin of water; for if the
nail should chance to fall into the water, they have nothing left to them
but to make their will and go to bed, for, according to the logic of all
old women, die they must.

And last and not least—Never to interrupt or harm the black snake of the
house—_Hye il sauda_.  In almost every house in Syria there is a peculiar
black serpent, large but very harmless, which takes up its abode in the
cellar of the house, and will never afterwards quit its nook or corner
till killed, or till the house falls, or the snake dies.  No Syrian would
ever intentionally kill these snakes, for, besides keeping mice and rats
away, they are held in such deep veneration, that endless are the absurd
superstitions and tales told about them, all of which I myself once
firmly believed in.  Amongst other things, it is said, that if you
destroy one of these snakes, the mate will be sure to seek for and obtain
vengeance.  They pretend, further, that these snakes are doatingly fond
of milk, and that the smell of it will immediately attract them.  It is
commonly believed, that a young mother may be sure, if she is not on the
watch, that the black snake will come in the night and feed off her
breasts, till it has drained them so dry that there is nothing left for
the infant; and again, with regard to the child, should the snake be
disappointed in getting its supply of milk from the fountain-head, that
it will then resort to the artifice of inserting its tail into the
infant’s mouth, and so tickling its throat as to cause it to be sick, and
thus supply itself with food.  But the most ludicrous story told is about
the conscientiousness of one of these snakes, a story which is firmly
believed by most Orientals.  It runs thus: “In Syria, it is the custom of
every family to lay up a year’s provisions of all the necessaries of
life, in store-rooms attached to the house; these provisions consist of
melted butter in jars for cooking rice, wheat, burghal, etc.  Now, as the
story goes, one of these black snakes once deposited her eggs in one of
these store-rooms, a hole in the corner of which led to a serpent’s nest.
The young ones had been hatched, and were all assembled together
gambolling about, when some of the children, happening to surprise these
young snakes at their frolics, seeing that they were very small, whipped
them up in their handkerchiefs, and ran off with them to the other end of
the house.  Now think what might have been the serious results of this
frolic.  Mother snake coming home could not find her young ones, and made
a pretty to do about it.  At last she discovered that the children had
stolen them, and in her rage and vexation determined to be revenged on
the whole family.  Accordingly, with the assistance of her tail, she
removed the cover of the butter-jar, and inserting her fangs into the
butter, succeeded in poisoning the whole mass.  Bye and bye, home came
the lady of the house from the bath, and no sooner did she see what the
children had been about, than, with many screams and exclamations, she
insisted on the young snakes being carried back again.  No sooner said
than done; and now mother snake began to regret deeply what she had done.
How to remedy the evil was the question—speak she could not, nor had she
any other method of warning the family not to use the butter.  Well, now
what do you think she did?  She called the male snake to her assistance,
and these two, coiling themselves round the thin jar, squeezed with all
their might and main, till the jar broke into a hundred pieces, the
melted butter ran out on the ground, and was lost, and the family were
saved from being poisoned.”

This is one amongst the many fabulous tales about the black household
snake of Syria; but such like superstitions need not startle educated
people in England, when they remember the endless fables that pass
current in their own land about many animals, plants, and things—even to
coffins darting out of fires, winding-sheets in candles, and lover-like
apparitions in tea-cups.

It must not be supposed that the higher classes of Syrians are not
scrupulous with regard to the laws of etiquette; on the contrary, they
strictly enforce them.  If Kowagar Bustros and his family called to see
Kowagar Saba and his family on this Tuesday, Kowagar Saba will return the
visit next Tuesday.  If Kowagar Domian invite Kowagar Michali and family
to dinner, Kowagar Michali and family give a return party to Kowagar
Domian.  But the grand day for receiving visits in every house is the
_Eed_, or festival of the master of the house, which is annually
celebrated on that saint’s day whose name he has taken, and whose
patronage he acknowledges.  Thus all those of the name of Michali remain
at home on St. Michael’s day, and all their acquaintances call to see
them, and to wish them health, luck, and prosperity; some bring fruits,
some sweetmeats, and few come empty-handed.  If this usage is productive
of no very beneficial effects, it at least serves to promote a kindly
feeling betwixt neighbours and friends; and this, after all, is a grand
point to observe if one wishes to be comfortable and happy in this world.

When a Syrian dies, after a few hours the hired mourners are sent for,
according to a custom which has apparently prevailed from the most remote
antiquity, as we find it referred to in Amos v. 16.  The cries raised by
these women are peculiarly mournful and affecting when they are first
heard announcing to the immediate neighbourhood that one of their number
has departed, or reaching the ear of the passing stranger with their
intelligence of death and sorrow.  Wax-tapers are then sent round to his
friends as a notice that they are invited to the funeral, which always
takes place within twenty-four hours after death.  When they are
assembled in the church, the tapers are lit, the corpse is placed in the
centre, and the service is read; then the candles are extinguished, the
body is carried to the grave by his friends, is buried, and “his place
knows him no more” (Job vii. 9–10).

I am tempted to close this chapter with the following lament of a lover
over the grave of his mistress, literally translated from the Arabic.



I.


Alas! and ah well a-day, that my rose-faced love, my intimate, my soul’s
companion, should be enveloped in her shroud!  That tongue, once
familiar, with so many languages, gives utterance now to none.  I listen
vainly and am astonished not to hear thy once-loved voice.



II.


Tell me, O Grave, tell me, is her incomparable beauty gone?  Has she,
too, faded, as the petals fall from the sweetest flower, and her lovely
face changed—changed and gone! Thou art not a garden, O Grave; nor yet
heaven; still all the fairest flowers and the brightest plants are culled
by thee.



III.


O black, mysterious Ground, tell me how or wherefore have we sinned, that
thou art prone to hug the beautiful, the chaste, the rare—and yet so cold
thy love.  Stones alone hast thou for pillows for the tender, the loved,
the fair.



IV.


O Ground—confusion to thy face!—think not the treasure that is withering
in thy grasp is thine.  O no!  Thank God, her soul, her immortality, is
far beyond thy reach.



V.


Earth, unfeeling Earth, thy heart is adamant; nor hope nor pity find a
place in thee.  Yet seeds sown in thy bosom spring up as flowers
beautiful and rare.  Without thee, a solitary soul—a blank is the world
to me—nor merry laugh nor cheerful glance has now a charm.



VI.


Sometimes I weep alone to think that I have lost thy love for ever—and
then, oh! bitterly weep to see thy mother’s furrowed brow—full well she
feels the treasure lost—the young child and the beautiful.  I marvel not,
angel, that thou art gone—for heaven were better fitted for thy home than
earth; but I marvel that we can live yet awhile on earth—live without thy
smile.



VII.


And thou who couldst barely resist the cold—thy fate is hard—nor friend
to whisper comfort, nor careful eye to watch—in thy cold, solitary,
mysterious grave—none can give comfort.  But how foolish!  I speak to
dust.  Thy soul, thank God! is far beyond the hurt of man or evil spirit.




CHAPTER XV.
SYRIA AND HER INHABITANTS.


In this chapter I shall endeavour to take a brief review of the country
and people—the drawback to the advancement and welfare of the latter—and
the inducements held out by the former for colonisation by emigrants—with
the mutual benefits accruing therefrom.

That portion of the Turkish dominions which lies to the southward of
Tyre, and includes all the country comprised within the boundary limits
of Gaza and Hebron to the south, and Tyre to the north, is with very few
exceptions, an uncultivated waste, owing, not to the want of fertility of
soil, but to the indolence of its inhabitants.  The sea-ports, or
roadsteads, are at all seasons of the year open and exposed, and in the
winter months dangerous in the extreme for shipping; in proof of this, I
have only to cite the many shipwrecks which have occurred within the last
few years at Jaffa and Caipha.  Gaza has only, during the present year,
risen into notice, few English schooners having arrived at Belfast direct
from that port, deeply laden with grain.  But the roadstead of Gaza is
perilous for vessels at all seasons of the year, as the wind blows in
shore; the holding ground is bad; the inducements held out to commerce
very small; the inhabitants lazy and impoverished; little or no
consumption for seaport goods and British manufactures (the natives of
the villages in the interior restricting themselves to clothing which is
made of coarse stuffs manufactured by themselves or imported from Egypt);
the desert no field for speculations; and such little European produce as
finds its way into the interior being carried thither by petty retail
merchants, natives, who supply themselves with an annual stock from the
ofttimes glutted market of Beyrout.  With respect to the export trade,
the south of Palestine supplies abundance of wheat, sessame, and other
grain; but the quality of much of this grain is superior to that produced
in Asia Minor.

The people inhabiting these southern parts of Palestine are almost a
distinct race from their brethren farther north; in manners and customs,
and even in complexion and stature, differing materially from the
northern Syrian: the great heat of the climate and the general scarcity
of water rendering them an indolent and careless people, sadly lacking in
cleanliness, and without spirit or energy to make any exertions for the
amelioration of their wretched condition.  After leaving Tyre, and as we
proceeded south, mulberry-plantations quickly disappear; thus the one
grand staple commodity is wanting, and the occupation of rearing the
silkworm, at once a healthy and amusing pastime and a lucrative labour,
is denied the inhabitants of Southern Palestine.  With hard manual
labour, privation, and exposure to intense heat, and all the evils of
comparative serfdom, they have no pleasurable recreations to lighten the
arduous pursuits of their every-day avocations: the plough and the
spade—the spade and the plough—incessant toil and small
recompense—unwillingess to work, yet goaded to it by dire necessity, the
pangs of starvation, or the chastisements inflicted by unrelenting
landlords and landowners.  Such is their unhappy lot.

Their huts are miserable, their children squalid and unhealthy; they toil
through a life of troubles and sorrows, and have the poor satisfaction of
knowing that they are possessed of no benefits which might, in
after-years, accrue to their children’s advantage.  From generation to
generation they live and die, are born and given in marriage, but the
tenure of their serfdom is still the same.  They are nominally free
subjects of an enlightened government, but virtually the slaves of
circumstances, groaning under the petty chiefs and subordinate
understrappers of government, who have yet to learn submission to the
will and mandates of the present excellent Sultan, Abdul Medjid Khan,
whose reign has already been distinguished by many great improvements in
the condition of the Christian population.  Many of the firmans issued of
late years have not as yet come into force in the interior of Turkey, and
in those possessions of the Ottoman empire situated farthest from the
sea-ports.  In the course of some years it is, however, to be hoped, that
the most remote villages will be benefited by the improvements made in
Western Europe.

The disposition of the natives of Southern Palestine has a tinge of
sullen moroseness in it, which has doubtless been ingrafted in it from
generation to generation; there is nothing _couleur-de-rose_ in their
sphere of life and action; and the superstition they inherit from their
ancestors is not that pure and lovely religion of Christ which can cast a
halo around, whilst it strengthens, encourages, and supports in the
darkest hours of affliction and woe.  It may be, that, under better
auspices—could the people be brought to have a common interest in their
own and each other’s welfare, were there less animosity and party feeling
existing between the various creeds, could they be brought to nurture
less of deadly malice and hatred towards each other, all combining in one
common cause with a mutual good understanding—the fate of Southern
Palestine and its prevailing feature of sterile barrenness might be
changed.  The country, people, and climate, might yield to the
introduction of agriculture and other improvements, and be materially
bettered—if land were meted out in portions with a sure guarantee to the
cultivator that his toil and labour would eventually be recompensed by
his reaping some fruits for himself from the sweat of his brow to benefit
his children—were the lower classes of the Moslems less avaricious, the
Jews less despised, the Christians less exposed to the grinding system of
the land-owners and admitted to reap fair profits from the fields they
plough and the gardens they cultivate for their wealthier and more
powerful masters; then, peradventure, the sea-coast and the cities near
and round about Jerusalem would gradually re-assume a right to that
blessed title which ascribed to its countries the appellation of a land
rich indeed, and flowing with milk and honey.  But alas for the land of
Canaan! the portion of the tribe of Judah is become an unsightly
wilderness; and of Zion it may be truly said, “Thy house is left unto
thee desolate.”

From Gaza to Tyre the whole line of sea-coast is inhabited by people who,
with the exception of Jaffa, Caipha, and Acre, are professionally
goatherds and farmers—a simple people that subsist chiefly upon milk and
cheese, with fruit and vegetables, and who are merely the hirelings of
the owners of the large flocks committed to their charge.  These goats
furnish the surrounding country with the only palatable meat to be
procured in these hot regions.  Mutton is scarce, and beef seldom heard
of; hence poultry and goats are the staple commodity of the meat-market.
A young kid of a year’s growth is up to this very day often chosen as a
choice delicacy.  Who does not call to mind the crafty art of Rebecca in
seasoning the well-flavoured dish so as to make it vie with the tenderest
venison?  A kid, seasoned with spice and stuffed with sweet herbs, rice,
and the kernel of the fine fruit (at the very recollection of which I
hunger), is the festive dish of every house in Palestine on seasons of
mirth and great rejoicings.  The father of the newly-married bridegroom,
tottering from extreme old age, will issue forth from the festive board
after having partaken of this delicacy, with a face radiant with smiles
and contentment, pouring forth blessings on him that prepared the savoury
meat.

It is seldom now-a-days that men die of extreme old age and debility in
the countries round about Jerusalem; but where such instances occur, and
where the faculties are retained to the last, and the human functions are
in full operation, then rest assured, that the tent scene in Isaac’s last
closing moments—so beautifully portrayed in the Holy Scriptures—is still
vividly re-acted up to this very day, with the sole exception perhaps of
the deceit practised by Jacob and his mother, which omission may solely
arise from the fact that the children of this world have now become wiser
in their generation, and are no longer to be imposed upon by such simple
and rude artifices.

But in their poverty and misery, the children of Southern Syria must bow
the neck meekly to the yoke till a brighter day dawns from above upon
their affliction, and till the curse is removed and the blessing of the
Almighty shall descend, like the rich dew of Hermon, upon their country
and themselves, and more than amply recompense them for centuries of
suffering and woe.  They must remember the words spoken by the prophet
Isaiah—“O Assyrian, the rod of mine anger, and the staff in their hand is
mine indignation.”

With Sidon the whole face of the country changes, and here commences that
luxuriant and verdant pasturage and foliage, which continue increasing as
we progress to the northward and may be said to reach a climax of beauty
and profuse richness in the districts of Lebanon, Tripoli, Lattakia, and
Antioch.  Vast mulberry plantations, orchards of delicious fruits, and
vineyards covered with an endless variety of grapes, everywhere delight
the eye.  At those spots where the soil is untilled, and up the lofty
sides of the mountains, grow the cypress, the majestic oak, the stately
fir, and the lofty pine; every inch of ground being thickly covered with
wild flowers, blackberry bushes, the white rose, and the training
honey-suckle, all which, with the fresh odours of the country, recall
forcibly to the mind the words of the prophet Hosea, “his smell is as
Lebanon.”

          “—Through the grass
    The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the trills
    Of summer birds sing welcome as ye pass;
    Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their dyes,
    Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass;
    The sweetness of the violet’s deep-blue eyes,
    Kissed by the breath of heaven, seems colour’d by its skies.”

In the neighbourhood of Sidon, even the rare exotic banana has now been
reared with success, its large and handsome leaves and clustering golden
fruit being a source of wonder and admiration to the Syrian who is a
stranger to that neighbourhood.  Here also commences that plentiful
supply of clear, crystal water which so materially adds to the beauty of
the scenery, makes cleanliness and comfort a cheap luxury to the
inhabitants, and as a natural consequence, proportionably benefits the
health of the natives.  Children grow up surrounded by the choicest gifts
of a bountiful Providence, and their young and tender hearts are moulded
in a meeker and more gentle frame; their labour is more congenial to
their constitution and habits, and the smallest exertion is quickly
recompensed by a grateful and fruitful return.  The shade of many trees
affords them a welcome shelter; the waters of many cool streams are at
hand to quench their slightest thirst; and the choice fruits of a hundred
orchards, maturing to ripeness, afford them a luxurious repast.  Besides
these, the cattle and poultry are more plentiful, and of a better sort,
and the pasturages are thickly dotted with flocks of fine healthy sheep,
and milch cows in abundance.  The result of all these blessings is, that
the inhabitants are a healthier, wealthier, and a more cheerful race than
the people of Southern Palestine; and the vast supply of honey gathered
from the wild honey-combs in the neighbouring mountains, and the
excessive cheapness and excellence of milk renders this portion of Syria
the land “flowing with milk and honey” of the present day.

Oh that I were possessed of sufficient eloquence to prove to that great
mass of people who are emigrating from the British isles to the far
distant shores of Australia and North America, the fallacy of the
opinion, so universally entertained by some English, with regard to the
risk and danger incurred by those possessed of lands within the limits of
the Turkish dominions!  Would that I could divest them of the idea
usually run away with by Englishmen, that they would be exposing their
lives and property to the will and pleasure of ferocious three-tailed
pashas, such as they have read of in books of travels, dated nearly half
a century back, and whose detestable names and memory are now handed down
to posterity in tales and Eastern ballads.

The real state of the Turkish empire is quite the reverse to what these
good people imagine, and of late years any European, particularly since
the siege of Acre, and an Englishman especially, commands universal
respect from all the inhabitants of Syria, rich or poor, Christian or
Jew.  There may be, perhaps, a few of the more bigoted beys and nobles,
who, wishing to remain in undisturbed possession of their wealth, and the
monopoly of land and labour, would regard the advent of enlightened
strangers as likely to be an infringement on their position, dignity, and
independence; but their rage and jealousy would prove as impotent as it
would be contemptible.

It is, moreover, difficult to satisfy Europeans, especially Englishmen,
that they can make safe investments in the Turkish dominions; but it is
only requisite to enquire into the tenure of all sorts of property as
held by Europeans in every part of Turkey for many years, to shew that
their vested rights have never been questioned, and that when any injury
or loss was proved to have been sustained to any such property, the
official representative of the owner had only to submit his claim, and in
every instance full and satisfactory redress was instantly afforded; and
I may refer, in proof of this, to an instance which occurred some years
ago of losses sustained by the French Factory, on Mount Lebanon, owing to
irregularities and outrages on the part of the petty local authorities,
and others, for which ample indemnification was given.

I may state, as an additional confirmation, the case of the Rev. Goodall,
the American Missionary, who was plundered by the soldiers during the
Greek piratical invasion of Beyrout, to which I have before alluded.  As
soon as quiet was re-established, the Consul applied to the Pasha for a
restitution of the stolen property, or a tantamount value.  A list was
made out, and so punctilious was the Pasha, that even a fowl, that had
been ready trussed for roasting, was included amongst the missing
articles, and every farthing was paid down out of the Government
treasury.  And this is the case in most instances where a European is the
aggrieved party; the Governor of the district will be sure to see justice
done him and the Treasury is entitled to collect the sum disbursed from
the heads of the villages in the immediate neighbourhood where the theft
was committed.  This answers a double end; it satisfies the injured
party, and ensures almost to a certainty the capture of the felon, for
all the villagers are on the watch to discover the rogue that has brought
on them such a taxation.

Europeans hold property after this manner, viz., they authorise a friend
who is a subject of the Sultan, in whom they can place implicit
confidence, to buy or purchase such and such a house or landed property
in his own name; then he makes a transfer of the titles to such property
to the European in lieu of some imaginary debt, usually a sum far
exceeding the value of the property itself.  This transfer is made in the
Cadi’s, or Chief Judge’s Court; and being registered, becomes valid in
Turkish law, and is legally recognised as such.  It is thus that the
oldest vested European interests in Turkey are secured and possessed, and
handed down to the lawful heirs of the European proprietors.

In respect both to the character of the Turks, and their kindly
disposition towards strangers, I cannot do better than give a quotation
from an interesting work by J. C. Monk, Esq., who has very recently
visited the country, in order to illustrate their friendliness and
amiability.  He says—

“For my own part I look back with unmixed pleasure and gratification to
the brief period of my sojourn among the Turks.  Their hospitality to
strangers, as well as their charity to the poor, and to each other in
distress, has never been questioned.  From the Pasha in his palace, and
from the peasant in his hut, I have received kindness and hospitality.
They are not inquisitive in demanding the business or occasion which
brings a stranger to their doors, as such he is welcome; as he came, so
may he depart; no present is required, and rarely is it expected; no
questions are asked; attentive to the wants and comforts of his guests,
the Turk seems to forget his natural _insouciance_ until the departure of
the stranger, when in return for his salutation he wishes him “God
speed.”

Of one thing I am certain, and that is, that the middling and poorer
classes would hail the arrival of English emigrants with rapturous
delight; and in stating this, I am not without antecedents to prove what
I assert.  I might instance the case of the late lamented and excellent
Mr. John Barker, who, for many years, lived amongst the wildest and most
bigoted portion of the natives of Northern Syria (at least, they were so
when he first went amongst them); go now and ask whomsoever you will—the
richest or the poorest—their opinion of the English, and, as if with one
voice, they will reply—that, taking Mr. Barker as a standard, they
consider them the best, most charitable, and most enlightened people that
inhabit the earth—the best friends and staunchest supporters of the
Sultan—and a people that they would gladly see settled around them.

Let us quietly argue both sides of the question; and perhaps as an
objection to start with, the reader may urge, that, in the instance above
quoted, the gentleman who thus settled in Syria was a wealthy retired
Consul-General, possessing, _for that country_, an income equal to, if
not exceeding, that of the most important Pasha in Syria, and that,
therefore, apart from his wealth, the high official position he had
occupied in Egypt and Aleppo, was a sufficient reason to command esteem
and respect among the natives; also in the cases of Col. Churchill, who
possesses large estates in the mountains, and is most active in his
exertions for the spiritual enlightenment and temporal improvement of the
people, that of Lady Hester Stanhope, and other Europeans.  This may be
correct to a certain extent, but is false in the main.  Of that
unfortunate lady, who once ruled with almost absolute power, the wild
Arabs of the desert, the only traces that remain, are the few crumbling
ruins of her humble abode at Djouni; her very name is almost forgotten,
and her sun of life sunk behind the cloud of obscurity.  But why was
this?  Simply because she lavished her money, when she had any, in vain
paraphernalia, and gave large sums, as _backshish_, to unprincipled men,
who had no sooner spent the money, than they forgot the patroness.  Had
she employed her time and means in buying land and cultivating it,
introducing useful arts, etc., then her memento would have been lasting,
and the boon conferred handed down from generation to generation.  Mr.
Barker’s and Col. Churchill’s estates flourish, and will continue to
flourish through many years to come.

The better sorts of peaches and grapes, besides a variety of rare Indian
and American fruits, which have been introduced by English
philanthropists, all serve to remind the Syrians of the kind friends who
brought them to the country; and many who have risen from obscurity into
comparative independence, hourly bless the good men whose hands showered
these benefits upon them.  It would be in the power, more or less, of
every Englishman emigrating to Syria, to confer a lasting benefit upon
the natives through the introduction of a better method than they possess
of cultivating the ground, etc.; while a blacksmith, a skilful carpenter,
and a good mason, would prove invaluable acquisitions; and an industrious
farmer might initiate them into the art of making wholesome cheese, in
lieu of the hard, unpalatable stuff that now bears that name.  These
would be the greatest of boons to the Syrians; and though naturally a
slow people, unwilling to deviate from old customs and habits which have
been handed down to them from generation to generation, still the
successful working of any newly introduced system, affording them
incontrovertible proofs of its yielding a better profit, would very soon
induce the natives to follow the example of their more civilised
neighbours.

The advantages to be derived from emigrating to Syria are manifold; but
first amongst these let me class, what to a patriotic Englishman must be
a pleasant thought, the comparative vicinity of this country to his
native land.  Thousands of people are content to be cooped up for months
in a close confined vessel, exposed to all the hardships and sufferings
of a long sea-voyage, and subjected to the expenses of passage-money and
outfit, with the almost certainty before them, even if they succeed
beyond their most sanguine wishes, of being exiled from their country for
ten or a dozen years.  I do not now allude to those shoals that are
flocking over to Australia, tempted from home by the immense wealth of
the Gold-diggings; nor to the possibility of these Gold-diggings being
very speedily inundated with people who may, when too late, bitterly
lament the rashness of their proceedings; neither will I advert to the
possibility of mines being discovered even in so neglected a country as
Syria.  Some are already known; and even copper and iron also exist.  In
Arabia, mountains of turquoise exist, specimens of which were exhibited
at the Exhibition, and gained a prize, by Major C. R. Macdonald, who had
also the honour of presenting the Queen with a pair of magnificent
bracelets.  I am arguing with that class of men who emigrate simply
because they can find no occupation for their professional labours at
home.  Yet not one out of these thousands has moral courage to emigrate
to Syria, where, if they proceed by a steamer, their outfit and
passage-money would amount to about one-half the expense incurred in
going to Australia,—the passage barely exceeding a fortnight, and that
passage, if the season is well chosen, performed in the height of summer,
with hardly a squall to ruffle the placid waters of the Mediterranean.
Here, then, at the very outset, is a saving of at least one-half of the
expense which must be incurred in going to Australia.

We will now suppose our emigrant arrived in Syria, with some surplus cash
in his pocket; he here converts each golden sovereign into more than one
hundred piastres, and he must be a spendthrift indeed if he cannot live
well and comfortably for ten piastres per day, or at the rate of four
sovereigns a month.  In this interval he has had enough time to look
about him, and determine upon the town or position in which he intends
fixing his abode; and he has had also, during this short period, the
satisfaction of writing to his friends at home, and of receiving their
answers and congratulations on his safe arrival.  Listen to this, O ye
that would still persist in emigrating to Australia, and remember how
many months must elapse ere the happy tidings of your safe arrival and
its reply can reach you.

If the emigrant be a farmer he is not long in fixing upon a fit site for
the establishment of his farm-house.  The immediate neighbourhood of
Tripoli, Beyrout, Tyre, Sidon, and Jaffa are best adapted for his
purpose, the shipping there and the towns themselves affording an ample
market for the consumption of live stock.  He will have cheapness to
contend against in the sale of cattle and poultry, but the superior
quality of what would be produced by a careful farmer, his stall-fed oxen
and sheep, and well-fattened poultry, would, amongst Europeans and the
wealthiest natives, command eventually a ready and profitable sale.
Cyprus would supply him with young turkeys at an average value of about a
shilling a head, and with every other species of poultry.  If he wished
to experimentalise in improving the breed of cattle, he might do so
advantageously, not to mention the profits from wool and hides.  The one
article of cheese alone, in exchange, would be to him a source of certain
gain.  One half of the inhabitants subsist for a great portion of the
year almost entirely upon this food, wretchedly as it is made by my
countrymen.

Should the emigrant be a lover of a cold climate, he can easily fix his
abode on the snow-capped pinnacles of Lebanon, where he may enjoy
perpetual frost.  If another should prefer a milder climate, he can
calculate his temperature almost to a nicety, and by carrying a pocket
thermometer about with him, go higher or descend lower, as fancy or
inclination might prompt.  Should he love to luxuriate in heat, he has
only to descend to the sea-side, and there he will revel in all the glory
of sunshine, glare, and warm land-breezes.  Mechanics, etc., would find
ready occupation in the very heart of the busiest towns in Syria, and
what is more, such is the high repute of English mechanics and artizans
amongst the natives of Syria, that even old grey-bearded Mahomedans would
gladly apprentice themselves, giving in return their manual labour.

It may be urged, with regard to climate, that the heat of all parts of
Syria is too intense to admit of English labourers being employed in the
cultivation of the immense tracts of waste land that so abound in various
districts.  My reply to this is, that both food and labour being
extremely cheap in that country, and the produce, whether grain or silk,
disposable at an enormous profit in the English markets, the proceeds of
such sales would enable the small capitalist to employ sufficient
labourers under him; so that, in short, he would be simply a teacher and
overseer, managing his own property, and could, in a very few years,
afford to have an official in his pay, whilst he himself perhaps might
be, with his family, enjoying a cheap jaunt to his own country.

But there is also another large class of emigrants, to whose means and
occupations Syria is even better suited than to all the foregoing.  I
mean persons of a certain fixed moderate income; those in receipt of an
annual rent or interest, varying in amount from £50 to £300.  A man in
London, especially if he have a wife and family to support, is
comparatively a pauper if he can earn no more than £50 per annum.  Take
that man to Syria; plant him in any part of Lebanon, or in any other
district of that country, and he has no longer pounds and shillings to
mete out carefully, so as to cover the annual outlay for household
expenses; but he has now to deal with piastres and paras.  For one
piastre he can get four ordinary penny loaves; for half a piastre he can
get five eggs; for another half, as much fresh butter and milk as will
serve his purpose for the day, and unless he be an extraordinary eater,
leave an abundant surplus.  Thus for two piastres we have seen him
provided with milk, butter, and bread—three staple commodities—and the
additional luxury of fresh-laid eggs.  An _oak_, or 2¾ lbs. of mutton,
would cost him about two and a half piastres, and he spends a piastre in
vegetables and fruit; thus the raw articles of consumption cost him daily
five and a half piastres, or just one shilling sterling.  With sixpence
additional, he can have fish and wine and coffee, an ample supply of
each, enough indeed to satisfy the cravings of three moderate men; so
that his annual item for food, wine, and coffee, would amount to 547
shillings and sixpence, or £27 17s. 6d.  Of his original income of £50
per annum, he would thus still have a surplus of £22 2s. 6d.  His rent
and the hire of three servants, their keep included, may consume £10 of
this balance, and with the remaining £12 2s. 6d. he could buy and keep
for the whole first year a very serviceable steed, whose cost would be
more than recompensed by the benefit and pleasure of horse-exercise every
day in the week.

Having now mounted my comparatively English “beggar on horseback”—even if
he be the most indolent of indolent men—he must go on thriving better and
better.  Most Englishmen, however, have too much good sense now-a-days to
suffer precious hours to flit lazily by.  It is evident also, that our
emigrant will he put to less expense the second year of his sojourn, at
least to the amount of the value of cost of his horse, which will then
only become an item of keep, as grass is plentiful and barley (on which
our horses are fed) cheap.  His exchequer would thus be increased by £10
at the end of the second year.  Now, even in England, a sharp-witted
fellow might, by unremitting perseverance and indefatigable zeal, turn
ten pounds into twenty; but in Syria, this sum is 1100 piastres, and for
1100 piastres there is many a bit of ground to be purchased equal in size
to the largest square in London.  This he could lay out, if he fancied,
part in a kitchen-garden, part in a farm-yard, and part in a nursery for
young mulberry shoots, to be transplanted the ensuing year, by which time
also the extent of ground could be doubled by the purchase of a fresh lot
for £10 more—both planted with mulberries, the proprietor supplying his
own table with poultry and vegetables, making his own wine, and pressing
his own oil.  In five years after his first settlement, he would have a
mulberry plantation five times as extensive as Eaton Square, with that
portion of the property first planted already yielding a return; for the
mulberry-tree, after three years, is ready to rear the worm upon, and the
quantity reared goes on increasing as the trees become larger and yield a
more abundant supply of leaves.  At the end of these five years our
landed proprietor, whose greatest horror in London was quarter-day, and
rent and taxes, now finds himself in receipt of about £80 per annum
instead of £50, with every prospect of a rapid augmentation, for he may
have been adding ground to ground each successive year, and every
successive piece of land purchased may have been larger than the
preceding, till about the seventh year of his residence, when he may have
made an outlay of about £200, and have a promising plantation, yielding
him, conjointly with his income, somewhere about £120 per annum, with
every prospect of this income rapidly increasing.  The best part of the
pleasant tableau, too, would consist in the fact that there had been no
pinching and screwing up of one’s means, no direful privations to meet
the emergency, no sleepless nights, and worrying busy days, racking one’s
brains and detracting from health and happiness; but on the contrary, the
emigrant’s life will have been one perpetual scene of pleasurable and
healthful occupation and diversion.

He will be an early riser, because he has had his little flower-garden to
weed, or the planting out of his fruit-trees and vegetables to
superintend: his farm-yard will then claim his attention; the cows
milking and sending forth to grass; the sheep, the turkeys, the geese,
ducks, fowls, guinea-hens, etc., all to be attended to; terminating by a
pleasant ride round his own plantation (how his heart throbs at the
thought, _his own plantation_!), and in seeing that his people are at
their various labours for the day.  This ride gives him a keen relish for
his breakfast; and the forenoon is agreeably occupied in making notes of
when such and such a hen first sat on her eggs, and when such a batch of
chickens were hatched, etc.  At noon he has lunch, and takes his
_siesta_; whilst the afternoon is devoted to study, or to correspondence;
or, if the fancy take him, and the season be propitious, to a shooting
party.  There is no game-law to check his ambition, or to limit his range
of ground: no preserves, no man-traps, no “All dogs found trespassing
will be shot.”  He may climb up one hill and go down another; spring a
covey of partridges, knock over a couple or more, and then quietly
re-load his gun for another shot.  The only thing that seem inquisitive
about, or will take any interest in, such proceedings are, not
game-_keepers_, but game-_destroyers_—jackals and sparrowhawks; the one
will track the blood of the wounded partridge more surely even than the
dogs, the other soars high over head, and equally robs the sportsman of
his game unless numbered amongst his victims.

In the cool of the evening, the emigrant will enjoy his wholesome,
abundant, and luxurious dinner, and perhaps, entering into the spirit of
Oriental life, take a _fingan_ of coffee, and, may be, smoke a pipe of
delicious _Lattakia_; and at ten, at the latest, he takes himself to bed,
glad, after the many occupations of the day, to seek that healthful and
refreshing sleep, which is sure to be the natural result of so regular a
course of life.

Such is the picture of life I have drawn out for a man possessed at the
outset of only £50 per annum.  Many in the receipt of even more than this
sum annually, are now on the threshold of the poorhouse.  Surely, if such
should peruse these pages, they cannot longer hesitate as to what to do
or how to proceed.

Men with families who wish to luxuriate in the enjoyments of life, but
whose limited means of from £200 to £300 per annum restrict them, should
emigrate to Lebanon and to Syria.  There they might build themselves
palaces, have parks stocked with gazelles and deer, the choicest orchard
of fruit, a stable not to be surpassed by potentates of Europe,
summer-houses, and dogs, and guns, and other requisites for shooting and
coursing parties; a summer residence near the seaside, and a yacht to
pleasure in whithersoever they might choose, or whither the whim of the
moment might lead them.

Finally, if Englishmen would only emigrate to Syria, and establish a
small colony there, then the uninitiated natives would be enabled to form
some estimate of their character as a nation; and, above all, would
discover, that they, like themselves, are Church-goers, strictly
observant of the sabbath, possessing ordained bishops, priests, and
deacons,—acknowledging the efficacy of the Sacraments, and a people
really good, and believers in the Gospel, in lieu of being what they now
suppose them to be, a people that mount upon house-tops to pray, because
the higher the elevation the nearer they think themselves to God.

If consumptive patients, in the early stage of that most direful malady,
were to resort to the milder climate of Syria, there is every hope that,
under God’s blessing, they would eventually recover, for, apart from the
excellency of the climate, they are there exposed to no sudden changes of
heat and cold, no coming out of stifling opera-houses into the chilling
night air, no pernicious excitements, nor exhausting late hours.




CHAPTER XVI.
SYRIA, HER INHABITANTS, AND THEIR RELIGIONS, CONTINUED.


The desire to benefit my countrymen by an influx of European emigrants
has tempted me to wander from the subject of the preceding chapter; to
forget the actual inhabitants for a moment, while painting the delights
of a residence in Syria to those who can only become so in future.  I
must now proceed with my survey of the different races of people who
inhabit the country, and I shall endeavour to make this sketch of their
peculiarly national and religious characteristics as clear as possible.

There are few countries on the face of the earth so small in extent,
which comprise so many different races and religious persuasions, as
Syria.  In point of fact, its present condition in this respect offers a
remarkable illustration of the numerous schisms, which took place in the
Greek Church during the earlier period of its existence, and which, it is
well-known, were carried on with greater perseverance and bitterness than
any similar disturbances, which have at various times afflicted other
churches.

So complete has been the separation of the sectarian bodies from the
present church—so great was the influence of the leading ecclesiastics
among them, that a religious difference has produced a variation in their
habits and manners, and has even given to people, descendants from the
same stock, and living in the same country, the appearance of a totally
different origin.

We also number among our inhabitants a large and influential population,
inhabiting a mountainous district, who believe, and their belief is not
without foundation, that they are of Chinese origin.  In reviewing our
population, we find that it may be classed into four chief sections:
Christians, Jews, Mahommedans, and Infidels.  The Christians we find
sub-divided into more than that number of sects; almost every sect
constituting a different people.

The Mahommedans are also sub-divided into two branches, the orthodox and
the heterodox, or as they are otherwise called Sûnnees and Sheeas, the
former who are the more numerous, acknowledge the Sultan as the head and
protector of their religion, and are noted for their love of tradition
and their many interpretations of the Koran.  The Sheeas are nearly the
same in creed as the Methoûali, of whom I shall speak further in a future
chapter.  The Jews stand alone and isolated, as they do all over the
world, though there is one of the infidel tribes which is now declared to
be of Jewish origin.  Of each and all I shall speak in the proper place,
believing that I shall best succeed in rousing the interests of my
readers by presenting this picture of the inhabitants of Syria from a
religious point of view.

Of late years, as most of my readers must be aware, the attention of the
benevolent Christian public of Great Britain has been frequently and
anxiously directed to the want of proper religious teaching in Syria.
Englishmen, both poor and wealthy, have contributed from their purses to
supply the deficiency through the aid of English and native missionaries:
the latter having been educated in England expressly for this sacred
purpose.

The United States have not been behindhand in this general cause;
American missionaries have co-operated with some of their brethren from
this country zealously, and with good results.  How far those results
have extended—how rapidly the elementary principles of the purest
Christianity have been spread abroad in the East, through the agency of
these godly men, to whose fervent zeal and untiring energy, I can, at
least bear the most satisfactory, though humble testimony, has been
better and more efficiently told in the annual reports, which the several
missionary societies issue to the public, than any description which I
could give.

I am truly grateful for the deep interest which these societies and their
supporters have taken in the religious welfare of my nation; but it would
not be becoming in me to attempt to add anything to their reports.

It will be sufficient for me to assure my readers, that the pious
gentlemen employed by the parent societies, have traversed Syria in all
directions, piercing even into the very heart of its most mountainous
districts, sowing broadcast the seeds of a pure and immaculate faith;
that they have found patient listeners in all, and zealous converts in
many of our towns and villages.  The number of their converts continues
to increase; they are re-planting the true faith “The Cedar of Lebanon,”
which has flourished in the land from time immemorial, and they have
prepared the ground, nay, they have already laid the foundation on which
to raise an imperishable temple in honour of the only true Mediator, our
Saviour Christ, in defiance of the machinations and intrigues of the
“wild beast of Rome.”

They have my most fervent wishes for their complete success, and,
trusting to the aid of the Most High, I confidently look forward to that
day, when the offshoots of the stately Cedar of Lebanon shall have
covered the entire land, casting a holy shade over its inhabitants, when
the noxious weeds that now impede its growth and baffle its influence,
shall have disappeared from the land, and when the “wild beast” shall
have been banished to his den.

I desire, above all things, to remove an erroneous impression which I
find prevailing very generally in this country as to the character of the
Greek, or Orthodox Eastern Church, to which, by far the greater portion
of the Christian inhabitants belong.  I have myself styled this Church
the “Thistle of Lebanon,” when comparing it with the healthier and purer
doctrines of the Reformed Church, which I have ventured to call the Cedar
of my beloved Lebanon; but, nevertheless, it would be most ungenerous,
nay unfair, to permit my readers to retain the impression that the Greek,
or the Orthodox Eastern Church, is an offshoot of the Church of Rome, or
in any way connected with it.

Nearly three hundred thousand of my countrymen worship God according to
its doctrines, and all of them, excepting, perhaps the most ignorant,
would feel indignant at the supposition that they were followers of the
Church of Rome.

I will not fatigue my readers with a learned disquisition on the forms of
worship, or on points of doctrine, for I shall effect my purpose much
easier by a simple statement of the cardinal differences between the two
churches, and I have no doubt they will at once be convinced, that there
is a greater degree of relationship between the English or any other
Reformed Church, and the Orthodox Eastern Church than there exists
between it and the Church of Rome.

Learned historians, and some of the most intelligent and enquiring of
Eastern travellers, have dwelt with much force on the early history of
the Orthodox Eastern Church, and there is no doubt in my own mind that
they have clearly established, not merely the fact of its not being an
offshoot of the Church of Rome, nor in any way intimately connected with
it; but, on the contrary, that since its establishment it has always been
a Protestant Church, and that it is therefore more ancient in its
Protestant character than either of the Reformed Churches.

Unfortunately for the character of the Orthodox Eastern Church, the
knowledge and experience of these intelligent men has been confined to a
very small circle of readers, and the greater part of the British public
has attached infinitely more credit to the imperfect and superficial
sketches of travellers, who resorting to our country for a short time,
and after “doing” Syria in a month, beguile the tedium of their journey
home by writing an account of their seeings and doings, concocting it in
as rapid and careless a manner as their examination into the condition of
the country was hasty and thoughtless.

It is upon the authority of such trustworthy writers, that I find the
impression prevailing, that the creed, the doctrines, and forms of
worship of the Orthodox Eastern Church are precisely similar to those of
the Church of Rome.  When resident in Syria, I have, on more than one
occasion, attended church with English travellers, who, struck by the
presence of pictures, which decorate the walls of all our churches, and
by the similarity of the robes of the officiating priests to those worn
by the priests of the Romish Church, conceived that they were in a Roman
Catholic Church.  It needed some explanation to remove this impression.
Most of the writers to whom I allude—I will not mention their
names—having received the same impression, they have at once jumped to
the conclusion in which they invite their readers to concur, that the
Orthodox Eastern Church is only a branch of the abhorred Church of Rome.

There is, as I have shewn, some excuse for the first impression, but
nothing could be more erroneous or unjust than the conclusion to which
they have arrived.  I acknowledge that the robes of the Greek priests
differ in no material point from those worn by the priests of Rome; and I
admit that there are pictures in their churches; but I do most
unhesitatingly deny—what has been stated by more than one writer—that
there are images to be found in these churches, or that they are
worshipped by the adherents of the Orthodox Eastern Church. {284}  The
offending pictures are not prescribed by the Church.

The Orthodox Eastern Church does not include among its doctrines the
worship of saints; in fact, the pictures are merely portraits of holy
men, who have led blameless lives, and whose virtues the spectator is
invited to imitate by witnessing the honour done to them after death.
The only Mediator acknowledged by the Orthodox Eastern Church, is our
Lord Jesus Christ; in proof of which I may be permitted to quote the
following passage from its doctrines: “The sufferings and death of Christ
are an abundant satisfaction for the sins of the whole world.”

The Virgin is, however, highly reverenced, as being according to the
angel’s declaration “highly favoured and blessed among women.”  Some
also, but those chiefly among the most uneducated, address prayers
through her to the Saviour.  I may, perhaps, be permitted to establish my
case still more clearly, by pointing out other and more important points
on which the two Churches are at variance.

In the first place the Orthodox Eastern Church denies the power of any
council to alter or to add to the articles of faith.  It protested at the
time against the famous council of Trent, since which period the
authority of councils has formed an important article in the laws of the
Romish Church.  The Orthodox Eastern Church acknowledges no other guide
and source of doctrine or faith than the Holy Scriptures, as contained in
the Old and New Testaments, which are _open to all_—not proscribed, as is
the case in the Romish Church—and are printed in all the languages of the
various countries in which the Greek Church has adherents.  I have even
seen Bibles printed by the zealous Church Missionary Society used in the
Greek Church, and many of the Greek priests requested Mr. Schlincz, while
he was in Syria in 1840, on a mission of enquiry into the persecution of
the Jews of Damascus, to supply them with copies of these.  He left with
me several boxes of these books, which I distributed amongst the people
whom I thought likely to profit by them.

It expressly protests against the Romish doctrine of the infallibility of
the Pope, and it recognises our Lord, the Saviour, as the head of the
Church.  Surely, these are points of the greatest moment, such indeed as
ought not to have been overlooked by impartial writers, when dwelling on
the character and doctrines of a vast religious body; but there are
others of an equally important nature.

According to its doctrines, the Holy Spirit proceedeth from the Father
alone, and not from the Father and Son as is asserted by the Romists, and
by the dissenters from the Orthodox Eastern Church, whose origin and
history will be stated in another part of this book.  The latter Church
accepts the death of the Saviour as an abundant satisfaction for the sins
of the world; it holds the doctrine of justification by faith; it
denounces the belief in transubstantiation, and in purgatory; and it
departs in another most important point from the practice of that of
Rome, by authorising the marriage of its ministers.

It is not my purpose to fatigue my readers by establishing a relationship
between the Orthodox Eastern Church and that of the United Kingdom, or of
any other country, I am satisfied with having shewn the little value to
be attached to the statements of hasty travellers, and with having, I
hope, fully established a thorough dissimilarity on the most important
points of religious belief between the doctrines and practice of the
Orthodox Eastern Church and that of Rome.

I should have had much more difficulty in doing justice to the claims of
the Orthodox Eastern Church in the eyes of the Protestant public, had the
writers who have sought to establish its affinity to Rome, availed
themselves of other points of weakness, which my pen can neither defend
nor conceal.

First and foremost, to my mind, stands that foolish proceeding, which the
priesthood of the Eastern Church annually practise on the ignorant and
credulous of their disciples; when, on Easter Sunday, following the
example of the Romish Church in manufacturing miracles, they pretend to
draw fire down from heaven; the agency employed on the occasion being
either a lucifer match or a phosphorus bottle.  Also the practice of
burning incense during divine service, and of requiring a particular, not
a general, confession before taking the Lord’s Supper.

When I returned to Constantinople, after my first visit to England, I had
several interviews with the head patriarch, and with some of the bishops
of the Orthodox Eastern Church, of which I am an humble though not a
blind adherent.  Finding them willing to listen to the remarks of one so
much younger and more ignorant than themselves, whose only advantage
arose from the experience gained by travelling in foreign countries, I
strenuously endeavoured to shew them how erroneous and ill-judged was
their practising miracles, the burning of incense, and other proceedings
by which the senses are deceived, how well calculated they were to
disgust the better educated and more intelligent of their followers, and
eventually to drive them from the bosom of the Church.

The patriarch and the bishops did not seek to discomfit me by learned
arguments or flimsy excuses.  Like intelligent men, they acknowledged the
practices complained of to be unnecessary if not improper; but they
assured me, that however sincere their desire to establish a thorough
reform, their efforts for the present were necessarily restricted; a
choice between two evils being the only course which was open to them.

I was compelled to agree with them that the practice of drawing down fire
from heaven on Easter Sunday, as well as that of burning incense in the
churches during divine service, had both been established for so many
years, and that the former especially had taken so deep a hold over the
imagination of my unlettered brethren, that any sudden attempt to abolish
either would at once be regarded as irreligious and revolutionary.
Rather than incur so great a risk, they were content to continue what
they considered the lesser evil; and in the meantime to promote as far as
in them lay, the work of education, by means of which alone change in
this direction is possible.  To such an answer, of course, I had no
reply; and I have endeavoured to aid the good cause of education wherever
and whenever it has been in my power.

Such as it is, with all its errors, its imperfections, and its
weaknesses, the Orthodox Eastern Church, the “Thistle of Lebanon,” most
certainly claims precedence in point of antiquity over every other
Christian church, and to my mind it as clearly deserves the sympathy of
all Christians, especially of all who maintain the Protestant faith.  For
without other support than the rock of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ,
without assistance from abroad, and in slavery at home, this church has
withstood the shock of Mahommedan invasion, and has maintained its
position in Syria during a bondage of more than twelve hundred years.
Nearly all those who now profess its faith must be the lineal descendants
of families who acknowledged its authority and professed its doctrines
before the time of the Hegira; for one of the first laws of our
Mahommedan conquerors reimposed the punishment of death on all Christians
who should seek to gain, and on all who should become, converts to their
faith.  It is only of late years that this law has been allowed to fall
into disuse; but it is still most powerful, as the following interesting
anecdote will prove.

Not many days ago, I received a letter from a friend in Syria, in which
amongst other things he informs me of the wonderful fact that the son of
a Mufti had just been converted from Mahommedanism to the doctrines of
the Orthodox Church, notwithstanding this law, and that he had been
received into the bosom of the Church at Syra, in Greece, in order to
prevent the fact from becoming known to the fanatic.

The gentleman, who has just given so striking an illustration of the
power of truth, is a scholar of some repute, a man of more than average
intellectual powers, and naturally of an inquiring turn of mind.
Dissatisfied with the faith of his fathers, he quietly made himself
acquainted with the doctrines of the leading Christian churches in the
East; and after a searching investigation into their relative merits,
after lengthened arguments with several priests of both churches, and
after a close study of the holy Scriptures, he finally resolved upon
renouncing his allegiance to the Prophet, and upon joining a church which
accepts the mediation of the Saviour.

His mind once made up, he immediately announced his desire to be received
into the bosom of the Orthodox Eastern Church to the priest in his own
neighbourhood, who, however, declined to receive so distinguished a
convert, from fear of incurring persecution, and perhaps of bringing the
obnoxious law into fresh operation.  Nothing daunted by this refusal, the
conviction of the necessity of his reception into a Christian church
having taken so deep a root in his mind, he at once endeavoured to
succeed in other places.

With this object in view, he wandered from town to town, traversing
nearly all Syria in search of a priest, who would dare to hear his
recantation of Mahommedanism, and to receive his profession of faith in
our Lord; but all was in vain.  Wherever he went he was met by a refusal,
on the same grounds as had been assigned by the priest to whom he had at
first applied.  Eventually he was under the necessity of leaving his
wife, his family, and his property, to the care of Providence, while he
proceeded to Syra, in Greece, where he happily encountered no further
obstacle to the attainment of his heart’s desire.  Many centuries, I
believe, have elapsed since any instance occurred of this severe law
being enforced.  He is now settled in Constantinople, without suffering
any molestation on this account.

How great, therefore, the claims of the Orthodox Eastern Church upon, and
how close its affinity to, the Protestant Churches of Western Europe!
Oppressed by its rulers, neglected by its brethren in the faith,
suffering under the general impoverishment of the country, maligned by
many who upon a closer investigation would have declared themselves its
warmest friends, the Orthodox Eastern Church, the “Thistle of Lebanon,”
still stands forth a monument of the enduring force of truth and faith.
It is not easy to make an accurate computation of the numbers of its
adherents, since, like those of every other church in the East, they are
not concentrated in any one district, but are scattered over the whole of
Syria, living chiefly, however, in the plains.  Next to the Mahommedans,
they are the most numerous, and I should say, including the Holy Land,
that in round numbers they may safely be estimated at more than three
hundred thousand.

At the head of the Orthodox Eastern Church are four patriarchs; one at
Constantinople, one at Jerusalem, one at Cairo, and one at Damascus.  The
latter are in some degree subordinate to the first; but their relations
are ill defined, the power of the chief patriarch being in a great
measure nominal.  Whenever a bishop is appointed by one of the patriarchs
in Syria or Egypt, the intervention of the patriarch in Constantinople is
appealed to, to procure the sanction of the Turkish government.  This
sanction, I may mention, has never been withheld by the successive
sultans—a degree of toleration hardly to have been expected from the
fanatical followers of Mahommed.

The patriarch in Damascus is called Patriarch of Antioch, the patriarchal
see having remained in Antioch until that city was destroyed by
earthquakes and revolutions.  Each patriarch can, within his own
province, suspend members of the priesthood, though they should have
attained the dignity of bishop; but cases of this kind occur very rarely
indeed.  Considering the number of its adherents, this church cannot be
said to be wealthy.  It is true that it has great landed possessions; but
they are most inefficiently managed, so that its chief sources of revenue
are collections made in the church during the service; the fees paid for
marriages and burials, and for reading prayers with the sick, and for
visits which the priests make every month to the several houses,
sprinkling the apartments with holy water, in order to drive out any evil
spirit that may have taken up his abode there.  No one thinks of
inhabiting a new house, or one whose last occupier was a heretic, without
this ceremony being performed.  These, however, are all voluntary
payments.

In common with all other ministers of religion within the Turkish
dominions, the priests of the Orthodox Eastern Church are highly favoured
by the law.  They pay no taxes whatever; they cannot suffer imprisonment
or any other punishment at the option of the officials, who are hardly
less ignorant than they are extortionate, and whose power over the other
inhabitants is enormous.  The only remedy against an offending priest is
to report him to the patriarch of the province, who, either by himself or
with the advice of the patriarch in Constantinople, ordains such a
punishment as the case may deserve.

As a rule, the priests are extremely ignorant and very poor.  The
salaries of the patriarchs rarely exceed £500, and many of the ministers
are not in the receipt of more than £40 or £50 a year.  The greater
number of these have received but little education; their sole
qualification for their office being, in most cases, the good opinion of
their neighbours and some knowledge of reading or writing.

As the eloquent author of “The Crescent and the Cross” truly says, they
are frequently chosen by the laity of their district from among the
lowest mechanics; and the election is invariably confirmed by the
patriarch if there be nothing against the character of the elect.

Colleges or educational establishments for the priesthood can hardly be
said to exist.  It would be ridiculous to give that name to the convent
in Jerusalem, in which the young student is initiated into the manner of
practising those pretended miracles which I have already spoken of as
being annually performed at Easter, and in which he acquires a fair
portion of that spirit of hatred and envy with which the various
religious denominations within the walls of the Holy City regard each
other.

Much has been already accomplished by the enlightened men who have taken
up the cause of the apostles, and who are labouring hard to dispel the
dark cloud of ignorance which hangs over the minds of my countrymen like
a heavy cloud.  With the knowledge and the elements of the true faith
which they are zealously disseminating, I do not despair not merely of a
thorough reform of the Orthodox Eastern Church, but of an entire change
in the mutual relations of the several religious bodies.  Where there was
hatred, there shall be love; and the spirit of envy shall be transformed
into that of emulation.

The service of the Orthodox Eastern Church is always performed in the
native language, and consists of prayers, scripture-readings, a sermon,
which is, however, generally only a simple explanation or commentary on
chapters from the Holy Bible, and in chaunting hymns.  The priests, as I
have previously mentioned, wear robes differing but very little from
those worn by the priesthood of the Church of Rome.  It is customary to
separate the sexes during the service; the galleries being devoted
exclusively to the reception of the females, and the body of the Church
to the males.  Only the aged are allowed seats, of which there are very
few, and the young men are forced to stand.

At the commencement of the service, the officiating priest traverses the
church, scattering incense from a censer.  During Lent, strict observers
of the law abstain from all animal food, even from eggs, milk, butter,
and cheese, and they further fast from night till noon.  At this period
they also abstain from the use of all spirituous or vinous fluids.  At
all seasons of the year it is customary to practise abstinence on
Wednesdays and Fridays.  The sacrament is usually administered twice a
month.  It consists of leavened bread and wine mixed together, and is
administered by the officiating clergyman with a spoon, the formula used
on this solemn occasion being nearly the same as that employed in the
English Church.

I have mentioned the existence of dissenters from the Orthodox Eastern
Church in Syria.  They are called Greek Roman Catholics, and have existed
rather more than one hundred and fifty years.  The founder of this sect
was a priest named Karolus, who had been elected patriarch of Antioch,
or, as the functionary is called, patriarch of Damascus.

The election was, however, not ratified by the head patriarch of
Constantinople on account of the doctrines held by the new patriarch on
the subject of the Holy Spirit.  Karolus maintained, in contradiction to
the established doctrine of the Orthodox Eastern Church, that the Holy
Spirit proceeded from the Father and the Son, as is asserted by the Roman
Catholic Church.  On a closer inquiry into the religious tenets of the
elect of Damascus, it was discovered that his opinions were heretical
also on other points, for he was found to entertain a very favourable
bias towards the doctrine of purgatory, and also of works of
supererogation.  In consequence, the patriarch of Constantinople
dispatched to Damascus a more trustworthy follower to fill the vacant
post.

While the dispute was still pending, Karolus had been indefatigably
working to increase the numbers of his own adherents; and the see of
Rome, but too glad to have so eligible an opportunity of adding to its
influence in a quarter where all its former efforts had been in vain,
immediately despatched some of its cleverest emissaries to Karolus for
the purpose of inducing him not to give way in the dispute, and promising
him the support of the Pope.

These emissaries were but too successful.  What their arguments could not
effect, they obtained by money and promises.  Amongst other things, they
held out hopes to Karolus of preferment in the Romish Church, and finally
their influence prevailed over the advice, the entreaties, and the solemn
admonition of the chief patriarch of Constantinople.  Karolus entered the
Church of Rome, humbly and submissively acknowledging the authority of
the Pope, by whom he was created bishop of Antioch.  Since then all the
well-known energies of the Romish propaganda, all the wealth, the
influence, the tactics of that unscrupulous power have been used with
great effect to increase the number of dissenters from the Orthodox
Eastern Church.

In this case, there may be found additional evidence of the
unscrupulousness of the chief agents of the authorities at Rome.  Though
it is the law of that Church, and one that is most strictly enforced,
that Roman Catholic priests shall live in perpetual celibacy, the Greek
Roman Catholic priests, as the dissenters from the Orthodox Eastern
Church are called, are permitted to marry, and they are further allowed
to retain the rites of the Church from which they have deserted.  Perhaps
these anomalies have been purposely continued in order to facilitate the
perversion of the faithful adherents of the Orthodox Eastern Church by
inducing the belief, that the two Churches are identical.

Like the parent Church, that of the Greek Roman Catholics is scattered
throughout Syria, but its adherents reside chiefly in the plains; their
numbers may be computed at about sixty thousand.  It was most successful
in making proselytes while Syria was under the Egyptian rule; at which
period the government seemed to make it a point to place in positions of
trust and emolument chiefly such persons as acknowledged the authority of
the Pope of Rome.

It must not be supposed, that this preference was the result of a
peculiar partiality on the part of the pachas for the Roman Catholic
religion; for it has been tolerably well ascertained, that this
favourable bias was the result of the direct mediation of the Sacred
College at Rome, whose members, it may be imagined, rendered some
equivalent service to the Egyptian government.

It is not many years since Baachery Bey, a member of the divan in
Damascus, of the same faith, procured from Maximius, the patriarch of the
Greek Roman Catholics, permission to erect a Church in that city; and
with it the still higher authority of Mehemet Ali, who ordered the church
to be built without giving the petitioners the trouble of first obtaining
a firman.  This church is now one of the finest in Damascus, and is yet
another of the records existing in Syria of the unscrupulousness
exhibited by the Church of Rome in the selection of its agents.

In 1840, there arose a great dispute between the heterodox patriarch
Maximius and the orthodox patriarch of Antioch, on the dress worn by the
priests in the Greek Roman Catholic Church.  The latter complained that
the priests under the tutelage of his Romish opponent did not, in this
respect, conform to the exact rules prescribed by the head of their own
Church, but continued to wear one similar to that worn by his own
priests.  This the orthodox patriarch considered to be highly offensive,
and even dangerous, since the ignorant and credulous public were but too
likely to be enticed by this similarity into the belief, that the
doctrines of the two Churches were identical.

The matter was referred to Constantinople; was discussed by the
contending parties before the head patriarch of the Orthodox Eastern
Church, and finally submitted to the decision of the Turkish authorities.
After both parties had wasted much time, great patience, and no
inconsiderable sums of money, the authorities either found the gold of
the Orthodox Eastern Church to be both brighter and heavier, or else the
influence of the Czar was too powerful for them, for they at last decided
that Maximius and his priests should wear a peculiar hat (_kalloosee_)
with many corners to distinguish them from those of the Orthodox Church.

It is not only in trifles, however, that the Turkish authorities are
called upon to decide between these two Churches—the Mahommedan laymen to
arbitrate between Christian ministers!  Unhappily their interference is
sometimes demanded in matters of far higher importance.

The mutual jealousies of the Christian sects, their envy and hatred, have
reached such a pitch, that, on the most sacred festival in the Christian
year, when devout pilgrims from all parts of the earth, who have wandered
to Jerusalem for the purpose, are in the holiest of all localities within
the Holy City, Turkish soldiers are required to keep the peace between
them.  At the very tomb of our Saviour, Christianity is disgraced by the
quarrels of its believers, and Mahommedans are called in to prevent them
from shedding the blood or taking the lives of each other.

Political animosity has perhaps more to do with this melancholy
exhibition than simple religious discord.  Hasty and ill-judged have been
the measures of protection which the great powers of Europe, at different
times, and from motives dwelt upon elsewhere, have accorded to one or the
other of the religious bodies in the East.  Great Britain, France,
Russia, and Austria, have all, without due cause, interfered to
_protect_, as they say, their _protégés_ from undue oppression; but the
result of their protection has not only brought them into unpleasant and
dangerous contact with each other, excited and nourished envy and hatred
among the protected, but has still further shaken the foundations of “our
ancient ally,” as the Porte is called in England, whose existence is said
to be so intimately bound up with the maintenance of that unintelligible
paradox, “the balance of power in Europe.”

At the moment of writing these lines, the diplomatic representatives of
the great powers resident in Constantinople, the ministers of the great
powers themselves, are in the agonies of negotiation, as their peculiar
proceedings are diplomatically termed; and the noble representative of
Great Britain has been hastily ordered to return to the seat of his
mission, in order that the British influence may not suffer from a
partial or one-sided decision of the case.  It is to be hoped that the
result of all these diplomatic efforts, or even that of the still more
terrible instrumentality of war, may ultimately tend to the benefit and
improvement of the unhappy people whose country is to become the field of
contention.




CHAPTER XVII.
CHRISTIAN INHABITANTS.


Among the Christian inhabitants of Syria, the Maronites, in point of
numbers, if not in the simplicity of their faith, certainly take rank
next to the devout followers of the Orthodox Eastern Church, and the
brief review I propose to take of their history and position will, I
think, sufficiently establish for them a claim to be placed among the
most interesting Christian races or nations which can be found in any
part of the globe.

To the present hour they continue to inhabit the mountains of Lebanon and
Anti-Lebanon, in which twelve centuries since they sought and found
refuge from the decided measures to which the general Council of
Constantinople had recourse, in order to punish them for their adherence
to the Monothelite heresy.  Driven from their homes in the plains and
cities of the land, they established themselves in perfect security in
the mountain fastnesses, which have enabled them on more than one
occasion to set the power of the Egyptian and Turkish Governments at
defiance, and to afford to others, no matter what their faith or origin,
an impenetrable asylum against the persecutions of their enemies.
Europeans or Easterns, Christians or infidels, flying before the
persecutions of political or religious bigots, are still received with
open arms and untiring hospitality by the Maronites, whose forefathers
always practised the virtues learned in adversity—virtues which they have
most successfully inculcated on the minds of their descendants.  No
greater proof than this can be brought forward of the excellence of their
principles, their courage and integrity of heart, since even from that
early period they made Lebanon what Hebron and other ancient cities were
among the children of Israel.  The extraordinary liberality and
hospitality displayed by the original inhabitants can alone account for
the striking amalgamation of Christian and unbelieving races, and for
their having inhabited the mountains, for so long a period, in perfect
amity and good-will towards each other, except when bad feelings have
been excited by the intrigues or intermeddling of the foreign powers,
whose interference has at all times been ruinous to the country.

So complete has been the political union of the inhabitants of the
Lebanon, notwithstanding all the differences between them, that for
centuries they submitted to be governed by one head.  So great is the
reliance to be placed upon those brave mountaineers, and so high is the
general estimation of their character, that when, in the year 1821, the
genius of British diplomacy and a royal administration of the navy, had
cleverly contrived the famous battle of Navarino, and the European
consuls and residents in Syria were obliged to fly from the wrath of the
Mahommedans, who set no bounds to their hatred to the Franks, they
unanimously selected the home of the Maronites as their best and safest
asylum.  There they remained for nearly a year and a half, protected and
respected by their hospitable hosts, and safe from the vindictive
longings of the Turks, who dared not venture beyond the lowlands in
pursuit of their prey.

This was perhaps the first occasion in which educated Europeans obtained
a closer inspection into the customs, manners and religion of the
Maronites; and it is to be regretted that none of them have given their
experience to the world in a popular shape.  Many still dwell with
pleasure upon this remarkable era in their lives; and interesting are the
tales which they tell at their own firesides, of the dangers they
encountered on their road, and the life they led in the mountains.
Indeed, I have heard several of the gentlemen who were among those who
sought an asylum in Lebanon, declare, that with the exception of the
unpleasantness of being in a measure cut off from all communication with
Europe, they seldom remember to have passed a pleasanter eighteen months,
invigorated by a delightful and pleasantly cool climate, in a country
abounding with shooting of all kinds; while, for those who loved the
study of botany, there was an inexhaustible fund of amusement and
occupation.  Even here, and at a time too when they were apparently
menaced by surrounding dangers, the _youngsters_ amongst the Europeans
could not forget their predominant attachment to fun and mischief; and an
anecdote has been frequently told of a poor old Maronite priest who
prided himself extremely on the excellency of the fruits produced by the
garden attached to the monastery which he inhabited, and which I believe
were really of a very superior quality, and who had for many months
reckoned on the autumn of 1821, as likely to prove the most prolific
season he had yet known; when lo! he was surrounded by a hoard of gnats
and bees in the shape of wild young Europeans, who, despite the height of
his walls, and the depth of his ditches, and the distance they had to
come every night, succeeded night after night in rifling the orchard and
carrying off just those fruits that were upon the very turn, and which
promised to be the _first fruit_ of the season.  It is needless to say
that the old priest was sadly perplexed and annoyed; the last persons in
the world to be suspected were these very identical young men; first,
because they lived so far off—secondly, because, in the presence of the
old priest, they deported themselves with so much decorum, and attended
so regularly to the Sunday service, that the old priest would as fain
believe himself guilty of a felony as harbour any suspicions against the
real offenders.  He began to fear sadly that he must needs have some
black sheep amongst his own flock; and as the depredations continued
nightly, despite watching and all other precautions, he lost all
patience, and after service one Sunday pronounced an anathema against
those parties who had persisted in stealing his fruit if they did not
immediately desist from their wicked practices.  All was vain!  Weeks
rolled on, still the fruits were missing, and still anathemas were
thundered on a Sunday from the pulpit, till the old priest in a fit of
despair caused all the unripe fruit to be plucked at once, determined, as
he expressed himself, at least to benefit by a few preserves and jellies,
since he was not permitted to taste any of his ripe fruit, and so the
affair ended for the time being.  Some years after, however, when many
successive rich harvests of delicious fruits had completely obliterated
the misfortunes of that particular year from the old priest’s memory, he
chanced to be riding through the very identical village to which his
fruit had been regularly conveyed of a night, and was astonished to find
growing in the wildest profusion specimens of the apricot, peach, and
nectarine, of which he had heretofore prided himself that he himself was
the sole possessor.  Enquiry was set on foot, and the Druse at whose
house the young men had been lodging stated, that some years since, when
some young Franks were occupying his house, they used to receive large
baskets of fruit, which they had told him were sent to them as presents
from a convent, and that the kernels and seeds of these fruits had been
preserved and planted, and, with very little attention or care, had
succeeded to admiration.  Thus, out of evil resulted good; for if it had
not been for these young thieves, the mountaineers might have been
debarred from obtaining many excellent fruits, which are now growing wild
upon the mountains.

The Maronites derive their name from Maroun, a holy recluse, whose good
actions and moral teachings were like so many dew-drops upon the
wilderness of sin and wickedness in which some of the inhabitants of the
East were wandering, about the beginning of the fifth century.  They were
subsequently associated with the Romish Church by one John, the Maronite,
who joined the Latin insurgents against the authority of the Greek
Emperor.  They remained subordinate to the Church of Rome during the next
six hundred years, though they continued to maintain their own
patriarchs.  This attachment and subjection to Rome was, however,
considerably diminished by the events which followed the crusades; and
they for a short time maintained an independent position.  Rome, however,
never lost sight of its former subjects, and perpetually strove to win
them back to the fold of which the Pope is the shepherd; and after forty
years of negotiation and intrigue, Pope Eugenius succeeded in procuring
from the Maronites a solemn renewal of their recognition of the Papal
authority.  From that date they have adhered to the Romish Church,
enjoying privileges which the temporising unscrupulous conclave in Rome
conferred and maintained, though contrary to the laws of their Church, in
order not to lose so large a body of supporters.  What these privileges
are, will be seen in the following account of the people and their
religious practices.

The connection which exists between the Maronites and the Church of Rome
is, in point of fact, maintained almost entirely by the priests, who, of
course, have very good motives for their conduct.  Were it not for the
almost slavish subjection of the people to the priestly authority, this
connection with the Church of Rome would long since have been violently
shaken, if not entirely severed, for the second time.

I have said that they inhabit the mountains of Lebanon; but I ought to be
more precise, and to state, that they are chiefly to be found in those
parts of the mountains which are in a north-easterly direction from
Beyrout.  They are a most industrious, contented, happy people, whose
chief occupations are confined to weaving silk, and to tilling their
ground—which, in some parts, the rocks and the soil render exceedingly
difficult—for cultivating their mulberry trees for silk worms, which they
do with great zeal and good effect.

So thoroughly has nature fortified the district they inhabit, and so
manly and courageous are they, that until the year 1843 they had never
been conquered by the Mahommedans; and though they had politically agreed
to the payment of an annual tribute to the Porte, they were at that
period without a garrison.  They have experienced great vicissitudes at
different periods, but throughout their whole history, I find that each
crisis only served to add to the power and influence of the priesthood,
who, in all things, social as well as political, have an incredible hold
over the people.  They are the legislators and the administrators.  As
they cunningly work together with the Sheikhs, nothing but a thorough
change in the system of education will enable the people to shake off
their fetters.

Their creed and ritual partake both of the Greek and Latin churches; but,
though they reverently adore the Virgin, they allow no images of any kind
in their churches.  What is still more remarkable, is the fact, their
priests before ordination are allowed to marry, but the patriarchs and
bishops must live in the strictest celibacy.  So great is the deference
paid by the laity to the priesthood, that whenever one of them meets a
priest, he is sure at least to kiss his hand and ask his blessing; while
some of the more pious, or perhaps more servile, of the women kneel
before the priestly robe as if it were as holy and as sacred as the altar
at which its wearer officiates.  As a rule, however, the people dislike
being called Roman Catholics; indeed many of them openly profess to hate
the See of Rome, and, were it not for the very Romish tendencies of the
protection and education they obtain at their schools, which in other
respects are really excellent, the Maronites would certainly, in a very
short period, disconnect themselves from all association with the See of
Rome.

An attempt was made not very long ago by an American missionary, to
introduce a purer Christianity among them; but the unfavourable results
of his brief residence at Deyr-al-Kamar may be solely attributed to a
want of caution, in too abruptly opposing the doctrines of the
established faith before educating the people.

A legate from the Pope is perpetually resident on the Lebanon, where the
chief monastery of the Maronite priesthood is situated.  At various
periods, too, there have been missions sent out from Rome in order to
prevent any slackening or lessening of the papal influence.  At this
moment there is a Lazarite mission in Syria, the members of which have
succeeded in persuading several fathers of families to part with their
children for the purpose of having them educated in Rome.  They have also
constructed a hospital, and established schools for male and female
children at Beyrout.  The convents are among the few religious
institutions within the dominions of his Imperial Majesty the Sultan,
which are allowed to use the pleasant-sounding church-bells; and the
Lebanon {306} is among the few localities in the East where the European
traveller can experience the pleasant feelings and genial associations of
his country, which are excited by the solemn sound of the Sabbath-bell,
feelings that were unintelligible to me until I had spent more than one
Sabbath in Europe.  This privilege is a terrible ear-sore to the
Mahommedans, who detest the Maronites more than any other Christian sect;
partly because they know the Maronites entertain the belief that they are
destined to put a period to Islamism, by enticing French interests into
the East.

I may observe, here, that in point of fact the Maronite faith has no firm
foundation; for heretofore they seem to have been a people such as is
described by St. James, chap. i. ver. 6—“He that wavereth is like a wave
of the sea driven of the wind and tossed.”  And they continue to be
lukewarm; neither one thing nor the other; Roman Catholic in their
adherence to the Pope and in the observance of certain outward forms of
religion—Greeks as regards the privileges accorded to their priests—and
Protestants in not admitting images in their churches.  If we take a
review of their _waverings_, we may be led to some conclusion on this
head.  First, we are told that their sect originated with a hermit of the
fifth century: nearly 600 years they appear to have adhered to their
original faith, but in 1182 they submitted to the Pope’s authority.
Barely a century elapses when they are found wavering again, owing to
circumstances then taking place in the East.  Nearly 300 years afterwards
they again return to the Church of Rome; this was in 1445.  And now, 400
years after that, we find their creed to consist of an amalgamation of
all the Christian sects.  This cannot last long; they must eventually
become one thing or the other; either _de facto_ Roman Catholics, or else
_de facto_ Greeks or Protestants.

Notwithstanding the Maronites live under a theocracy, from the peculiar
situation of the Lebanon with regard to the lords of the surrounding
land, the admission to many privileges was rendered not only
advantageous, but absolutely requisite; and from these facts the notions
of liberty entertained by the Maronite are far more exalted than those
meagre ideas that possess the brain of the inhabitant of the plains.
Their patriarch, subject to the Pope’s approval, is elected by the
bishops of the nation: to him they pay extraordinary deference.  The
bishops are also possessed of immense influence, and their word is
tantamount to law.  The local authorities are careful to avoid anything
that might cause offence to these prelates, well knowing the influence
they exercise over the minds of the people.  Owing to this, crime is in a
great measure unknown amongst the Maronites; for offences, however
trivial, are immediately judged by the clergy, and satisfaction and
retribution at once exacted.  Marriages without the bishop’s consent
cannot be solemnized; and any _faux pas_ on the part of young people
usually terminates in their marriage.

The word of excommunication or anathema, amongst the Maronites, is
“_fra-massoon_”; and he or she on whom it is pronounced, is as much
avoided and abhorred as the plague-stricken.  All houses are closed
against a “_fra-massoon_,” and he may starve of cold and hunger amongst
his own family and friends, with none to compassionate him.  I remember
being told by a person not overburdened with common sense, that upon one
occasion, some years ago, a friend of his had given shelter and food to a
“_fra-massoon_”; and that, happening unfortunately, soon after, to quit
this world, his body was put aside in a cave, in accordance with the
usual custom.  Ten years afterwards, the coffin was accidentally opened,
and the spectators saw with horror that the corpse was quite fresh, and
presented no signs of decomposition.  So unusual an occurrence excited
great curiosity, and enquiries being made, it soon became known that the
departed had transgressed the laws of the Church, by giving hospitality
to one whom its ministers had cursed.  The relatives of the deceased
instantly went to the priest, and, after feeing him pretty freely,
obtained his services to read a certain number of prayers over the
corpse, and to pronounce upon it the forgiveness of the Church.  Hereupon
nature resumed her usual course, and nothing further was heard of the
subject.

The Maronites, under the influence of their priesthood, are noted as
being most inhospitable to all excepting those professing their own
creed; and even European travellers have been refused a shelter for the
night, supposing that they were missionaries.  They are a very
superstitious and credulous people, and delight in absurd legends.  They
perform pilgrimages to Jerusalem and also to the tomb of Noah, supposed
to be situated in the village of Kerak, between Beyrout and Baalbec; and
about this they have endless ridiculous stories.  They also pretend to
have discovered the tomb of Moses, at a place a short distance from where
the late Lady Hester Stanhope used to live.

One great advantage which the Maronites possess, and which must
eventually prove very beneficial to them, is the fact, that education is
spreading universally amongst them.  There is a native printing-press at
work in one of the monasteries; but though the generality of the men are
well-bred, the women are grossly ignorant and rude.  Lady Francis Egerton
found cause to complain of this sadly: “If I fastened my door,” says her
ladyship, “they called and knocked and battered at it, until I feared it
would yield to their efforts; and this at five o’clock in the morning,
whilst I was in bed.”—A pardonable curiosity, however, amongst a
semi-barbarous people; for so the women must be termed, until they are
admitted to the privileges conferred by education, and social intercourse
with civilised English women.

The Maronites, in common with the Greeks and the Armenians, pay an annual
visit to the Cedars of Lebanon, for the celebration of the feast of the
Transfiguration.  Here they celebrate mass on a rough stone altar, at the
foot of the Cedars: in the open air—in “a temple not made with
hands”—some of them offer up prayers and thanksgivings, quoting those
very Psalms of David which were composed and written expressly to
commemorate God’s mercy and loving-kindness, as in connection with the
immediate spots which surround these cedars.

A wedding amongst the Maronites differs in some material points from the
ordinary marriages in Syria; in the first place, the priest is considered
the principal negotiator, and on his report as to the suitableness of the
match, much of the future happiness of the young people may be said to
depend.  After preliminaries have been arranged, gifts of dresses, and
the like, are exchanged, but the bashful _fiancée_ is supposed to be in
utter ignorance of all that transpires, to spurn these gifts, and to
dislike even the mention of her future husband’s name.  The priest
blesses the bridal clothes of the bridegroom before he adopts them.  When
the friends go to fetch the bride, a mock combat ensues, in which,
however, without bloodshed or bruises, the bridegroom’s party is
invariably victorious, and the women carry off the veiled bride in
triumph, attended by her female relation.  The bride’s house mourns her
departure, and she herself makes no secret of her sorrow to leave; but
the _arus_ (bride) no sooner makes her appearance than the shouts and
acclamations, and firing of muskets by the assembled multitude, seem
effectually to drown any discordant sounds of lamentation; the
procession, however, moves at a funeral pace, for it is thought highly
indecorous that the bride should appear as though anxious to arrive at
her new abode.  On crossing the threshold, she is saluted by the women
with the cry of welcome, and clapping the hands; and after her veil has
been removed, she is covered with one of red gauze, and then made to sit
in state on the divan at the upper end of the room.  Here she neither
smiles nor speaks, but rises on the entry of each venerable female
friend, to embrace her, and kiss her hand.  Both men and women, though in
separate apartments, pass the night in noisy hilarity.  Before sunset,
the bishop, or in his absence the senior priest, attends at the
bridegroom’s house to perform the ceremony; all symptoms of mirth are
immediately abandoned, silence is proclaimed, and then the service
proceeds very much after the fashion of the Greek Church, only that both
the groomsman and bridesmaid are crowned by the priest as well as the
couple being married, and the _bridegroom_ places the ring given him by
the priest on the bride’s finger.  Towards the end of the marriage
ceremony, the priest puts a piece of blue ribband, with the picture of a
saint attached to it, round the bridegroom’s neck.  The newly married
bride is confined to her house for the space of a month after her
marriage.

I have already mentioned the extreme facility with which the Maronites
believe many fables and superstitions that have any connection with
religious matters; and perhaps I shall be pardoned for introducing in
evidence of this, a fact which occurred about eighty years ago, which
attracted the attention of the traveller Volney, and which is still
spoken of very frequently among the inhabitants.  There are several
nunneries belonging to the Maronites in the Lebanon, and it was in one of
them, about the period mentioned, that Hindyeh, a young nun, forced
herself into great notoriety by the severity of her penances, and the
extraordinary piety she displayed.  Having found many friends, her
reputation increased to such an extent, that she was at last declared
capable of working miracles; and the simple-minded Maronites, having
provided the funds, she was duly installed in a religious establishment
of her own.  Her nunnery, and the other establishments in connection with
it, had flourished for more than twenty years, when a suspicion was
suddenly excited, that several of the nuns, of whom many had died, had
met their death by unfair means, and that most improper practices
prevailed within the cells.  An unhappy merchant of Sidon, who had placed
two of his daughters in the establishment, disturbed by these reports,
determined to visit the place and make inquiries.  On his arrival, he was
told he could not see his daughters because they were ill, and finding
that all entreaties were in vain, he proceeded to Deyr al Kamar, and
obtained an armed force from Emir Yusuf, the chief of the mountain, and
the attendance of the bishop to enquire into the matter.  The result
shewed the existence of a system of wickedness and profligacy, exceeding
in iniquity anything ever known, to which one of the daughters of the
merchant in question had already fallen a victim, the other being at the
time almost dead.  The holy, or rather unholy, Hindyeh, was seized and
imprisoned, with her accomplices, and the examinations which were made
fully criminated them all.  The arch-priestess of all this wickedness
managed to escape from the convent in which she was imprisoned, and to
reach a locality in which she possessed a large body of adherents and
believers.  Notwithstanding the disclosures which were made, the
hypocritical career pursued by this nefarious woman, so completely
imposed upon the weak and credulous Maronites, that she died respected
and revered, and to this day is acknowledged as a saint.  Need I say
anything more to prove the extent to which this weakness is carried among
the _fellahen_.

The number of Roman Catholics in Syria, including both the Armenians, and
the Greek Roman Catholics, as one portion of them is called, may be
stated at about 200,000, and, as they differ in no important points from
the Roman Catholics of the West, they may be passed over without further
mention.  I may observe, however, that the Armenians are not so generally
respected as their Christian brethren of other denominations; and, in
illustration, I would remark, that at the grand ceremony on Easter-day of
bringing down fire from heaven, the Armenians are driven to obtain a
portion of it as best they may; their priests and pilgrims being
generally forced into the most remote corner of the sacred edifice.

The Copts, or, as we are accustomed to call them in the East, “the
Oobbeet,” are the followers of one “Mar Yackoob.”  Their chief doctrine
is that Christ possessed but one nature; and they agree with the Church
of Rome in saying that the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Father to the
Son.  They are governed by a patriarch who resides at Cairo, and is
called patriarch of Alexandria, whose authority is very great over the
whole sect; indeed, their most prominent characteristic may be said to be
an almost slavish obedience to their priests.  Like the Maronites, they
invariably kiss the hand of any priest they may encounter in the open
street, or country; and many of them prostrate themselves before the holy
man.  Though they conform to the Hebrew practice of circumcision, they
also baptize their infants.  It is customary with them to pray seven
times during the twenty-four hours, according to the rules prescribed by
the patriarchs; and it is, moreover, a common practice with many of them
to learn by heart the whole of the Psalms, some of which they invariably
repeat before proceeding to transact any business, in the belief that
this devout recurrence to the Psalmist will insure prosperity to the
affair they have in hand.

Generally they are very clever, especially at figures.  A few of them
have recently joined the Orthodox Eastern Church, with which they have
many practices and doctrines in common; and a small section has been very
powerfully worked upon by a Lazarite mission, the members of which
succeeded in persuading several parents to part with their children for
the purpose of having them educated in Paris.

It is presumed, from the remarkably Jewish cast of their features, and
from their adherence to the Hebrew law, that they are of Jewish origin;
but other evidence on this point is wanting.  Though I have said that
they were called after one Mar Yackoob, their existence as a Christian
sect at an earlier period is clearly established; and indeed it has been
said by many of the learned visitors to Syria, that they are as old as
the Nestorians.  At all events they were only organised by Mar Yackoob,
who founded a perfect theocratic form of association or government.
Indeed, wherever we turn, whether it be to the several Christian sects or
denominations in the East, or to any one of the pagan forms of religion,
we find the same fact in all.  They have all been founded and organised
by a priest, and, whether for good or evil, priestly influence has, in
most instances, prevailed until the present day.  It is also believed
that the Armenians were in some way connected with, or absolutely
descended from, the Copts; and there is very good evidence of great
intimacy between the latter and the Nestorians, the last of the Christian
bodies in Syria, and now to be described.  In point of numbers the Copts
are very unimportant.  They do not exceed 300 in Syria; but there are a
great many of them to be found in Egypt.

The Nestorians now claim my attention; but as very little is known
concerning them in my own neighbourhood, and as I have never had an
opportunity of visiting them in their own mountain-homes, I can only
relate what has been told me by travellers.

It is believed that they are of Jewish origin; but there is no positive
evidence on the point, beyond their features, their observance of certain
Jewish customs, and their respect for portions of the Hebrew code of
laws.  It cannot be doubted, however, that they have maintained
Christianity in the East for more than sixteen hundred years; and that,
as primitive Christians, who have not degenerated from the simple form of
worship enjoined by the Apostles of our Lord, they are entitled to our
deepest respect and veneration.

They are divided into two sects, the Simple and the Papal Nestorians; but
the former do not acknowledge the latter as a part of their body, and
declare that they are in no way connected with the Nestorian Church.
They have two patriarchs, who reside in the mountains near Julamerk, and
whose influence, together with that of all the priesthood, is very great
indeed.  Here again we find existing a purely theocratic form of
government.  The priesthood legislate politically and socially, and they
administer the laws judicially, as well as attend to the religious wants
of the community over which they preside.

The habits and manners of life of the Nestorians are so primitive, that
their simplicity has become proverbial in the East.  Their belief differs
from the Orthodox Eastern Church, by declaring the existence of two
persons in the Saviour, as was propounded by their founder, Nestorius, in
the beginning of the fifth century.  The sacrament of bread and wine is
administered to all by the officiating priest, in almost the same way as
this ceremony is performed in the Greek Eastern churches.  They are most
hostile to the Roman Catholics, whom they hate.

Including the Nestorians inhabiting Persia, I believe there may be
altogether about 100,000.  On the confines of Persia, they are engaged in
perpetual warfare with the Koords.




CHAPTER XVIII.
THE POPULATION OF SYRIA, CONTINUED.—THE PAGAN INHABITANTS.


Having dwelt at some length upon the several bodies of Christian
inhabitants of Syria, I must entreat my readers’ pardon if I endeavour to
make my description of the unbelieving portion as brief and condensed as
possible.  Of course, I need not advert to the Mahommedans, the faithful
followers of the Prophet.  As I have stated before, they comprise by far
the largest proportion of the inhabitants of the towns and lowlands of
Syria, and are lords and masters over the rest of the population.

But, besides the orthodox Mahommedans, we have in Syria a very large
number of heterodox followers of the Mahommedan faith, who are called
Metáwali; and who, though they are certainly less numerous than their
orthodox brethren, are an infinitely more interesting people.  They are
followers of Ali, the other sect adhering to Omar.  They may amount, in
round numbers, to about 35,000; but as they have selected for their homes
some of the most inaccessible parts of the mountainous districts of the
country, their numbers cannot be very accurately ascertained.  They are
said, by many persons, to belong to the same section of the Mahommedan
faith as the Persians, who also believe in Ali; but they exhibit some
peculiar doctrines and customs, which establish an essential distinction
between the two.

Like the former, they expect the advent of the Messiah in the person of
the twelfth Imam of his line, whom the Turks allege to have been slain in
the battle of Karbela in which he engaged with the Caliph of Bagdad; but
whom the Metáwali believe to have been transported to Arabia, by the
miraculous interposition of the Divinity, and from whence he is to return
in triumph to re-establish the race of the Imams on the throne, and to
punish all who opposed him or his followers.  When the expected Messiah
does appear, they believe that he will assume the government of the whole
world—that he will visit with the most dreadful punishments all who shall
have denied him—and that he will render unto all true believers eternal
happiness.

In expectation of the advent of this Messiah, the Metáwali keep horses,
money, and clothing constantly in readiness for his arrival; and whatever
is once set apart for this purpose, is held sacred for ever after, and
cannot be used by an ordinary mortal. {318}

They believe in the transmigration and gradual purification of the soul,
which, according to their belief, eventually becomes a bright star in the
heavenly firmament.  The first apostle of Ali, in Syria, was
Abou-Abdallah-Mohammed, who was most successful in making converts, but,
having excited the envy and hatred of some of the chief people in
Damascus, he was imprisoned and burned to death as an infidel and
blasphemer.  From this circumstance he has been styled the first martyr.

Though the first apostle of the new faith was thus summarily
extinguished, the light of his doctrines was not smothered with him, and
it may be considered certain that the manner of his death was mainly the
cause of the rapidity with which they spread over the country immediately
afterwards.  As is generally the case, persecution lent strength and
vitality to the cause, and many sought the honour of a martyrdom similar
to that which had befallen Abou-Abdallah-Mohammed.  However, the faster
the new religion spread, the greater activity did the Orthodox
authorities develop in putting it down.  Priest after priest was being
drawn and quartered, hundreds of men, women, and children were butchered
or buried alive, to gratify the atrocious passions of an ignorant people,
and still more barbarous government.  Nevertheless, the new faith
prospered, and the Metáwali began to assume a position of influence and
power in the country; but after numerous vicissitudes, the butcher
Djezzar, who had been made governor of Syria, succeeded by cunning and
treachery in prostrating their power, and destroying their strongholds.
Thousands of them were executed by his orders, and even under his eye,
and, like Mehemet Ali, who watched the destruction of the Mamelukes, so
did Ahmed Djezzar amuse himself by watching the death struggles of
hundreds of the Metáwali who had been hurled from the battlements of
Nabatieh into the Kasmich.

Under persecutions like these, the strong arm of the authorities, aided
by the passions of a fanatical body combining together against them, the
Metáwali gradually lessened in numbers, and consequently lost the
influential and powerful position they were beginning to acquire.
Politically this sect may now be said to be prostrate, but they cherish
the memories of those of their forefathers who fell in the defence of
their religious independence, and many an evening’s hour is passed by the
people listening in rapt attention to the numerous anecdotes of the
firmness, the courage, and the devotedness of the martyrs for their
faith.

The localities they live in entails habits and customs which naturally
tend to rear a hardy and courageous race.  Their method of living is
simple in the extreme; but, though the stranger who may visit their
mountain-villages is sure of the greatest hospitality, it is
nevertheless, of a peculiar character.  They never admit within their
dwellings any person who does not belong to their own persuasion, nor do
they allow any one but a Metáwali to use their furniture or domestic
utensils.  Should a Frank or a Jew by accident touch a mat or a pot
belonging to them, it is instantly cast away as defiled and unclean.  To
receive the wandering stranger there is erected in every village, a house
for the purpose, in which the visitor is ever most bountifully provided
for.  Strange to say, however, their dislike to contact with others,
extends no further than their own dwellings.  In the open air, or in a
house belonging to a person of a different persuasion, they are alike
indifferent to the presence of Christian or Jew, conversing and
associating with them as freely as they zealously avoid permitting them
to enter their own dwellings.  They are an exceedingly clean people,
never sitting down to a meal without having performed their ablutions.

It is owing, perhaps to the paucity of their numbers, but still more, I
think, to the gradual decline of the power of the Maronite, that the
Metáwali exist untroubled in their mountain fastnesses.  But should any
attempt be made by any government, or by any other religious body in the
East, to wrong or subjugate them, I am convinced that they would not
submit without a very severe struggle, in which their native ferocity
would once more appear on the surface, to their own disadvantage,
perhaps, but still more to that of their enemy.

A good deal has been written respecting the Druses, who are the most
curious, and least known section of the population of Syria.  The cause
of the ignorance which prevails concerning them, and which I am unable to
dispel will be seen in the following account of this interesting and
courageous people.

I have been told that several learned men have, at different times,
diligently endeavoured to acquire a thorough insight into the religious
theories possessed by the Druses, but I have never yet met with any
author who has given an explanation or description of them,
satisfactorily to his readers.  Where others, whom I have been taught to
respect and revere, have failed, I hesitate to make the attempt, knowing
that I shall be unsuccessful.  In point of fact, the great mystery which
surrounds the religion of the Druses is, I fear, a mystery even to
themselves, a shadowy outline, which the initiated are told they
understand, and which the uninitiated worship in the depth of their
ignorance.

The Druses inhabit the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, or rather the southern
portions of the mountain, in which they possess a great deal of land and
villages; but they are also mixed up with the Maronite and other
Christian populations of more than two hundred other villages.  They are
divided into two classes; the initiated into the mysteries of their
religion are called Akkals, and the uninitiated are called Djahils.  Both
sexes are alike eligible for initiation among the Akkals; in this respect
there is that perfect equality for the female sex, which I so often hear
some of my fair friends in England sighing for.  But the woman who is a
Akkaliah may not marry a Djahil.  There is an easy remedy for this,
however, since I am told that initiation may be effected on very short
notice and without expense or examinations.  Every Thursday the Akkals
meet in Khalueh, a temple, or building, erected expressly for the
purpose, and in which their religious books, their war trophies, and
standards are kept.  Here they sit talking of politics, or reading
religious books, and when the general discussions are concluded, the
majority go away, leaving only the highest in social rank to discuss the
interests of the tribe with the priests.  The chief priest, or as I take
the liberty of calling him, their great mystery-man, lives at Bakleen,
whence he rules over the whole body.  As I have said previously, the
nature of their religious belief is a mystery.  It is neither Christian
nor Jewish, nor Mahommedan nor Pagan.  They believe in the unity of God,
and in the transmigration of souls, but while they themselves profess to
be Mahommedans, they exhibit in their social customs as well as in their
features, many points of resemblance with the Jews, and they have no
hesitation whatever in denouncing Mahommed as a false prophet, and in
disregarding the most sacred festivals of the Moslem faith.

Though so little is known of their present religion, it has been
tolerably well ascertained that it was founded by one Darazi, who about
the middle of the eleventh century traversed Syria, preaching the
doctrine that the real Caliph Hakeem was the incarnation of God, and the
most perfect manifestation of the Deity.  Name and strength was, however,
first given to the new creed by one Hamza, who denounced Adam, Abraham,
Moses, Jesus, and Mahommed as impostors, and declared himself to be the
incarnation of the spirit of universal intelligence.  In his creed, he
either forgot or wilfully omitted all notice of a future state of
existence.  Since that period, this peculiar faith has gained many
proselytes; and the Druses are now, next to the Maronites, the most
numerous religious body in Lebanon who are not Mahommedans.

Leaving their mysterious creed, to deal with the people themselves, I may
state, that they are easily distinguished by their features, being,
generally speaking, muscular, well-made men, active and middle-sized, and
enabled to undergo great fatigue.  Their courage is not to be daunted.
The women are generally very handsome, with tall, slim figures, black
hair, and beautiful blue eyes.  The disposition of the men is a strange
mixture of open-hearted hospitality and morose vindictiveness; but they
are strictly honourable, and have never been known to break a promise.
In all their transactions they deal uprightly with one another; but this
cannot be said to be the case when they transact business with others:
their creed admits of their practising imposition upon infidels to their
own faith.

I have already observed, that there exists a great resemblance between
the ancient Scottish clans and the mountaineers of the Lebanon.  In
support of this, I cannot do better than to quote what Volney says, when
speaking of the Druses:—“As soon as the emir and sheikhs had determined
on war at Deyr al Kamar, criers went up at night to the summit of the
cliffs, and cried aloud, ‘To war, to war!  Take your guns, take your
pistols!  Noble sheikhs, mount your horses; arm yourselves with the lance
and the sabre: meet to-morrow at Deyr al Kamar.  Zeal of God! zeal of
combat!’  This summons, heard in the neighbouring villages,” continues
the same author, “was repeated there; and as the whole country is nothing
but a chain of lofty mountains and deep valleys, the proclamation passed
through its length and breadth in a few hours.  These cries, from the
stillness of the night, the long-resounding echoes, and the nature of the
subject, had something awful and terrible in their effect.  Three days
after, fifteen thousand men were assembled at Deyr al Kamar, and
operations might have been immediately commenced.”

To strengthen their respective clans, is the Druses’ main object through
life; and to effect this, they almost invariably marry amongst
themselves—preferring their own relations with poverty, to the richest
dowry with a foreigner.  Their creed admits of but one wife; but they
allow of divorces.  If a Druse says to his wife, “Go to your father’s
house,” and does not say to her, “Come back,” it is considered a divorce.
Their jealousy far outstrips the Mussulman’s: any conjugal infidelity is
certain of being requited by death: no intercession, however powerful,
can avail aught in these cases; even where fathers have made
intercession, brothers have become the executioners of their own sisters.
Any man can divorce his wife upon paying a certain sum; but divorces are
of very rare occurrence.

The every-day life of the Druse is monotonous in the extreme; even their
children at an early age inherit their insipid manner of life, and leave
the healthful recreation of a good game at _damah_, to sit down in a
circle, and ape their parents in discussing politics.  The Druse, like
most of the natives of Syria, is an early riser; and the first thing he
does after he has gone through his morning ablutions, is to command his
wife to set before him a large bowl of freshly-drawn goat’s milk, or
_dibs_.  In this he sops his bread; and making a hearty and wholesome
breakfast, shoulders his gun, sticks his kanjur in his girdle, lights his
pipe, and then goes forth to attend to his daily occupations till
mid-day.  If it be the season to plough, he harnesses his oxen, and
treads heavily after the furrows till nigh upon mid-day, at which time
his wife or one of the family brings him out his substantial mid-day
repast.  In this interval he has perhaps rested himself half a dozen
times, to sit and smoke a pipe: or, if a fellow-creedsman passed, he has
stopped to exchange a few words—complain of the heat, ask the news, the
lowest price quoted for wheat, and so on; but you seldom hear them
laughing or joking with one another, and never by any chance singing or
whistling; they have no idea of a tune, no taste for music, unless it be
the music of money rattling in their pockets; and this has greater charms
for them than the pipe of Tityrus had over the sylvan woods.  At this
mid-day meal there is another fresh bowl of _laban_ milk in addition to a
goodly supply of _borghol_, and, in summer, cucumber and some chillies,
or the batingan stuffed with hashed mutton and rice.

As the sun sinks behind the conical tops of the western hills, the Druse
unyokes his cattle and drives them homeward, himself shouldering the
plough.  Now it is that, if ever he enjoys himself, the Druse indulges in
a little relaxation.  If he be fortunate enough to be possessed of a
supply of powder and shot, he deviates from his right path, leaving the
oxen to find their way home untended, and shouts and throws stones into
every bush and down every glade he passes.  Sometimes a hare starts up,
sometimes a covey of partridges, or, may be, a jackal; but, whatever the
game chance to be, he fires, and that with so steady and correct an aim,
as to be almost certain of securing the victim.  Even jackals’ skins are
valuable, and will fetch their price.

Of an evening they assemble at one anothers’ houses, and there, with pipe
in hand, seated in such an attitude that their knees are on a level with
their nose, they talk politics by the hour.  They are generally a
dissatisfied, gloomy, and grumbling people; and their usual topic of
conversation is exactly what John Bull is so much laughed at for, viz.,
the hardness of the times.  They pull to pieces the pasha, the emir, the
effendis—lament over the prospects of a bad silk crop, or a worse wheat
harvest, speaking feelingly of the general lack of money—foretell that
things will be certain to go on from bad to worse—predict a
famine—prophesy a murrain amongst the cattle—see in the yellow tinge of
the western atmosphere the cholera—smell out of the heavy night-dew an
interminable catalogue of maladies, as absurd and unknown as any of the
foregoing calamities; and having worked themselves up to an extreme pitch
of wretchedness, they disperse for the night, and retrace their steps to
their respective homes, croaking the while, or hooting gloomily to one
another just as a parcel of ravens would croak or owls hoot as they wing
their way to roost, when the distant growl of thunder foretells the
coming storm.

The Druses are great hypocrites in religious matters.  One of their
religious books gives them this liberty, for it says:—“_Embrace the
religion of those who have power over you_; _for such is the pleasure of
our_ MAOULA, _till he_, _to whom the best times are known_, _shall
unsheathe the sword_, _and display the power of his unity_.”  Hence with
the Turks, they pretend to be devout Moslems—fast when they fast, and
feast when they feast.  With the Christians they are equally devoted to
the Adrah Mariam—the Virgin Mary; and in private they despise and detest
both: but I believe that the Druses have really great faith and
confidence in the English, whom they suppose to be all Protestants; and
their idea of a Protestant is that their religion is a species of
freemasonry, which very much resembles their own.  Of late years
political struggles on the mountains have served rather to strengthen
this belief; for the Druses were invariably supported by the English, and
the native attachés, agents, and other people, not only of the Consulates
in the neighbouring towns, but also English travellers, lost no
opportunity of impressing this fact upon the minds of the Druses’ who
were already predisposed to such a belief from the fact of a tradition
long existent amongst them, that many of their noblest families were
descended from some of the princes amongst the Crusaders.

The Druses never introduce the subject of their religion before others;
that is to say, never in such a form as to hold it forth as an argument,
or an inducement for others to become proselytes, or to inform strangers
of their doctrines, but they confidently affirm that a great number of
their co-religionists inhabit the vast continent of India, and declare
that they are to be met with even in China, from which they believe they
themselves came.

They suppose, that in England there are to this day many of the Akkals,
or initiated, but of later years their confidence has been much shaken;
and _apropos_ of this, I quote an extract of a letter from one of the
Akkals of the Druses, sent to me from Lebanon in 1845:—

    “There are many English travellers, and some men apparently of much
    wisdom, who have visited us and conversed on subjects of religion;
    and they endeavour to persuade us that in their country there are
    many people who profess a creed similar to our own: this was
    particularly mentioned by a tall English emir.  I wish you would
    enquire into this matter, and write us your opinion clearly; and
    should the report be verified, the existence of such co-religionists
    would at once entitle us to proclaim the protection of the English
    upon the same grounds as the Maronites are protected by France.”

It is said that, in the official report of M. Desméloises, then a French
Consul in Syria, this belief of the Druses that they were allied to, and
descended from, noble European families, was found serviceable to the
French agents, when the allied forces appeared off the coast of Syria,
for the purpose of expelling Ibrahim Pasha and the Egyptian troops; and
they acted upon the imagination of the Druses so powerfully, that little
or no inducement was requisite to cause them to side with the Europeans.

There is one thing to which the Druses are much addicted, and which sadly
deteriorates from their general character for civilization—this is, their
fondness for raw meat.  Whenever a gazelle is shot, or a kid killed, the
raw kidneys and heart are luxuries for which the Druse epicure will
contend with angry words; and such is the force of example, that even
Christians in the neighbourhood have adopted this system of cannibalism,
washing down every mouthful with a glass of strong _arakey_.  European
authors accuse the Christians of the plains, and especially the women, of
being guilty of a like atrocity, saying that they eat meat in their
_kubbas_, but the fact is what meat they use in these is first so finely
sliced up, and then so unmercifully thumped, that it becomes a perfect
paste, and the very friction and heat more than half cook it; besides
which, this meat is mixed with chillies, onions, and borghol, and the
proportion of meat to wheat is one to ten.

Outwardly the Druses keep up the appearance of friendship with their
neighbours, but the intrigues of political agents, and the wary cunning
of Roman priests, have of late years tended sadly to interrupt the
harmony that existed between the Druses and the Maronites.

The Yezidees, of whom there are some thousands in the country next claim
attention.  They are most numerous in Koordistan, where they are all
comprised in one general body.  In Syria, however, we are accustomed to
divide them into three tribes—the worshippers of the sun, the Shemisees;
the worshippers of the devil, the Sheytanees; and the cut-throats.  I do
not mean to say that the latter portion are greater cut-throats than
their co-religionists of the other two sections, for like the
Mahommedans, with whom they come chiefly into collision, the whole of the
three divisions are equally distinguished by the same murderous
inclinations.  Like the religion of the Druses, that of the Yezidees is
an indescribable mixture of nearly all the religious creeds of the East
and West.  They respect Christ and the Christian saints; but they do not
disavow Mahommed and Moses.  They baptize their children, but they
conform also to the Hebrew practice of circumcision.  They commemorate
the birth of the Saviour, but they also celebrate the feast of the
Passover with all the forms and solemnities customary among the Jews; and
they also abstain from all the food which is considered unclean by the
Israelite.  While worshipping but one God, they profess profound
veneration for Ahriman, the prince of darkness, and they also adore the
fiery element, bowing before the rising sun.  In praying, they are
careful to kneel with their faces towards the East.  Indeed, it would
seem as if, doubtful of salvation under a simple faith of their own, the
presiding minds of the Yezidees had collected the principal points from
all religions in the world, in order to make sure of the right one.  Some
of them even do not hesitate to make an avowal of this kind.  The most
peculiar feature of their religion, is the extreme respect which they pay
to the devil, who is never mentioned by his right name, but is always
mysteriously spoken of _as the great incognito_, _the bird of Paradise_,
and whose worship is always carried on after sunset.  I am assured too,
that his Satanic eminence is always present on these sacred occasions,
and is accustomed to acknowledge the honours paid to him by his credulous
worshippers by a yell or scream of a most unearthly kind, its effect
being to prostrate on their faces the whole of the parties present.
Their head-priest possesses an extraordinary amount of influence over the
whole body.

The Yezidees are a brave, open, confiding, honest, industrious, civil
race, combining with these good qualities, however, an inordinate passion
for warfare, civil and national, and a great proneness to robbery and
pillage on a large scale.  They are actuated by their intense contempt
and hatred towards the Mahommedans to the committal of many excesses
against the followers of the Prophet.  Indeed, they are firmly convinced
that they cannot perform a more meritorious action—an action more
advantageous to themselves, both in this and the next life, and they
absolutely take pleasure in ridding the world of a Mahommedan.  This
spirit of hatred is fully returned by its objects, who detest the
Yezidees, and who consider the very name to be synonymous with all that
is evil and treacherous.

It has been stated of late years, that the traditions which exist among
this people, and which tend to establish their descent from the ancient
Hebrews, are founded on fact, that they are in reality a remnant of the
lost tribes of Israel.  I am not sufficiently learned on this subject to
trace the links of the connection, but I may unhesitatingly state, that
the conviction of its truth is rapidly spreading among the people
themselves.

I shall close this account of these sects in Syria with a brief mention
of the Ansyreeh or Nosairiyeh and I am more inclined to say a few words
about them, from the fact that a systematic effort is likely to be made
for their conversion.  These tribes also inhabit the mountain districts;
but they live in much greater isolation than the other religious bodies,
and in consequence, their numbers are not to be ascertained with anything
approaching to precision.  They do not inhabit any particular province,
but I am perfectly well aware, as has been stated by one writer on this
subject, that there are several hundred Nosairiyeh resident in the small
village of Salahiyeh, about one mile from Damascus.  They are most
numerous in the range of mountains north of Mount Lebanon; where I can
assure my readers that it is a task of no slight difficulty, and even
great danger to penetrate, and it has very rarely indeed been
successfully accomplished.  In illustration of this fact, I may narrate
here the experience of a friend of mine, who desired personally to obtain
all the information concerning this people, which a trip into the most
northern parts of the Lebanon could procure.  Having made all his
arrangements for the purpose, he departed, provided with a passport, or
firman from the Turkish authorities, addressed to all the sheikhs of the
mountain tribes, ordering them to show the bearer every civility, and to
afford him every protection during his journey.  Armed with this
document, he proceeded on his journey without much apprehension.  During
the first day’s travel among the hills, he found the firman most
effective, the sheikhs lending him every aid to get on.  But he had no
sooner left the immediate limits within which the people came into direct
and frequent contact with the authorities, than he found the case was
very different; argument and entreaty became necessary, where the mere
sight of the firman had been formerly sufficient to procure the
gratification of his wishes.  Having succeeded in obtaining quarters for
the night in the abode of a small sheikh, who condescended to be
hospitable to the stranger, my friend soon got into conversation with his
entertainer, and ultimately explained the whole object of his journey.
The Sheikh listened in silence, twisting his moustachios with Eastern
solemnity, and displaying some astonishment in his features at what he
evidently considered the very hazardous course which my friend seemed
bent on pursuing.  After supper, the sheikh returned to the subject, and
laboured seriously to impress upon his guest’s mind the nature of the
numerous dangers which he must encounter if he continued his journey.  To
the sheikh’s argument respecting the want of all roads, the ruggedness of
the mountain paths, sudden precipices, and dangerous fords, the former
laughingly rejoined, that he relied on a stout pair of legs, a firm hand,
and a steady eye, and that he would not shrink from his object deterred
by such difficulties, which a strong and bold man might readily vanquish;
and in reply to the sheikh’s still more serious sketch of the dangerous
character of the tribes through whose territories he must pass, my
friend, still laughing, flourished what he considered his all-powerful
firman.  The sheikh asked permission to read it; it was granted, and
having perused it, returned it to the owner.  After some moments’ silence
he rose from his mat, and approaching my friend, said to him, in an under
tone: “Friend, your firman certainly may procure you protection and
assistance on your outward journey, but it says nothing concerning your
return; be advised, retrace your steps and get your firman amended, if
you must inquire into our condition and habits, but you would do much
better to remain among your friends.  We Nosairiyeh do not like
strangers.”  My friend stared at this address, which many of my readers
may consider most lawyer-like, and worthy the nice distinctions between
words which I am told the English lawyers delight to make; but it had its
effect, for we are yet without the full account of these people which my
friend would have furnished us with.  On the following morning he
retraced his steps; and on his arrival he appears to have forgotten to
apply for any alteration or addition to his firman, and to have preferred
the inglorious ease of home to the dangerous search after knowledge among
unexplored mountains, inhabited by barbarous infidels.

In connection with this subject I may mention, that several travellers
have been induced to state, that there exists a peculiar religious sect
in Syria who are called Womb-worshippers, but I am sure that the only
persons who deserve that name are the Nosairiyeh.  The occasions on which
this peculiar part of their religion is developed are extremely limited;
indeed, I believe that it takes place but once a year, when the majority
of the whole people assemble together in a cave, which is set apart for
the purpose, and which is known only to themselves.  I can add, moreover,
that no one is admitted to these rites, who is not acquainted with the
distinguishing sign or token by which they recognise each other.  When
they are assembled, a variety of prayers adapted expressly to the
occasion are recited; and after what I may term the religious portion of
the service is concluded, the men and women present have recourse to the
most indelicate proceedings, which are the peculiar forms of the worship
of the womb.  By some, however, the Nosairiyeh are considered to be an
aboriginal tribe, which has survived the many changes that have swept
over the country, and have preserved such peculiar traits as distinguish
them from all its other inhabitants.  From what I have heard, I am
inclined to believe that this is the case; and I also feel disposed to
regard them as probably a sect of heretical Christians, who having
originally retired among the mountains to secure the free exercise of
their opinions, thus became isolated; and that their early faith became
more and more corrupted by the influence of time, and the circumstances
and changes going on around them, since like some other similar sects
they still preserve a vague idea of some of the leading facts of
Christianity, though mixed with notions not only false but absurd.

They speak of the incarnation and crucifixion of our Lord as of one among
many others.  They have, I understand, also a custom of celebrating the
sacrament by giving to the communicants a portion of meat and wine; added
to this, they have mystical ceremonies and prayers.  They believe in the
transmigration of souls, and also in astrology and magic, also observing,
it is said, many of the religious seasons and festivals peculiar to the
Jews; nor are they at all reluctant, when any object is to be attained,
to profess the doctrines and carry out the practice of Mahommedanism.
But whatever may be the essential doctrines of their religion, there is
no doubt that their morality is of the very lowest character; passionate
and violent, their hatred of their rulers is only equalled by that which
the different factions among them bear to each other, the most sanguinary
feuds breaking out every now and then among them, carried on with the
deadliest animosity, and accompanied by fearful acts of murder and
revenge.

About a year since, I happened to be at a convent about two days’ journey
from Tripoli; and while there, I had an opportunity of seeing a number of
these curious people.  Some days previous to my arrival, a young woman
belonging to them had been brought to the convent in a state of mental
aberration.  I ought to say that the convent is consecrated to Saint
George, who is believed to possess especial power for the cure of
madness, and for whom the Nosairiyeh, as well as most of the mountain
tribes, profess great respect and veneration—carrying out their
professions practically, by the payment of an annual donation of oil,
corn, and fruits, for the use of the convent.  The young woman in
question, having been confined in chains during her whole stay in one of
the cells behind the altar, and kept on very low diet indeed, was
restored to reason.  I will not say what part of the treatment had been
most efficacious in curing her, but the devout believers in the power of
the saint, declared that he had visited her during the night, and by his
presence driven out the evil spirit.  Her friends, being made acquainted
with her miraculous recovery, came to reclaim her just after my arrival.
Contrary to the general Eastern custom, there was a large number of women
mixed up with the men, moving apparently on a footing of perfect equality
with the ruder sex.  While they remained within sight of the convent,
before and after reclaiming their recovered companion, they appeared to
care for nothing besides dancing and singing.  One of their dances was
very much like an English country dance, with a great deal of shaking
hands.  I found them to be a powerfully-built, muscular race, with open
honest countenances; they were all thoroughly equipped and armed.  In
their dress, the women differed from the general costume of the country,
inasmuch as they wore very long and very flowing garments, of a kind
usually only worn by men.

Nothing, however, can exceed the degradation in which the female sex are
held among the Nosairiyeh.  They are regarded in the same light as their
horses and other domestic animals; and to the practice of polygamy among
them, and the drudgery and ill-usage to which their wives are condemned,
may be traced the origin of the darkest and most repulsive portions of
the picture they present.  The untiring perseverance and praiseworthy
zeal of missionary labourers may yet succeed in leading them to a
knowledge of better things.  I could repeat here what I have always
stated in respect to such endeavours, that schools must be the first step
towards such an end; and that even before the subject of religion is
touched upon, they must be taught such a course of secular studies as
will, by expanding their mind and strengthening their reasoning
faculties, prepare them to receive that priceless seed, which it would be
unwise to cast beforehand in such a weedy soil, among the thorns and the
thistles that would choke its growth and cause it to perish.




CHAPTER XIX.
APPEARANCE AND COSTUMES OF THE PEOPLE.


I fear my readers will consider that I have been rather tedious in the
last few chapters, but what I have said I consider indispensable to put
them in possession of the real state of my beloved country; and to make
them generally acquainted with the character, the religion, and the
manners of its inhabitants.  I shall now devote a few pages to a
description of the appearance and costumes of the different races.

The large tract of territory extending from Aleppo, in the north, as far
as the desert upon the outskirts of Gaza and Hebron, in the south, is
inhabited by the variety of sects and people, whose peculiar religious
ceremonies and occupations have been described in the preceding chapter.
Commencing with the district of Aleppo, we shall find inhabiting that
city,—first, the Aleppine-Greeks, most of whom are, by creed Roman
Catholics, and by profession merchants, silk-weavers, and manufacturers
of fine silken robes, such as are worn by the majority of the
inhabitants, male and female.  The peculiar costume of the natives of
Aleppo is the most striking feature of that truly oriental and
magnificent city.  On a feast-day, between the hours of prayer, the
gardens in the environs of the city are thronged with crowds of well
dressed men and women; some walking, some riding, and others seated on
their _seggadeh_, or rugs, under the pleasant shades of the fragrant
walnut-trees, with the _chibuk_ or _narghili_ in their hands, or else
cowering upon the bank of the river, angling for fish.  We will, with the
reader’s permission, place ourselves beside a merry group who are
musically inclined, and hope to attract the attention of another group of
laughing girls, who, though well muffled up in their white _izars_, still
shew sufficient of well-proportioned features to convince the beholder
that beauty lurks beneath the muffling veil.  However, we take our
station here, not to watch them, but those that pass to and fro, and to
guess with the utmost precision, by their costumes, what their belief is,
and in what peculiar calling of life they are engaged; first, then, comes
an old gentleman riding on a white Egyptian ass—the very fact of his
being the possessor of one of these valuable animals at once stamps him
with respectability; but apart from this, the tall _kulpak_, or Persian
cap, on his head, and the long, loose flowing robes proclaim him to be a
descendant from one of the most ancient, wealthy and respectable families
of Aleppo.  The privilege of wearing this peculiar kind of head-gear,
exempts the wearer, by virtue of a firman obtained from the sublime Porte
many centuries ago, from the capitation tax, and many other minor
disagreeables to which the less fortunate rayahs are sometimes exposed.
This firman was obtained either by interest, or for some service rendered
by their ancestors to the Turkish government, at a period when all the
rich trade of the Indies passed through Aleppo, and when, as even up to
the latest period, that unfortunate city has been exposed to the
incursion of the wild desert tribes, who frequently molested the Baghdad
caravans, and even broke into the khans and strongholds, carrying off
warehoused merchandise to a considerable amount.  The resistance offered
to these marauders by the wealthier merchants of Aleppo, led to their
obtaining special favors from the Porte; and these favors, be it said to
the honor of the Turkish Sultans, have descended as an heirloom from
father to son even down to the present day, and the insignia, as already
mentioned, is the _kulpak_ which yonder citizen carries on his head.  By
creed he is a Roman Catholic, and devout in the observance of fasts and
festivals; by profession a _serraff_, or money changer, and any of the
European merchants who may require a few thousand piastres on an
emergency, will go to this man, and he will advance the requisite sum
instanter; his business-office is not much longer than an ordinary
sentinel’s box, but then his house, which is in the suburbs of the city,
is replete with comfort and elegance, and amongst other furniture and
requisites, you will find massive porcelain jars, and other equally
costly relics of the former Indian traffic, which have been handed down
from father to son, and which are never brought into active service, save
and except upon festive occasions when a marriage or a christening is
celebrated in the family.

Next to this wealthy aristocrat, our eyes encounter a couple of natives
on foot, both well clad, with rich silk scarfs girt round them but on
whose hands and arms the indelible dark blue tinge at once indicates
their occupation, viz., that of dyers; generally speaking, they profess,
in most parts of Syria, the tenets of the Greek church, and they are
almost a peculiar people of themselves, inhabiting the suburbs of a town
for the sake of convenience, and in order to be in the immediate vicinity
of level verdant plains, on which, during the summer months, they stretch
the dyed cloths to dry.  It is seldom, however, that these people make
use of any other dyes than the commonest blue and black—such as is well
adapted, from its inferior materials, to meet the meagerly supplied
purses of the greater mass of the population of Syria, blue _shintians_
being invariably the every-day costume of masons, mechanics,
day-labourers, and peasants occupied in agricultural pursuits; hence it
is that the profits on labour are small and insignificant, the occupation
is incessant, and the demand never fluctuating.  From this circumstance
also, the indigo imported from England and other parts of Europe
invariably meets with a ready and profitable sale amongst this class of
people, who are the merchant’s best and surest customers, and whose
annual consumption, reckoning one year with another, so little varies,
that a careful trader might calculate to within a few pounds’ weight, the
exact annual demand for indigo of any given village in Syria, and
accordingly carry on a safe and profitable trade in this one article
alone.  These dyers usually marry, and are given in marriage amongst
themselves, and the children are brought up to the trade of their
fathers; but in all other respects, they are the same as the rest of the
Greek community, attending regularly at their churches, strict observers
of fasts and festivals, and mingling freely with all their fellow
citizens of whatever creed or calling.

Next to these comes the sedate Armenian, clad in a sombre grey cloak,
trimmed with ermine, and a slovenly black handkerchief bound round his
almost threadbare _gibbeh_; he is walking with a countryman, and a fellow
creedsman of his own; and though the latter is the better clad and
cleanlier looking, he is far from being the wealthier; they are both,
however, on the same intimate footing as though equals in birth, riches,
and station; both out more for exercise and to talk about business, than
from any wish to join in the recreations that are passing around them.
The first man—the meaner looking of the two—is very possibly possessor of
about 20,000 piastres; he is a banker of the Pachalik, and right-hand man
of all the Pashas who come into power; from them he derives no small
profit, but it is not from this source alone that his revenues flow; even
the poor man who is now his companion, is one among the many of his
countrymen, who pay into his coffers an annual tax on certain stipulated
conditions.  In Aleppo, and all over Turkey and Syria, almost every cook
in European and wealthy Oriental families, is an Armenian; these
Armenians come from their own country in search of employment, and on
arriving at Aleppo, being friendless, and without any recommendation as
to character, etc., they seek out those who profess the same creed as
themselves, and by them are introduced to the protection of a banker, who
will guarantee their honesty, provided the man pays him an annual
per-centage upon his wages.  This is agreed to, and a compact being made,
the _serraff_ himself exerts his best influence amongst the circles of
his acquaintance to obtain for his protegée a situation in an opulent
family.  As the English are generally the best pay-masters, he first
tries them; if he succeeds, the young man is placed under the tuition of
a professed cook of his own creed, and his career in life commences.  The
banker adds the man’s name to the thick folio volume, in which he has
already registered those of the numerous tax-payers that help to enrich
his coffers; and though on an average one with another, they only pay
about twenty piastres per annum, still, considering the vast numbers who
are under this obligation, the total amount derived from this source
makes a considerable sum.  On the other hand the banker, who possesses a
certain extent of influence with the Pashas, stands by his countrymen in
any case of emergency, and if needs must, is ready to advance any money
to procure the release of a delinquent, or to help in his flight, as the
Armenians are extremely jealous of their character for honesty and
integrity, and it may with truth be observed, that with very few
exceptions, they make excellent servants—faithful, steady, and
industrious, and are seldom, if ever, addicted to liquor; if they do
cheat their own masters, they take care that no one else in the household
shall.  And this is a notorious fact, particularly in Aleppo, that the
prices of meat and vegetables, etc., are fixed by a tariff every year
amongst the Armenian servants, and as their name is legion, and every
second family has an Armenian cook, the greater mass of the people
usually pay at the same rate or proportion for their provisions, though
it is well-known that the poorer classes obtain the same supplies from
the very same tradesmen with whom the wealthier families deal, at a lower
price; still, for convenience’ sake, these peccadilloes are winked at,
and the Armenians justify their petty thefts, and accommodate their
consciences to their perpetration, by the reflection, that if they did
not cheat, _others_ would, and thus further encourage dishonesty amongst
the rest of the servants.

The Armenians have passed by, and another couple of individuals attract
our attention; their faces are long and sallow, their features marked,
eyes sunken, beard profuse, and in the contracted brow there is much that
indicates selfish thoughts; the meanness of their scant attire, is only
to be surpassed by the filthiness of their general appearance.  Did you
notice yonder young Mahommedan spit on the ground, or in the faces of
these two as they passed him, while he petulantly muttered, that this day
would prove to him an unlucky one, from the moment he had encountered
these two men?  You will ask the reason of this; it is because they are
of that once mighty people, Yahoodee, or Israel, whom Mahommedans regard
as the cursed of God, the refuse of the earth, who are treated with less
consideration than the meagre curs that slink along the streets; for a
Jew does not dare to pass by on the right hand of the Moslem.  Yet these
Hebrews are now so well inured to hardship and insult, that they wisely
pursue their way, regardless of all around, their whole soul wrapt up in
the one absorbing thought—gain.  If words and blows are sometimes
inflicted upon them by the lords of the land, they at least have the
gratification of knowing that there is not one amongst their brethren,
but who avails himself of every opportunity to swindle and defraud every
customer with whom they may chance to have transactions; and even the
coins which pass through their hands never escape without being
diminished in weight.  As an instance of their innate propensity for
defrauding, I will record an anecdote which occurred at Damascus some
years ago.  A Jew having been convicted of coining gold _saadeeyeh_ (nine
piastres), was punished by the government by having half his beard shaved
off, and mounted on an ass, with his face turned towards the tail, and a
European hat on his head; in this way he was conducted through the city,
preceded by a crier, proclaiming his crime.  Through bribery and interest
he was set at liberty, and shortly afterwards recommenced his nefarious
practices; the second time, however, he resorted to the filing of coin,
and being again discovered, the Cadi ordered his hands to be cut off, as
the most effectual means of preventing a recurrence of such tricks.  Even
this did not put a atop to his cheating, for having initiated his son
into his arts, they together devised the mode of dissolving a part of the
money in strong acid.  Being for the third time discovered, both father
and son were hanged.

The very name _Yahoodee_, or _Jew_, is tantamount in the East to
swindler.  Yet it is a most remarkable fact, that fallen and degraded
though the race be—their position only equivalent to a state of perpetual
serfdom—you never meet with a Jew who gains his livelihood by manual
labour, or by begging for his bread.  They neither till the ground, nor
follow the plough, nor yet exercise themselves in any agricultural
pursuits; neither are there amongst them day-labourers, or mechanics; and
all this arises from the species of Freemasonry which links these fallen
people together, and induces them to assist and support one another in
times of the greatest need and difficulty.  Hence it arises that every
Jew, from an early age is, as it were, launched into the world by the
assistance of his co-religionists.  They usually begin life in the
pastry-cook line; for to sell fruits, would be like carrying coals to
Newcastle, in such a country as Syria, where every man has his own
garden, or, if he be not possessed of this, the markets are stocked to
overflowing.  After this, they become petty tradesmen, and with a
stock-in-trade of some half-dozen loaves of sugar, a few pounds of
coffee, spices, etc., the whole perhaps not exceeding three or four
hundred piastres, he migrates to the surrounding villages, barters or
sells, comes back again and replenishes his stock, and so goes on adding
mite to mite till he is enabled to set up a _Dekkan_ in the bazaar.  The
wheel of fortune having commenced turning, he climbs up warily, and it
may be slowly, yet securely, to an ample independence for his old age;
and there are many very wealthy Hebrew families in Syria, whose origin
might be traced to such as just I have described.  When a Jew has once
amassed wealth, it seldom if ever happens that he falls low in the scale
again.

In later years, the condition of this persecuted people has been much
improved in the Ottoman dominions, and they may be now said to enjoy all
those advantages and privileges which are afforded to other foreigners
residing within the limits of the Turkish dominions; hence, it is to be
hoped, if we may be permitted to judge by the signs of the times, that
the day is not far off when they will be again restored to their land,
and when in the words of the prophet, it may be said, “_They shall be my
people_, _and I will be their God_.”  In fact a society has been formed
in England for the purchasing of land in Palestine to enable Jews to
settle there.  But these privileges have not always been enjoyed by this
unhappy people; not more than twenty years ago the barbarities practised
upon them seem almost incredible.  A friend told me of an incident that
occurred in Servia when a famine, or a pestilence, had ceased to ravage
the country, there was a grand procession and thanksgiving, and in the
edict of the Governor, it was not only proclaimed, but carried into
execution, that at every quarter of a mile a donkey and a Jew should be
sacrificed; thus classing them together, and ruthlessly shedding the
blood of two of the most unoffending creatures of the Creator.  But the
Jews and their sorrows and persecutions are, I trust, passing by, as a
firman has lately been obtained from the Turkish government, through the
influence of Sir M. Montefiore, which secures the Jews like privileges
with the Christians; this boon was presented to them by Col. Churchill,
who, in 1841, during his official residence in Damascus, exerted himself
strenuously and successfully to relieve them from the consequences of the
persecution they had undergone in the well known affair of Padre Thomaso.

And now comes a stately horseman, whose very steed seems to paw the
ground more proudly than others, as though conscious of the fact that he
carries on his back one of the lords of the land.  This is a Turkish
Effendi, his long loose cloth cloak is thickly trimmed with ermine; his
horse-trappings are magnificent—his countenance full of importance and
gravity—his beard black and wagging to and fro in a haughty commanding
style; he looks neither to the right nor to the left—acknowledges no
salutations, though the people rise as he passes, and bow their heads
subserviently to the earth; behind him rides a gaily dressed youth,
carrying in his hand the ready lit _chibuk_; look at the amber
mouthpiece, richly set with brilliants and emeralds, and then you may
form some conception of the importance and wealth of this great
functionary.  The occupations of the Turks are various, for being lords
of the land they and they alone, in most parts of the country, occupy the
posts of Government.  Amongst them, we may first rank the independent
beys and effendis—nobles of the land, wealthy from inheritance, and most
generally possessed of extensive gardens and plantations, these are the
aristocracy—they have no cares as to how they shall live—no thought as to
their sustenance—their mansions are capacious—their studs splendid—their
repasts sumptuous—their harems filled with the choicest flowers of
Georgia and Circassia.  They regularly attend the mosques, and keep their
fasts and festivals, and if they have anything to trouble their minds, it
most assuredly arises from a similar inconvenience to that which the
_fool_ in the Scriptures was exposed—viz., the want of extensive
granaries wherein to warehouse their fast increasing riches.  Next to
these we may reckon Government employés, who, though virtually invested
with greater authority than these beys (who hold no official position),
in reality are subjected to their whims and caprices.  Of this class are
the Pashas, Cadis, etc., etc.,—men who are generally well off so long as
they remain in office, but whose position would be very dubious indeed
were they once deprived of their main staff in life—their salaries.

The rest of the Moslem population may be divided into three classes,
viz., merchants, tradesmen, and household domestics; the latter if they
be Mahommedans, will seldom serve the native Christians, though they will
sometimes place themselves under European masters in order to be
protected from taxation, or being enlisted into the army.  Of the former,
from the time of the Caliphs, Turkey has been celebrated for the wealth
of her merchants, and for their upright, honest method of transacting
business.  However, though the uprightness of the old Mahommedan merchant
remains his wealth is on the decline, and is passing into other hands.
Most of the opulent merchants of Baghdad are Moslems who, regularly once
a year subject themselves to a long and inconvenient journey to Aleppo
and return so as to superintend and watch over their own interests; and
like the old tales of the Arabian Nights, rich scented spices spread
their odour over the desert far and wide.  Besides these other merchants
from Mecca turn a devout pilgrimage into a mercantile transaction, and
carry back with them many rare articles—otto of roses, and other scents,
which usually attract a multitude of eager purchasers.  The trades
followed by most Mahommedans, are those of carpenters, locksmiths,
tanners, shoemakers, sawyers, saddlers, and saddle embroiderers.  Of
these, the saddlers and the shoemakers rank first.  The carpenters are
expert tradesmen, and Damascus abounds with turners, known to bring work
to a highly finished state.

And now these two have passed before us, and a fresh sight attracts
attention.  Fierce-looking fellows, three in number, now appear, their
heads girt with long flowing silk handkerchiefs, of a bright yellow
colour; their beards are thick, black and curly; their features
sun-burnt; their eyebrows knit, and there is a lurking savage look in
their eyes which speaks volumes of treachery and bloodshed.  Long loose
striped dresses with horse-hair girths, loose shintians, and the ordinary
Syrian red boots, complete their costume.  They are mounted on Arab
steeds of the purest breed; slung by their left side is a scimitar of
fine Damascene steel; each carries on his shoulder a long polished
_Roomah_, or lance, from which hangs tassels of various gay colors.
These horseman are Bedouins of the Desert, who perhaps, have come hither
to spy out the land under the pretence of a friendly visit on mercantile
business; but what is more likely to be the reason, to find out when next
a caravan, or travellers, will pass through the desert.  No one fears
them now, since their number is too small, when compared to the crowds
which are on the alert and passing to and fro.  Still, these Bedouins may
even at this very moment be plotting a similar carnage and attack to that
which was made at Aleppo, so recently as 1850.  Notwithstanding the
ferocity of their nature, “their hand still being against every man,” yet
they never are guilty of a breach of faith or friendship.  As an instance
of this, an Arab was once at Damascus, and received civilities from a
Damascene, who gave him some bread and tobacco.  About two years passed,
when it so happened that this man was going to Aleppo with a caravan,
which was attacked, and, happily for all, the traveller was recognised by
one of the Bedouins, who proved to be the very man who had received
hospitality at Damascus.

Next on our panoramic sketch we find two hardy labourers, fine robust
looking men; these are the _fellahen_, and their vocation in life is
restricted to tilling the ground; but there are some amongst them who
follow the occupation of farriers, and some few in the larger towns are
blacksmiths, tinkers, and shopkeepers; but those that occupy our
attention at present wear too healthy an aspect to be taken for citizens.
They are peasants from a neighbouring village, and to them Sunday is a
day of rest; during the weekdays they are early risers (up with the lark,
and even before this “_bird hath shaken the dew-drop from her wing_”); to
them sleep has been a boon indeed—a luxury that few who are not
accustomed to hard manual labour can be supposed to enjoy.  The careful
thrifty wife, although her husband is an early riser, was up before him,
lighting the fire, and preparing his early meal.  He gets up, and goes
through his ablutions; and I may here remark, that Europeans in general,
and especially the English, form a very incorrect notion as to the habits
of the poorer class of natives in Syria, since few people are more
careful in their rigid adherence to cleanliness, though their brown
sun-burnt skin gives strangers an idea to the contrary.  His breakfast
consists of a few loaves, resembling Scotch cakes, on which cheese, and
on fast days olives, mashed together, are carefully rolled up; sometimes,
as an extra dainty, a little cold stew from yesterday’s dinner, or a
small dish of _leban_, gives a relish to his keen appetite; and having
finished this he shoulders his plough, loosens his cattle, and followed
close at the heels by his house-dog, goes forth to his labour till
evening.  He has generally arrived at the field of action before the sun
gets up to look at him, and he never leaves it till the fiery sun, red
with heat, has sunk below the horizon.  Truly, a labourer in Syria is a
living specimen of the curse brought upon mankind by the disobedience of
Adam—“_He earns his daily bread by the sweat of his brow_.”  Every day,
save on fasts and festivals, his toil never ceases.  At the commencement
of the year, his first and most laborious occupation is that of rearing
silk-worms, of which I shall now proceed to give a description.




CHAPTER XX.
THE OCCUPATIONS OF THE PEOPLE.


It is early in spring.  The snow that last week lay ancle deep in the
plains and valleys of Mount Lebanon, has rapidly dissolved under the
genial heat of the April sun.  Storms that wildly raged along the
sea-girt coast, outriders of Æolus, as he swept by in his hurricane-car,
drawn by equinoctial gales; these have been lulled into repose, and the
turbulent billows of the deep have forgotten their rough playmate, and
are hushed into tranquility.  The winter garb of the forest is fast being
set aside; the waters of the river flow pleasantly in the warm glow of
sunshine; feathered songsters are tuning up against the great spring
jubilee; the linnet and the bulbul now call to mind snatches of sweet
carols many months forgotten; nature awakes to the bright morning of the
year; with light heart the bee sucks from early opening flowers; with the
passing song, the peasant trudges forward to his daily labour; oxen are
yoked to the plough; the earth—softened with excessive moisture—yields
readily to the deep furrows made by the friendly implement; long hidden
seeds are turned up to the light of day, and brought forth from nature’s
storehouse to supply the wants of the hungry feathered multitude; grass
springs up almost perceptibly beneath our feet; the swallow has returned
from his distant journeyings, and brought with him a retinue of gaily
dressed butterflies.  The sun grows warmer from day to day; the sky
remains clear and cloudless; the first week of April has fled on the
rapid wings of time, and we are fairly launched into all the delights of
an incomparable Syrian spring—hie we forth early on the morrow to breathe
the pure untainted air—to revel in the sweet odours wafted around us from
countless flowers—to watch the master-touch of that great and beneficent
Creator, who has left no work unfinished.  Manifold indeed are His works,
and in wisdom has He made them all.

The morrow has come, we are up and abroad before the sun has cast his
first mantle of light over the pleasant waters of the deep blue sea.  We
saunter into one of the many white mulberry plantations that surround us
on every side, and observe that the leafless boughs are only just putting
forth their tender spring buds: yet there is an unusual commotion amongst
the rearers of the silkworm—whole families, men, women, and children, are
variously employed; the earth round the roots of the mulberry trees is
being hoed up; some are planting young shoots, others busy in the kitchen
gardens; whilst, to the European eye, a few appear as though engaged in a
mysterious occupation.  They seem as if their arms were an inconvenience
to them, or, as though they were all afflicted with boils or eruptions
under their arms, which preclude the possibility of using them without
intense pain and difficulty.  The singular attitude of these people, as
they move about like so many brood-hens with anxiously expanded wings,
once attracted the attention of an English medical officer, who assured
me, with great alarm depicted in his countenance, that tumours under the
arm-pits are certain indications of the plague, and he immediately
recommended our instant departure from the neighbourhood; whilst
uncertain what course to pursue, one of the men thrust his hand into his
bosom, and extracted the immediate cause of my friend’s alarm; this
proved to be a small bag of silk-worm eggs, and as this remainder of his
stock has been late in hatching, the peasant resorted to artificial
means, and the heat of his body is usually productive of beneficial
effects.  However, in some parts of Syria the eggs are deposited in
moderately warm rooms, which speedily bring forth the embryo worm.
Wonderful to say, these eggs, which have been suspended in linen bags
throughout the whole year; during the heat of summer, the mild autumn,
and the cold of winter—on which temperature has produced no effect—now
that the right season has arrived, issue forth from the diminutive eggs,
just as the mulberry first puts forth its delicate foliage, so well
adapted to the weak state of the _microscopic worm_.  Insects now creep
round the bag that had confined them as eggs, and the peasant, who has
been anxiously watching them for the last week, welcomes their appearance
with infinite satisfaction, as sure harbingers of spring; and, as on the
produce of the silk season the fellah and his family depend, in a great
measure, for their maintenance, the different processes are watched by
them with great anxiety.  Now let us attend from day to day, and watch
the progress of these tiny millions as they advance in growth, and
finally spin round themselves that marvellous small store-house of silk,
commonly designated as the cocoon.

The first steps taken by the peasants after the eggs are hatched, is to
place some of the minute worms in the centre of small circular baskets,
which have been carefully cemented over with cow-dung, and left in a
sunny spot till completely dry; this precaution is indispensable, because
the worms are so diminutive that, however closely wrought may be the
workmanship of the basket, they would inevitably fall through, and be
destroyed or lost.  The reason also for having the cow-dung is, that the
cow is held in great esteem amongst most Oriental silk-worm breeders; and
a superstitious idea prevails, that this animal has a sacred charm, and
they therefore imagine that by covering the baskets with cow-dung, it
will have some power over the worms.  In this primitive condition, a
handful of the tender leaves of the mulberry is plucked, and cut up
similarly to tobacco, and then sprinkled over the young brood.  This
process is repeated twice daily, and suffices for the food of numerous
caterpillars during the first days of their existence.  Their growth is
very rapid, and their appetite ravenous; and though tended each day with
the utmost solicitude, it is by no means certain that one-half of the
immense numbers contained in these baskets will arrive at perfection.
Hundreds are trodden to death by their companions; scores of brave young
worms perish beneath the weight of some slender mulberry twig, the size
of which, though small indeed, is, in comparison to them, like a huge
tree; besides these calamities, the worms are entirely at the mercy of
the weather.  In some parts of Syria, nature takes a freak into her head,
and in the midst of sunshine and warmth, down comes a tremendous
hail-stone shower or snow storm—then farewell to the worms and the poor
peasant’s prospects; his only chance is, to send immediately to the
mountain plantations, whose colder climate has retarded the hatching of
the egg, and here, at great expense, purchase a second supply of
“silk-worm seed” (as it is technically called by us), and then the crop
is entirely artificial, for the leaves have attained too coarse a
texture, and the peasant is compelled to chop them up into minute
particles, before he durst administer them to the feeble and delicate
insects.  There are two other enemies from which the insect has to be
guarded: during its first week’s growth, it is extremely liable to be
beset by red ants; and during the spinning, or last week of its existence
as a worm, the swallow and the sparrow think it a delicacy wherewith to
feed their newly-hatched progeny; and great havoc is sometimes committed
by these swift-winged depredators.  Yet, notwithstanding all these
drawbacks, so careful are the peasants, that every precaution has been
taken long before the season arrives, to guard against any and all of
these foes; and it may be accurately observed, that bad crops and unlucky
seasons are the exceptions to a general rule.  One year with another, he
generally obtains, within a few drachmas, the quantity of silk he has
reckoned upon, and he is usually pretty sure as to the amount of money he
hopes to gain, as this has most commonly been agreed upon many months
past, and the peasant has already received some portion of the fixed
valuation in advance.

The first week of our watching has expired; the worms have increased.
These little creatures, which occupied but a very small spot in the
centre of the baskets, have now become so bulky, that they can no longer
find space sufficient to crawl about without destruction to each other;
consequently they have now to be removed to the _hoosse_, or cottages,
erected purposely for their rearing, and they are no sooner placed here
than the laborious part of the peasant’s business commences.  Heretofore
his wife and children have chiefly occupied themselves in supplying the
frugal wants of the colony of young insects, and they had nothing else to
do but to strip the smaller branches and twigs of the tender leaves; now,
however, the worms, which are growing and thriving, require five times as
much attention and food as before, consequently, the good man of the
house and his son (if he has one), take the responsibility upon their
shoulders the moment the worms become inmates of the _hoosse_, where they
are generally installed with much ceremony; the priest repeats a
benediction, and sprinkles holy water where the worms are to be placed.

We will follow the silk cultivator and his family, as they carry the
small baskets containing the worms into the _hoosse_, which is a large
hut with a peat roof; the walls are composed of reeds, platted liked
mats, with small partitions on every side.  The building, which has been
newly done up, is daily inspected, to prevent birds from taking up their
abode amongst the straw and rushes of which it is composed; the interior
of the _hoosse_ is fitted up with shelves, formed with canes, on which
are laid closely-worked long and narrow mats, woven of reeds.  These
extend round three sides of the nurseries, and are placed one above
another, with an intervening space between each shelf of about twenty
inches.  On these mats a thick layer of mulberry leaves is laid among the
insects; the baskets containing the worms are moved carefully on the
mats, instinct leading them to the freshest leaves; meanwhile, the
peasant and his family are busily repeating prayers for a blessing on
their undertakings, at the same time mixing the grossest and most absurd
superstitions with their simple prayers.  Pieces of red cloth rags, or
other dazzling colours, together with a shell of a hen’s egg, ornamented
with a red silk tassel and blue beads, are attached to the poles that
support the hoosse, and every other imaginable part of the building where
they are likely to meet the eye and attract attention.  This is to divert
the stranger from allowing his thoughts to be wholly occupied with the
worms, or from gazing on them uninterruptedly: such an offence would be
sure to be productive of the “_evil eye_.”  Indeed so great is the
superstition of these poor ignorant peasants, and their dread of the
baneful influence of this imaginary being, that they seldom have a child,
cattle, or possess cocks and hens, or even trees upon which they place
any value, without affixing to them a bunch of coloured rags, with a blue
ring made of common glass, for say they, “those that have such things
will be influenced by the venom of envy; and the venom of envy shooting
out of the eyes will blight the object of our desire, as lightning blasts
the tree.”  So much for this absurd and ridiculous notion.  Another
formula gone through, is the tying small skeins of last year’s silk in
various positions over the silkworms; this is to excite them to industry,
and to shame such as are slothful, by shewing them the remnants of the
riches and skill of their ancestors.

We have seen the silkworms duly installed in the hoosse, and retire to
the music of their active mastication of the leaves, to return again on
the morrow and see how things thrive.

To the surprise of my European friend, on entering the hoosse on the
morrow, he found all solemn silence; on examining the shelves, he thought
that the worms were all dead and gone.  While he was regretting the heavy
loss which would fall upon the cultivators, I smiled at his ignorance,
and assured him that the worms were never more healthy than at the
present moment, (the peasant adding in a whisper), “_they are all good_
_Christians of the Greek faith_, _and are keeping a three days’ rigid
fast_.”  And this is firmly believed by him and his family, and is the
prevalent notion in Syria.  At such periods as the present, when the
worms are in a state of torpor, owing to their rapid growth, they are
compelled at certain intervals to disembarrass themselves of the tight
old skin, which being too small gradually bursts, and a fresh skin is
formed, suitable to the increased size of the insect.  At such periods
the natives, from the highest to the lowest, priests and laymen,
acknowledge the worms to be keeping a _Soame_, the Arabic term for fasts.

The third morning after our last visit we call again, and find the newly
clad worms rapidly awaking to the sense of a keen appetite, glistening
and shining like bridesmaids in their beautiful new white satin costumes.
This process of shedding the skin, is evidently attended with danger to
the silk-worm, if we may be permitted to judge from the number that have
died under the process, whilst others, though surviving, have been so
disfigured as to be rendered entirely useless.  The peasant and his
family are occupied collecting the dead and the maimed before feeding the
hungry survivors; this finished, he arms himself with a sharp sickle;
henceforth the leaves are no more gathered by the hands—trees are marked
out in regular rotation—the smaller branches are cut off, which are then
carried by the woman and children to a clean swept place in front of the
hoosse; the leaves and even smaller twigs, are speedily separated from
the branches, and sprinkled plentifully over the worms; the branches are
collected up on one side, and left to dry for future use as fuel; thus,
whilst the foliage of the mulberry nourishes and maintains life in the
silk-worm, the branches are used to light the fire which suffocates the
poor creatures when they have formed the cocoon, and assumed the
chrysalis state.  After this first _soame_, or fast, the worms grow very
rapidly; in about a fortnight afterwards, they undergo the second
fast—they are now, however, much stronger, and better able to resist the
casting of their skins; so much so, that scarcely one dies under the
operation.  On recovering from this second _soame_, they eat
prodigiously, and grow very rapidly.  The peasant is compelled to cut the
branches off the mulberry three times a day in lieu of once, as
heretofore, and the worms feast without intermission, morning, noon and
night; at length in about eight weeks from the time they were hatched,
their existence as worms is rapidly drawing to a close.  What was at
first barely the size of a grain of fine gunpowder, is now become three
and four inches long, sleek and fat, and for all the world looking like a
young roasting lamb of Lilliputian breed, ready trussed up for cooking.

All the mulberry trees in the plantation, with the exception of some six
or a dozen, present the lamentable spectacle of so many boughless stems;
whilst nature around is profuse in luxuriance, and the wild convolvolus,
as though compassionating the sad condition of the mulberry, twists its
friendly leaves around, and decks it with gaudy blossoms of the early May
morning.  The peasant has been busy cutting down boughs of trees, etc.,
the bark of which he makes into string and ropes; these have been exposed
to the sun, till all the leaves have withered and fallen to the ground.
The worm which, by a wonderful instinct, has heretofore never strayed
seven inches from where it was originally placed, now begins to evince
symptoms of impatience, and roves about the edges of the shelves, or
tries to mount up the smooth and slippery canes that support the shelves.
The peasant, marking these indications, immediately places the dry twigs
of thorn and bushes over the worms, and in a short time the whole colony
rapidly mounts amongst these twigs, each choosing out for itself some
favourable position, where it may with greater facility weave its costly
and wonderful web.  And now we stand quietly, and watch the indefatigable
little creature silently persevering in completing its own little
storehouse, and what will prove to be its own little tomb.  No machinery
could be more exact than the movements of this small insect, as it
carefully draws out of its mouth thread after thread, now moving with its
head to the right, and carrying the almost invisible web down to its
tail, then turning its head in the opposite direction, apparently for the
purpose of drawing the silk from where it had been fastened on one side,
till it has carefully drawn it over its own head, and secured it with
gummy saliva.  We quit the worms at mid-day, when hardly a thread of this
wonderful substance is as yet visible; we return early the next day, and
the cocoon is formed, but it is yet too tender to be touched.  The
peasant merely contents himself with observing the shape and color of
these cocoons—setting much store on such as are of a yellow brown tinge,
small, with a belt in the centre.  Some of the cocoons are as white as
snow, some yellow, some brown.  The peasant now reports the condition of
the silk-worms to his masters who immediately places his seal on the door
of the hoosse.

When they are considered fit to reel off the silk, he has the old oven to
put in repair, to inspect the basin on the top of this altar-shaped
furnace, to erect the old wheel, which has lain on the dust-heap ever
since last year—drive a nail in here—put a new spoke in there; and when
all is completed, and ready for immediate use, the peasant’s wife goes
early on the morning of the auspicious day, and carries in her hand a
morsel of damp clay; this she flings against the door-post of the
master’s house, if it adheres, then luck will attend the season, if, on
the contrary, it drops off, the silk will be unsaleable.  This is not the
last superstitious ceremony observed; early that morning, about an hour
after sunrise, the master of the plantation, followed by the peasants,
and all his family, march in regular procession to the hoosse, the great
man carrying under his arm a bundle of handkerchiefs, or other trifles,
as presents for his followers; these are duly distributed on reaching the
sheds; every one says a blessing on that day’s undertaking, the door is
unsealed, the people rush in, and rapidly empty the hoosse of the twigs
and branches on which the cocoons have settled; these are piled up
outside of the door, the women and children spread mats on the ground;
here seated, they pick the cocoons from the twigs, and the peasants, as
the mats get overloaded, gather them into a goodly-sized basket: by
nightfall this operation has been concluded; they then separate from the
mass some two or three hundred of the very best cocoons, which are set
aside to breed from.  Next day, the first streak of dawn has barely lit
up the east, before the busy peasants are up and doing.  “The cocoon
cleaners” are occupied picking them; that is, detaching from the hard
shell the soft downy substance, which afterwards constitutes what is
termed the rough silk.  The peasant, meanwhile, has lit the furnace; the
water in the boiler is wrought to a proper temperature for reeling the
silk.  An old man busies himself in bringing bundles of faggots from the
large pile of mulberry branches, with which to keep the fire alive.
Baskets of picked cocoons are placed beside the peasant who, seated on a
stool, chooses from these a dozen or fourteen at a time, while a man or a
boy turns the large wheel with his foot; this wheel is about fifteen feet
in diameter; the cocoons are thrown into the warm water, and well whipped
with switches, till the whole surface becomes frothy, and the threads of
the cocoons begin to detach themselves.  Seizing these, the peasant
skilfully draws them up, gradually using more strength, till he has
sufficient length of thread to fasten to a peg in the wheel.  The party
at the wheel commences turning with all his force: the wheel goes round
rapidly; the peasant is ever on the watch, knotting broken threads,
supplying the place of empty shells by fresh cocoons, or screaming to his
attendant for more fire or more water.  So passes the day.  Evening
arrives, and there is a large heap of empty cocoons, in which, however,
the dead worms still remain; and on the wheel, which was bare in the
morning, there is a fine thick golden-looking skein of silk, weighing
some four or five pounds.  This primitive style of reeling is of course
detrimental to the quality of the silk, and is a frightfully slow method
compared to European factories, which I have visited.  When the peasant
discovers that he has more cocoons than he can possibly reel off within a
given time, he stifles them by exposing them to great heat, a process by
which the quantity of silk they yield is greatly diminished; but as the
cocoon fly, _i.e._, the moth, comes out within three weeks, this stifling
is indispensable, as the cocoon (except for rough silk) is wholly unfit
for use when once it has been perforated by the moth.

About two weeks have passed since first the cocoon commenced to be
reeled; the silk is now ready for the market, and is hanging out in
golden festoons to dry thoroughly before it is packed.  The old baskets
are once again brought into play, but they are this time all alive with
fluttering white velvet-like moths; they never fly.  Their enjoyment of
life is very brief indeed; the male moth dies within twenty hours of its
birth; the female is then placed on fine linen rags, where, in the course
of the day it will deposit from 100 to 500 eggs, which are left in the
air for a short time, and then put into linen bags and hung from the beam
in the centre of the house, or sent to the mountain to await another
year.  The silk season ends just as the heat of June sets in.

Having watched the whole process of the fellah throughout the silk
season, we will continue to follow him to the close of the year.  The
silk being weighed and given to the women to make into hanks, and
provision made for the future brood of worms, I will call my reader’s
attention to the wheat harvest.  The labours of the peasantry will now be
of a severer nature than hitherto; he has to toil under the scorching
rays of the sun, whose beams, at least in some parts of Syria and
Palestine, are far more powerful than those ever endured by English
reapers; consequently the fellah is compelled to desist from his
occupation from mid-day till about two o’clock in the afternoon.  During
this portion of the day, scarcely a breath of air stirs, not a leaf is
ruffled; even the many-coloured and beautiful butterflies lazily flutter
from flower to flower seeking shade beneath the petals of the Damascene
rose; all is perfectly still, and the peasants take their wonted siesta.
However great may be the inconvenience of the intense heat, yet it is
wholly balanced by the benefits which accrue from the excellent climate
with which this country is blest.  The farmer in Syria has little cause
of apprehension from sudden storms or showers, so that the harvest is
gathered in, receiving no injury from those changes of weather, to which
it is subject in less genial latitudes.  The corn being reaped by the
fellahs, the damsels, even as in the time of Ruth, follow, gathering the
ears and binding them in sheaves; after leaving them for a short time to
dry, they are carried to a part of the field called _baiedar_, which has
been levelled and swept clear to receive them.  A rude machine,
constructed of oaken planks with stones fixed in holes drilled on the
under side, is placed on the now scattered sheaves; on this a youth sits
or stands to drive the oxen round and round, which have been harnessed to
it.  This process separates the grain from the husk; it has next to be
winnowed, and for this purpose is collected in heaps; the corn, by means
of a wooden shovel, is thrown up in the air, when the delightful and cool
breezes of evening waft the chaff to the winds.  The reaping, threshing,
and winnowing, being now completed, the wheat intended for domestic
consumption, is stored in wells, constructed expressly for this purpose,
whilst that which is for agricultural uses, is placed in enormous jars,
of from five to fifteen feet in height, and of proportionate diameter.

The peasant now receives from his master the portion due to him from the
harvest; he then commences making one half of what he obtains into
_borghol_.  The weather is most favourable for this process, as it
requires fine sunny days, and during the night the wheat is covered with
sheets to protect it from the dew, which is very heavy in the East.  The
grain is first washed and boiled, when it is exposed for several days to
dry on mats, before carrying it to the mill, where it is ground and thus
converted into _borghol_.  Of this there are two kinds, viz., coarse and
fine; this latter serves simply as a substitute for rice, and is called
_ruzz-mufalfal_, whilst the other is used in _kubbas_, that favourite
dish to which I have before alluded.  The harvest is now over, and the
vineyards in the surrounding mountains present a rich and beautiful
sight; the bright and luscious clusters of black and white grapes lie in
profusion along the ground, for in Syria the vines are suffered to trail
on the earth; and I am persuaded that were they trained as in the Rhenish
vineyards, they would yield a more abundant crop.

At this season of the year, the scene which is now presented is both
picturesque, lovely, and interesting.  Beneath a sky pure and bright,
amidst the luxuriant and straggling vines, the damsels of Lebanon are
busily occupied collecting the grapes.  With what ease and elegance they
move!  Their graceful forms are shewn to full advantage in their loose
and flowing vesture the brilliant and well-selected shades of which
contrast beautifully with surrounding nature.  Some are bringing baskets
to be filled, whilst others are cutting the grapes and placing them in
these panniers.  The sun now begins to shed a deep red on the face of the
western horizon, this is the signal to return home; each one takes her
basket, puts it on her head, or loads her donkey, and the gay cavalcade
moves homewards, singing some plaintive ditty; and thus ends a day which
I know many of my fair Western readers would be not a little interested
to witness.  On the following day, those which are not required by the
villagers for their own wines, arakey, or raisins, are carried to the
market where they are sold.  Even in the vineyards there remain enough to
satisfy the weary traveller as he passes by, and to supply the feathered
tribes, and the bees, that therefrom gather an abundant store of rich
honey, either for hives, or, flying to far distant woods and meadows,
make for themselves a secret nest amidst the fragrant herbs; however,
these hidden stores are soon tracked out and added to the simple repasts
of our peasantry.  Scarcely is the vintage over, when the olive
plantations require attention.  This is one of the most celebrated as
well as useful of all trees.  The fruit is beaten from the tree in the
same way as walnuts in England are threshed in a green or unripe state,
it is steeped in an alkaline ley, and then pickled in salt and water, and
that it is much esteemed when thus preserved is well known.  To procure
the oil, the nearly ripe fruit is bruised by moderate pressure in a mill,
when the oil flows out.  This valuable article is used in almost every
Syrian culinary preparation, and it is also applied for many medicinal
purposes.  Thus with the olive, meet emblem of peace, end the bright
beams of this year’s sun.  Winter comes on with rapid strides: the boughs
so lately loaded with leaves, flowers, and lastly, with fruits, are daily
losing their beautiful foliage; and chilling autumnal breezes coldly
whisper through the leafless branches, and Lebanon grows dark till the
pale snow covers its top, and reflects the last dying rays of the sun.
The peasantry now gather their supplies of fuel, which the relentless
winds tear from the trees, scattering the earth with fragments of boughs,
which, however, prove most acceptable to those who are in search of wood.
And now the fellah and his cheerful family being furnished with fruits of
all kinds, wine, honey, poultry and firing, and the numerous other et
ceteras necessary to a Syrian household, fear nought for winds or storms;
nor are his cattle forgotten, his cow and treasured mare are both
furnished with provender, much of which has been made from the refuse
left by the silkworm of the mulberry leaves, the centre part of which
they could not devour; these having been collected were made into stacks
ready for winter.  During the autumn, the cattle derive much nourishment
from the second crop which sprouts from the despoiled mulberry trees.
The fellah’s wants being thus well supplied, he fails not to acknowledge
the blessing which he possesses, and exclaims, “_El-Hham’dvo li-llah_!”
God be praised!

The resources of Syria are inexhaustible if only properly developed.  The
trade in wine may rival that of Spain, Portugal, or France; the grapes
are beautiful, and if they were only properly selected, and proper means
taken to secure a good wine in this country, neither in Europe nor Asia
is there greater facility for establishing an extensive and lucrative
trade in this one department than in Syria and Palestine?  The fruits are
delicious; and those grown in the open air and without any trouble, rival
in flavour, quality, and quantity, those of any other country, where the
greatest pains are taken and great expense incurred to accomplish this.
Then, again, the articles of tobacco, wheat, wool, etc., and innumerable
other articles; madder root, the beautiful dyes of Syria (the Tyrian dye
is not known now); one and all may, if properly cultivated and brought
into the English market, rival its imports from all other parts of the
world.  The immense plains could, with very little outlay or labour, give
us wheat and wool, indeed supply all the world; and Syria will, I hope,
yet, at no remote period, become the granary of the west.

The white wool of Scripture was up to a late period partially grown in
the country around the Euphrates; and, as is suggested by Dr. Thompson in
the articles already adverted to in the Colonial and Asiatic Magazine,
when an improved breed of sheep from English colonies, Spain, etc., shall
be introduced into Syria, we may expect to supply with its resources the
markets now chiefly furnished with wool from America, Australia, Germany,
etc.




CHAPTER XXI.
THE COMPARATIVE INFLUENCES OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT FAITHS IN
SYRIA.


There is perhaps no country in the world which so much engages the
attention of the Propaganda of Rome as Syria and the Holy Land.  To
possess a leading influence on its destinies, has ever been the ambition
of the Pope.  What could have been more iniquitous than the absurd
pretensions of the Roman Catholics in the Jerusalem question?  It may be
necessary to go back a little, and to acquaint the reader, that France
has for many years claimed a sort of protection over the Romish Churches
in Syria, and in periods of commotion in Mount Lebanon has exhibited the
French colours from the convents, whilst all the appearance of state
protection from the Propaganda has been kept up of late years, as must be
well known in Europe.  Thus a perpetual excitement is created in Mount
Lebanon, the Roman Catholics looking to France, the Greeks to Russia, and
the Druses to England.  All this must be naturally displeasing to the
Turkish government, and destructive to the country itself, whilst the
agents of each of these parties are exciting them to perpetual outbreaks;
and most disgraceful scenes are continually occurring at Jerusalem, even
around the sepulchre of our blessed Lord; so that there is presented to
Christendom, the melancholy spectacle of Turkish soldiers called in to
prevent Christians massacring one another.  To increase the confusion,
the last French ambassador at the Porte, M. Lavalette, demanded a renewal
and ratification of some privileges, stated to be the substance of an old
treaty with France, and so far succeeded as to obtain a promise from the
ex-minister, Reschid Pasha, to comply with his wishes.  Pending the
negotiation, however, the French minister being absent for a time, Russia
went to work and had this promise set aside.  His Excellency M.
Lavalette, returning and finding this, prepared to stand to his colours,
and brought the _Charlemagne_ man-of-war to sustain his demand.  The
grand vizier was called upon for an explanation, and as he could not
defend his conduct, was dismissed from office, and the question thus
remained in abeyance for months, but has now again been mooted.  France
has got a renewal of the original privilege, whilst Russia continues
obstinately to oppose these concessions.  The question is thus still at
issue, and it is difficult to say how, when, or where it will end, unless
England, as the only power best suited to do so, mediate between such
conflicting parties.  At least such is my humble opinion. {371}  The Holy
Sepulchre once exclusively in the possession of the Roman Catholics would
indeed be a bright gem in the diadem of the Romish Church, the acme of
their ambition, and a keystone to the hearts and affections of every
Christian inhabitant in Syria; but though they have as yet failed in
this, they have many other strongholds and fastnesses in the land.  Look
at their convents at Carmel, Jaffa, Ramlah, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Sidon,
Beyrout, Acre, Damascus, and Aleppo, and which are daily increasing.  In
these, and many other towns, they are the chief point of attraction to
the weary wayfarers; to these they flock for rest and for sustenance—to
these the sick betake themselves for medical advice and medicine—and all
is afforded them gratuitously.  They have also schools for the
instruction of children in Arabic, Italian and French; and though many
poor members of the Greek Church would gladly abstain from sending their
children to be under the tuition of the priests, did any other
opportunity offer itself for their education, still, in many instances,
they have now no alternative if at least they desire that their children
should be instructed in the European languages.  At the present day, the
sea-coast towns of Syria are rising into such great importance from the
rapidly-increasing commerce with Great Britain and America, that to be
possessed of a smattering of foreign languages is a source of gain to the
rising generation of Syria; hence, all are desirous of obtaining this
knowledge; and for the accomplishment of their desire, there is no choice
left but to attend the Roman Catholic schools.

There is, as I have already stated, an innate enmity between the Greeks
and Latins in Syria—a deadly strife in a doctrinal point of view; still
the young Syrians of the Greek persuasion, and even Moslems who, from
self-interest, are prompted to attend daily these Romish schools, are
also compelled to submit to their rules; and the course of instruction
there consists almost exclusively of books and lessons well adapted to
impress upon the young imagination the doctrines and observances of that
Church.  What follows from this intercourse?  The teacher begins to plot
against the pupil; he softens down difficulties; he wins confidence by
kind words, and occasionally by small gifts, whilst a strict endeavour is
made to mix up with these studies as much pleasure and amusement as is
admissible with the drier pursuits of knowledge.  These and a hundred
other methods are adopted by the Roman Catholic priests to gain over the
esteem and regard of the pupils; and as a natural result, the child,
perhaps innately of an affectionate disposition, feels an impulse to be
grateful—gratitude warms into friendship—friendship ripens into
attachment; and then the battle is won; the child is only nominally a
Greek—in principle and at heart a Romanist.  The parents and friends may
be long in discovering the painful truths of the case (if ever they
arrive at the knowledge), for in exact proportion as the child becomes
imbued with his teacher’s notions, so does he imbibe that unchristian
spirit of concealment and deception, which it is the great aim of his
preceptors that he should be possessed of; and having reached this point,
as he grows in years so he grows deeper in cunning, and becomes a
powerful instrument in the hands of his instructors, “a wolf in sheep’s
clothing,” turned loose among the flock of his unsuspecting brethren, and
whilst a strict adherent to the outward observances of the Greek Church,
is a very Jesuit at heart, working out with secret but almost certain
success, the utter slavery of all those that fall into his meshes.  This
is the existing evil in Syria—a growing danger—a picture of truth not at
all overdrawn.  This is the “wild beast” of the present day in Lebanon,
which is “passing by and treading down the humble and unsupported
Thistle.”

Hospitality is the prevailing feature of the East; it is a precept and
practice handed down from generation to generation since the time of the
patriarchs.  Abraham, when he unconsciously received and waited upon the
three heavenly messengers, was doing exactly what is practised by the
wild Arabs of the desert to this very day.  “_Baëtic baetuc_” (my house
is your house) is, with a very few exceptions, the maxim in the heart of
every inhabitant of Syria, the more refined citizens of Damascus and
Aleppo placing the best rooms in their houses at the disposal of the
stranger, as well as their horses, their servants, the best fruits of
their gardens, and even themselves.  All is cheerfully given up to their
guests; and that man is a black sheep of the flock who is wanting in
courtesy to the stranger, be he Christian, Moslem or idolater, rich or
poor.

The poor peasant, in his lowly hut in the village, and the Arab in his
tent, will gladly share his frugal repast with the friendless stranger,
and allot him a corner of his own cushion and portion of his own
bed-covering, if he have nothing better to offer.  In fact, the latter
will not allow a stranger to pass without entering his tent-door and
tasting the bread and salt of hospitality.  A man without hospitality is
looked upon as worthless and unnatural; but a people without
hospitality—the idea is too monstrous for an Oriental to conceive. {375}

The Latin convent on Mount Cannel has a widespread fame in the East.  The
Hadgi from the far-distant shores of India, whom chance or speculation
has brought from Mecca into Syria, has ofttimes been refreshed, and
rested under the shadow of these its hospitable walls; and he naturally
returns to his friends and his country full of the good deeds and the
kindness of the monks of the great _deher_ (convent) of _Mar Elias_.
Another, perhaps, has been sick nigh unto death, and in his sickness was
nursed, kindly waited upon, restored to health, and then sent forth with
a blessing, by the _Hakeems_ of this convent.  What follows?  The virtues
and charities of these Catholic brethren are ever afterwards the theme of
his daily conversation.  Again—a pilgrim, penniless and starving, has
received food and raiment, with a small sum of money to carry him on his
way home, from the Carmelite friars.  The pilgrim, through after-life,
cherishes a thankful gratitude towards his timely benefactors; and this,
to a greater or less extent, is the case with all the minor convents and
monasteries in Syria.

Now, while the Roman Catholics have their convents, the Greeks and
Armenians their monasteries; while the Druses, Maronites, and Arabs have
a corner in their humble dwellings, and a crust and a sup for the
penniless pilgrim and the weary wayfarer; yet, alas! not even in Beyrout
can the English boast of ever so mean an establishment for the exercises
of charity—charity, that golden rule, laid down by Him whom they profess
to look to as their only Saviour and Redeemer, as the great Pattern and
Example of their lives.  When I reflect upon the enormous sums spent in
sending fleets to fill Syria with bloodshed and misery, to the ruin of
many of my unfortunate countrymen, I must confess my surprise is turned
into indignation.

Amongst the fraternity constituting the monks of the various convents,
there is always one or more somewhat skilled in the art of healing; and
generally attached to these establishments, as in the instance of the
convent on Mount Carmel, is a dispensary well stocked with drugs, and
with the newest and best medicines recognised and used by physicians.  In
some few of the principal towns in Syria there are resident European
doctors, principally Italians and Frenchmen, with a sprinkling of Germans
and Poles, and one or two Americans.  With the exception of the
last-mentioned, they are mostly in the pay of the Turkish government, and
are either connected with the quarantine establishments, belong to the
troops, or are attached to the court of the Pasha.  Relative to these,
however, I may quote what Dr. Thompson, who was for some time at Damascus
on a medical mission, and who was extremely beloved and esteemed by the
natives there, states, viz.,—

    “That on one occasion he was requested by the seraskier, or commander
    of the forces for Arabia, to perform an important operation on a
    soldier, as the ordinary medical staff were not able or willing to do
    it.  In the course of the operation, the medical staff one and all
    failed in their aid, and some of them even fainted; and the writer
    had to rely on his own presence of mind, and unaided, to terminate
    the operation.  Imagine an epidemic in a hospital under such
    surveillance; the mortality is frightful even under ordinary
    circumstances.  In acute cases, and in serious surgical cases, there
    is little or no chance for a successful result; and the soldiers and
    sailors seldom resort to the doctor if they can avoid it.  The
    European renegades in the service are very little better, with a few
    exceptions.  The monks that practise medicine as a profession have a
    very fair knowledge of simples, and compound their own medicines, and
    employ a good many recent chemicals and modern ingredients in the
    European _Materia Medica_; but their knowledge of acute disease is
    necessarily limited.”

The natives, in the hour of sickness, have first of all recourse to
simple herbal remedies, which have been handed down through many
generations, and are chiefly held in estimation by the old people of the
villages.  When these remedies are found to fail, then, and oftentimes
only at the eleventh hour, they bethink them of the Franks inhabiting
some convent in the neighbourhood; and as all Franks are supposed to be
physicians by birth, recourse is had to their healing art in preference
to Italian or other quack medical professors, who are harsh in their
treatment of the sick, unconscionable as to charges, and in any real case
of difficulty seldom, if ever, successful.  The monks are always ready
and willing to avail themselves of any such opportunity of displaying
their skill and charity, and it requires no second invitation before one
or more of them are at the threshold of the sick man’s house, and a few
minutes find them busily employed about the cure, if it be practicable.
In many instances, the patient is only suffering from severe
constipation, or it may be a severe attack of ague; and in these cases a
quick and almost miraculous cure is soon effected.  That it should be
considered a miracle, or an interposition of Divine Providence, brought
about by the prayers and benedictions of the holy friars, is the main
object they have in view, hence no opportunity is lost, on the first
arrival of the priestly doctors, to impress upon the minds of the
relatives and friends in secret the almost certainty of the patient’s
demise, unless a special interposition be made by them on his behalf.  If
this does not ultimately lead to the conversion of the household, it
shakes them in their own creed, engenders confidence towards their
benefactors, and leaves a grateful impression behind for many gratuitous
charities rendered.  The least return they can then make, is to comply
with the oft-urged request of the monks to send their children to be
educated at the convent school.

Luckily for the credit of Great Britain, she sends few charlatans from
her colleges; and an English or American quack is a thing heretofore
unheard of in Syria, whereas charlatans of all other nations have been
superabundant.  An English doctor possesses an unsullied reputation in
Syria.  He is looked upon in the same light as an English gun, or an
English watch—a thing that can only be manufactured or brought to
perfection in England.  Hence, if the report be spread that an English
Hakeem, or even an Englishman of any denomination, be travelling in the
neighbourhood, the halt and lame, and blind, and otherwise ailing of all
the surrounding villages will congregate near to where his tent may be
pitched, and pester him incessantly for remedies, if it be only a little
white sugar weighed out by his skilful hands, to be used in cases of
ophthalmia.  Every sect, and even Mahommedan ladies, came and consulted
Dr. Thompson, and received him at their own houses unveiled.  The
judicious physician is treated in the light of a gifted individual; he is
looked upon as having the power of life and death in his hands: in the
sick-room he is courted and treated with the greatest deference and
respect; and even whilst passing in the streets, the occupants rise to
salute him.  It is not uncommon for him to find himself impeded in his
progress by the prostration of the female members of the family to kiss
his garments, even his shoes.  This has occurred repeatedly, to my
knowledge, in Damascus; and the doctor was also appealed to in private
matters as the umpire, and for his advice in domestic and personal
affairs.

I may also here relate an incident in my own life in support of the
influence which a Hakeem can obtain over the prejudices of Eastern
people.  During my last visit to Constantinople, whilst visiting at the
house of Husseen Pasha, His Excellency, in the course of conversation,
hinted to me, that the rumour of my medical studies in Europe had reached
him; and after a little introductory preamble, he begged of me to see his
wife, who had been confined to her bed for some days.  I can hardly
describe my astonishment at such a request coming from such a quarter;
however, I expressed my readiness to do all in my humble power to
alleviate the sufferings of the invalid.  I was accordingly conducted by
a eunuch through a perfect maze of dark and mysterious passages (coughing
all the way, as is the fashion, to give notice of the approach of a male,
for the females to veil themselves) to the bed-chamber of the sick lady,
whom I found reclining upon a mattress, laid upon a carpet on the floor.
It being announced to her, that the Hakeem Bashi was at hand, an
attendant, old Dudu, came forward, and our interview commenced.

After a short conversation, in which she made many anxious inquiries
relative to the Frank country and the English ladies, about whom I found
she had very absurd notions, we came to the real object of my visit.  I
asked where the pain lay, and it will cause my readers to smile when I
state her reply.  She told me that I must cast her nativity according to
Eastern customs, and thus discover the seat of pain myself.  I told her
that the system of medicine which I had learnt in England did not admit
of such practices, and went on to shew her the utter fallacy of such
doings.  She answered me, that her own doctor in Circassia formally
adopted this plan, and that, after ascertaining the star under which she
was born, appropriate verses from the Koran were written upon three slips
of paper: one was put in water, which she afterwards drunk; one was burnt
with perfumes to drive evil spirits from the room; and the third was
placed upon the affected part.  After some little difficulty I discovered
the seat of her malady, and that she was suffering under a tumour.  I
then felt her pulse, and requested her to shew me her tongue.  Here
another difficulty arose, as she could not shew me her tongue without
unveiling; but the old lady who stood by told her that the Prophet
allowed it before the Hakeem and Priest, at the same time quoting verses
from the Koran in assertion of what she stated.  This had the desired
effect; and on her removing her veil, I was perfectly dazzled with the
intense sweetness and beauty of her face.  She was a Circassian, one of
the fairest of her race, and had just arrived at Constantinople.  After
some trouble she permitted me to inspect the part affected; on beholding
it, some lectures delivered by my revered Mentor, Mr. Phillips, and also
by Mr. Ferguson, immediately recurred to my mind.  In the lectures they
said, that incision with the knife was the only remedy in such cases.
After two days I ventured to break this to my trembling patient, much to
her terror; but on my assuring her that I would remove it without her
being sensible to pain, she at last consented, and I successfully
performed the operation, putting her under the effects of chloroform,
which appeared to the bystanders pure magic.  They had heard tell of such
things from the Arabian Nights, but could hardly believe their senses
when actually beheld by themselves in the present day.

I have already endeavoured to show in how many various ways the Latins
possess superior opportunities, and are in a better position than the
Greeks, in having greater facilities daily afforded them as far as
regards the work of conversion; but there is yet another great source of
advantage to them, and one which holds out many tempting inducements to
the heavily-taxed peasantry to embrace at once, and without any further
hesitation, the Roman Catholic faith.  This is the privilege exercised by
the consular authorities, and even by the very priests themselves, of
protecting from outrage or insult every one who has embraced their
religion, and who gives evidence of the sincerity of their intentions by
regular attendance at mass, and by the rigid observance of high-days and
holy-days, feasts and fasts.  They also give them employment; and they
become, _de facto_, protected by the French government; their taxes are
light in comparison with those levied on their fellow-countrymen, and
they are entirely exempted from that grinding system so commonly
practised and played off upon the peasantry by the soldiery and
underlings of government—a class of individuals that are a perfect bane
to the Ottoman empire.

Before concluding these remarks, I must point out another glaring
instance in which the Latins have gained a decided ascendancy over the
Greeks in the East.  I allude to the establishment by the Sisters of
Charity of a hospital at Beyrout, in which the first medical advice there
procurable has been secured.  Here the poor fever-stricken natives have
every attention paid to their wants in the hour of sorrow and sickness;
while, side by side, on neat iron-bedsteads covered with snowy linen, we
stumble across the last sad remains of the French Roman Catholic sailor,
and, in the next bed to his, the Protestant British tar.  Both have been
equally cared for, as far as bodily concerns go, but there has been a
fearful distinction between the spiritual consolation of the two.  The
Frenchman has received daily—hourly visits from the nuns, who have spoken
to him smilingly of heaven, and lighted death’s dark pathway with the
rays of cheerfulness.  The Englishman, on the contrary, has felt himself
friendless and solitary—no gentle lips have stooped down to whisper
comfort and holy counsellings to the quickly departing soul.  The reason
is, that there is not at present an English clergyman or an English
doctor in Beyrout.

The Sisters of Charity, and their other kindred agencies in the East, are
beneficial in their way.  During seasons of sickness they are all in full
requisition, and deserve their meed of praise.  As to these religious
ladies, whatever may be their proselytising propensities—we know, that
where they chiefly confine themselves to their meek and humble calling,
their indefatigable zeal and never-ceasing exertions at all seasons and
at all hours, are greatly to be commended.  The patients visited at their
own houses retain a grateful sense of the patient attention shewn them in
the hours of need and in seasons of epidemic, when in the East friends
desert each other.  The institutions under their control are remarkably
well kept, and far more neatly and economically conducted than any
hospitals or schools in England.  The manner in which their internal
economy and household arrangements are conducted and _efficiently_
superintended is highly creditable to them.




CHAPTER XXII.
THE REMEDY.


From the earliest days of Christianity, the blessed truths of the Gospel
were almost invariably accompanied by acts of mercy and love.  At first,
these truths were impressed upon the memories of reckless and darkly
ignorant multitudes by signs and wonders, well suited to the times and
people; and miracles, resulting in immediate temporary benefit to the
afflicted, were apt, though but faint, illustrations of the incalculable
boon about to be conferred on the immortal souls of the believers and
followers of our blessed Redeemer—the blind received their sight—the lame
recovered the use of their limbs—the sick were healed—and even the dead
were brought to life again.  The early apostles were physicians both to
the soul and body; and those that had faith but as a grain of
mustard-seed went about doing good to the sick and dying.  These miracles
were palpable and beyond the power of refutation; and as long as the
necessity for something beyond the comprehension of man existed, such
things were requisite to draw and fix the attention of ignorant and
superstitious idolators; but as soon as the true faith had taken root,
and the young sapling no longer required outward and visible props to
secure it from those tempestuous hurricanes of persecution which, through
so long a period, raged with hardly any intermission, then palpable
miracles ceased to be exercised on earth—the visible sign was removed—the
word of command or the touch no longer possessed the healing virtue—but
miracles of grace and mercy still continued to be performed, and they
continue to this day the same, as palpably visible to the
spiritually-minded man (who can distinguish the hand of God in every
temporal blessing enjoyed by the true followers of Christ), as was the
resurrection of Lazarus to those unbelieving Jews who were eyewitnesses
to that marvellous demonstration of infinite power tempered with infinite
mercy.  In lieu of this power of performing miracles, or of witnessing
them, men were endowed with a spirit of wisdom, which gradually developed
itself in successive generations; and the sick and the dying—the maimed,
the halt, and the blind, who had now no further hope of instantaneous or
certain relief through miraculous gifts, resorted to the skill of
physicians, men of more enlightened education than themselves, but in
other respects their equals, co-partners of the joys and sorrows
inherited in this world, and destined like themselves to terminate their
earthly career in the grave.  And these physicians, or at least some
amongst them, laboured for the benefit of humanity.

At first, we may readily conceive that their resources were limited, and
their primitive knowledge of medicines extremely scant; but the healing
art never retrograded a single step.  Of this we have abundant proof in
the history of nations, as regards the advancement of this peculiar
branch of science, though it is most true, that in countries such as, for
instance, Arabia, which, in times past, was pre-eminent for its knowledge
of medicinal drugs, and which may be said to have been the nursery of
chemistry; this art has almost entirely disappeared whilst in the present
day the medical profession may in Europe be said to have arrived nearly
at its zenith; other sciences may have kept pace with it in their
marvellous and beneficial discoveries, but none can so much claim the
thankful gratitude of mankind in general.  Health is universally
acknowledged to be the most precious of all temporal blessings, and,
consequently, the pillars that maintain and prop up health have a prior
claim to all others; and that man must be blind indeed, both spiritually
and bodily, who does not see and acknowledge in this boon to suffering
humanity the invisible hand of the Almighty Benefactor, as clearly
intelligent to the man of God now, as were then the words, “_Arise_,
_take up thy bed and walk_,” to the hopeless palsied patient.  In short,
every cure and every relief afforded to the sick and dying, are so many
miracles of mercy.  A man meets with an accident—he is mortally wounded
in battle—crushed by a railway accident—burnt in a fire—all but drowned
in water—sick of a fatal malady lingering with vain hopes and vainer love
of life—the marked victim of consumption—these all have their immediate
and most excruciating tortures benumbed or alleviated by the skill of the
physician; or, if there is hope of life, the whispering of that hope
falls from their lips like precious balm of Gilead imbuing them with
courage and patience to undergo suffering, for great beyond measure is
the tenaciousness to life.  If, on the other hand, the skilful
practitioner believes his patient doomed, and pronounces the last
verdict, still he can proclaim to him the sweet hope of mercy—mercy
eternal and boundless—for the penitent sinner, and help him to collect
his scattered thoughts from wandering to that world which he must now
speedily leave; he may whisper to him that there is still time for hope,
and to hope for mercy, and he may assist him to spend these last precious
moments in penitence and prayer.

What has long ceased to be a marvel amongst nations advanced in
civilisation, is still regarded in the light of a miracle by the
untutored portion of the world.  Those who have penetrated into the
remotest and least-known regions, have adduced evidence in support of
this; and it is natural that a savage should regard with superstitious
awe and reverence, a man endowed by education with even such every-day
attainments as would barely pass muster in England, France, or America;
and it is as natural, that this awe and reverence should gradually give
place to affection and gratitude when, by the interposition of medical
skill, the sick and suffering man experiences a speedy transition from
pain and disease to the rapturous bliss of a state of convalescence,—and
this transition brought about, too, by what, to him in his ignorance
appears a magical influence.  His faith in that man’s power is so great,
that, if he only drop a word in proper season, the untutored mind of the
comparative savage has sufficient natural energy to grow inquisitive
about what so materially regards himself; and he soon feels persuaded
that one from whom he has already received such convincing proofs of
disinterested kindness can never be capable of doing him an injury; and
this leads him to reflect; and reflection is the first grand
foundation-stone, which, when once firmly set, can readily be built upon,
and become, with God’s blessing, a house upon a rock.  Throughout all
ages since the foundation of the Christian faith, those missionaries who
have penetrated into barbarous countries, have invariably found the great
utility of being acquainted, however slightly, with a knowledge of
medicines and their proper application.  The very word _hakeem_ is a
passport to the Oriental heart and good-will.  How else could Europeans,
in the garb of monks, and furnished only with staff and wallet, have
traversed those vast and unknown regions of China, Tartary, Thibet, etc.,
and have escaped scatheless to make known to the world their travels and
adventures in lands and amongst people whose very name was a mystery to
civilised Europe?  That physicians are honoured by these people, and even
in some instances gratefully remembered, is certain.  This truth is
placed beyond a doubt by the fact of a Chinese poet having celebrated the
name, fame, and good deeds of a skilful European oculist in a lengthy
poem, part of which was translated into English and published some few
years since in London, taken, I believe, from the notes of the late Rev.
Mr. Abed, a distinguished American settled at Singapore.  And it is owing
to the fact of monks, professionally physicians, having been with
impunity permitted to travel through unknown lands, that Europeans are
indebted for the introduction of the silkworm from China into their own
country, an indefatigable monk having ingeniously contrived to convey the
eggs carefully packed in the hollow of his staff over thousands of miles,
and through apparently insuperable dangers and difficulties from China to
Turkey.

I have now, I hope, succeeded in proving to the reader the necessity that
exists of incorporating the medical with the clerical profession in the
persons of those good Christians, valiant soldiers of Christ, who are
cheerfully willing to devote their lives and talents to the furtherance
of the Gospel as missionaries in foreign parts; and I shall now endeavour
to explain my views, hopes, and wishes, as connected more immediately
with the spread of the Truth in Syria and throughout the East.  Many
thousands of pounds have been already lavished upon futile attempts to
convert the heathen, and many excellent Christians are now to be found in
England ready with open hands to further a good cause; but as I never
intend to participate in any worldly gain to be drawn directly or
indirectly from what I am about to recommend to their serious attention
and consideration, they must at least acquit me of any selfish motives,
for my career in life is not in my own power; and though I have learned
to prize England and the many treasured friends and privileges I here
possess most highly, yet, I cannot forget my mother country altogether,
and trust and hope I may be able, at intervals, to revisit its sunny
shores for a while, and during my absence from it my every thought shall
be how best to promote the spiritual welfare of my beloved brethren
there.

The plan I propose as best calculated to insure, within a few years, the
happiest results to Syria, is as follows, viz:—

Firstly.—That a society be formed in England, composed of benevolent
ladies and gentlemen, who shall have for their aim the establishment of a
charitable hospital and schools at Beyrout, and that, for the furtherance
of this object, subscription-lists be opened at some of the principal
banking establishments all over Great Britain.

Secondly.—That the donations thus collected shall be paid into the Bank
of England.

Thirdly.—That when the sum subscribed shall have amounted to about two
thousand pounds, a pious, experienced middle-aged medical man, be sent to
Beyrout, accompanied by a chemist; there in co-operation with some
intelligent native (such as Asaad Kayat, the present English consul at
Jaffa, who has so materially benefited his country), to purchase a
promising piece of land in a healthy and elevated position an hour’s ride
from the town of Beyrout.

Fourthly.—To build there a hospital, and in the town a dispensary for
out-door patients.  The cost of this ground and buildings would not
exceed one thousand pounds.  Separate private rooms, attached to the
hospital, would be very desirable for travellers, who needing medical aid
or nursing, and being able to pay for the same, would prefer being thus
lodged to going to an hotel.  This would be a great boon, especially to
the English, who might thus feel greater confidence and security in their
visits to this interesting country; knowing that, in case of illness or
accident, they could there receive proper medical treatment, and every
care necessary to ensure their recovery.  The physician attached to the
institution might, when called in to attend opulent European or native
families, be permitted to charge a small fee, which could be regulated by
the committee, and which fee, or half of it, might go towards the
hospital expenses.

Fifthly.—If funds continued to permit, to build, in connection with this
hospital (but in the town), schoolrooms for boys and girls, where they
might be thoroughly taught their own language, and in it go through a
course of Christian instruction, learn needlework and household duties.

Sixthly.—I propose that the requisite medicines, surgical instruments,
furniture, bedding, and materials for school use, be supplied by
voluntary contributions, such Christian or charitable tradespeople as
feel disposed to support such institutions contributing their mites
thereto in lieu of paying money.

Seventhly.—It would be very desirable, when the hospital was constructed,
if the physician there would take in as many Syrian pupils to educate as
the funds permitted; to be sent, when deemed by him fit, to England to
improve themselves at the hospitals here, and to increase their Christian
knowledge; afterwards to be employed in the hospitals or dispensaries,
which, it is to be hoped, will soon, from so excellent a commencement,
increase all over Syria; for it would be desirable that eventually all
posts connected with these institutions should be occupied by intelligent
natives, who could afford to be employed at much lower rates of salary,
and who would exercise a greater influence over their fellow-townsmen if
only from their superior knowledge of their mother tongue.

I have now endeavoured to shew that, with an outlay of two thousand
pounds, very commodious institutions might be established, and a large
piece of ground be purchased at Beyrout, if a Society were formed for
their establishment in Syria.  Meanwhile, I have reckoned upon the
charitable disposition of the class of annual subscribers; and in this
Christian land, where money is so cheerfully granted for the promotion of
good and alleviation of suffering, I may safely reckon on this bounty
attaining about five hundred pounds per annum, not one fraction of which
but may, with judicious arrangement, safely treble the amount in the
course of a very few years.

I have as yet made no allusion as to the uses to which the land purchased
in Beyrout might be applied besides the erection of a hospital upon it.
Any surplus land could, at a very trifling original outlay, be planted
out with mulberry-shoots; and these, if properly managed, would, in the
course of three years, be fit to rear the silk-worm.  After the final
erection of the proposed establishment at Beyrout, and when it had been
working a year, I should recommend that the society, in lieu of
permitting the surplus funds on hand to remain idle, should vote the same
to the purchase of some tract of land in the immediate neighbourhood of
Damascus or Beyrout, and to have plantations in the fertile district of
Antioch, where land and labour are excessively cheap.  Thus, an outlay of
one thousand pounds in landed property would, if it were all planted with
mulberries, yield, in the course of a few years, an annual revenue (if
the silk were sold in the Syrian market), of about two hundred pounds per
annum; if reeled for European purposes, nearly double that amount.  And
this revenue would go on steadily increasing as the trees became older
and yielded more leaves for the nourishment of a greater number of worms,
and as, with the profits of the silk, additional grounds might be
purchased and cultivated, I could safely guarantee that, were the
society’s efforts judiciously supported by efficient agents, in from
fifteen to twenty years this and similar institutions would not only be
enabled entirely to support themselves from the revenue of their estates,
independent of any succour from the society, but they would even have
surplus funds for the establishment of like minor institutions in the
interior.

At the first outset, the cultivation of the lands acquired in Beyrout
might devolve upon the parents or destitute relatives of such of the
poorer boys as were receiving a gratuitous education at the schools
attached to the institutions, and the poorer class of girls educated at
the schools, if permitted, might, during one month in the year, be
occupied in reeling off the silk produced by the cocoons on the
Institution’s estates.

It is my idea, that the system of education should consist of two
distinct schools or classes for both boys and girls; the upper or high
school to be appropriated solely for the superior education of the sons
and daughters of such wealthy and respectable natives as have the means
and inclination of advancing their children in after life, and on whom
languages, drawing, music, various species of needlework, and other like
accomplishments, would not be uselessly lavished; while, on the other
hand, the lower school should strictly confine itself to orphans and
children of the labouring and poorer classes, who might be instructed to
read and write their own tongue with ease and facility, at the same time
that they were initiated into useful trades and professions, and the
girls of this class taught plain needlework, and no useless
accomplishments.  As regards the diet and care of this latter class,
strict attention should he paid to _cleanliness_, regularity, order,
_truthfulness_, and other good habits; at the same time that their food
and raiment should, though sufficient, be neither superabundant, nor
consist of such articles as might induce them in after-years, when left
to battle their way through the world, to have a hankering after dainties
and luxuries wholly beyond the compass of their slender means.

But to ensure success to the proper working of such a philanthropic
medical mission as is here contemplated, intemperate zeal or harsh
bigotry must be carefully abstained from.  I quite agree with Dr.
Thompson, who, in a letter addressed to Dr. Hodgkin from Damascus, says,
“I believe all who know the East, and particularly Syria, will freely
admit that it is only through medical agency that a change in the
religious views of the people can be effected; but even a medical man
must work for years among them, and first acquire their confidence; and I
believe I am not too sanguine that then, by cautious and judicious steps,
he may and will do more than pure missionaries can expect to accomplish
for a quarter of a century to come.”  “It is at the bedside of a sick
person, where are always assembled all the friends of the patient, that a
medical man can do the good work, and where he may do so with impunity,
especially if there be a slight prospect of recovery.  The most fanatical
I have found raised no objection under these circumstances, even, strange
to say, among the Moslems.”

I may now quote the following lines from Mr. Cuthbert Young, in his
“Notes of a Wayfarer,” he says:—“No means are more likely to smooth down
prejudices and recommend true Christianity than the spirit of benevolence
that emanates from it, and that breathes in this institution.  Compulsory
means for proselytising never have been, and never will be, effectual in
the case of Mahommedans; but what can withstand self-denying kindness?
And what may not happen when we know that free access is obtained by
Christian physicians, even to the harems of Moslems!  The same vices that
are so destructive in China—infanticide and abortion—prevail here; and, I
believe, the use of exciting stimulants, such as opium, is also general;
but the wretched patients, when placed under the superintendence of a
faithful Christian physician, though they may not be prepared to embrace
Christianity, may yet drink in to some extent of the Christian spirit.”

The amount of good, and the favourable impression made on the people by
medical missionaries, cannot be overrated.  We need only refer to China.
There is no more efficient way of rendering a people, or a country,
lasting advantages, than through the agency of Christian and judicious
medical men.

In bringing these pages to a close, I may be allowed to express a hope
that they will not prove wholly without interest to those who peruse
them.  My chief incentive for appearing before the public, has been from
an humble desire to advocate the cause of Syria; and the patriotic will
doubtless join in my prayer, that my efforts may not prove abortive.  If,
therefore, either directly or otherwise, I shall be the means of rousing
the sympathetic energies of right thinking people, on behalf of my native
land, I shall feel fully recompensed for all the time I have bestowed on
this little volume.  However great have been the exertions which, (as not
professing authorship), it may have given me, yet the recalling past
scenes and circumstances for the work has left a relish and a fragrance
on my mind, and a remembrance which is sweet.  I have, however, by its
publication, caused a strong feeling of enmity and malice to spring up
against me among my Roman Catholic brethren; and to their hostility I am
reluctantly compelled to attribute a considerable change which, since the
appearance of my work, has taken place in my circumstances.  By
fabricating reports disadvantageous to my welfare, and by using indirect
influence in certain quarters, I have been made to suffer a considerable
pecuniary loss; but I hope in exchange that I have gained better things.
Amongst the latter I would place the satisfaction of having candidly
expressed my opinions on important subjects without regard to my worldly
interests, and that by so doing, I have more effectually paved the way
and pointed out the true path of improvement for my countrymen, by
directing attention to the evils which exist among them, and suggesting a
method by which they may be rooted out.  May then those seeds of charity
which have so often sprung up, blossomed, and yielded fruit for me, now
do so likewise (and more also) for my countrymen.  I cannot take leave of
my readers without once more expressing my heartfelt gratitude towards
the people of this country.  From all whom I have ever met, I have
received that welcome and reception for which the English are justly
proverbial.  Even the nobles of these mighty realms have deigned to
honour me, by evincing an interest in the subject next to my heart.  May
that Omnipotent Power, to whose authority they also bend, long preserve
these great and true-hearted men; and may this kingdom never cease to be
the ark, the earthly resting-place of all true believers, whence, as from
a vast store-house of provisions, mental or bodily, all nations under the
sun may seek and find assistance.




APPENDIX.
NOTES ON THE GEOLOGY OF SYRIA,


(_Kindly communicated to me by my friend_, _Professor Edward Forbes_.)

MY DEAR SIR,—It is much to be desired that a careful geological
exploration of your interesting country should be undertaken by an able
investigator.  All that we know of the structure of Syria is fragmentary,
and in great part unsatisfactory.  Sufficient, however, is known to
indicate the scientific importance of the region, and to hold out a
promise of a rich harvest for the practical geologist who may undertake
its description.  The collection of fossils which I have myself seen from
the district around Lebanon, suggested many enquiries that have not yet
been answered, especially respecting the relations of the jurassic and
cretaceous rocks of that famous region.  The following scanty notices of
what is known about Syrian formations and their fossils, may serve to
excite curiosity and to direct the traveller to fresh observations.

In the year 1833, a valuable memoir by M. Botta, Jun., was published by
the Geological Society of France.  It is entitled “Observations sur le
Liban et l’Antiliban.”  He represents Mount Lebanon as composed of rocks
belonging to the lower cretaceous series, resting upon green sands, and
these in their turn reposing upon jurassic strata.  He states, that in
the chain of the Lebanon there are three distinct formations.  The
uppermost is a limestone, very variable in character, both of appearance
and hardness, and alternating with calcareous marls.  The lower division
of this formation is distinguished by the presence of beds and nodules of
flint.  Fossil sea-urchins occur in its middle, and fishes in its lower
part.  A second formation of variable thickness is sandy, very
ferruginous, abounding in iron ores and lignites, and passing above into
a calcareous rock.  The lowest formation is constituted of numerous beds
of cavernous limestone.  Besides these older rocks, M. Botta remarks upon
the presence, all along the coast from Beyrout to Tripoli, of
conglomerates or sandstones, quite unconformable to the calcareous rocks
of the coast.

M. Botta takes particular notice of those localities in which remarkable
fossils occur.  The first is at the bottom of the basin in which Antoura
is built.  The stratum is confused marl, abounding in specimens of
sea-urchins.  These species are remarkable for their size and shape.  He
considers this bed as belonging to the jurassic series.  Corals are also
found in it.

The second locality is near the convent of Bikeurby, where a stratum
occurs containing numerous univalve shells of the genus _Nerinœa_, which
being harder than the rock containing them, stand up on its weathered
surface.

The third locality is at Sach el Aalma, where at about 300 feet above the
level of the sea occurs an impure limestone, often soft.  In it fossil
fishes are found in plenty.  They are irregularly disposed in the rock.

The fossil fishes of Mount Lebanon have been the subject of frequent
investigations, although the true geological position of the beds whence
they are derived, has not yet been made out with certainty.  Two memoirs
have especially been devoted to descriptions of them, the one by M.
Heckel (1843), and the other by Professor Pictet, of Geneva (1853).
Professor Agassiz also has written upon some of the Lebanon fishes, and
Sir Philip Grey Egerton has described a very remarkable fossil, viz., the
Cyclobatis Oligodactylus, brought from Syria by Captain Graves, R.N., who
kindly committed it to my care in 1845.  Altogether no fewer than
thirty-four fossil fishes from Mount Lebanon are now known and described.
As the works in which the accounts are contained are not likely to pass
into the hands of travellers, it may be useful to give a list of some of
the principal of these very interesting and beautiful fossils.

Of the family of perched fishes there occurs a species of _Beryx_, a
genus of which certain fossil forms are found in the chalk, and a few
living species in the Indian seas.  The _Beryx Vexillifer_ is found in
the hard limestones of Hakel.

Of the family of sparoid fishes, one or two species occur in the soft
limestones of Sach el Aalma.  The _Pagellus Libanicus_ is an example.

Of the family of Chromidæ, three species of _Pycnosterinx_ occur in the
soft limestones of Sach el Aalma, viz., _P. discoides_, _P. Heckelii_,
and _P. Russegerii_.

Of the Squamipennes, a _Platax_ occurs in the hard limestones of Hakel.

Of the Cataphracti, a new genus called _Petalopteryx_ has been
established by Pictet for a fish from Sach el Aalma.  Of the Sphyrenoid
fishes, a _Mesogaster_ occurs at the same locality.  To the Halecoid
fishes a great number of those of Lebanon belong; among them are the
following:—

_Osmeroides Megapterus_, Sach el Aalma.

_Eurypholis_ (new genus of Pictet) _sulcidens_, from Hakel.

_Eurypholis Boisseri_, from the same locality.

_Eurypholis longiden_, from Sach el Aalma.

_Spaniodon_ (new genus of Pictet) _Blondelii_, from Sach el Aalma.

_Spaniodon elongatus_, Sach el Aalma.

_Clupea lata_, Sach el Aalma.

_Clupea macropthalma_, Hakel.

_Clupea sardiniodes_, Hakel.

_Clupea laticauda_, Hakel.

_Clupea minima_, Sach el Aalma.

_Clupea brevissima_, Hakel.  This fish, originally described by M. de
Blainville, appears to be very common in its locality.

Of the Esocidæ, there is the fish called _Rhinellus furcatus_, which
occurs at Sach el Aalma.

Of the Sclerodermi, several species of _Dircetis_ occur at Sach el Aalma.
A curious and anomalous fish, called _Coccodus armatus_, is found at
Hakel.

Of Cartilaginous fishes, a _Spinax_ is found at Sach el Aalma.

The curious _Cyclobatis oligodactylus_ of Egerton belongs to the same
division.

In the north of Syria, M. C. Gaillardot has observed several distinct
stages of rocks belonging to the great Nummulitic formation, and
therefore, according to the received geological classification, members
of the Eocene group of Tertiaries.  The newest of these beds are stated
to consist of compact white or grey limestones containing fossil corals,
sea-urchins, and oysters.  Under these is a white chalky limestone,
alternating with green and grey soft marls and other limestones, almost
entirely made up, according to Vicomte D’Archiac, of the _Nummulina
intermedia_.  In the white limestones of Ainzarka are found _Nummulina
Raymondi_, _N. lœvigata_, and _Alveolina subpyrenacia_.  M. Gaillardot
would distinguish the entire group of strata constituting the highest
mountains of Syria by the name of the Libanian System.  He appears,
however, to have confounded strata of very different ages, tertiary rocks
with cretaceous and jurassic.  In the true Lebanon region the mummulitic
beds seem to be altogether wanting.  It is possible that they may be
present in the Antioch district, but this has not been clearly made out
as yet.  M. Russegger has shewn, contrary to the views of M. Gaillardot,
that the region around Jerusalem is mainly of oolitic age, with
occasional remains of cretaceous strata outlying here and there.

During the Armenian expedition to the shores of the Dead Sea,
considerable collections of Syrian fossils appear to have been amassed.
These have been described by Mr. Conrad, and are figured in the report
very recently published by Mr. Lynch.  The cretaceous beds of Syria are
therein referred in part, at least, to the age of the white chalk of
Europe.  The Jurassic fossils are, for the most part, in the condition of
casts.  Species of _Nerinœa_ were noticed, and among European forms, the
_Ostrea scapha_ of Roemer, and the _Ostrea virgata_ of Goldfuss.  A very
remarkable fossil is the _Ammonites Syriacus_, from the Lebanon region;
it is a species apparently of the genus _Ceratites_, a group of
cephalopods usually regarded as characteristic of strata of Triassic age,
but in this instance possibly represented among cretaceous beds.




NOTES.


{3}  Canticles iv. 13–15.

{8}  The supposed tomb of the prophet Jonah is distinctly visible from
this spot.

{10}  This favourite dish is something similar to forced-meat balls,
being made of dried boiled wheat, finely-chopped suet and meat, pepper,
salt, and red chillies.  The whole is mashed into a paste, then squeezed
by the hand into a globular shape, and afterwards either boiled or baked.

{21a}  In the houses of Mahomedans the texts are from the Koran.

{21b}  Afterwards Pasha of Damascus, where he introduced many useful
European inventions; he is now the Commander-in-Chief at Adrianople,
beloved and esteemed by the people he governs.

{22}  It is the fashion of Damascus, and generally in the East, for the
lady of the house to first sip the coffee, and then hand it to the
visitor as a mark of favour; and on my first arrival in London, I used to
do the same, much to the astonishment of my English lady-friends.

{28}  (Aliahey Ushruf fûl salām.)

{48}  In the East generally, however it is not regarded in the light of a
theft to eat as much fruit from the fertile gardens as may satisfy the
moderate wants of the passer by.

{76}  Spirit, made of raisins and aniseed distilled.

{78}  Every marriage-guest brings a wax-taper, which he is to light.

{79}  Sometimes the marriage ceremony is performed at home, sometimes in
the church.

{92}  This is made either of raisins, or a kind of sweet pod.  These are
crushed in a mill worked by a camel and afterwards mixed with a small
portion of alkali and a kind of soft earth, placed in a vessel with a
vent.  Over this a certain quantity of water is poured again till all the
juice is extracted, then evaporated by heat till a mass resembling
molasses, is left, which has a delicious flavour.

{97}  This tobacco, when gathered, is hung up while it is green in a
chamber, and exposed to the fumes of a particular kind of wood, which
grows only in this neighbourhood, and which imparts to it a mild and much
admired flavour.

{107}  I have this fact on the authority of an English traveller.

{119}  Another story prevalent was, that the Sultan had written to the
Queen of England, commanding her to send her fleet to subdue the
Egyptians and threatening, if she refused to do so, to dethrone her, as
he is the Padischah of all kings.

{157}  Since the above remarks were placed in the hands of the printer,
Mr. Brady has, I am happy to see, obtained permission of the minister to
introduce a bill into the House of Commons, for the registration of all
duly qualified medical practitioners.  This is, at least, one step in the
right direction.  Short though it be, nevertheless we must look upon it
as an earnest of greater regard on the part of the Government than they
have hitherto evinced; and we may receive it as a first instalment of
more valuable boons yet to come.

{175}  M. Musurus, Prince Callimaki, and Prince Caradja.

{178}  Reschid Pasha, Aali Pasha, and Fuah Effendi, the ablest men in the
empire, were many years in this country, and are eminently distinguished
by their advocacy of reform, and by carrying on improvements in all
branches of the public service.

{210}  EUPHRATES AND THE EAST.—On Saturday last, a lecture announced
under the above title, was delivered at the Assembly Rooms in this city,
by Dr. J. B. Thompson, a gentleman who has just returned from a medical
mission in Turkey.  Capt. Saumarez, R.N., presided, and a very numerous
audience of ladies and gentlemen attended on the occasion.  The lecture
was so desultory in its course, that it will not admit of analysis;
nevertheless, it was exceedingly interesting, and formed an important
addition to our information respecting a country which is the cradle of
the world.  Dr. Thompson, it appears, was sent to Asiatic Turkey on a
medical mission by an association of English gentlemen, amongst whom was
the Earl of Ellesmere; and having opened a free hospital at Damascus, and
acquired the Arabic language, he enjoyed rare facilities for obtaining a
knowledge of the manners, feelings, and circumstances of the population.
There is not only more toleration for Christians in Turkey, but less
corruption and injustice than under the powers which seek to dismember
it.  He described the Turkish rulers as sensible men, ever ready to carry
on any improvements suggested to them.  The missionaries would effect far
more if, instead of teaching doctrines to adults, they educated the
females prior to their seclusion in the harems.  There was no impediment
to the establishment of female schools; and, therefore, if these
secondary means were adopted, the condition of the young might be raised,
the prejudices of the parents might be abated, and a foundation might be
laid for the civilization of the East.  The principal feature of the
lecture, however, was the description of a new route to India.  Instead
of passengers proceeding by Alexandria, Cairo, across the sandy Egyptian
Desert, and through the Red Sea, it was suggested that they should land
at the mouth of the river Orontes, near Antioch, in Syria, and pass
through a rich and beautiful country to Belis.  There, embarking on the
river Euphrates, they would descend through the land of Paradise to
Bussora on the Persian Gulf and from thence proceed straight to Bombay or
Calcutta.  The advantages of this new route were healthiness and
rapidity.  The journey to India by Suez occupied twenty-eight days, and
entailed much suffering in crossing the Desert, and in traversing the
unhealthy Red Sea.  The transit from Antioch to Belis would occupy two
days by railway through a country so rich and fertile that it would
become peopled if communication were opened up.  The entire journey to
India would be shortened seven days, the route being not only better but
shorter by at least 300 miles.  The saving of time would be still greater
if a railway were formed along the bank of the Euphrates from Belis to
Bussora.  Dr. Thompson addressed himself to the objections which had been
made to the route by the Euphrates.  It had been said, that Col.
Chesney’s exploring expedition failed; but this was incorrect.  Col.
Chesney’s difficulties arose partly from his having fixed upon Barick,
higher up than Belis, as his terminus, and partly from the want of native
pilots.  The river is subject to squalls, the signs of which are familiar
to those who live on its banks; but Col. Chesney employed none of the
navigators, and one of his steamers having been upset, the river in
consequence got a bad name.  It had been said, too, that the Bedouin
Arabs are ill-disposed towards the navigation of the Euphrates.  This Dr.
Thompson denied on his own knowledge, having visited all the chiefs along
the banks, and he declared, contrary to the general opinion, that the
Bedouins are a benevolent, generous, noble-hearted race.  It might be
true, he observed, that during the progress of Col. Chesney’s expedition,
the Bedouins were prejudiced against the navigation of the river; but the
fact was, there were powers which thought they had an interest in
misrepresenting the intentions of the English in the East.  This feeling
had, however, been dissipated by more correct knowledge.  Dr. Thompson
added, that he had submitted the plan of the Euphrates route to the
Turkish Sultan, who immediately perceived its advantages over the old
route through Egypt, and would strongly support it.  One feature of the
plan, he also stated, would be the establishment of a school for children
at Antioch, the climate of which is delightful; and while officers in
India might come there on furlough, without losing certain advantages, as
they would still be within the confines of Asia, their friends in Europe
would find it an easy and delightful trip to visit them at that place.
Dr. Thompson pointed out other and more general advantages, which would
arise from the adoption of the new route, as regards trade and
civilisation.

On the conclusion of the lecture, Habeeb Risk Allah Effendi, a Syrian,
who is at the present sojourning in this city, presented himself to the
meeting, and addressed it in a few sentences expressive of his desire
that the Euphrates route might be adopted, as it would be the means of
civilising his native country.  The Syrian women, he said, are entirely
uneducated, and this is one of the principal causes of the ignorance
which pervades the great mass of the people.  He gracefully thanked the
audience for their attendance, regarding it as a manifestation of warm
interest felt in the progress of the East.  A vote of thanks having been
given to Dr. Thompson, on the motion of Sir Claude Wade, the audience
separated, and, we may fairly add, that, though the manner of the
lecturer was clearly unpremeditated, his matter gave considerable
satisfaction to a large, intelligent, and influential audience.—_Extract
from the Bath Chronicle_.

{233}  This method of practice is in all respects the same as that of the
Egyptian midwives alluded to in Exodus i.16.

{236}  The Hebrews appear to have had a similar tradition, as we read in
the _History of Tobit_, vii. 4, 6, 7, 16, 17. viii. 2, 3,

{242}  During a recent visit to Walton-on-Thames with Azimullah Khan, who
is here on a mission from the Peishwa to the Right Honourable East India
Directors, and who, I may remark, is highly talented, and possesses an
extensive knowledge of the English language, we attended the service at
the church there.  Azimullah left his golden slippers at the door, not
presuming to enter a temple with them on.  Afterwards they were brought
to our pew by the beadle, who said that, if he did not take them, they
would be stolen.  By my friend’s zealous adherence to Eastern custom, he
caught a severe cold.

{284}  A false conclusion of the same nature arose in my own mind on
entering an English Church; when I observed a picture of the Saviour over
the altar, and various monumental effigies round the walls, I rashly
concluded that the English worshipped pictures, etc., and laid their dead
in the Church to pray for them.

{306}  Latterly, the Jesuits at Beyrout, as, indeed, at all the principal
towns in Turkey, and even in Cyprus, have succeeded in introducing the
use of bells, even in some instances, for schools, factories, and private
families.

{318}  It may be as well here to relate an anecdote in connection with
the late Lady H. Stanhope, whose eccentric life has already excited so
much interest all over Europe.  It came to the knowledge of some Metáwali
chiefs that her ladyship, like themselves, kept apart two beautiful mares
ready caparisoned, on which no one had ever yet ridden; attributing this
to a religious prejudice similar to their own, they came to the
conclusion that she ought to be considered as one of themselves.  A
council was accordingly held, but after many pros and cons the vote was
unfavourable to her ladyship’s election, because, as one of the chiefs
asserted, she was so excessively eccentric, as to ride on one side of her
horse, and not to wear trousers.  I believe that this occurred before her
ladyship had adopted the Oriental style of dress.

{371}  Since writing the above, the small cloud has gathered to a storm,
which threatens to involve the world in the dispute.  I am grieved to
say, that the true state of the facts reflects the usual disgrace on
human nature, incident to all religious quarrels.  For what, after all,
is the present question?  Not any point of faith, morality or
benevolence, but a contention between two parties for the exclusive
possession of the fees obtained from pious pilgrims visiting spots, whose
situation if precisely ascertained, would be doubly calculated to make an
impression never to be effaced from the minds of those who tread them;
but that the places actually shown are probably not the real ones, modern
research has greatly tended to prove, both from measurement as well as
historical evidence.  The matter is thus left doubtful; and it is painful
to think that no record, to be relied on, should have been preserved of
spots hallowed by the more remarkable incidents in the earthly career of
that Holy Presence, so all-important to mankind.  The real point in
dispute was between the priests of the Greek and Latin Churches, for the
possession and care of those places which are shown as the scene of the
birth, crucifixion and burial of our Lord, from the exhibition of which a
large revenue accrues.  Majority of numbers and better management, had
for some time secured the greater share of the advantages to the Greek
priests.  Hence arose, on their respective sides, the opportunity for
French and Russian interference; the Czar claiming the exclusive
protectorate of the Greek Christians throughout Turkey.  In the question
of the keys, the Turks had no interest; but the pretence of international
protection on the part of the Russians, was a wedge of destruction, and
hence the war.

{375}  While I was going from Trieste to Constantinople, we had very bad
weather, and the sea very rough.  We put into a port, to remain at
anchor.  I was so tired of the sea that I went on shore, and proceeded to
a _café_, where I saw two Albanians of ferocious aspect, each carrying
two pistols, a dagger, and carbine.  When I made my appearance, they
enquired, “What countryman are you?”  I replied, “I come from the Holy
Land.”  Both arose and rushed towards me.  I was at first alarmed, but
the words, “Welcome, stranger!” reassured me.  They hugged me with
enthusiasm.  They then desired the host to provide the best dishes he
had, and requested me to join their repast.  Finally, they offered me a
home in their house, and the best apartment they had.




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