The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon

by Habeeb Risk Allah

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.