The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon

by Habeeb Risk Allah

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 Syria)	0	10	0	=	55
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.