The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon
by Habeeb Risk Allah · English · Gutenberg #35322 · 722,453 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon
Author: Habeeb Risk Allah
Release date: February 18, 2011 [eBook #35322]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35322
Credits: This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THISTLE AND THE CEDAR OF LEBANON ***
This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.
[Picture: Portrait of the Author]
THE THISTLE
AND
THE CEDAR OF LEBANON,
* * * * *
BY
HABEEB RISK ALLAH EFFENDI,
M.R.C.S.,
AND ASSOCIATE OF KING’S COLLEGE.
* * * * *
“And Jehoash the king of Israel sent to Amaziah king of Judah,
saying, The thistle that was in Lebanon, sent to the cedar that was
in Lebanon, saying, Give thy daughter to my son to wife; and there
passed by a wild beast that was in Lebanon, and trode down the
thistle.”—2 Kings xiv. 9.
* * * * *
SECOND EDITION.
* * * * *
LONDON:
JAMES MADDEN, 8 LEADENHALL STREET.
* * * * *
1854
* * * * *
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WERTHEIMER AND CO.
FINSBURY CIRCUS.
PREFACE
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The following pages were written in compliance with the solicitations of
many esteemed friends, who were desirous that I should lay before the
public an outline of my life and travels, and give to the English nation
a description of the domestic habits and religious opinions of my
countrymen in Syria. However incompetent I may have proved for the task,
I trust that what I have written may not be wholly uninteresting; and
above all, it is my earnest hope, that my feeble efforts to arouse the
generous interest of the English for the welfare and improvement of my
native land, may not prove without use.
In choosing the title which is prefixed to my humble work, I have acted
upon the long-established usage of my countrymen of speaking
parabolically, a practice which has existed from the days of Job down to
the present time.
I cannot conclude without offering my heartfelt thanks to my friend, the
Rev. Wm. Frederick Witts, Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge, for the
valuable assistance he has rendered me in revising these pages for the
press.
R. A.
18, _Cambridge-square_, _Hyde Park_,
_May_, 1853.
PREFACE
TO THE SECOND EDITION.
One thousand copies, which constituted the First Edition of this work,
having been disposed of within six months, I cannot allow another to go
forth without expressing the satisfaction I feel at the liberal
encouragement it has met with, and the gratitude I entertain towards my
English readers for their indulgence towards it. My acknowledgments are
also due to the Press, for the very favourable notices with which it has
been invariably honoured by them.
The same hope which animated my labours, and induced me to present them
to the public, still cheers me on, namely, that of engaging the attention
and exciting the interest of the English nation in the fate and prospects
of Syria, my beloved country: a land dear to every thinking mind from its
sacred associations, and richly meriting the attention of the man of
business and the traveller, from its undeveloped material resources, and
from its picturesque beauty and healthy climate.
I can only allude to, in order to deplore, the state of war which now
agitates and exhausts it; but in whatever manner the dispute may be
settled, I have confidence that England and France will see justice done
to an outraged country; and also, that the patriotic cause of our
government will finally triumph over its enemies; for, under the generous
and tolerant sway of Abdul Medjid Khan, and his enlightened ministers,
far more is to be effected for the welfare of every class of his
subjects, than are likely to arise from the interference of any foreign
power; and I am sure that the more intelligent portion of the Orthodox
Greek population are fully aware of this, and that they are, as they
ought to be, loyally disposed towards the Sultan, their sovereign.
As I am now on the eve of quitting England for the East, I take this
opportunity of publicly giving expression to my heartfelt sense of the
uniform kindness and courtesy I have met with from all ranks in this
mighty empire; also, of once more expressing the earnest hope, that when
this present contest shall have ceased, British energy, philanthropy, and
capital, may be induced to promote the commercial and educational
development of the population and resources of my native land. She
possesses many natural treasures—she is eager for improvement—she is not
far distant.
If to this end the following pages shall have, even in the smallest
degree contributed, I shall enjoy the high gratification of believing
that neither my life nor my labour has been in vain.
Many inaccuracies, I regret to say, occurred in the First Edition; these
I have done my best to correct. Should any (I trust no material ones)
have still escaped me, I must crave my reader’s indulgence for them.
_London_, _Feb._ 11, 1854.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.
1
CHAPTER I.
Reminiscences of early Childhood—My Birth-place—Sheikh 5
Faris Biridi—Early Tuition—Family Customs—Position of
Shuay-fât, and Pastures—Inhabitants—Author quits for
Beyrout
CHAPTER II.
Beyrout—Piratical Attack—Flight to Mountains—Effects of 14
the Assault upon the Inhabitants
CHAPTER III.
Damascus—Author’s First visit to—Description of the 18
Town—The Inhabitants—The Customs and Manners—The
Ladies—Their Beauty and Freedom—Court-yards and
Houses—Bazaars—Environs—Soirées—Games—Specimens of Poetry
and Songs—Wonderful Legend—Refreshments—Entertainment
given by the British Consul—Privileges of Christians—Padre
Tomaso—American and British
Missions—Population—Antiquity—Ravages by Cholera
CHAPTER IV.
Return to Beyrout—American Mission—Original Difficulties 41
they encountered—How overcome—The Estimation of
Physicians—Anecdote of Mr. Zohrab—American
Doctors—Introduction to School—Reminiscences of
School-days—Anecdote of Sheikh Ahmed—Lists of
Missionaries—Adventure of Mr. Bird—The Pacha’s
Revenge—Description of the Rise of the Settlement and
trade at Beyrout—Climate, Hints with regard to
CHAPTER V.
Visit to Cyprus—Description of Voyage—Arrival at 57
Larnaca—Visit to Nicosia and other towns—Cyprus
Wines—Languages—Departure for Tersous—Arrival at
Mersine—Scenery in Cilicia—Gardens—Buildings of
Tersous—Streets—Climate—Inhabitants—Signor Michael
Saba—Adana—Its Shops and
Streets—Inhabitants—Fanaticism—Revolts—Pacha’s Service—The
Pass of Kulek Bughas—Scenery—Departure for Ayas
CHAPTER VI.
Ayas to Scanderoon—Scanderoon to Aleppo—Description of 71
Journey—The Aleppines—Their Style and Polish—A Wedding
described—Syrian Step-mothers—Jewish and Christian
quarters—Earthquake of 1822—Pastimes and Garden
Parties—Population—Commerce—Departure for Antioch—Gessir
il Haded—Orontes—Antioch
CHAPTER VII.
Antioch—Its Beauty and Fruitfulness—Visit to Suedia and 85
Lattakia—Signor Mosi Elias—Hardships endured by Consular
Agents—Anecdote of English Travellers—Uses and Abuses of
the Protection System—Fanaticism of Moslem
Populace—Produce—Lattakia to Tripoli—Oranges—Abu
Rish—Signor Catsoflis—A fair Intercessor for Justice to
the Injured—Results of the Appeal—Cedars of
Lebanon—Baalbec—Anecdote of English Forces—Turjaman
Bashi—Strange Character of Sayid Ali—Damascus—Djouni and
Sidon—Lady Hesther—General Loustannau—Description of
Sidon—Bombardment of St. Jean d’Acre—Kaipha and Mount
Carmel—Mistaken Ideas of Love
CHAPTER VIII.
First visit to England—Sail for Malta—Miseries of 122
Seasickness—Arrival at Malta—The Emir Beschir—Late Bishop
of Jerusalem—Steam Frigate Gorgon—Arrival at
Portsmouth—Rev. Baptist Noel—London—Souvenir of
Wimbledon—A Duel prevented—Anecdote of Druse Sheikh—Return
to Syria—Sir George Otway—Arrival at Beyrout—War between
Druses and Maronites—Stamboul—Emir Kasim, his History—Lord
Cowley—Dr. Bennett—Mr. Goodall—Return to
England—Malta—Marseilles—Adventure with French Officer—M.
Guizot—Suliman Pacha—M. Thiers—Delicate Mission—Arrival in
England—Prince Callimaki—Mr. Zohrab—Mr. B. Phillips—King’s
College, London—Medical Profession—Lectures—Frightful
Accident—Long Illness—Admission as Member of King’s
College—The Mir Shahamet Ali and Sir C. Wade—Visit to
Manufacturing Districts—Lamartine
CHAPTER IX.
Visit to Paris—First Impressions—Boulevards—Champs 164
Elysées—Description of a Lodging-house—Domestic Habits of
the French—English and French Friendship—Departure for
Constantinople _viâ_ Vienna
CHAPTER X.
Reminiscences of Stamboul—Entertainments—Songs—The Tailor 170
and the Sultan—The Sultan’s Condescension—Marriage of the
Daughter of Prince Vogiredis—Turkish Navy—Present Crisis—A
Renegade Girl
CHAPTER XI.
Egypt—Abbas Pasha and his Improvements—The British 184
Consul-General—Mr. Abet—Mr. Larking—Boghas
Bey—Antiquities—Climate—Library—Advantages enjoyed by
European Residents—Festivities—Fulfilment of Prophecy—Late
Gift of Horses presented by Nubar Bey to her Majesty—The
Hon. G. Massey—Impressions made on the Grooms
CHAPTER XII.
Visit to Devonshire, Bath, and Cheltenham—Visit to Lady 197
Rolle—Description of Bicton—Travelling by an Express
Train—A Coachman’s Remarks—The Park—Arrival and
Reception—Description of my Life—My Portrait
taken—Amusements—Conversation with Mrs. P--- of Exeter
about the Greek Church—English Young Ladies—Cottage
Visiting—Buildings erected by Lady Rolle at Bicton—Amusing
Anecdote of an Eastern Princess—Drive to
Exeter—Equipage—Cathedral—Frescoes—Gaol—Child in Prison
there—Female Department—Villagers’ Opinions of
me—Bath—Beauties of Country reminded me of
Syria—Springs—Arrival—Sir Claude Wade—Tour of the
City—Society—Diversity of Religious
Opinions—Service—Soirée—Agreeable Rencontre—Second Visit
to Bath—Bachelor’s Ball—Lady Mayoress’s Ball at the
Guildhall—Recognition as a Free-mason—Invitation to “The
Lodge of Honour” to meet the Mayor—Meeting with Dr.
Thompson—Lecture—Quoted from the Paper—Visit to
Cheltenham—Rev. J. Brown—Rev. C. H. Bromley—Meeting—My
Address—Appeal to send over for, and educate young Syrians
at the Normal College at Cheltenham—Case of a young Syrian
Lad—Lord Northwick—His Collection of
Paintings—Conclusion—Reasons for appearing before the
Public as an Author
CHAPTER XIII.
Impressions of England—Letters to a Friend in the 216
East—Voyage to England—Landing—Custom-house—Crowded
Thoroughfares—English Activity—Hotel—Servants—Drive—Motley
Groups—Squares—Park—Houris—Heart-aches—Dinner—English
Splendour, but Syrian Ease and a Chibuk preferred—English
Acquaintances—Society—Young Ladies—Their
Freedom—Matrons—Their
Acquirements—Etiquette—Dress—Widows—Gentlemen—English
Sabbath—Public Schools and Colleges—The Queen—Missionary
and Charitable Institutions—Great Wealth of the
English—The Merchants—The Fashionable World—The
Opera—Expensive Pleasure—Insatiable Craving for
Riches—Desire for an English
Home—Marriages—Children—Schooling—Absence of Reverence for
Beards—Devotion of the Young Fair Sex to Uniforms—Kindness
to Strangers—Interest in the Holy Land—Hospitality—Private
Worth and Public Scheming
CHAPTER XIV.
Life, Manners, and Customs of Syria—Ceremonies at 233
Births—Christian Names—Remedies for Infantile
Diseases—Early Instruction and Training—Syrian
Manners—Reverential Treatment of Priests—Personal
Cleanliness—Education—Betrothal—Marriage—Polygamy of
Mahommedans—Education of Girls—Household Maxims—Domestic
Snakes—Mourning for the Dead—A Lover’s Lament
CHAPTER XV.
Syria and her Inhabitants—Description of the Southern 259
parts of Palestine—The Misery of its Inhabitants—Their
Disposition and Labours—Sea-coast Population—Their
Habits—Scriptural Analogy—Sidon, Lebanon, Tripoli,
Lattakia and Antioch—The Children of those Parts—Appeal to
the British on behalf of Syria—Real State of the Turkish
Empire—Safety of English Investments—The Turkish
Dominions—How to purchase Property—English Emigrants would
be welcomed in Syria—Mr. John Barker—Colonel
Churchill—Lady Hester Stanhope—Fruits—Cultivation of the
Soil—Advantages for the English Emigrant and Amelioration
for Syria—Major Macdonald—His Discovery of Turquoises and
Presentation of some to the Queen—Advice to Emigrants—All
Particulars and Expenses of Voyage explained, Outlay,
Working, Expenditure and Profits derivable—Climate
recommended for Health
CHAPTER XVI.
Syria, her Inhabitants and their Religion—Religious 279
Teaching in Syria—American Missionaries—Their Zeal—Greek
or Orthodox Eastern Church—Interview and Conversation with
the Patriarch and Bishops at Constantinople—Letter from
Syria—The Conversion of the Son of a Mufti to
Christianity—Lord Shaftesbury and the Protestant College
at Malta—Mahommedan Power and the Christian Churches in
Syria—Claims of the Orthodox Eastern Church and its
Affinity to the Protestant Churches of England—The Four
Patriarchs—Education of the Syrian Priesthood—The Service
of the Orthodox Eastern Church—Dissenters from it—Account
of Karolus their Patriarch—Dispute about the Head-dress
and reference to Constantinople—Decision—Jealousies of the
Christian Sects—Political Animosities
CHAPTER XVII.
The Maronites—Their Political Position—Anecdote connected 299
with the Year 1821—Their Customs, Manners, and
Religion—The Number of Roman Catholics in Syria—The
Copts—The Nestorians
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Population of Syria continued—The Metoulis or 317
Heterodox Followers of Mahommed—The Druses—The
Nosairiyeh—The Yezidees
CHAPTER XIX.
Appearance and Costume of the People—The Aleppine 338
Greeks—The Dyers—The Armenians—The Yahoodee or
Israelites—The Turkish Effendi—The Bedouins—The Fellaheen
CHAPTER XX.
The Occupations of the People—Lebanon in April—The 352
Mulberry Plantations—Anecdote—The Silkworms—The Wheat
Harvest—Borghol—The Vintage—The Olive Winter—The Resources
of Syria—The Small Capitalists in Syria
CHAPTER XXI.
The Comparative Influences of the Roman Catholic and 370
Protestant Faiths in Syria—The Roman Catholics—Their
Convents—Greek and Armenian Monasteries—The Knowledge and
Practice of Medicine—The Influence of the
Hakeem—Anecdote—Conversions—The Sisters of Charity
CHAPTER XXII.
The Remedy—The Early 384
Apostles—Physicians—Missionaries—Introduction of the
Silkworm from China—Incorporation of the Medical with the
Clerical Profession—Proposed Society to be formed in
England—Hospital—School-rooms—Dispensary—Purchase of
Land—Its Cultivation—System of Education—Letter of Dr.
Thomson—Mr. Cuthbert Young’s “Notes of a Wayfarer”
APPENDIX.
Notes on the Geology of Syria, by Professor Forbes 397
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.
In presenting the British public with the following pages, containing a
brief sketch of my life and travels, together with a description of the
customs and present condition of my native land, I am actuated solely by
motives which, I trust, a careful perusal of this work will prove to be
disinterested.
All nations are more or less patriotic; none more so than the inhabitants
of the British isles. With them the inducements to this love of home are
all-sufficient, for their religion is the purest, their government and
laws the best in the world, and they are second to no people in the
enjoyment of privileges and blessings, such as could be only enjoyed by a
“peculiar people,” under the immediate protection of the Almighty
Benefactor. Next to them we may rank, as promoters of freedom and
enlightenment, the citizens of the United States, those other scions of a
noble stock.
Yet so peculiar is that innate love of man for the particular country and
people with which are associated the early years of his childhood, that
even the son of utter darkness, born and bred a savage, inured to every
hardship and privation, who boasts of no city, scarcely professes a
religion, whose home is the desert waste, his bed the warm sands of
Arabia, even he, the wild Bedouin, in his untutored heart, sets boundless
store by the place and people to which early attachment has rivetted his
affections. Separate him from these and from his beloved mare, and no
riches or pleasures could compensate him for the loss. This is also
applicable to the humble and oftentimes oppressed natives who dwell in
the towns and villages of Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine. Though for
centuries they have been subjected to the heavy yoke of bondage, and of
late years, like the Israelites of old, were bondsmen to Egypt; however
much they may have deplored their hard fate, none have ever dreamt of
quitting the dear land of their forefathers—those ancestors who were
coeval with the patriarchs. Some till the ground where Abraham once
tended his flocks; others cut timber where the men of Hiram and Solomon
once hewed cedars for the temple at Jerusalem; but the boast and glory of
all these is, that they dwell in the land where the Promise was
fulfilled. One may be by birth a Nazarene, another a townsman of Cana.
A day or two’s journey enables him to reach that very Bethlehem where the
blessed Redeemer was born, to track His holy footsteps in His pilgrimage
of mercy from place to place, to weep and bemoan Him on the site of the
last closing scenes of His holy life, and to raise up their hearts with
grateful thanksgivings for the great salvation wrought out for their
souls by His glorious resurrection.
Apart from these cherished associations of the spiritual with the
temporal world, the native of the Holy Land is fondly attached to his
country, because its climate is congenial to his manners, its soil
productive, its inhabitants hospitable, its waters the purest, air the
freshest, sun the brightest, fruits the most delicious, and flowers the
sweetest and most wildly profuse. All these gifts in the greatest
luxuriance are to be found within the Lebanon range—that Lebanon of which
the inspired bard, the wisest of men and the best of kings, sings in his
beautiful metaphor on Christian love. {3} “Thy plants are an orchard of
pomegranates with pleasant fruits. . . A fountain of gardens, a well of
living waters, and streams from Lebanon.”
With such a past to dwell on, it is not surprising that the poor,
neglected peasant of Syria may still proudly vaunt himself of his
birthright and country. I, too, hope, kind reader, for your sympathy in
my sharing this national characteristic, and for endeavouring, as far as
in me lies, to promote the welfare, both temporal and eternal, of my
fellow countrymen and native land. The former, alas! are gradually
sinking deeper and deeper into the meshes of superstition and idolatry;
the latter groans under a heavy yoke, rendered still less supportable by
the grossest ignorance. The indefatigable propagators of the Romish
faith are arousing the people from their pristine ignorance, only, I
fear, to plunge them into a more fearful vortex of errors.
I rush to the rescue; for God has blessed me far above my countrymen, by
shedding the true light of the Gospel around my pathway, through the
instrumentality of good and holy men, whom He has chosen for His especial
service, and who have bestowed on me the priceless boon of a Christian
education. I am willing and anxious to devote every hour of my life, and
all my poor means, to the furtherance of His cause. Yet, though much may
combine in my favour, I am inadequate to the accomplishment of the good I
desire for my country, without the aid, wise counsel, and support of the
Christian inhabitants of Great Britain.
Reader! in the following pages I have endeavoured to depict as clearly as
I can the evil and the remedy. I have glanced over the leading features
of my life, to show how circumstances, trivial in themselves, appear to
have combined in my favour, that I should be an humble instrument in the
hands of my Maker, to work out a brighter and better hope for dear Syria.
That “pearl of great price,” pure Christianity, has been cherished and
nurtured within these isles till the true faith has reared itself up like
a mighty mirror, reflecting the glorious light of the blessed truths of
the Gospel far and wide. May one beam of charity, reflected from thence,
alight upon the mother church of Syria—that church now sunk in misery and
degradation, but from which (remember, O Christian of Great Britain) was
derived the glorious knowledge of an eternal salvation.
“The Thistle that _is_ in Lebanon” is the harassed, weak, yet simple
disciple of the Eastern Church; and “the Cedar that was in Lebanon” is
the true Church of Christ, whose seeds were first derived from those Holy
shores, and are now firmly rooted in England. The Thistle has sent to
ask thy daughter, Enlightenment, in marriage to her son, Simplicity. O
refuse her not lest the _wild beast_ in Lebanon should tread down the
Thistle and obtain the ascendancy.
CHAPTER I.
SCENES OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.
My earliest recollections are associated with the lovely and rural
village of Shuay-fât, my birth-place, on the Lebanon; and where, if not
the happiest, certainly the most innocent years of my childhood were
passed. My late father had no fixed residence at that place, but he,
with the rest of his family, usually resorted there to spend the summer
months and part of the autumn and spring. In winter the cold became
intense, owing to the elevated position of the village; consequently most
of its inhabitants and summer visitors, including amongst these latter my
own family, invariably wintered at Beyrout. My uncle, Sheikh Faris
Biridi, filled the important and respected post of _katib_, or secretary
to the Emir Beshir Shahab, the late prince of Lebanon, who resided at the
village of Deyr-al Kamar, situated a few hours’ journey from Shuay-fât.
At least three times a week my uncle’s duties compelled him to visit the
Emir. Sheikh Faris was universally respected amongst the villagers; his
house was the best—his grounds the most extensive, and he himself in
reality, an intelligent and well-informed man. For a Syrian, he was
deeply read and well skilled in the use of his pen; but above all, he was
an earnest and devout Christian, a kind father, and a good friend—virtues
which gained for him the esteem and love of all the neighbouring
villagers, as well Moslems and Druses as the Christians.
Under the favourable auspices of this kind man’s tuition, I first learned
to read and write my native tongue; and, as I was afterwards informed,
even at that early age, gave cheering proofs of an active mind, and
evinced an aptitude and love for the acquirement of knowledge. I could
not possibly have had a better guide, both as regards precept and
example. So long as I remained under his hospitable roof, his great and
chief care was to richly stock my young mind with doctrines well adapted
to promote the welfare of the soul in after years on all important
business. His household arrangements were an example for others. He was
an early riser himself, and insisted on all his household following this
healthful practice: his maxim was that sleep was for the dark hours of
the night—work and recreation for the light—prayers and thanksgivings for
all seasons.
My uncle was accustomed when at home to repair every morning, during the
spring and summer seasons, to the top of a neighbouring hill, which
commanded a view over an extensive range of country. On these occasions
it was my wont to accompany him. A servant preceded us carrying a small
carpet and a cushion or two; I carried my uncle’s pipe and tobacco-pouch
with flint, steel, and tinder, in one hand; in the other, the Kitab
Mukaddas, or Arabic Bible, printed in England, by the Church Missionary
Society. As soon as my uncle had seated himself, and assumed his pipe,
he would make me sit at his feet and read out to him from the good Book,
illustrating and commenting as opportunity occurred. The hundred and
fourth Psalm, than which none could be better suited to the time and
place, was usually his favourite.
From our elevated position, we could command a view, not only of our own
dearly cherished and beautiful hamlet, but also of many of the
surrounding villages. At our feet lay Shuay-fât, with its neat little
cottages and cleanly swept court-yards, surrounded by a dense little
forest of mulberries, oranges, lemons, apricots, olives, countless vines,
and many other fruits; the dark leaves of an occasional poplar lending
variety to the beauty and shading of the foliage. Not a man, woman, or
child, moved to and fro in the narrow little streets, but their names and
occupations were well known to us. The dogs wagged their tails in happy
recognition of my shrill sharp whistle, and a thousand echoes caught up
the signal. The verdant hills and valleys that surrounded us were
thickly dotted with cattle and sheep contentedly browsing upon the rich
pasturage. Peeping over the densely wooded plantations, the tops of the
little whitewashed houses pointed out the locality of some well-known
village. Clear streams of water sparkling in the glowing sunlight, often
intersected the plains and valleys, or rushed headlong down the steep
sides of some deep dell, abounding with wild flowers and myrtle bushes.
Far below, where the distant fields in square patches of variegated hues,
green bespangled with blue and crimson flowers; sometimes covered, like a
sheet of pure gold, with countless buttercups, and sometimes in
uncultivated patches of sombre brown; but what I most dearly loved to
gaze at was the broad blue sea in the distance, looking so pleasantly
cool and calm, with here and there a patch of deeper blue, where the
breeze sportively ruffled the waves. I always thought of Nabiy Yunas {8}
and the great fish, and wondered if many such fish were yet taking their
pastime in the deep. How little I imagined at that time that I was
destined to traverse those mighty waters, and to suffer myself to be
borne away on their waves hundreds of miles from shore, exposed to raging
tempests in a fragile bark! Such a notion would then have been scouted
by all my friends; and I myself should have been foremost in deriding the
idea, and in opposing, that which has since proved conducive to my best
interests, temporal, and I trust eternal; but I was then a child, and
understood and acted as a child.
From this pleasant spot, my uncle gazed with rapture upon the surrounding
scenery, as the first rays of the sun peered above the snow-capped peaks
of lofty Lebanon, and spread a golden mantle over the vast panorama; from
my childhood, I have known how to appreciate the beauties of nature in
all their poetry; and I admire them still, but with a milder and more
subdued admiration.
“He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills.”
This was a portion of a morning’s reading lesson; the force and beauty of
the verse were illustrated by everything around me. My worthy preceptor
would impress this fact upon my mind. The men, the cattle, the trees,
shrubs, flowers, birds, butterflies, even the most insignificant insect
that crawls upon the earth—all these are preserved, he argued, by the
bounty and beneficence of the Creator—without this water how would nature
subsist? In short the whole of that delightful Psalm seemed as though
expressly composed to illustrate the country around us, especially that
passage which says, “The cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted; where
the birds make their nests.”
Thus profitably and pleasantly the early hours of the day would be
consumed. I was then dismissed with sage advice, to remember throughout
the day what I had read and heard; and my uncle being called away by his
avocations, I was left to amuse myself with my play-mates in the village,
until the hour of noon summoned us to our substantial mid-day meal. Like
most boys, we were prone to mischief. I remember a favourite game
amongst the village lads, which occasionally terminated in a squabble,
and was known by the name of Al Cadi, or The Judge. The Cadi was chosen
by lot, as were the officers of his court, and the imaginary plaintiffs
and defendants. Squatted on the ground, under the pleasant shade of some
mulberry-tree, we then held a court. Sentence was recorded and executed;
and sometimes the boy who personated the imaginary criminal was sentenced
to be bastinadoed. On these occasions, the executioners laid about them
so smartly with the light switches of the mulberry and olive, that though
the boy’s shoes were never removed, the lash penetrated to the sole of
the foot, and then the pretended culprit, smarting from pain, would lose
all command over his temper; a _melée_ would ensue, which outraged the
dignity of the court, and usually terminated by all the members, the Cadi
included, being summarily whipped for their naughtiness.
When the hour of mid-day was announced by the striking of gongs, which in
Syria are usually substituted for bells at some churches, all our family
assembled for _futar_, and my uncle would enter, followed by the peasants
employed about his plantations, together with his other servants. This
was the signal for the cook and her assistant to carry into the centre of
the yard a large iron cauldron, containing the _ruzz-mufalfal_, or
whatever was prepared for the day for the supply of the whole household.
Clean shining platters were ranged in piles round this cauldron, and a
blessing having been first asked, the food was ladled out—a goodly
portion for each—enough and no waste. The only distinguishing mark at
this family meal was, that the members of my uncle’s family were all
seated round a low circular table, and reclined upon carpets and against
cushions. The others sat where their fancy dictated; but they chiefly
crowded under that side of the court-yard wall which afforded a shade
from the heat of the sun. In addition to the contents of the cauldron,
there was generally a dish of stewed meat and vegetables; or (if the
season was Lent), of the egg-vegetable, or _batinjan_, and the
vegetable-marrow, sliced and fried in oil—with as many cucumbers,
pickles, lettuces, radishes, and young onions, as any one wished and
asked for. During the repast, one of the servants usually stood at the
door to watch for any poor wayfarers who might pass, to ask them to
partake of our hospitality. When all had finished, the fragments were
divided into equal portions amongst the cats and dogs of the
establishment; and what was left by them was given to the fowls and
sparrows. Our evening meal differed but little from that of the morning,
except on days when the national dish of _Kubbee_ {10} superseded
everything else. Then we had Kubbees in soup made of _laban_, or curdled
milk, and Kubbees fried, and Kubbees baked; for the Syrian can never tire
of eating of this delicious dish. The interval between mid-day and the
evening was occupied variously—but first came the indispensable siesta,
indulged in by men, women, and children. The men would then return to
their respective labours, while the women occupied themselves in
household matters, and most of the children were sent to the village
school; but for myself, my afternoons were occupied with our family
spiritual adviser, an excellent old man, who came daily and instructed
me, from the hours of two to four P.M. After supper, my uncle would sit
in state and receive the visits of the neighbours, who usually dropped in
for an hour or two every evening. They sat and smoked, and talked about
agricultural matters or village affairs; and sometimes one of the party
would tell an amusing story, and another would sing a song—sweetmeats,
coffee, and other refreshments being from time to time handed round—and
thus the evenings would be spent in pleasant harmless enjoyment. This,
with very little variety, is a faithful picture of what was our every-day
life at Shuay-fât: and so passed the years of my infancy.
I have omitted to make any personal allusion to the various members of my
family. I hope, however, that I shall be pardoned in making a slight
reference to my uncle’s lovely daughters, nine in number; these fair
cousins of mine outrivalled each other in beauty and amiable qualities,
and each had a trait of beauty peculiar to herself. In Syria, it is the
custom to distinguish the various members of a family by a soubriquet,
which has reference to some perfection or failing. Thus our groom,
Yusuf, who limped a little, was called “_Topal_,” or the lame; and one of
my cousins, “_Al Shams_,” or the sun, owing to her very bright eyes;
whilst another, who had mild blue eyes, was designated, “_Al Kamar_,” or
the moon. _Al Kamar_ was so noted for her beauty and sweet disposition,
that two of the chiefs of Lebanon sought her hand in marriage—and this,
though they had never seen her; but _Al Kamar_ was not ambitious of
honors and riches. The creed of the sheikhs also differed widely from
her own; so she refused them both. All these nine daughters are now
married and settled in life; so I take leave of them with a fervent
prayer, that the Almighty may graciously watch over them, and crown their
end with eternal happiness.
Shuay-fât, like most of the surrounding villages, produces a large
quantity of silk; but it is in particular celebrated for the excellence
of its wine, its olives, and olive-oil. Of the first, I can affirm, that
I have, in after-years, heard good judges of wine, when quoting its
excellence, refer to it as verifying the words of Hosea (xiv. 7), “The
scent thereof shall be as the wine of Lebanon.” It is certainly very
odoriferous. The olives and olive-oil are not to be surpassed in all
Syria.
The inhabitants, both men and women, are a fine, healthy people, and the
males are particularly athletic. To describe them well, I cannot use
better or more appropriate language than that of the prophet Ezekiel
(xxxi. 3), “Behold, the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon with fair
branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of a high stature.”
Yet with all these combined advantages, of health, a delicious climate,
and a fertile soil, many of the poor peasants are oppressed and
miserable. This arises from the iniquitous system of extortion practised
on them by land-owners and subordinate officers. It must, however, be
confessed, that the mountaineers are, to a certain extent, more
independent than the inhabitants of the plains, who are ridden over
roughshod by the petty and tyrannical under-strappers in office.
I had barely attained my tenth year, when, much to my grief, I was
removed from the family of my kind uncle, and taken to Beyrout, there
permanently to reside; but, alas for short-sighted mortals, an event was
even then brewing, which burst like a tempest, over the Beyroutines, and
which materially affected my father’s plans and wishes with regard to my
future career in life.
CHAPTER II.
PIRATICAL ATTACK ON BEYROUT.
Months rolled on. Merchants were at that period carrying on a
comparatively thriving trade at Beyrout. The novelty of the scene that
presented itself on my first arrival there had gradually worn off. In my
leisure hours I rambled along the sandy beach, gathering shells, and
wading ankle deep into the surf, at first with ill-suppressed fear and
trembling; but the example of other boys emboldening me to venture into
the water, I finished by becoming quite an adept in the art of swimming.
Then the ships were a source of wonder and surprise, as they sailed in
and out of the harbour, like gigantic swans floating over the waves.
These also had ceased to excite interest, for I had been on board,
handled the tarry ropes, walked the deck, and suffered inconvenience from
the disagreeable motion, so that these also had ceased to be a marvel.
Thus time rolled on, and I had well nigh forgotten all my regrets at
leaving Lebanon and the hospitable abode of my uncle, when the unexpected
event alluded to in the foregoing chapter, transpired.
It was on Palm Sunday, in, I think, the year 1828. The harbour had been
deserted for some few days; there was not even an Arab boat at the
anchorage: and on the eventful evening I am now describing, the eye might
have vainly swept the horizon seeking for indications of an approaching
sail. This, however, was no uncommon event in those days, when the
commerce of Beyrout was yet in its infancy. None imagined, on retiring
to rest that night, that impending danger was so close at hand. Midnight
had, however, scarcely chimed, and the last occupant of the latest open
coffee-house crept home to his hovel, when a tumult arose, and the night
air was filled with shrieks and lamentations, mingled with the startling
reports of fire-arms. There was a rush in the streets of many people
running for their lives; and all the inmates of my father’s household
being now thoroughly awakened, ran out also, and joined the flying
multitude. The Bab Yacoob, leading to Damascus and Lebanon, was open and
unguarded. We fled with the concourse towards the mountains, favored in
our retreat by the obscurity of the night; nor did any one think of
stopping to breathe or repose till they had gained the summit of one of
the neighbouring hills. Here, finding no signs of pursuit, and the
clamour and report of fire-arms having died away in the distance, the
frightened populace halted anxiously to await the first dawn of day,
which was to enable them to secure their retreat to the neighbouring
villages. All were totally ignorant as to the cause of the sudden panic,
but many laboured under the absurd notion that the place had been
attacked by Russian troops. None, however, stopped to be better informed
on the subject; but, renewing their flight with the first light of
morning, each betook himself and family to that village with which he was
best acquainted; and for the next few weeks the Lebanon district was
inundated with the scared refugees from Beyrout.
As for ourselves, we directed our steps to Shuay-fât, and accomplished
the journey as best we could; arriving there weary and half-famished, to
the utter astonishment and dismay of my uncle’s household, who were at
first quite at a loss to account for our sudden appearance in so pitiable
a condition. Soon after our arrival, official intelligence reached the
mountains of what had transpired. A ruffianly horde of piratical Greeks,
allured by the hopes of meeting with rich booty, had made this sudden
descent upon the peaceful and unsuspecting inhabitants. They had entered
the town without resistance, and once in possession of the Quai, had
unhesitatingly commenced the work of despoliation. Whole warehouses were
stripped—money and rich jewellery carried off—murder and every atrocious
crime, the offspring of villany, had been perpetrated. To secure the
gold coins and jewellery worn by the women on their heads, wrists, and
ankles, the wretches never hesitated to make use of the knife; and
ear-rings were wrenched forcibly from the ears of the hapless victims.
When the pirates were satiated with plunder, they broke and destroyed
what was left; and then, setting fire to different parts of the town,
they betook themselves with their booty to their boats, and thus
disappeared. Luckily for house-owners, most of the buildings were
constructed of solid masonry, with domes and vaulted roofs, so that the
fire, even where it had ignited, speedily exhausted its impotent rage.
The Moslem rabble, disguised as Greeks, also joined in the general foray.
By this calamity all the residents at Beyrout suffered more or less.
Many were utterly ruined; and my poor father’s losses were so severe,
that he at first wholly relinquished the idea of ever returning to that
place. For many months afterwards we resided at Shuay-fât; but here also
an outbreak amongst the mountaineers disturbed us again, and we were
compelled to retrace our steps to Beyrout, which place, from that day
forward, became my home.
With regard to the marauders, they escaped scot-free and were neither
detected nor punished, as this took place at the time of the Greek
revolution and the battle of Navarino, when the government were doubtless
too much occupied to notice it.
CHAPTER III.
DESCRIPTION OF DAMASCUS.
It now became necessary that I should seek out and steadfastly follow up
some fixed profession or calling in life. There was more than one motive
that urged this measure upon me as a necessity: in the first place, my
father’s resources had been sadly crippled by the piratical affair;
besides, I was of an age when youths in Syria earn their own livelihood,
and my education was sufficiently advanced to enable me to enter upon the
duties of life. I could read and write my own language; and this was all
that was expected, and much more than many youths of my age could boast.
I had no thought then of acquiring a knowledge of foreign languages. To
escape from the thraldom of school is always a source of great delight to
schoolboys.
As far as my own views went, I was bent upon going to Damascus; and
though my dear parents opposed this wish at first, I gradually coaxed
them into a consenting mood; and perhaps the greatest inducement for them
to yield to my wishes, was the fact of our having a wealthy and
influential friend, then residing at Damascus, who had been a
fellow-_katib_ of my uncle’s, and who occupied a high post in the service
of the Pasha.
To this worthy man’s care I was confided; and, taking leave of my dear
parents, and accompanied by their blessing, I left Beyrout, and proceeded
to Damascus; a city which existed before the patriarch Abraham’s time,
being referred to as a well-known place, in Gen. xiv. It was the chief
city of Syria, founded by Rezin, and was sacked by Jeroboam II., king of
Israel. It is still a comparatively thriving and populous city, and has
those natural resources of climate, soil, and abundance of water, which
cannot fail to perpetuate its fame as the garden of the East. Here,
shortly after my arrival, I was fortunate enough, through the influence
of our friend, to procure a lucrative and rising situation. At this
place I remained a considerable time, delighted with its climate and
beauty, as also well pleased with my office and with my associates.
No pen can give an adequate idea of the delights of Damascus. The
nearest approach I can hope to make to a truthful description, will be
simply to depict what I saw and experienced; and this perhaps will give
the stranger a better conception of the place than the flowery rhapsodies
of many of those writers, whose experience, resulting from a visit of a
few days, has been skilfully converted into some dozen chapters of post
octavo.
Damascus, like most Eastern towns, has nothing to boast of in the outside
appearance of its rough unwhitewashed houses. Its streets are narrow,
dark and intricate—crowds of people—caravans of camels—mules—and troops
of donkeys—are all perpetually on the move, though not with that rapidity
of locomotion so striking to a foreigner on his first visit to London.
The stranger is struck dumb with amazement and disappointment. He has
heard so much and he sees so little, that his first exclamation is sure
to be, “Can this really be Sham-al Sharif?—the much praised Damascus;—the
so-styled paradise of the East!” Yes, stranger, this is the justly
celebrated Damascus; but the secret cause of your amazement lies hid as
the kernel in the shell of a nut, the outer surface of which is the walls
of the houses, while within lies concealed the sweet kernel. Open the
street-door of rough and unpolished wood; and after carefully closing the
same, as if by magic, the whole train of your thoughts and your
discontentment will be diverted into another channel, and you will be
struck with surprise and admiration, as the hidden beauties of the city
will then burst upon your view. The same may be said with regard to the
ladies of Damascus, notoriously the handsomest women in the East—Houris,
whose bright eyes have afforded an endless theme for the poet’s song!
Forms carefully enveloped in white and coloured _izars_—features muffled
up and completely disguised by white veils! That man must needs be a
magician who could identify even his own wife or sister from amidst the
herd of ghostly figures continually flitting to and fro in the streets;
though now and then some Eastern _akruti_ (coquette), may even here be
found slily contriving to allow the light of her sparkling eyes to beam
through this dark screen. Here also is the same mystery, and the beauty
lies concealed within the outer shell.
Now standing in a spacious quadrangle, exquisitely paved with marble, we
take a hasty survey of all around us. In the centre is a square basin of
clear crystal-like water, in which gold and silver fish are playfully
swimming about; and in the middle of this _birkat_ a fountain continually
throws its sportive jets to return in showers of pearls upon the many
pretty little flowers that are planted round the borders. An arcade,
supported by elegant columns, runs round three sides; and the fourth side
of the quadrangle is occupied by the lower apartments of the house. The
_corna_ (or cornices), are all ornamented with Arabic inscriptions, both
in poetry and prose, being invariably Scripture texts. {21a} In little
_fistakiares_, or parterres, walled in with marble slabs, a few choice
orange and lemon trees are carefully cultivated; and it is difficult to
say whether the sweet odour of their blossoms is not rivalled, or even
surpassed, by the delicious fragrance of the roses and rich _Baghdad ful_
(or dwarf jessamine), which so thickly cluster about their roots. Of the
interior of such a mansion no one could have given a better idea than did
His Excellency Mahomed Pasha, {21b} the late ambassador to the court of
St. James’s, who, during his residence in London, gave several balls,
having some of the apartments at the Embassy, so fitted up, as exactly to
resemble the interior of a house at Damascus. These rooms were the
leading topic of chit chat among the fashionables of London for many
weeks afterwards.
I must crave the reader’s permission to conduct him into one of these
houses; and in so doing to introduce him to the _mistaba_, or alcove, in
the centre, from the back of which two trellised windows overlook a
spacious fruit garden. A low divan runs round its three sides, while a
soft carpet covers the marble floor. The cushions, and even the divan
itself, are of the richest velvet stuffs: and the numerous _étagères_ in
the _mistaba_ are filled with costly glass-ware, crystal cups, and
elegant porcelain vases. On each side is a tray, covered with a snowy
napkin, the edges worked with gold and silver flowers, upon one are
handsome _finjans_ in filigree, silver coffee-cups and sugar-basins; on
the other, cut-glass saucers full of delicious candied sweetmeats, of
which the orange-flower, violet and rose are the most fragrant. Both
trays rest on low stools, the feet of which are elegantly carved. One of
the adjoining rooms is fitted up with handsome _narghilies_, and long
pipes with amber mouth-pieces of great value. In this room there is also
a small _mangal_, or brazier, in which a charcoal fire is perpetually
burning for the double purpose of boiling the often-required coffee, and
of supplying the smokers with fire for their pipes, or _narghilies_.
Servants are constantly in attendance in this room, and the arrival of a
visitor is the signal for activity amongst them. Lemonade is first
offered, and then smoking materials are put in requisition; after this,
the sweetmeats are handed round; and lastly, coffee is served. {22}
In a Pasha’s house, when people call on official business, the appearance
of coffee is a quiet hint to be off, or in other words, denotes a
termination of that morning’s visit. The visitor sips his coffee,
returns the _finjan_ to the attendant slave, touches heart, mouth and
head to the Pasha, and then bows himself out. The room opposite to this
smoking apartment, is usually the dormitory of the servants; its outside
appearance is handsome, and the closed door is tastefully carved and
painted, but the interior is by no means inviting—heaps of mattrasses are
piled up on all sides, and perchance even a small store of provisions for
domestic consumption. In this respect this lumber-room is quite
different to the usual appearance of things in Damascus, for the outside
is the best-looking part of it. So much for the interior of the houses;
now let us see how the ladies look when they are within doors, and have
laid aside the _izar_ and odious black handkerchief. We will first
describe the daughter of the host; a very fair specimen of her sex in
Damascus. Her eyes are beautifully dark, her eyelashes, eyebrows, and
hair, of a glossy jet black, the latter tinged with _henna_, hangs down
her back and reaches nearly to the ground in a succession of plaits, each
terminating with black silk braid, knotted and interwoven with various
sized golden coins, her features (excepting the eyes) are all small but
compact. The nose is Grecian, the lips cherry, and slightly pouting, the
chin dimpled, the form of the face oval, and the complexion clear with a
rosy tint. The bust and figure are unexceptionable, the arms comely, the
wrists and ankles well turned, and the feet and hands perfect models for
a sculptor; yet this is one out of the many nondescript beings that we
encountered out of doors covered with _izar_ and veil. Her face and
figure are well set off by the head-dress and Oriental costume. On the
top of her head she wears a small red cap, which is encircled by a
handsomely flowered handkerchief, and over the latter strings of pearls
and pieces of small gold money are tastefully arranged in festoons. In
the centre of her red cap is a diamond crescent, from which hangs a long
golden cord, with a blue silk tassel, usually ornamented with pearls: her
vest fits tight, and admirably displays the unlaced figure. In summer,
this vest is of blue or pink satin, bordered and fringed with gold lace;
in winter, cloth, edged with fur, is substituted for the satin; and over
the vest is worn a short grey jacket, chastely embroidered with black
silk braid. The vest is confined to the waist by a _zunnar_, in summer,
of a silk Tripoli scarf, in winter by a costly Cashmere shawl; and from
under this a long robe reaches to her ankles, and is divided into two
long lappels, lined with satin, and fringed with costly trimmings. This
latter robe partially conceals the _shirwal_, or full trowsers, which
hang loosely over, and are fastened round the ankles; the tastey mixture
of colors, and the graceful arrangement renders the costume a perfect
study. Latterly, European shoes have been much used by the Damascene
ladies, especially those gaily-flowered kid shoes, imported into Syria
from Marseilles. This completes the young lady’s toilet, and her walk
and action are as graceful as her figure and face are prepossessing; but
beyond the _naam_ (yes) and _la_ (no) of conversation, you can seldom get
a word from her unless you are a very intimate friend of the family, and
then these young ladies are as fond of a little romping or quizzing as
their more accomplished and more elegant sisters of the North. It is a
mistake to imagine that the men of the Turkish empire are wholly excluded
from any friendly intercourse with the women of those countries, a tale
which has gained credence, and been perseveringly maintained by
travellers, few of whom have ever had an opportunity of testing the truth
of the report by personal experience. In fact, in my opinion, the
Eastern ladies have really far more liberty than their Northern sisters,
inasmuch as they are able when veiled with the _izar_, to go where they
please. These _izars_ being of the same form and colour, it is almost
impossible to identify an individual; and a man may pass even his own
wife, without recognising her. In illustration of this, I am tempted to
give the following story, for the authenticity of which I can vouch. The
wife of a Mahomedan merchant, of Cairo, suspecting her husband, paid him
a visit in his shop, accompanied, as is usual, by a duenna, both
enveloped in the folds of their _izars_. During the visit, while
inspecting some muslin, the lady contrived to indulge the amatory
merchant with a glimpse of her large dark eyes, which completely
enchanted her unconscious lord. An interview was brought about, through
the agency of the old woman; and the astonished husband discovered to his
dismay, in the charmer, the features of his piqued and angry helpmate.
Amongst the higher classes of Christians in particular, every freedom
exists in doors; young ladies not only shew themselves, but, after
serving the guest with coffee and sweetmeats, they will seat themselves
on the edge of the divan, and soon manage to join in the conversation.
This state of freedom exists to a greater or less degree till the young
girl is betrothed; then it is not considered decorous that she should be
present whenever her intended bridegroom visits the house, neither should
she hear his name mentioned. Even amongst Turks, and more especially in
the villages and smaller towns of Syria, the young Mahomedan sees and
converses with the future object of his love, until she attains her
eleventh or twelfth year, she is then excluded from the society of men;
but womanhood has already begun to develop itself in the person of the
girl of ten or eleven years old in these climates where they are
oftentimes wives and mothers at thirteen. Hence love exists between the
young couple before the destined bridegroom urges his mother to make the
requisite proposals of marriage. He loses sight of his lady-love as soon
as she enters upon womanhood, though he may, by means of a third party,
catch an occasional glimpse of her features as she passes to and fro,
strictly guarded by matrons and old duennas; but not a single word or one
bewitching kiss can the despairing lover hope for until she is brought
home to his house, his lawful consort and partner for life; then, and not
till then, commences the great seclusion of the ladies of the Turkish
hareem. Even in country places and villages, though the newly-married
bride may be strictly guarded for a year or two, this feeling eventually
wears off, and the women mix in the every-day occupations of the field or
in the garden, unveiled and undistinguishable from their Christian
neighbours. Of late years especially much progress has been made in this
branch of civilisation, arising from the example set by the sultan’s
ladies themselves at Stamboul, and by the increase of European ladies at
Beyrout and other towns in Syria, often travelling about the country, and
who, though unveiled, enjoy a high reputation for virtue and honesty,
convincing proof to the Turks, that the face, which is the mirror of the
heart, was meant to be studied as an example, not as a concealed vessel
of craft and guile.
But to return to Damascus. We have now taken a brief survey of the
court-yards and lower portion of the houses; and having been served with
sweetmeats by the pretty young lady, we follow the matron of the house up
stairs, to reach which we have to cross the yard, for there is no
communication between the lower and upper story, and we must pass into
the arcade for the steps. Now that we have reached the upper story,
there is a room on either side of the _mistaba_ communicating with a
gallery: and these rooms are the sleeping apartments of the family in
winter. In summer they serve as dressing-rooms and as a receptacle for
the mattresses, etc., that are nightly spread on the top of the house for
the family to sleep upon; for in summer almost every one sleeps on the
terrace, from the lord and master of the house and the lowest menial down
to the very cats and dogs, whose instinct causes them to seek for
coolness in the more elevated parts of the house. These rooms are gaily
painted, but contain little or no furniture; a divan or so, a mirror,
some flower-vases, and ladies’ nic-nacs; these constitute the furniture.
Mounting up to the terrace, we come upon a belvidere, surrounded on three
sides by a wall lofty enough to prevent the possibility of the tallest
man accidentally over-looking his neighbour’s court-yard; on the fourth
side there is a wooden railing, from which we command a view of our own
court-yard, catching a glimpse of some of the famed gardens of Damascus
in the distance.
The bazars of the city, crowded with busy purchasers, present a bustling
scene to the stranger. After Constantinople, Damascus claims precedence
for the quantity and richness of the stuffs displayed for sale in its
bazars from all countries in the world. Indian manufactures, spices of
Arabia, coffee from Mocha, and endless European wares, are hourly
bartered and sold. The scent of sandal-wood and myrrh, the _attar_ of
Mecca, the Indian’s curry ingredients, the rich drugs of the apothecary,
the smoky perfumes of the scented _narghili_ and pipe of _Jabaliy_
tobacco; all these tend to confuse and stupify the bewildered European,
who, pushing his way through the dense multitude, follows us into a
native restaurant, where iced lemonade and sweetmeats are tantalisingly
exposed for sale. The pleasant cold water, playing in artificial jets,
turns a small tin watermill, hung with little silver bells, whose
pleasant music first attracts the attention of the busy stranger. Here,
seated for a moment, we enjoy the passing scene, and are vastly refreshed
by the good things around us. Among these we may notice a pleasant
beverage, and one very much in request: it is made by bruising a certain
quantity of raisins, on which water is poured; the liquid is afterwards
strained, and ice is added to render it cool. The place is crowded with
a thirsty multitude, all eager to partake of this; but the swarms of
flies that alight on one’s face and hands, make quiet and repose
completely out of the question; so we are up again, and hurrying through
the bazars towards the environs of the city. The day is too hot and the
distance too great for a walk, so we hire horses and a native cicerone.
The beauty of the environs of Damascus I can only compare to some lovely
landscape of fancy’s brightest imagining, in which is combined every rich
and bountiful gift of Providence—flowers, fruits, waters, hills, plains,
rivers; a cloudless, blue sky; a rich, brilliant sunlight; and the
delicious zephyr breathing soft freshness over the scene. It may well be
believed by the zealous Mussulmans of Damascus, that Mahomed, {28} as he
beheld it from the western hills, declined to enter into the city, lest
the luxurious richness of this earthly Paradise might induce him to
forget the existence of another and an eternal one. Skilfully did the
prophet make a virtue of necessity in this instance. He well knew his
incapability of besieging the city. I am inclined to think that, had it
been otherwise, Mahomed was far too eager after earthly enjoyments to
have relinquished so fair a spot.
Our guide fails not to point out to us two branches of the Barrada,
reckoned to be Abana and Pharpar, rivers which Naaman, the leper, thought
better than the waters of Jordan. The lions to be seen at Damascus are
numerous. Amongst these, we visit the _Bab il Gharbi_, where Tamerlane
heaped up a pyramid of heads after taking the city by storm; then the
monument called _Nabiy Abel_, marking, it is said, the identical spot
where Cain slew his innocent brother. The name of the city is presumed
by some to be derived from this event, the word _damm_ signifying
“blood”; but I must confess, I cannot see much ground for this
presumption. If any truth be attached to this tradition, our first
parents cannot well have wandered far from the lovely Garden of Eden when
this first tragedy occurred; and Eden must have been situated to the west
of Damascus, as it is said, that the angel of the Lord guarded the east
end of the garden—a proof that our first parents were sent out eastward,
and could only endeavour to return from that side. Some natives imagine
that the Hammah and Hums of the present day are on the site of the
beautiful garden of gardens. The eastern gate of the city, now walled
up, is where St. Paul is supposed to have been let down in a basket; they
shew us the very house from which he is said to have escaped. The
Christian cemetery, containing the tomb of St. George, and the arch where
St. Paul hid himself on escaping from Damascus; the wide road beyond the
cemetery, still highly reverenced as the spot of the miraculous
conversion; all these were familiar to me during my long stay in this
fair city; and I mention them here for the benefit of strangers visiting
the spot.
During the summer evenings, the friends, at whose house I was staying,
gave frequent entertainments to their numerous acquaintances amongst the
inhabitants of Damascus. On these occasions, the ladies of the different
families honoured us with their presence, and occasionally some of the
European consuls and merchants were invited. A description of one
evening party will describe the whole. First, then, we will introduce
the stranger into the house where the _farah_ (feast) is to be held.
Women are busily occupied washing out and sweeping the court-yard; the
flowers and other plants are fresh watered; the marble fountain is
decorated with coloured lanterns and festoons of flowers; carpets are
spread, and divan cushions ranged against the wall; the _mistaba_ is
tastefully lighted, and a highly inflammable torch, composed of the fat
wood of fir, resin, and other ingredients, is planted in each of the four
corners. In the smoking apartment of the _mistaba_, preparations are
making on a grand scale. Large bags of ready-washed and prepared
_timbac_ are hung upon nails in the wall, to filter and to be fit for
immediate use when the _narghilies_ are called into requisition. Tobacco
pouches are filled. Two additional _mangals_ of charcoal fire, and some
additional coffee-pots are prepared. Decanters are filled with _arraki_,
wine, liqueurs, orange-flower, and rose-water; and the cut-glass saucers
replenished with candied preserves; whilst two maid-servants and a boy,
assisted and superintended by the mistress of the house, are busy
grinding coffee and decocting huge bowls of deliciously-iced lemonade.
In addition to all this, a side-table is groaning under the weight of
plates of sliced oranges and picked pomegranates, with numerous other
fruits, and a great variety of pastry. By the time all these
arrangements are completed the night sets in; the whole yard is
illuminated; the members of the household and the servants are busily
engaged donning their best attire, and the company of hired musicians
arrive. The music striking up, is the signal for the nearest invited
neighbours to make their appearance. They arrive, the men clad in long,
loose silken robes; the women enveloped in their white _izars_; but these
latter are speedily thrown aside at the invitation of the lady of the
house, who assists in helping the guests to disrobe, and then confides
their _izars_ to the trusty care of the handmaiden.
Now these veils are all of the same make, and they have no initials or
other distinguishing mark. Notwithstanding this, no confusion ensues on
the breaking up of a party as to identification, every lady is quick to
recognise her own peculiar _izar_ from the mass of white sheets that are
folded and piled one above another upon the divan in the upstairs
dressing-room. Soon the whole party have arrived, and the amusements of
the evening commence with vocal and instrumental music. After this, some
of the gentlemen stand up and go through the graceful attitudes of the
Syrian dance, then some others volunteer the sword dance, or the Bedouin
dance, some of the married ladies then take courage; but it requires
coaxing and threats to induce the timid damsel to display her skill.
Persuasion being out of the question, some old gentleman gets up and
pretends that he is going to dance instead of her, and he goes through a
few steps till he comes close up to some girl that he has singled out
from the circle. Seizing her arm with no very gentle force, he whirls
into the centre of the yard, and meanwhile, some one who has watched the
manœuvre, acts the same part by some other blushing maiden. These are
confronted face to face, and there is now no escape, so they commence at
first timidly and bashfully, but getting gradually excited by the music,
they lose all this pretended bashfulness, and do their best to outshine
each other; and truly there is rarely a more graceful sight than two
beautiful Damascene girls, elegantly dressed and bespangled with jewels,
displaying their graceful figures to the best advantage, to the slow but
becoming measures of the dance. All the other young ladies now follow
their example, and as each couple retires at the termination of their
efforts to please, they are hailed with shouts of applause, and liberally
besprinkled with rose and orange-flower water. The old ladies evince
their approbation by a peculiar vibrating scream, produced by the voice
passing through the nearly closed lips, whilst the under lip is kept in a
continual tremulous state by the rapid application of the back of the
forefinger to that feature. When dancing is over for the evening,
sometimes games of forfeit are introduced, and promote much mirth,
especially one game called “_Tuthun Tuthun_, _min Tuthun_”—a game of
Turkish origin, as its name denotes, and which is played thus:—Every one
in the circle takes the name of a bird, a tree, or a flower, whilst the
king of the game goes round and collects in a handkerchief some small
article from each one present. These he afterwards shuffles together,
and then drawing one out, which he carefully conceals in his hand, he
fixes upon some one in the circle, to whom he puts the question “_Tuthun
Tuthun_, _min Tuthun_?” or, “Tobacco tobacco, whose is it?” The party
fixed upon is obliged to guess, and he names some bird or flower which he
heard some one call himself; if the guess is wrong, he has to hold out
his hand and receive three stripes from a closely knotted handkerchief,
and then the party referred to is next obliged to guess to whom the
“_Tuthun_” belongs, and so on all round the circle till the right name
has been discovered. Then the king resigns his post and handkerchief,
and is relieved in office by him or her that made the right guess.
After these games some one tells a story or recites a poem, a specimen of
which I am enabled to introduce, literally translated.
I’ve gazed on many eyes, that shine
As bright; none ever yet so well
Have answered to my heart as thine,
My lovely, little, dear gazelle.
Oh give me but one smile, to tell
Of pity from those gentle eyes:
The thought shall ever with me dwell,
My love you did not all despise.
You move in beauty, while each charm
Subdues the more my amorous soul,
Until my fainting spirits warm
To strength beneath thy sweet control.
Hear then my prayer, to you alone
I bow—Let those who know me not,
Mock, if they will, at pangs unknown:
Your smile, though false, is ne’er forgot.
Mine eyes have often wearied long
To catch thine image passing by;
My saddened spirit grew more strong,
With thee one moment in mine eye.
But oh, if love should ever seek
Its seat within that beauteous breast,
Drive it afar; you see it wreak
On me its power to poison rest.
For bound beneath thy beauty’s sway,
My days in wasting sadness roll;
Though deaf to all, this dust can say,
You’ll meet in heaven, my parted soul.
Deign but my fevered heart to cool,
With but one passing word of hope,
Then shall my tortured spirit school
Itself, with all beside to cope.
But thought is useless, words are vain;
And my bewildered mind can fling
No effort from this maddening brain,
That can to thee its image bring.
For disappointed and beguiled,
I will not spend another sigh;
If you had never on me smiled,
No tear had ever dimmed mine eye.
I will now endeavour to give my readers a specimen of an original Arabic
tale in the familiar and colloquial style of these Oriental storytellers
so famed for their amusing delivery and gesticulation.
THE STORY OF THE JINN AND THE SCOLDING WIFE.
Once upon a time, many years ago, when good people were rather scarce
upon the earth, and such men as Noah had ceased to exist, there dwelt a
certain poor man at the city of Aleppo, whose name was—I forgot now
exactly what; but as his heirs might not take it in good part, we had
best leave the name-part of the business alone altogether. However, he
was fortunate enough to pick up with a pretty little wife, whose smiles,
so thought the lover, were like the dew of Hermon; instead of which, they
proved to be very mildew in every sense of the word. Yusuf—so was the
man called, but, I forgot, we must not mention it—married the fair
Ankafir. First week, honey and kaymak, and everything nice and sweet;
second week, necklaces and other jewellery required; third week, funds
low, dinners scant, temper sour; fourth week, squalls matrimonial from
morning to night, from night to morning.
“I tell you what it is, my dear,” quoth Yusuf, “either you must leave off
blowing up, or I must take to bastinadoing: so just you choose the least
evil.”
To hear her talk of his inhumanity—to hear her talk of her rich relations
and their influence with the Pasha—to hear her storm about broken hearts,
and, what is a great deal more serious and matter-of-fact, broken heads—I
say, to hear her jabber about all this, was enough to turn a quiet,
sober-minded man into a misanthrope for life; but, to feel the argument
in the shape of sundry manipulations, cuffs on the ear, scratches, etc.,
this was beyond the endurance of a martyr; so thought Yusuf, so did his
friends, and so did the evil counsellors that recommended him to resort
to the use of water as an only alternative.
Now, I don’t mean to say, mind you, that they suggested, that water, as
an every-day kind of a beverage, was likely to be productive of very
beneficial effects; neither did they hint that arraki and water, though
this latter has often done the job, would facilitate in ridding Yusuf of
his incubus. The river Euphrates was thought deep enough—a casualty in
the upset of a boat, plausible. The desperate husband took the hint.
One day he had a headache. Next day, change of air was thought
requisite, and the water-side recommended. He went to Berijek thence to
the river-side. A friendly old boatman hired him a boat and his own
personal services, and
“Upon the stream they got ’em.
The wind blew high; he blew his nose,
And—sent her to the bottom.”
She sunk, never again to rise, and the light-hearted husband leaped out
of the boat and strolled along the river-side.
By and bye, a damp-looking old customer, half Neptune, half I don’t know
what you may call it, comes walking up the river, just as coolly as a
ship of war might float on the ocean, and as fresh as though he had only
just got in for a dip, instead of having floated ever so many hundred
miles.
“Salām alaykum,” says Yusuf, “I hope you’re well.”
“Peace, thou son of a swine,” says the stranger; “What do you mean by
sending her there to bother us?”
“Who is it you mean, sir?”
“Who,” said the fierce little man, who was nothing more or less than the
Jinn, or Spirit of the Water, “why her, to be sure, that vixen of a wife
of yours, who has completely defiled the water. Why there is no peace
any more in those regions, and I have come forth to take a signal
vengeance on you: now choose what death you like—hanging, tearing to
pieces, or impaling.”
“Sir,” said Yusuf, very humbly, “if you, who are possessed of so much
power, cannot control her temper, how could I, a miserable mortal, hope
to manage her?”
There was so much truth in this assertion, that the Jinn calmed down
amazingly. “My friend,” quoth he, “I see you’re a sensible man; you and
I will henceforth unite our fortunes; so just have the kindness to step
upon my shoulders, and we will be off like a lightning-flash for
Baghdad.” Yusuf did as he was desired; and in the course of the next
hour they were safely housed in Baghdad. Now the Caliph had an only
daughter, who was reported beautiful as the morning star.
“Would you like to have her,” quoth the Jinn, “for a wife?”
“Who, me, sir; I am very much obliged to you,” quoth Yusuf; “but I don’t
exactly see how that is to be accomplished.”
“Oh, I will manage that part of the matter. You pass yourself off for a
great _hakeem_. I will coil myself round the girl’s neck in the shape of
a most venomous snake with two heads. No one shall be able to approach
but you. You burn that bit of paper that I have written upon, and throw
the ashes into water, and as it is demolished, so will I gradually
disappear. The results will be the Caliph’s gratitude and his daughter’s
hand and heart.”
Yusuf was very willing to do as he was bid. The feat was accomplished.
He married the girl and settled down for life in easy circumstances.
Some time after, the Jinn fell desperately in love with the Vizier’s
daughter, and displayed his attachment in the rather uncongenial form of
a viper. Now the Caliph had borne in mind the notoriety of his
son-in-law in this peculiar species of malady; so when the Vizier came
moaning and complaining that Yusuf would not go and cure his daughter, he
sent his compliments to Yusuf, with a silken cord and the alternative
carefully tied up in an embroidered pocket-handkerchief—of immediate
compliance with his will—an arsenic pill or strangulation. Yusuf had no
remedy, though he had faithfully promised the Jinn never to intrude upon
his felicity. He hit, however, upon a plausible excuse, and being
introduced into the presence of the Vizier’s daughter, he bent over her
neck and whispered to the Jinn—
“I say, I’ve just dropped in to warn you that she is here in Baghdad, and
looking for you.”
“Why, you don’t mean her?” said the alarmed Jinn.
“But I do though, sure as you are a ghost.”
“I say, you wont say where I am off to, will you,” says the Jinn; “but if
you will just pack up your salāms and any other light articles you may
wish to send to your friends, I’ll be happy to be the bearer. I’m off.”
“Are you, though?” says Yusuf
“Yes I am,” said the Jinn.
“I’d rather stem an angry wave
Than meet a storming woman.”
And so saying, he departed, and the Vizier’s daughter was healed.
* * * * *
Refreshments have been served at intervals; and the smoking has been
incessant, the married ladies, especially mothers of families, indulging
in whiffs at the _narghili_. It is considered unbecoming in a young lady
to smoke, and they never do so in public: but as they often serve the
_narghili_ to distinguished guests, they are compelled to take some
whiffs, as it is customary to present it lighted; and as this process
does not appear to make them feel unwell, we naturally imagine that on
the sly these young ladies frequently indulge themselves with a pipe.
This, kind reader, is a fair sample of the manner in which the Damascus
Christians amuse themselves during the evening.
Once Mr. Farren, the then British Consul-General at Damascus, gave a
grand entertainment to celebrate the king’s birth-day. To this, my
relative and myself were invited, in common with several of the Mahomedan
chiefs and Christian inhabitants of Damascus, who were utterly astounded
at the magnificent display of European luxury. The rooms were decorated
with flags of all nations, and splendidly furnished _à l’Anglaise_; and
it was probably the first _fête_ of the kind that many of these people
had ever witnessed. Every one was much charmed with the affable manners
of the Consul, and impressed with the wealth and dignity of the nation he
represented. And this kind of display was doubtless very beneficial in
curbing the fanatical hatred of the Damascus Mahomedans towards _Kuffar_
in general, which, at that time, raged to such a pitch, that no Christian
could, without insult, traverse the streets of Damascus on horseback,
especially with a white turban, till the interpreter of Mr. Farren
ventured to break through the law. Amongst the Moslems in Syria, those
only who are direct descendants of the prophet, or who have accompanied
the Hajj or pilgrimage to Mecca, are permitted to wear a green turban,
the other Mahomedans a white one. In the mountains, it is worn
indiscriminately by all creeds. In Turkey, those born on Friday are
entitled to wear green. This fact surprised an English friend at
Constantinople, who seeing so many green turbans, and not being aware of
this latter circumstance, observed, that the prophet must have a large
family.
During Ibrahim Pasha’s occupation of the country, he did much towards
bringing the haughty Mahomedans to a due appreciation of their own
nothingness; and the Damascus of to-day is very different to that of some
twenty years back. Now Christians, and even Jews, in garbs and costumes,
ride to and fro unmolested; and since the departure of the Egyptians, no
small share of praise is due to the energy and exertions of Mr. Richard
Wood, the present Consul, who is so much respected by the natives, as to
be distinguished amongst them by the Turkish title of Bey, and who has
successfully persevered in maintaining the privileges afforded to
residents and strangers of all creeds, under the iron sway of Ibrahim
Pasha.
Whilst at Damascus, we heard the following story, characteristic of the
manner in which Ibrahim Pasha sometimes administered retributive justice.
A rich Mahomedan, who was an invalid, desired to make the pilgrimage to
Mecca; but being prevented by his health, he offered to defray all the
expenses of a poor and pious neighbour, provided he would undertake this
journey for him. The poor man agreed to do so; and previous to his
departure, he deposited his money, and the few valuables of which he was
possessed, in a box, which he entrusted to the care of a friend, who was
a banker. On his return from Mecca, the box was restored to him, but
upon opening it, he discovered that the contents had been taken out. The
man immediately went and laid his complaint before the Cadi, who ordered
the banker to be brought before him. The accused, placing his hand on
the Koran, swore that he had taken neither the money nor the rest of the
property from the box; such a solemn declaration was considered
unquestionable, and the poor man lost his cause. Being utterly ruined,
he wandered about the city in despair; when one day, whilst seated
outside the gate of Damascus, he observed Ibrahim Pasha on horseback. He
immediately ran to him, and seizing his bridle-rein, stated his case to
the Pasha, and fully described his sorrows and the ill-usage which he had
received. Ibrahim Pasha listened to his story, and bestowing on him a
few piastres, said, “After seven days come to me.” In the meanwhile,
inquiries were made regarding the banker, and hearing that he had a son
at a certain school, the Pasha went in disguise, accompanied by his
secretary, and contrived to win the friendship and confidence of the
master. One day, whilst the professor and his scholars were taking their
customary siesta, the merchant’s son was carried off, and a young bear
deposited in the place which the boy had occupied. When the rest awoke,
great was their surprise at seeing such an animal amongst them; but their
consternation was even greater, when after the lapse of a short time, the
merchant’s son was nowhere to be found. The terror of the professor, and
the affliction of the father, may easily be imagined. In his anger, the
bereaved parent applied to Ibrahim Pasha, and demanded that the heaviest
and most severe penalty should be inflicted on the master for his seeming
negligence. “I know where your son is,” said the Pasha, “he is safe, and
when you return the money and property which you have taken from the box
of your friend, your child shall be restored to you.” The contents of
the box were given up, and the banker was beheaded.
The Roman Catholics have made comparatively few converts in Damascus, and
the mysterious disappearance, a few years since, of Padre Tomaso and his
servant, acts as a check upon the Jesuits, who mostly avoid those places
where every security is not afforded, and where great temporal advantages
do not accompany the success of their efforts at conversion.
By the last published report of the British and Foreign Bible Society,
the heart is cheered with the intelligence, that there are now
established at Damascus three American and two Irish Missionaries. May
their efforts be crowned with success; for Damascus is said to contain
about 140,000 inhabitants, all, more or less, superstitiously ignorant
and blind to the blessed light of the gospel!
CHAPTER IV.
THE AMERICAN MISSIONARIES AT BEYROUT.
After a residence of upwards of two years at Damascus, I was suddenly, in
the spring of the year, recalled to Beyrout, this latter town having, in
my absence, grown into considerable importance as a commercial sea-port.
The traffic with European countries daily augmenting, had given an
impetus to several enterprising young Syrians, who wished to acquire a
knowledge of European languages; and as precedents were not wanting of
this knowledge having led to preferment and subsequent opulence, my
friends conceived the idea of placing me under the care of some of the
excellent American Missionaries, for tuition in English and other
European languages. It was not without reluctance that I obeyed the
mandate of my friends, but as implicit obedience to their will was a
primary consideration, bidding adieu to my many kind acquaintances, I
retraced my steps, and in the course of a few days was once again in the
bosom of my own dear family. The Americans have always numbered amongst
their fraternity a medical officer; and it was mainly attributable to
this fact, that myself, as well as many other Syrian lads, were happily
blessed with the opportunity of receiving a good moral education. I was
just entering on my sixteenth year when I first joined the American
school; still too young to have any deeply rooted prejudices or ideas,
though luckily old enough to appreciate the value of the opportunity thus
afforded me, and consequently to endeavour to profit by it as much as lay
in my power; but I must here explain how it happened that a physician
was, through the blessing of Providence, the means of gaining for us so
priceless a boon. When the American Missionaries first arrived in Syria,
their advent gave rise to conjecture and suspicion among the natives.
Bishops and priests warned their congregations to be on the alert, and
guard against any efforts made by the Missionaries to convert the people;
these admonitions and warnings were strengthened by reports spread by the
crafty emissaries of the Pope, which were as false as they were
calumnious. It was no part of Roman Catholic policy to countenance the
good endeavours of these Missionaries to enlighten the natives of the
country, by the establishment of schools and circulation of the holy word
of God, as contained in Arabic Bibles, printed by the Church Missionary
Society in London. Heretofore, the Papists had to grapple only with the
superstitious but simple-minded followers of the Eastern Church. In
Aleppo and Beyrout, they had already Syrian Roman Catholics, whose
talents were employed to hinder the work of the Missionaries; but now
they had formidable opponents to combat with—men as infinitely their
superiors in wisdom and acquirements, as they were religiously steadfast,
and persevering with all humility and patience to carry out their ends,
for the accomplishment of which, they had left their distant country, and
sacrificed home and every comfort. What the Roman Catholics had most to
dread, was the establishment of Protestant schools, a measure which they
clearly foresaw would tend to their ultimate confusion and defeat, and to
overthrow which they left no means untried. Had not the Americans been
possessed of great Christian patience, and matured sound judgment, they
could not possibly have succeeded; but time proved their deeds and
actions to be the purest; their morals, precepts, and examples, above
praise; the blessing of God was with them, and they watched and prayed
continually. At length an opportunity presented itself; and they, like
careful sentries, availed themselves of it, and from that time up to the
present date their schools have gone on progressing, and though they have
not succeeded in making many converts, they have prevented much evil by
their watchful care over the natives. Sickness is a leveller of many
prejudices; and this is more particularly the case in Syria, where
physicians are scarce and must be selected without regard to creed. From
time immemorial the natives have placed implicit faith in the skill of
Frank _hakeems_. Of late years I am sorry to say the Turkish empire has
been inundated with numbers of soi-disant physicians, many of whom are
political refugees and renegades, uneducated, and totally ignorant of the
profession they have assumed, and have, by virtue of a piece of parchment
(forged or purchased) and a few drugs, foisted themselves upon the notice
of Syrians, as eminent practitioners; but their exorbitant charges and
unsuccessful practice soon opened the eyes of the people as to their real
position, yet not before these charlatans had worked out for their
medical brethren so foul a reputation, that the natives have become
suspicious of all new-comers, and would rather have recourse to the
simple remedies prescribed by the village herb doctor, than entrust their
lives to be experimentalised upon by foreign quacks.
Apropos of this I may mention an anecdote that was related to me by Mr.
Edward Zohrab, the respected Turkish Consul-General in London. This
gentleman, once travelling in the interior of Turkey, had the misfortune
to fall ill at a remote village where all hopes of succour were despaired
of; whilst debating with the Sheikh of the village on the feasibility of
despatching an express messenger to the nearest large town in search of
medical aid, there arrived, most opportunely, a European traveller who
had taken up his lodgings for the night at the public khan of the
village; this grandee’s servant soon spread the fame of his master in the
place.
“He is,” said he, “the only learned Frank physician in Turkey. He has
been _hakeem_ to all the great _pad-shahs_ of Europe, and is only
travelling here to find some rare drugs and medicinal stones for the
great emperor of Moscof.”
“Is he?” said the delighted Sheikh, who had rushed to seek aid from the
stranger. “Then for Allah’s sake bring him with all speed to my
residence; for there is a _miri liwa_ dying there of fever; and if
anything happens in my house what’s to become of me and my family?”
The learned physician accompanied the Sheikh to his house, and in him Mr.
Zohrab discovered, to his utter amazement and discomfort, the person of a
once respectable Italian ship-chandler who had carried on business some
years back at Constantinople, but who, subsequently failing, had donned
the cap and cloak of a mountebank, and went about quacking the natives.
It is needless to say that the discomfited doctor made a precipitate
retreat from the village. But to return to the subject after this
digression, the good done by the American physician was peculiarly
instanced in my own family.
A very near relative lay grievously ill at Beyrout—every effort of the
native _hakeem_ to give him sleep proved abortive. Native astrologers
came, and writing down the names and number of letters in each name of
the patient and of his mother, multiplied and divided the sum total, and
then tearing up the paper into fine shreds, swallowed the whole; but even
this magic failed. After much discussion, it was finally determined,
much to the disgust of my clerical uncle, to summon the American doctor,
with whom or with whose brethren my family had heretofore carefully
avoided intercourse.
The doctor came—his mild gentle demeanour—his soft sweet words of
consolation—his consummate skill—and his great talents as a man of
learning—all these gained for him the deepest respect and regard, whilst
his indefatigable attention to the invalid claimed our gratitude. We, in
common with our neighbours, had entertained a vulgar prejudice against
this good man, because it was generally asserted that wherever he could
introduce himself under the cloak of his profession, to the sick and
dying, he invariably profited by the opportunity to sow discord amongst
the members of the family, by propagating doctrines strangely at variance
with their creed. How false these accusations—how gross the calumnies
heaped upon him, and through whose agency they had originated, now became
clear to my family and their friends, and we now esteemed these kind
Americans the better from a sense of having unjustly injured them, though
it were only in thought. During my relative’s long and dangerous illness
the doctor’s kindness was above praise—he never intruded a single
question or made any reference to difference of creeds; but when the
patient was convalescent, and when he saw that his visits were no longer
necessary, on taking leave of us the doctor distributed a few tracts on
religious subjects, for perusal amongst ourselves and neighbours, begging
us at our leisure to do so. Had he done this before we had become
acquainted with his intrinsic worth and merits, the chances are that
these tracts would have been flung into the fire so soon as his back was
turned. Now, however, we all felt persuaded that so excellent a man
could never be guilty of propagating anything that was not good and
moral. The result was that his gifts were treasured up and perused with
attention, and whenever the doctor paid us a friendly visit he brought
with him more delightful little stories; the print was so clear, the
pictures and binding so pretty, that these tracts were much prized, and
very soon much sought after. The children of the native Christians and
those of the American missionaries became playmates; and the prejudices
that had barred the doors of the American school-room against the former
were gradually removed. It was at this period that I was sent for to
Beyrout; and a few weeks after my arrival I was duly installed as one
amongst other native students under the kind tuition of Messrs. Goodall
and Whiting of the mission.
I can never sufficiently express my deep sense of gratitude to these two
excellent gentlemen. Under them I acquired the rudiments of a good
general education; and as my knowledge of their language grew apace, I
was afforded free access to such books, both amusing and instructive, as
were well calculated to engraft a thirst after knowledge and develop the
understanding. Generally speaking, all the native scholars, sooner or
later, comprehended the wide difference existing between the Gospel
truths as expounded in the Roman churches, and the true sense and
comprehensive meaning of the Word of God as contained in the holy Bible,
such as it was our custom to peruse, morning, noon, and night. We
discovered that the Bible was a pleasant book, full of entertaining
history and adventure, and abounding with illustrations of the marvelous
mercy and love of the Creator for the creature; and that this book should
be forbidden by the Romish priests at first appeared to us singular; then
very wrong: and ultimately we felt convinced that in so doing they were
guilty of a heinous offence.
My education consisted in simple lessons, reading, writing, and
arithmetic. However I made no great progress in worldly knowledge; but
the precepts and examples of my kind instructors were, I trust, a good
seed sown in season; they took root in the tender soil of childish
simplicity; grew up with our growth and ripened with the years of
maturity; and I humbly hope that, with the blessing of the Almighty, they
may never hereafter be choked by those _tares_ sown by Satan—the sinful
vanities and pleasures of this world.
I remember, amongst the many anecdotes and incidents of those happy days,
one which made a deep impression upon myself and my fellow-students.
During the fruit season, as our school-house at Beyrout was situated
amongst the gardens, we boys made frequent excursions in the night to
pillage the neighbouring orchards of their superabundant loads of fruit;
this was a common practice amongst all the lads of the town of Beyrout;
and though doubtless very wrong, still fruit is so cheap and so plentiful
that, even when detected by the proprietors, our punishment rarely
exceeded a box or two on the ears, and many direful threats as to any
future offence. Notwithstanding these threats, however, the fruit was
too tempting to be so easily relinquished. {48} One night I sallied out
with several other of my schoolfellows, and amongst these a young chief
of the Druses, named Sheikh Ahmed,—a boy of undaunted courage, and who,
in after-years, as I will explain further on, was the means of saving the
life of one connected with the mission school. On this eventful night,
sentries had been set to watch our movements, and we were all taken in
the very act. The angry proprietor made us bear the brunt of all his
losses; and so, after being very roughly treated and deprived of all our
plunder, we were set free and permitted to run home again as best we
could, with rueful faces and aching limbs.
By some means a report of this transaction had reached the
school-master’s ears by times next morning, though we were ignorant of
this fact till breakfast-time arrived; then, with keen appetites, we
resorted to our usual place at the breakfast-table, when lo! there were
nothing but plates turned bottom upwards laid for such amongst us as had
been engaged in the orchard-rifling affair. The rest of the boys, who
were well supplied with dainties, were quite at a loss to account for
this deficiency; but our guilty consciences plainly whispered to us the
motives for this punishment; we therefore, sneaked out of the room,
inwardly determined never to expose ourselves to such well-merited
treatment again; and we firmly adhered to our resolution. This silent
and mild method of punishing an offence had far more effect with us than
rougher treatment; and the chances are that if we had been publicly
upbraided, whipped, and tasked, we should not so quickly have mended.
The Sheikh Ahmed, after having left school, whilst heading his own
people, the Druses, during the war in Lebanon, one day suddenly came upon
a group of angry villagers, who were about to wreak their vengeance upon
an unhappy traveller who had fallen into their hands. The young Sheikh
authoritatively interfered and swore by his beard no harm should be done
to him. In the traveller, to his astonishment and joy, Sheikh Ahmed
identified the Arabic professor of the mission school,—a simple, good
man, to whose care and tuition we were all much indebted, and who, having
been mistaken for a Maronite, was about falling a victim to mistaken
identity. The name of this intelligent and excellent man was Tannoos
Haddad, who had been converted to Christianity by the American
missionaries, and has since been ordained, and is now assisting in the
spread of the Gospel among his benighted countrymen. The head of the
school at that time was Mr. Hubbard, who a few years after died at Malta,
and many a young man now in Syria gratefully recalls his memory as having
been the means of their education and advancement both in temporal and
spiritual knowledge.
At present, the following is a list of the missionaries at Beyrout:—Rev.
Eli Smith, D.D.; Rev. B. Whiting; H. A. D. Forest, M.D.; Mr. Hurtes,
superintendent of the printing department; Buttros Bistani, and Elias
Fowas, native helpers. No one has ever replaced the late Mr. Winbolt,
the much esteemed and regretted chaplain of Beyrout; and the Americans
are about to remove to the mountains. Lord help the souls of the forty
thousand inhabitants now living there, and put it in the hearts of the
English people to establish schools and hospitals in this most promising
field for missionary labour.
Beyrout was, at the period of which I am now writing, under the Egyptian
government, and the whole place was overrun by fierce Albanian soldiers
and recruits, who were the terror of society. Many are the instances on
record of the outrages committed by these men; but their treatment of the
esteemed Mr. Bird, an American missionary, was perhaps the most glaring
instance of unprovoked atrocity.
Mr. Bird had a country-house in the environs of Beyrout, not far from
where some of the troops were encamped. This house was surrounded by a
large fruit-garden, and the produce was continually stolen and recklessly
wasted; for which, however, there appears to have been no remedy. On one
occasion, Mr. Bird’s native servant, seeing some soldiers pilfering from
a fig-tree, threw a stone, which unfortunately took effect and slightly
wounded one of them in the head. Hearing the uproar that ensued, and
learning the cause from his servant, Mr. B--- immediately ran out with a
few necessaries in his hands to examine and dress the wound. He was thus
charitably occupied when a number of the man’s comrades who had been
attracted by the noise, arrived upon the spot, and presuming it to be Mr.
Bird who had wounded the man, made a ruffianly assault on that
unoffending person, buffeted and bound him; and finally carried their
cruel vengeance to such an extent, that they actually crucified him on a
sycamore-tree, using cords in lieu of nails, but in every other respect
blasphemously imitating the position of the figure upon the cross, as
seen by them often in pictures and on crucifixes. Here, spit upon,
slapped, and derided, Mr. Bird was left for some time suffering intense
agony, both of mind and body, for the hot afternoon sun shone fiercely
upon him, and the sharp stings of the sand-flies drove him almost to
distraction; happily the servant had made his escape into the town, and
flown to the residence of the consul. So flagrant an offence naturally
excited the anger of all the Europeans in Beyrout; and consuls of every
nation, accompanied by their retinue, all armed to the teeth, rode forth
to the rescue. On seeing so large a cavalcade advance, the troops beat
to arms; and affairs now assumed a most menacing attitude on both sides.
A council was held among the Europeans; and it was speedily determined
that a deputation should dismount and proceed on foot to the tent of the
officer commanding the troops. This was according done; and the Pasha,
having listened to the complaint, summoned the offenders into his
presence, meanwhile issuing orders that Mr. Bird should be instantly
released and brought before him, that he might speak for himself. The
soldiers endeavoured to vindicate themselves, by asserting that the
Franks had murdered a true believer of the prophet; and in proof of what
they asserted, they had actually the audacity and folly to cause the
wounded man to be carried on a few planks, hastily knocked together, and
set down on the ground a few paces distant from the Pasha’s tent, where
the impudent fellow so well maintained the rigidity of limb and face,
that he really had much the appearance of a cold stiff corpse. The
Pasha’s doctor (a European), however, was close at hand; and this officer
was ordered to see whether the man was really dead or in a dying
condition. The doctor, who was an acute man, soon saw how matters stood;
and producing from his coat pocket a bottle of sal volatile, he
dexterously applied it to the nose of the prostrate soldier, and with
such good effect, that the man started up as though he had received an
electric shock, and was seized with such a violent fit of sneezing, that,
notwithstanding the serious position of both parties, it was found
impossible to resist a simultaneous burst of laughter. The Pasha was too
much enraged to join in this hilarity, which he speedily checked, by
thundering out to his attendants to seize upon the ringleaders in this
disgraceful riot, and have them hung on the same tree upon which Mr. Bird
had been exposed—a threat that would doubtless have been put into
immediate execution, but for the strenuous interference of good Mr. Bird,
who, though still smarting from the severity of his treatment, was far
too good a Christian to allow his enemies to be punished. He tried hard
to beg them off altogether; but this the Pasha would not listen to, so
the Europeans returned home to be out of hearing of the cries of the
wretches as they underwent the severest bastinadoing ever inflicted,
where flogging stops short of life.
This account will appear a perfect fable to those who only know Beyrout
in its present civilised state; and vast indeed must have been the change
for the better, when ladies and children can wander about the place,
singly and unprotected, at all hours of the day, and even, I may venture
to assert, throughout the night.
Since the expulsion of the Egyptians, in 1840–1, Beyrout has rapidly
risen into considerable importance; and it may now be considered the
chief entrepôt of Syrian commerce. At that period there were barely
three or four European families established; and an English vessel only
occasionally touched at the port; now, merchants, artizans, and
shopkeepers, from all parts of Europe have flocked into the town; and
scarcely a week passes by without three or more vessels arriving in the
roads from different ports of Europe. The roadstead presents a gay
appearance on Sunday, when all the different vessels display the ensigns
of their respective nations, and corresponding flags are hoisted from the
tops of the consulates on shore. English, French, Sardinian, Austrian,
American, Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish
ships are daily arriving at, or sailing out of the port, bringing
manufactures from Manchester, colonial produce from London, sugar from
Hamburg, assorted cargoes from France and Italy, and numberless
requisites and necessaries from other parts of the world; whilst they
export from Beyrout, silk reeled in the many factories situated in the
immediate neighbourhood and on Lebanon, grain from the interior, raw
silk, of which some portion is contributed from my native village, and
lately an enterprising American has carried off ship-loads of our Beyrout
and Syrian olive oil, timber, nuts, and specimens of dried and preserved
fruits. The population is rapidly increasing, the wealth augmenting, new
firms are being established, fresh channels of commerce discovered,
houses being built, gardens enclosed, grounds purchased and planted, till
the once quiet, secluded, and almost desolate-looking Beyrout, many of
whose decayed and dilapidated ruins crumbled into dust under the severe
shocks of the great earthquake of 1821, has been rapidly metamorphosed
into a pleasant and flourishing town, replete with handsome buildings and
luxuriant gardens, presenting, as viewed from the sea, one of the
handsomest marine pictures possible for the pencil of the painter to
depict, or the lay of the poet to celebrate.
Please God, I hope yet to see the day when much loved Beyrout shall rival
and surpass in every sense Smyrna, and even Stamboul. I often hear
people in England talking about the beautiful azure skies of sunny Italy,
and sighing for her shores; but I doubt very much if any part of the
world can surpass some portions of Syria for climate or for beauty of
scenery of every description. Those who are fond of romantic and wild
scenery, have only to travel over the Lattakia mountains to gratify their
tastes and inclinations. The quiet woodbine, the pleasant myrtle-shade,
the jessamine and the rose, the murmuring stream and the lovely cot;
these are to be met with all over Lebanon and North Syria—nature, in all
her variety, collected, together—hills, valleys, rivers,
fountains—gardens, ocean—snow and sunshine; all these may be included in
one prospect surveyed from any of the many eminences in the immediate
neighbourhood of Beyrout. As for cloudless skies, all Syria possesses
this charm, and it has none of the drawbacks that Italy must lament—no
Popish thraldom—no revolutionary crisis always on the eve of exploding,
and always stained with innocent blood. The land, it is true, is the
land of the Moslem; but the present enlightened Sultan has made it a land
of perfect liberty to the stranger; and more than this, a land in which
he enjoys privileges that he cannot hope for in his own native country.
Beyrout is the spot for many reasons best adapted for missionary
purposes; and I have long wished for the day when I may be enabled to lay
before intelligent men a certain means of promoting the interests, both
spiritual and temporal, of their Eastern brethren with little
pains-taking or trouble to themselves, but with incalculable advantages
to those whom they would benefit. Of this, however, more anon, in a
chapter devoted expressly to the subject.
A great advantage derivable to Europeans settling at Beyrout is the
immediate proximity of the Lebanon range of mountains; for, though
reputed an excellent climate, Beyrout is subject to great heats during
the summer season, and it not unfrequently occurs that reckless strangers
unnecessarily expose themselves to the fierce rays of the sun with
nothing but a flimsy hat to protect their heads. The result is
brain-fever and sometimes death. The latter is very unfairly attributed
to the climate. One might as well say the same of London, where several
instances of _coup de soleil_ have occurred during a late year; but as
some constitutions cannot stand heat, however well sheltered indoors,
these have only to pitch their tents, or to repair to a neighbouring
village during the summer, a pleasant half-hour or hour’s ride from
Beyrout. Here they may choose their own temperature, and not only this,
but also gratify their own peculiar fancy with regard to scenery; and
those who love field-sports will find endless amusement and occupation
amongst the hares and partridges with which the neighbourhood is
literally overrun.
But the real fact of the case is, that the climate of Beyrout is
extremely healthy; in proof of which I quote the general health of the
natives and of those Europeans who have resided there long enough to
adapt themselves to the customs of the country, who eat but little meat
during the hot months, eschew spirits and inebriating liquors, avoid
violent exercise or exposure to draughts and the intense heat of the
mid-day sun; rise early, use frequent ablutions, take gentle horse
exercise, and only use fresh and ripe fruit, and vegetables which are
generally of the best. Even fish is considered by the natives as
tantamount to poison during the months of July and August; and surely
nature is bountiful enough in the supply of an endless variety of
delicious fruits and vegetables to enable one to subsist without much
heavy and unwholesome meat. Of the benefits arising from this diet and
regimen, the robust natives of the villages give ample proof; their
every-day meals consist principally of bread, fruit, vegetables, rice or
burghal, and cold water; with a little cup of coffee and a pipe of mild
tobacco after meals to promote digestion.
CHAPTER V.
EXCURSION TO CYPRUS.
Quitting my kind friends the Americans in 1839, I was appointed by the
Government to accompany a distinguished European, travelling on a
diplomatic mission through the East. He was an affable, kind man; and
though I have often since made the tour of the places we then visited, I
never so much enjoyed a journey as in his pleasant and instructive
company. Our plan of route was to first visit Cyprus and Asia Minor,
then the northern towns and villages of Syria, and so travel southwards
as far as the limits of Syria and Palestine. All things being prepared,
we set sail from Beyrout late one evening in a small felucca, which,
nevertheless, in fine weather, sailed remarkably well; and, upon the
whole, we were pretty comfortable on board, the entire use of the boat,
to the exclusion of other passengers, having been contracted for.
The land breeze blew freshly all night, and at daylight next morning,
when I staggered up, holding fast by the cords of the mast, there was not
a vestige of Beyrout to be seen; indeed, my inexperienced eyes could
discern nothing but sea and clouds, though the Arab _raīs_ (captain)
positively affirmed, that what I mistook for clouds was the high land of
Cyprus, looming right a-head. This was the first time in my life that I
had ever found myself so far out at sea. At first the novelty of the
sight, the lovely, cool, blue colour of the waves—the azure sky, tinged
with a hundred brilliant hues, all harbingers of the rising sun—the fish
sportively bounding into the air—the sea-gulls—the white sails of vessels
in the distance; all these were a source of amusement and speculation for
the mind; but when the sun rose, and its heat soon drove me to take
shelter under the lee of the large mainsail—when I had nothing to do but
to watch the little boat dipping and plunging into the water—when the
smell of tar, pitch, tobacco-smoke, and fried onions, assailed my
nostrils; then I was fairly and dreadfully sea-sick.
I wrapped myself up in my _kaboot_, and only groaned out answers to the
many kind enquiries made by my new friend and the assiduous boat’s
company. These latter became an intolerable nuisance. First would come
the fat, greasy-looking old _raīs_, with an abominable skewer of fried
meat and onions in one hand, and a nasty, well-mauled piece of bread in
the other. “Eat, my son,” he would say; “eat these delicious morsels,
rivalling in flavour and richness the _Kabābs_ of Paradise; it will
strengthen your heart.” A lizard or a toad could not have been more
nauseous to me than was that man at that moment. Throughout the morning
it was nothing but “_yar Ibn-i_, _koul_, _yar Ibn-i Risk Allah_” (O son,
eat, O son Risk Allah). The heat grew intense towards midday. My
European friend was almost as great a sufferer as myself. Happily the
sea-breeze held on, and at eleven, P.M., that night our felucca was
safely moored at Larnaca, the sea-port town of Cyprus.
During our stay at Larnaca we were lodged with the English vice-consular
agent at that time, a native of the island. He was an obliging old man,
who did all in his power to make our stay agreeable. I was very much
pleased with this place and its hospitable inhabitants; though only so
short a distance from Beyrout, the change was very great. Here there
were numerous carriages and other vehicles, drawn by horses and oxen; and
a drive in an open carriage was both a treat and a novelty to me, who had
never been accustomed to any other mode of locomotion than walking or
riding on horseback. The Greeks and the Roman Catholics had neat
churches here, and the loud chiming of the church bells on a Sunday was a
clear proof that the Christians of this island enjoyed more privileges,
and mixed more freely with the Turks than their brethren on the mainland.
To such an extraordinary pitch is this neighbourly intercourse carried,
that they intermarry with each other without any distinction of creed;
the only part of the Turkish dominions where such a license exists. At
Larnaca the houses were neatly built, and the streets cleanly swept;
there were many pleasant rides and drives about the neighbourhood, but
the climate is insalubrious and peculiarly ill adapted to European
constitutions. The heat in the summer months is beyond endurance; and
there are many salt-pits and marshes in the neighbourhood, which
contribute greatly towards the sufferings of the inhabitants. I am sorry
to say that what I saw of the natives, only helped to confirm me in those
prejudices which exist against them in the East. The men are, for the
most part, notorious gamblers and drunkards, and when drunk or excited,
capable of any act of ferocity. Besides this, they are possessed of all
the cunning of the fox, and are such lovers of mammon, that for the
acquirement of wealth they would be guilty of any dishonesty or
treachery, and sacrifice even the honor and virtue of their families, at
the shrine of their household deity—gold. How painful to reflect that so
many precious souls are thrown away for the want of better teaching and
example; how sad to know that they have no opportunity offered them of
throwing off the heavy yoke of sin, and of bursting the bonds of Satan.
But their bishops and priests are a wicked set, full of conceit and
sinful lusts, selling their own souls, as well as those confided to their
care, for the acquirement of filthy lucre; and so long as they encourage
the vices and dissipations of their flocks as a sure source of revenue to
themselves (for however great the crime, absolution may be purchased, and
slight penances imposed to expiate the most heinous sins); so long as
such a sad state of affairs is permitted, there can be no hope of any
amelioration in their degraded condition. I know not what the motives
for it may be; but poor Cyprus has, so long as I can remember, been more
neglected than other parts of the East by the Missionary Societies in
England and America. This is much to be lamented, and may, I hope, soon
be remedied. Doubtless for the first few years, missionaries would have
almost insuperable difficulties to contend against; but, with God’s
blessing, these would gradually disappear. The climate, though perhaps
unfavourable to their constitution, would be favourable to their cause,
and a skilful physician a boon to an island, where heretofore only quacks
and charlatans have been within the call of suffering humanity. The late
Doctor Lilburn has left a name behind him in Cyprus still reverenced by
the poorer and sicklier inhabitants; his kind urbanity, his charity, and
attention to the sufferings of the sick, and his skill as a physician,
displayed in many extraordinary cures, all these contributed to work out
for him a fame which would have gradually enlarged itself, and penetrated
to the remotest corners of the island, had it pleased the Almighty to
spare him yet awhile on earth; but he died, and we have every hope that
his good Christian spirit is now reaping an eternal harvest of bliss.
With all the crimes and vices attached to the character of the Cypriote
Greeks, they are all staunch observers of the outward forms prescribed by
the elders of their church. They are rigid observers of fast days, and
the same man that would hardly hesitate to rob you of your life, would
rather endure any torments of hunger, or any temptation, than break
through the prescribed rules of abstinence. This, in conjunction with
their frequent attendance at the confessional, clearly shews the implicit
faith they place in the powers and virtues of their priests; and it
appears to me that this strict command over certain lusts of the flesh
might, if diverted into a proper channel, redound much to their credit,
and these very ruffians become devoted Christians, when they have once
learnt the instability of all human hopes, the impotency of man’s agency
to avert a pending destruction, and to give all the glory to God, and no
portion of it to princes or men.
We visited severally Nicosia, the inland capital of the kingdom, Fuma
Gosta, and a few other unimportant sea-side villages. Nicosia is a very
handsomely built town, with beautiful gardens, and surrounded with
strongly built fortifications. The streets are sufficiently wide, and
for the most part kept in admirable repair; good roads are a rare thing
to meet in the East. The _majlis_, or government council, of which the
Pasha himself is president, is composed of Turks and Greeks; but the
greater portion are Greeks. These are the wealthiest part of the
community, and carry everything before them. In some caves attached to
the houses of the most ancient Greek families, there are large supplies
of old Cyprus _camandarea_, upwards of half a century in earthen jars.
This wine is very expensive, and is only used as a luxury or for
convalescent invalids. The supposed sites of Salamis and Paphos were
pointed out to us; in the former place we are told, in the Acts of the
Apostles, that Paul and Barnabas, who landed in Cyprus A.D. 44, preached
Christ crucified; here also, Barnabas, who is reverenced as the principal
Apostle and first Bishop of Cyprus, was stoned, being martyred by the
Jews of Salamis: at Paphos St. Paul struck Bar-jesus with blindness, and
the pro-consul embraced Christianity. The spiritual blindness of the
people of the whole island is, alas! more appalling than that miraculous
visitation on the blaspheming impostor. During our stay in the island,
my friend was much occupied surveying and sketching, and from seeing him
apparently so much attached to the elegant accomplishments, I first
acquired a passion for drawing, but he had no time to instruct me; I had
no means of improving myself; and so I was obliged to let the matter rest
till a favourable opportunity should present itself.
The prevailing language of the island is Greek—Turkish is also spoken,
but Arabic is almost unknown in the interior; a strange circumstance,
considering the proximity of Cyprus to the Syrian coast.
After a month’s ramble in the island, we hired a native boat at Cyprus,
and sailed over to Cilicia, a voyage which we were three days in
accomplishing, owing to the then prevalent light winds and calms.
Mersine, the seaport of Tarshish, or Tersous, the birthplace of St. Paul,
and once a city of no mean repute, is a miserable little village
consisting of some half a hundred huts, inhabited by fever-stricken,
flea-bitten fellahs. There are many pleasant orange groves and citron
walks in the village; and the water and shade, and verdure, form a
picture of ease, and health, and comfort, that but ill accords with the
really pestilential atmosphere of the neighbourhood. Small and
unimportant as Mersine is in itself, it is of considerable importance to
the commerce of Asia Minor, as being the nearest seaport to Tersous and
Adana, whose merchants ship annually large quantities of linseed, wool,
sessame, and cotton, the produce of the vast plains and valleys on either
side of the Taurus range of mountains. From Mersine to Tersous is a
distance of about four hours’ easy riding. We left Mersine the morning
after our arrival an hour before sunrise, so that we reached our
destination before the sun had waxed overpoweringly hot, or the
horse-flies had become annoying. The beauty of the plains we rode over,
their fertility and variegated aspect, and the whole scenery around us,
is scarcely surpassed in any part of the world that I have visited,
before or since. Troops of swift gazelles, and hares innumerable passed
our track as we crossed the plains of Adana; whilst the surrounding
bushes abounded with partridges, quails, and such like game; the marshes
and lakes were literally teeming with water-fowl, from the majestic swan
to the insignificant sandpiper and water-rail; foxes were plentiful, and
so were jackals and hyenas; and the high range of mountains that
encompasses the plain on all sides, save that which faces the sea, was
plentifully stocked with chetahs, leopards, and other equally undesirable
neighbours. The further we rode the higher the elevation of the ground
became, and the land was well laid out in cultivation. Finally, we
reached the really picturesque and vast gardens on the outskirts of the
town, where we met occasional donkey-loads of the choicest fruits and
vegetables. Heaps of cucumbers and lettuces were piled up near the
garden-gates ready for transportation to the market, and the passers-by
coolly helped themselves to some without any interference on the part of
the owners or gardeners, so super-abundantly does nature there produce
her choicest gifts.
Tersous is in some parts handsomely built, in others it was disfigured by
wretched hovels, whilst masses of putrifying vegetable and animal matter
were all that met the eye or assailed the nostril. The inhabitants
seemed equally distinct from each other. The occupants of the better
sort of houses were stout, robust, and healthy-looking fellows, who lived
upon the fat of the land, and inhabited Tersous only during winter, and a
portion of autumn and spring, decamping with their families to the lofty
and salubrious climates of Kulek Bughaz, and other pleasantly situated
villages of the Taurus, as soon as the much-dreaded summer drew nigh.
The inmates of the miserable hovels were, on the contrary, perfect
personifications of misery and despair—sickly-looking, unfortunate
_Fellahin_ Christians and Jews, who must work, and work hard too, to
enable them to inhabit any home, however humble, and are, consequently,
tied down to the place hot weather or cold, martyrs to fevers, dropsy,
and a few other like horrible complaints common to Tersous at all times
of the year, but raging to a fearful extent during the months of June,
July and August. The fevers are occasioned partly from the miasma
arising from the marshes in the neighbourhood and the many stagnant pools
and gutters in the town itself, but chiefly from the frightful
exhalations occasioned by the mounds of putrifying camels, cows, oxen,
goats, horses, and mules, which annually die off from a murrain raging
amongst them, and whose carcases are dragged to the outside of the city’s
old walls, and there indiscriminately piled up in the dry ditches
around—a carnival for jackals and glutted vultures who are so amply
provided for, that even they and the packs of savage curs that infest the
streets of the town, grow dainty in their pickings and become worthless
scavengers from excess of feasting.
This is a frightful but faithful picture of the suburbs of modern
Tersous. The very streets are equally neglected; bestrewed with the
disgusting remains of dogs, cats, and similar nuisances. Indeed, Tersous
might be aptly termed a mass of corruption; and yet it has not been
neglected by bountiful nature. The pleasant waters of the famed Cydnus,
which murmur through the very heart of the town, render its banks on
either side prolific with orange and lemon trees; the sweet odour from
whose blossoms, the fever-wasted form, reclining in a pleasant shade on
its banks, inhales with gusto, but alas! each breath is impregnated with
the noxious poisons that float heavily on the atmosphere.
The inhabitants are negligent and careless about what most vitally
concerns their immediate welfare, vainly sweeping out and cleansing their
own particular court-yards and houses, whilst the streets and the suburbs
are teeming with the seeds of pestilence, and the dark night vapour is
bestridden by direful disease and death. In Tersous there was only one
resident Englishman, and that was the Vice-Consul, who had come there to
die like his predecessors. There were no missionaries, not even a
Catholic priest, though plenty of Italian and French Roman Catholics were
attached to the various consulates, or employed as merchants and fishers
of leeches. The native inhabitants, including a great many from Cyprus,
were of all creeds, the greater part being Mahomedans.
During our stay, we were the guests of a hospitable native Christian,
Signor Michael Saba, a notable merchant of Tersous; but almost all of
those whose acquaintance I made, are since dead, our worthy host among
the rest. He, poor man, fell a victim to a virulent fever, that swept
away hundreds besides himself, within the space of a fortnight. Sad
indeed is the change for the worse in the Tersous of the present day, to
what that town must have been in the primitive days of the Christian
church, when it boasted of its wealth and commerce, and sent forth to the
world such accomplished men as the great Apostle St. Paul; who, speaking
of his native home, could call it _A city of no mean repute in Cilicia_.
Our stay in Tersous did not exceed the time absolutely necessary for the
completion of my friend’s drawings and surveys; and then, nothing loth,
we turned our backs upon the place, crossing the large handsome bridge
built over the river, and so speeded on towards Adana. The country lying
between Tersous and Adana, was very similar to that which we had
traversed between Mersine and the former place, a flat country
imperceptibly rising as we advanced. Most of this country was more or
less cultivated; and we passed countless Turcoman encampments forming
large villages, the whole of whose population was almost exclusively
occupied in making those carpets, for which they are so much renowned.
The great brilliancy of colour and duration of these carpets have
acquired for them a very just celebrity. The Turcoman dyes, brilliant
yellow, green, and purple (the latter possibly the celebrated Tyrian dye,
now lost to the world), are a secret, for the possession of a knowledge
of which, the princely Manchester manufacturers would, I imagine,
willingly loosen their purse-strings; but no one in the East has hitherto
been possessed of sufficient energy and patient inquisitiveness to coax
this secret from the breasts of these wild sons of the wilderness. _En
route_ we passed many old wells which supplied these people and their
flocks with water during the summer months. At some of these wells we
stopped and begged water for ourselves and horses, which was cheerfully
supplied by pretty maidens, who, like Rebecca of old, had come to the
well to supply their father’s flocks with water.
The town of Adana is of very unprepossessing aspect; its houses being
very inferior, both in appearance and dimensions, to those of Tersous.
They have, however, the advantage of being in a much healthier situation,
though, owing to the inconvenient system of excluding windows, which
might overlook the neighbours’ court-yards, the houses are insufferably
close during the hot months; and have more the resemblance of miserable
prisons, with well-secured doors, than of dwelling-houses. The Turks,
who are seldom at home during the day, suffer very little inconvenience
from the fact above alluded to. They, for the most part, have their
little shops on either side of the prodigiously long street that
constitutes Adana; and as these are covered in with thatch-work, and are
moreover carefully watered by public water-carriers several times a day,
the _Dukkans_ afford a desirable retreat from the mid-day heat. If their
wives and families suffer inconvenience from the sultry closeness of the
weather, they are at liberty to lock their doors and resort to any among
the number of pleasant gardens that embellish the suburbs of the town,
there to make _farah_, and enjoy themselves till the hour arrives when
the _Dukkans_ are closed for the night, and the master of the house is
expected home; then all scamper back to receive their hungry husbands,
and if their dinner be not cooked, or be displeasing to their taste, to
receive in addition a few lashes of the _corbash_, in the use of which
they are pretty well skilled in Adana.
The inhabitants are all Moslems—the most intolerably bigoted and
ignorantly proud people to be met with in the whole of the Sultan’s
dominions. No professor of another creed dares to settle in any quarter
of the town, but have their houses scattered around its suburbs, and
these are in general miserable, mean-looking hovels, tenanted by a
wretchedly poverty-stricken people. Though Adana is the head-quarters of
the Pasha of that Pashalik, no Europeans, consuls or merchants, reside in
the place, from which fact alone arises the unbearable hauteur of the
Turks of Adana, who are unaccustomed to mingle with more civilised
people, or to bend to the yoke which the rules of official etiquette
demand and obtain.
Adana has often been the theatre of frightful convulsions and rebellions.
The supreme power of the Sublime Porte has been on more than one occasion
set at defiance, and though the results have been terrible, and the
honour of the Sultan been vindicated in blood, time has worn off the
impression, and rising generations have continued to grow up in insolence
and insubordination, till the natives are so void of civility to the
stranger, that, as a recent author truthfully observes, “it was difficult
for any European to traverse the bazars, especially that part allotted to
shoe-makers, without being disgustingly abused, and even spit at.” In
all other parts, the residence of the Pasha is usually fixed upon as the
residence of the consuls and consular agents; as, for instance, Damascus,
Jerusalem, and Aleppo, the presence of European authorities being always
a wholesome check upon the governors, who have an innate fear of them,
which, notwithstanding their deadly hate and bigotry, they are compelled
to acknowledge by civil words and acts; and if there is one thing that
they fear more than another, it is the facility with which Europeans use
their pens. “I will write to Stamboul,” is a terrible sentence to the
conscience-smitten official. In it he pictures to his imagination an
endless array of evils; first, the certainty of answers; then his being
involved in a difficult correspondence, which is almost sure to
terminate, if he does not speedily amend, in his recall, and possibly
still more severe punishment.
Adana had few inducements to hold out to us for remaining. The Pasha’s
beautiful _serrai_ was the only object worthy of attention. This had
been handsomely constructed, and was picturesquely situated on the banks
of that rapid stream which flows through Tersous. Here also was a bridge
of very fine structure, and apparently of very ancient date. The river
itself was enlivened by a number of floating flour-mills, the rapid
motion of whose wheels threw showers of clear water high up into the air,
and gave a busy and stirring appearance to the, in all other respects,
dull and monotonous town.
We ventured as far north as Kulek Bughaz—that impregnable mountain-pass
which Ibrahim Pasha so strongly fortified, and which modern travellers
state, is now in a ruinous condition. Having, from this great elevation,
taken a survey of the immense extent of plains both on the Konia and
Adana side, we hastened to descend again, since the mountains were
infested with lawless banditti, and the whole country around was in a
very unsettled state, owing to recent warlike demonstrations between
Mehemet Ali Pasha and the Sublime Porte.
Reaching the plains, we once more skirted the river, till we arrived at a
pathway, that led us, after two days’ weary journeyings, to the village
of Ayas, on the northern side of the Gulf of Scanderoon; thus avoiding a
passage through the territories of the descendants of that late notorious
robber-chief, Kuchuk Ali Oglu, whose infamous name had spread terror far
and wide throughout the Ottoman dominions.
CHAPTER VI.
ALEPPO.
Hiring an Arab boat at Ayas, we crossed over the Gulf of Scanderoon,
passing close to the lagoons near that place, which are very dangerous
for navigation; in fact, so much so, that in speaking of it we say in
Arabic, “As dangerous as the Black Sea.” They, however, abound in fine
turtle, such as would meet with a ready and profitable market in London.
We landed at Scanderoon, a wretched and deserted village, surrounded with
pestiferous marshes on all sides. The fever was at that period
prevalent, so that our stay was limited to a few hours, during which
brief interval horses were engaged to carry us to Antioch, and we partook
of some slight refreshment at the residence of my friend, Suleiman Bey.
Leaving Scanderoon, or Alesandretta, as it is also called, we rode for
upwards of an hour through marshes, and hot, humid, unhealthy ground,
till arriving at the foot of the Beilan mountains, we commenced their
rather abrupt ascent, and after half an hour’s scrambling and hard work,
reached an elevation from which we caught an uninterrupted view of the
sea for many miles on either side, and so pushing forward, in three hours
we reached the picturesque village of Beilan, which is situated on either
side of a high mountain gorge, and is one of those natural barriers
which, like Kulek Bughaz, afforded a stronghold in times of disturbance
and war to several rebel chiefs, who from these fortresses set at
defiance the invading armies from the neighbouring plains: but since the
death of Kuchuk Ali Oglu, who so long reigned _in terrorem_ over the
peaceful inhabitants of the plains, this class of people have been
entirely exterminated; and Beilan, being on the highway from
Constantinople to Aleppo, is now inhabited by a civilised though very
poor class of Turks and Armenians, whose constant intercourse with
Europeans and other merchants has tamed them into honesty, and taught
them to respect and fear the prowess of all European nations, more
especially the English, of whose fleets they have sometimes caught sight
when cruizing about the Gulf, and the roar of whose cannon, echoing from
mountain to dell, whispered to them not mildly of the power and valour of
that surprising nation.
From Beilan to Aleppo our journey occupied two days and a half; and as we
travelled with our own tents, etc., we were entirely independant of such
wretched accommodation as is usually afforded to travellers in the
villages. Aleppo had much the appearance of Damascus when viewed from
the distance. The bright foliage of the trees dotted with occasional
domes and terraces—the lofty minarets, and the picturesque hill and
castle in the centre, all contributed to render the tableau complete;
besides which, around as far as the eye could stretch, the barren and
desolate appearance of the mountains made Aleppo stand forth a perfect
Oasis in a wilderness. On our arrival we were lodged at the Latin
convent, but shortly afterwards removed to hired apartments in Jedida,
the Christian quarter of the town, where I had the pleasure of forming
the acquaintance of several wealthy native families.
The Aleppines are with truth styled polished; they are innately gentlemen
and ladies, from the highest to the lowest; the graceful walk—the
well-bred salutation—in short, the whole deportment is such as would well
become, and even grace, an English aristocratic _re-union_. During our
stay, Signor Fatallah, a wealthy neighbour, who was likewise proprietor
of a silk manufactory, married his son to the daughter of an opulent
fellow-townsman; preparations on a grand scale had long been going
forward, and amongst a vast concourse of friends and acquaintances
invited to celebrate the nuptials, we also were included. The auspicious
moment arrived, and we proceeded to Fatallah’s house escorted by a band
of native musicians whom we met going there. On arriving at the
residence of the bridegroom, we were ushered into a long room in which
guests were seated from the door to the upper part according to their
rank in life; the chief guests being seated at the head of the divan on
either side of the master of the house, others were ranged lower and
lower, the poorest guests were close to the doorway, and one or two so
poor that they did not even aspire to a place on the divan, but squatted
themselves cross-legged on the ground. On the arrival of a fresh guest
the master of the house would rise and come forward to receive him; and
if, as happened on some occasions, the guest from mock humility would
seat himself in a position lower than what his actual rank of precedence
entitled him to, an absurd scuffle would ensue, in which the master of
the house would endeavour to drag the other higher up into the room, and
the guest with many “Stāfer Allahs” (God forbid) and many false
protestations, would pretend reluctantly to yield to the distinction
proferred him, and so gain honour in the sight of the assembled
multitude. Such scenes brought vividly to my mind our Lord’s parable
about the meek being exalted; and rendered it clearly evident that this
etiquette, so strictly adhered to by the natives of all Syria to this
present hour, existed in the time of the Redeemer, and has been practised
from the Patriarchs downwards. The very costume—the method of
salutation—the seats arranged methodically for the guests, all helped to
contribute not a little in forcibly recalling to mind several portions of
Scripture often read with pleasure in my childhood.
After we had arrived and taken our seats, the musicians struck up some
popular and lively Arabic air familiar to the ears of us Syrians, as
connected with many pleasant recollections of like spectacles and
occasions. Numberless servants were busily occupied in handing to the
guests sherbet, pipes, narghilies, and a large assortment of candied and
other sweetmeats. As the visitors continued rapidly arriving they were
sprinkled by the bridesman with essences, and the scene in the court-yard
outside the reception-room assumed a more animated appearance. Groups of
young men in gaily-coloured and picturesque coats, were seated in
separate circles each possessing a _kānūn_ or other instrument players of
its own, emulous to surpass the notes of his neighbour. Occasionally one
or two men from each circle would stand up and go through the wild but
elegant figures of the Bedouin dances, whilst groups of pretty and timid
girls, collected in knots round the walls of the house, watched with the
deepest interest the wrestling matches of their lovers or brothers, and
joined loudly in the plaudits which crowned a successful competitor with
the full-blown honours of championship. As the evening advanced, their
hilarity increased; strings of servants with heavily-laden trays were
seen occasionally crossing the court-yard, bringing quantities of
confectionery and other gifts of the friends and relations of the
bridegroom, for it is always expected that everyone invited will
contribute in some small way to set up the young couple in life. To this
intent the presents comprise all sorts of articles, such as
handkerchiefs, caps, scarfs, wax-tapers, coffee, sugar, sweet-meats, live
fowls, wheat, tobacco, etc. Every one gives his mite; it costs the donor
only a trifle, but in the mass very materially assists the newly married
pair. This custom of friends sending presents is also adopted upon the
accouchment of a lady; her friends, the ensuing week, send her various
small presents on trays, such as a couple of roasted chickens, or some
delicate tit-bit, well suited to the palate of an invalid. These small
civilities are productive of much good will, and really cost nothing, but
I wonder what any fashionable lady in London would say, if a friend,
under similar circumstances, volunteered to send her a dish of roast
fowl. I understand that among the middle and lower classes in England
such presents are not unfrequent, though generally in cases not entirely
above the reach of want; whereas, with us in Syria, when we have any dish
that is particularly nice, or any early fruit that is very choice the
custom of sending a portion to our neighbours is observed by all classes
alike, as a mark of regard and delicate attention.
But to return to the gay nuptials of our friend, Fatallah’s son, the
bridegroom was nowhere visible, neither were there any signs of the fair
bride or her attendant nymphs. Towards evening, however, the Greek
bishop, marshalled in by three or four priests, made his appearance, and
as soon as his reverence had been saluted and seated himself, servants
appeared with low round tables, which they set before the guests, and
covering them with heavily-laden trays, removed the napkins, and
displayed to the hungry multitude the very choice collection of viands
that had been cooked for the nuptial dinner.
Richly flavoured soups, aromatic dishes of minced meat, gravies, and
numerous other delicacies, both sweet and sour, were all plentifully
supplied; the first course consisting chiefly of light dishes, in which
vegetables and curdled cream figured in abundance; the second, comprising
various kinds of meat; the whole repast terminating with one vast pillaf,
kids and lambs roasted whole, and stuffed with pistachio nuts, currants
and spices. Before commencing dinner, a small glass of arraki {76} was
handed round to the guests; afterwards, an abundant supply of wine of
Lebanon was at hand for those who wished to partake of it.
Whilst this festivity was going forward indoors, those outside were not
one whit behind in enjoyment. Sheep cooked whole, were set before the
musicians and singers; also huge platters of pillaf, which made two men
stagger under their weight. At the conclusion of dinner, all the guests
were served with basins and ewers of water, and very liberally
besprinkled with rose and orange-flower water.
During the repast, the bridegroom, who had entered the room very meanly
clad, was conducted by young men, his companions, into an adjoining
apartment, and there having been shaved and washed, then stripped of his
beggarly rags, he was clothed in splendid bridal attire and led back into
the presence of the guests. Here he passed round from one to the other,
humbly taking their hands and kissing them, commencing with the bishops
and priests, until he had completed the circle; he then received the
blessing; after which he was permitted to seat himself upon a low chair
placed in the centre of the room, and there, with his head hanging down
from feelings of bashfulness, the young man awaited the arrival of the
propitious hour. After some little delay, the distant sound of darbekirs
and firing off of muskets warned the assembly that the bride had quitted
her home for the last time, and was now being escorted with all the pride
of Eastern pomp through the streets to the residence of her destined
husband. The road chosen on this, as on all similar occasions, is the
longest and most circuitous, in order to show that the bride is in no
hurry to arrive at the house of her beloved. No sooner did the shouts
and acclamations reach the ears of the young men congregated in the
court-yards, than these as though inspired by martial music, leapt up
from the ground and seizing upon their fire-arms, rushed out into the
streets accompanied by drums and other instruments, to be in readiness to
receive the bride’s escort, and exchange with them _feux de joie_ of
musketry.
Some servants of the house now carried into the reception-room a common
low table which was speedily covered with snow-white drapery, and on
which were placed the bishop’s mitre, prayer-books, chalices, censers,
etc., all to be in readiness for the consecration of the nuptials. The
bishop and attendant priests were speedily arrayed in clerical costumes;
two small crowns of olive branches richly gilt and decorated with flowers
were placed upon the table; and these arrangements had scarcely been
completed, when the bride was ushered in by her attendant nymphs,
followed by a concourse of friends and relations, having previously
thrown some yeast upon the outer door of the house, and broken a
pomegranate over it. The former signifying that she is to be attached as
closely to her husband as the yeast adheres to the door; while the latter
figures that she is to be as fruitful a mother as this fruit is full of
seed.
The bride was covered from head to foot in a long, loose veil, white as
snow; but of sufficiently thin texture to admit of her features being
partly distinguishable, and to show that over her under garments, which
were composed of richly embroidered silks and satins, she was literally
bespangled with costly gems; large festoons of gold coins encircling her
head, and falling over her shoulders, reached to the ground.
The priest now lighted the candles placed on the temporary altar: {78}
deacons with censers in their hands went the round of the room,
sprinkling benedictions on all around; the bride and bridegroom were duly
arranged before the bishops and priests—a bridesman and a bridesmaid
stood behind, their right hands resting on the crowns which had now been
placed on the heads of the young couple about to be married; the chaunt
commenced, and the serious part of the ceremony began. As the nuptials
progressed, the bridegroom and bride three times exchanged crowns; then
the rings were placed upon the fingers of both, and the bishop made them
drink out of the same cup of wine; once did they make the circuit of the
altar-table; and then amidst a shower of small silver coins,
confectionary, and flowers, which fell like heavy rain all around, the
bishop gave his blessing; and the young couple were bound by indissoluble
ties from that moment forward, throughout life, as man and wife. The
bride was shortly after led away into an antechamber, where she was
partly relieved of her many cumbrous veils, and where such of the friends
of the family as desired, had a fair opportunity of admiring her pretty
face. She then stepped forth and kissed the hands of male intruders, in
token of her humble submission to one of their sex from that day forward.
{79}
The latter part of the evening was passed much in the same way as the
earlier part of the day had been; with music, songs, and dancing. What
added much to the general effect, was the numerous variegated lamps and
brilliant torches, that cast a light upon and added greatly to the
picturesque effect of the various costumes; for by this time many of the
European residents were present, in some instances accompanied by their
ladies, and some of the military and other officers in the government
service, dressed in their respective uniforms. It was near upon midnight
when we withdrew, but the festivities were kept up till daybreak; and
then the wedding-feast terminated, the gaieties of which had been
sustained with hardly any intermission throughout the three preceding
days.
Such is the general custom amongst our people; and even the poorest man
on such joyful occasions, as they occur only once in a lifetime, will
spend his last piastre in endeavours to make the ceremony as brilliant an
affair as he can. When a widower or widow is married, all these
rejoicings are abandoned—the simple nuptial ceremony, in the presence of
a few relatives, is all that is expected or in fact deemed decorous; and
this arises from a very honourable notion, that the memory of a deceased
partner should be held in religious esteem; so as to prevent the
outraging the feelings of their relatives upon the occasion of entering a
second time into that estate, by any display or great rejoicing: indeed a
man or a woman is supposed to marry a second time purely from motives of
mutual advantage; to be a helpmate to each other, especially in the case
of a man having had a family by his first wife, in which case, the
children are often unavoidably neglected, as the husband’s occupations
preclude the possibility of his devoting much time or thought to their
welfare. A stepmother in Syria is not a proverb of harshness;
stepmothers in that country, in direct contrariety to what is believed to
be the case in Europe, are affectionate and kind to their step-children;
and even in such rare instances as that of a man marrying again, when his
first wife’s children are already nearly grown up, even then perfect
harmony reigns between the different members of the family, for filial
respect is so powerfully inculcated in a young Syrian’s breast, that
however young the stepmother may be, she is always looked up to and
respected as the wife of a father; and with regard to the wife herself,
the rule acts the same, only vice versa, the children are regarded as the
children of her husband; and however many children a second wife may
have, the first one’s always claim the precedence. It is indispensable
amongst all Syrian families, that every member should know and keep his
or her respective place, and quarrels on this score are seldom if ever
known.
We remained long enough in Aleppo to become familiar with all its
quarters, Christian, Jewish, and European; the latter reside principally
at Kittab, a pleasant little hamlet of neatly constructed houses, which
dates after the period of the shocking earthquake in 1822—an event which
so alarmed the populace that for many weeks afterwards they thought
themselves insecure within the walls of the city, many of the massive
houses, though built upon arches, having given way, carrying everything
before them, and crushing alike inmates and passers-by in the streets.
Aleppo is perhaps the most fashionable town in the East, not even
excepting Damascus. The fashions change there as often almost as they do
in Paris, and all the young ladies are as particular about their dress as
the more aristocratic belles in the North; the result of all this is,
that an Aleppine lady proves usually an expensive wife; but I must
acknowledge, that their extreme neatness, the snowy-white veils, and
gaily-coloured tunics, add much to the picturesque appearance of the
gardens on festive days, when the whole population throngs these
favourite places of resort as much for air and exercise as from a wish to
shew themselves, as it is only on this day many of them have an
opportunity of escaping from the narrow and confined streets of the city.
“Shamm al Hawa,” is a favourite expression of Aleppines, for they dearly
love the open country, and delight to rove amongst trees and flowers;
Aleppo is a country I should have great hopes for with regard to the
success of missionary labour. The Aleppines are too courteous to mock at
or hold in derision the tenets of any man, or to interrupt a man when he
speaks, nor indeed to listen inattentively. Many amongst them are
naturally intelligent: and did any schools or institutions exist from
which their families might derive any clear and indisputable
benefit—education for their children—instruction in any arts or
sciences—physic and medical attendance for the sick and poverty-stricken
(they are by no means an ungrateful people), their attention would most
assuredly be arrested by such attentions to their own and their
townsmen’s wants, and they would be brought to reflect that such kind
benefactors must be trustworthy people, and people that love truth.
The last Report of the British and Foreign Bible Society gives the
population of Aleppo to be 90,000 souls, of which number 19,000 are said
to be Christians of various denominations, and yet there was only one
Protestant missionary on the spot; the Rev. Mr. Benton having been
obliged to revisit America for the benefit of his health. When it is
considered that at Aintab, a considerable town, only a day distant from
Aleppo, the efforts of a single missionary, the Rev. Dr. Smith, of the
American mission, have been crowned with unprecedented success, and that
chiefly amongst the Armenians, of whom there are also numbers established
in Aleppo, it cannot but be regretted that so favourable a field should
be neglected. The fact of this missionary being also a physician is
another proof in support of what I shall endeavour to prove in a
subsequent chapter, namely, the advantages derivable from the wide
establishment of Medical Missions, a subject which I trust, under the
Almighty blessing, will attract the attention of the Christian
inhabitants of Great Britain.
Few towns in the East can rival Aleppo in a commercial sense. Every
resident is more or less of a speculator; and thousands have lost and
gained a fortune in the failures or successes of mercantile speculations.
Even the women are imbued with this spirit of enterprise; and the female
broker is no inconsiderable person in a merchant’s appreciation. She
penetrates into the restricted precincts of the harem, and displays, to
the admiring gaze of its fair secluded inmates, jewels and tinselled
fineries, such as would barely merit a moment’s pause or attention in the
over-crowded bazaars, but when presented by themselves, prove an
inducement to purchase; and this is a means of no small profit, above all
to the poorer class of speculators who are obliged to restrict their
purchases to their very limited means. Even children hawk about minor
commodities, and little urchins who have scarcely a rag to cover their
nudity, will offer to the stranger carefully hoarded up bits of glass and
old coins picked up in some of the most deserted and ruinous portions of
the city, hoping that amongst them a valuable antique may invite his
attention.
We left Aleppo after a prolonged stay, and mounting our horses joined a
caravan loaded with produce for the supply of the Antioch market. The
first few hours, after leaving Aleppo, our road lay over a rocky pathway
difficult to ride over, bleak and monotonous in the extreme; but soon the
glorious plains of the Amuk spreading before us as far as the eye could
reach, burst like a splendid panorama on our gaze. We rapidly descended
to their level, and the remainder of our first day’s journeying was over
a flat country, whose natural prolific soil, interspersed as it was at
short distances with small tributary streams, would have been a sight to
gladden the heart of any emigrant who should seek for rich pasturages for
his cattle—abundant harvest of wheat and barley—rich orchards and
valuable plantations.
All these doubtless once existed at a time when the ruined cities,
portions of whose past grandeur still remain to gratify the curious
antiquarian, were in their zenith; indeed tradition reports the whole of
this extensive plain (which it took us two days’ hard riding to
traverse), at its narrowest breadth, to have been once an extensive
forest, in some parts almost impenetrable. Now there is hardly a tree to
be seen; immense pasturages and fields stretch on every side, and numbers
of horses, cattle, and sheep, browse on the luxuriant herbage. We
arrived on the third day at the Gessir il Haded, or iron bridge, where we
first crossed the Orontes, and after skirting the river for a few
minutes, struck off on a wide pathway leading over a mountainous country,
richly dotted with trees, and verdant with wild thyme and lavender.
Small herds of gazelles, startled from their resting-places by the echo
of our horses’ tramp, darted across our pathway, and sought refuge on the
further side of the many lofty hills that now surrounded us. The
Orontes, in its meandering course, occasionally took a sweep and glided
close under our elevated pathway; by and bye we closed in with the river;
myriads of water-fowl and other game flew over our heads. There was a
stately old ruined castle, on a bleak isolated hill; we passed under its
deserted battlements, and in ten minutes afterwards were riding through
the streets of the once famed city of Antioch.
CHAPTER VII.
ANTIOCH AND LATTAKIA.
In Antioch our stay was, much to our regret, comparatively short; for who
would willingly quit so fair a spot—a perfect Paradise, and rich in the
fairest gifts of nature? A healthy climate, a cloudless sky, luxuriant
fruits and flowers, meadows and pasturages, high hills and valleys; the
mountain and the plain bespangled with trees, the wild myrtle and other
fragrant shrubs, intersected by a glorious river; the earth producing
nourishment for droves upon droves of cattle, and domestic as well as
wild fowl; the river abounding in eels, and the distant sea furnishing
delicious fish of fifty varieties. What more could mortal man on earth
desire? All these can Antioch boast of, besides the many pleasant
reminiscences connected with the spot. Its primitive Christian Church,
the great success that crowned the early efforts of those two devout and
indefatigable apostles, Paul and Barnabas;—the city, the birthplace of
St. Luke, the beloved physician, where originated the name of that faith,
which is our pride, our boast, and the source of all our hope; these are
ties which render Antioch, in the devout Christian’s estimation, second
only to Jerusalem. When we were at this place many parts of the once
famous walls of the city were still in perfect condition, a wonderful
proof of the skill and persevering labours of those brave but alas
unsuccessful men who strove permanently to plant the cross in the
countries where it had first been raised, and had once triumphantly
flourished. Though through so many succeeding generations the city has
been subjected to every imaginable disaster, fire, invasion, revolt, and
the terrible effects of violent earthquakes, yet nature still smiles upon
the surrounding country as brightly as ever she shone in the zenith of
her city’s glory. Its palaces and other magnificent buildings, the
handiwork of mortal man, had, with man, all crumbled away to dust. Its
millions of inhabitants have dwindled down to some few thousands, and in
this respect the wreck is complete; but the fairness of the morning, and
the freshness of the breeze, the beauty of the prospect, the flowers, and
fruits, and trees, these continue the same as in the wealthiest era of
the Seleucidæ. Man and man’s triumphant domes are nowhere to be seen; a
few crazily built houses, and a few straggling inhabitants, are all that
now constitute the modern town of Antakia.
Yet, notwithstanding all this, the vast extent of land in the
neighbourhood of Antioch which is devoted solely to the cultivation of
mulberry-trees, and the great space of still uncultivated ground which
might be devoted to a like purpose, gives ample assurance that, in the
one article of silk alone, an immense revenue might be derived, and a
very large population be maintained in easy, if not affluent,
circumstances. As matters stand at the present day, the silk produced
yields no inconsiderable revenue; but the plantations are the exclusive
property of a few independent proprietors, who, themselves reaping more
than a lion’s share, leave to the great herd of the inhabitants a paltry,
miserable pittance, which can scarcely find them the very barest
necessaries of life, although Antioch is acknowledged to be perhaps the
cheapest place in the known world.
Whilst at Antioch, we visited the water-mills now occupying the site of
the once celebrated groves of Daphne, and thence returning, took horses
and proceeded to Suedia over the selfsame ground once familiar to Paul
and Barnabas, when those two apostles, like ourselves, went down to
Seleucia to take shipping from thence. The whole space intervening
between Antioch and Suedia, a distance of nearly twenty miles, is
occupied by luxuriant mulberry plantations and orchards of delicious
fruit-trees; fruits that are peculiar to this neighbourhood having been
introduced and cultivated with great care, through a series of many
years, by a philanthropic English gentleman, who distributed cuttings and
grafts throughout the district.
At Suedia we remained two days, the guests of this hospitable gentleman,
visiting in that interval—the site where stood the pillar of Simeon
Stylites—the delightful country seats of Mr. Barker at Bitias and
Huderbey, and lastly, the splendid ruined tunnel and aqueduct, besides
other remains of the once wealthy Seleucia. This done, we hired an Arab
felucca, which, sailing out of the Orontes, and crossing the Gulf of
Antioch in the short space of seven hours, carried us over to Lattakia,
the ancient Laodicea.
Arrived at Lattakia, we became the guests of the hospitable brothers
Elias. Signor Mosi Elias is the British vice-consul at that port; and
seldom have I had the happiness of meeting with a more worthy man; but,
in fact, the whole of his family are distinguished for their great
courtesy and hospitality to all strangers. This eulogy may fairly be
extended to all the native agents established along the sea-coast of
Syria; although, unfortunately, their humble efforts are not always duly
appreciated. English gentlemen, accustomed to every comfort and luxury
that wealth can command, little imagine the expense and trouble incurred
by many of the humble Syrian agents in their efforts to afford
hospitality to British travellers. Receiving no salary, and yet
compelled to maintain a certain position to support the dignity of
office, the means in their power must necessarily be limited; but as far
as house-room goes—a bed, a dinner, breakfast, and supper, according to
their limited means; these are always cheerfully offered to the
traveller; and the poor consular agent, who has almost insuperable
difficulties to contend with, so as to enable him to impress the local
authorities with a due sense of the importance and respectability of his
office, is glad to avail himself of the opportunity of having an
Englishman as guest under his roof, to convince the neighbours and his
fellow-townsmen of his influence with the British. I have known
instances where a poor consular agent has even parted with some valuable
family relic, so as to enable him to afford a hearty welcome to some
Englishman of distinction; while, perhaps, the only return he has met
with, was to be treated with supreme contempt and derision, even to his
face; or to have his name bandied about to the world in some gaudily
bound book of travels, in which authors have seen fit to make sport of
men, who, in all probability, sacrificed a night’s rest and comfort to
contribute both towards them in a strange land.
While on this subject, I may record one instance which came to my
knowledge, and which was really too scandalous not to be made known.
A party of travellers, for I cannot style them gentlemen, five or six in
number, were travelling through Syria and Palestine, accompanied by a
retinue of servants with tents, baggage, and every luxury and comfort
that money could command. Arriving at one of the seaport towns, where
dwelt an English agent (a good old man, who was a Syrian by birth), they
pitched their tents outside of the town, and sending their insolent
dragoman to the agent, informed him that it was their intention to remain
a couple of days in that neighbourhood, and commanded him to procure them
guides to shew them over the town and its vicinity, so that they might
see all that was worth being seen. To this, the agent really assented;
and “on hospitable thoughts intent,” dressed himself for the occasion,
and, preceded by his _cawass_, went to the travellers’ tents to pay his
respects, and to offer them any little services in his power. Finding
that they required no further aid, he then told them, that although they
had placed the possibility of being useful to them beyond his reach, he
trusted that they would not wholly deprive him of the pleasure of their
company; and invited them to dine at his house at an early hour the next
day. This invitation the travellers, who had barely treated the old man
with civility, thought proper to accept, and the next day they duly made
their appearance.
Meanwhile, the poor consul, whose stock of crockery was rather scant, and
whose knives and forks mustered but a meagre show, endeavoured, by buying
or borrowing, to make things as tidy and complete as he possibly could;
but it often happens, that in such small villages as that in which the
agent resided, and where European vessels seldom resort, European
merchandise is very rare; and such a thing as a plated spoon or a knife
and fork, is not to be met with for love or money. This was precisely
the case in the instance before us; and the poor agent was put to his
wit’s end in discovering that, after every effort, his stock of knives
still fell short of the necessary complement by a knife. In this
dilemma, he was quite at a nonplus what to do; till, finally, he resolved
to throw himself upon the known courtesy of an Englishman, and explain
exactly how matters stood; begging of the guests on their arrival to let
their servants fetch from their own tents such implements for table use,
as were indispensably requisite for the accommodation of all.
No sooner, however, had the poor agent explained the state of affairs by
means of the interpreter, than the guests, one and all, fell into a
violent passion, and asked the consul how he had dared to insult them by
asking them to dinner, when he was not in a position to treat them as
became persons of their rank and distinction. Saying this, they swept
from the room in a towering passion, leaving the poor agent lost in
amazement how to account for such conduct from persons who styled
themselves English gentlemen, and overcome with shame and vexation that
his neighbours should have been witness to such an outrage.
This anecdote requires no comment. Happily such instances of gross
misconduct are of rare occurrence, but it plainly exemplifies the absurd
system followed by government in placing native agents all over Syria and
Turkey, to whom they do not afford means of maintaining a position which
ought to command respect.
The present system of native agencies is altogether a mistake; they
should be entrusted only to those who have previously had a European
education. Most of those now employed have been reared in dread of the
very name of the _local powers_, and are inefficient in cases of
controversy between subjects of two nations.
I may here be permitted to deviate a little from the subject of Lattakia
and my travels, to make a few remarks on the uses and abuses of the
protection-system, so largely practised all over Syria and Turkey.
The abuses of the system are very great; this is much to be regretted,
because in the main the arrangements existing between the Ottoman
government and European powers with regard to this particular subject,
viz., that of the privileges enjoyed by Europeans to protect a limited
number of persons actually in the service of consuls, merchants, and
others, is a very great boon to Europeans. Were it not for this
privilege, Europeans residing in Syria would find it a very difficult
matter to procure good and efficient servants at moderate wages.
In some parts of Syria, where every creature-comfort or necessary is
extremely cheap, the lower orders, who are generally of an indolent
disposition, would much prefer remaining idle for one-half of the year to
engaging in any occupation which might make it incumbent on them to go
through a certain portion of daily labour; and this they can afford to
do, as their habits are frugal, and the amount gained in one day by a
labourer, will suffice to support himself and family for three days.
This applies equally to the fellah or peasant employed in cultivation.
His portion of the silk harvest is sufficient to maintain him till the
wheat crop is gathered in, when he earns with his scythe a sufficiency to
maintain him in idleness till the olive and grape harvests arrive, and
then he is either paid in cash or allowed a certain quantity of wheat,
oil, wine, aqua vitæ, _dibis_, {92} raisins, etc., as recompense for his
labour. Of this store he lays by a sufficiency for the winter; the silk
and the surplus of the wheat, etc., he either sells or barters for other
household requisites, such as clothing, butter and charcoal. He brings
his own fuel from the mountains, and, if he be at all a careful manager,
can keep an ass or a mule of his own to carry goods and passengers to and
from the nearest towns and villages. Thus, with a very small amount of
labour, the peasant of Syria can afford to have an idle time of it, were
he not in terror of government taxes; for although the system of taxation
is fairly and justly arranged, and in reality the sums levied are small
in proportion to the income, still there are understrappers, besides
their own Christian Nazir and Sheikhs, who peculate to a large extent
under the plea of some false necessity. This induces the peasant gladly
to embrace any opportunity that may offer of entering into the service of
a Frank; for from the hour of his employment he is, to all intents and
purposes, the subject of another power; he is exempt from taxation, and
the officials durst not intrude themselves upon the privacy of his
household, under penalty of being at loggerheads with the consuls and
pashas, and possibly of being exposed to the ignominy of the bastinado.
Now the very possession of this power to protect is sufficient to raise
an Englishman much in the estimation of the Turks, and other natives of
Syria; and were this privilege used with moderation, and not abused, it
would become, as I have already stated, a boon to Europeans.
The great misfortune is that there is no existing line of distinction
which might separate the herd of Syro-European inhabitants, from those
really and virtually Europeans by birth and education. These two
distinct classes are as separated from each other as light is from
darkness, yet unfortunately possessing like powers and like privileges,
the latter class, who fill the posts of consuls, merchants, clerks,
missionaries, _doctors_, and a few tradesmen being strictly gentlemen in
their principles.
The former class consists of men, whose paternal ancestors were European,
and who scrupulously claim their rights as such. Most of them have
intermarried amongst their own peculiar class, so as to form a distinct
and new race of inhabitants in Syria. They have inherited from their
fathers in a lineal descent, their names, nationality, and wealth, and in
many instances their consular dignity. Some few have inherited the
consulates without proportionate means to support the dignity, and the
mass of this class being linked together by marriage ties, almost every
man is grandfather, uncle, cousin, nephew, father, brother, or son, or
brother-in-law to his next-door neighbour. It is with this latter class
in particular that the abuse of the protection system prevails to an
alarming extent.
There are in Syria few or none of that troublesome class of Europeans
that so infest Constantinople, Smyrna, and Alexandria. I allude to
political and other refugees: these find no occupation or encouragement
in Syria, where there are no established gambling-houses, or other dens
to which they can resort.
To be classed as a European merchant in Syria, requires no very great
outlay of capital; take, for example, the following instance:—
Messrs. A--- and Co., a wealthy English firm, established at Beyrout or
elsewhere, receive annually from three to four thousand bales of British
manufactured goods, and they ship goods to an equally large amount. They
necessarily require the services of not only household servants, but
cashiers, native writers, and warehousemen. These men are very properly
admitted to the privilege of temporarily enjoying the protection of a
British subject.
Perhaps the next-door neighbour to these gentlemen is a Mr. B--- who is
also styled a merchant, because once, or perhaps twice in a twelvemonth,
he goes through the form of receiving a solitary bale of goods; this
bale, in all probability, being sent through his hands as a blind, by
some wealthier relative, to impress the local authorities with an idea of
his wealth, and to enable him to establish his claim to rank as a
merchant. This man pretends to find occupation for as many people as the
solid English house does, and every man in his employment, and under his
protection (perhaps the cook only excepted) is a man of substance. It
would be a problem hard to solve by any uninitiated traveller or stranger
how to account for this; how this man who is notoriously poor, and whose
miserable single bale of manufactures would barely counter-balance the
expenditure of his household for a single week, can manage to support so
vast a retinue, find occupation for so many people, and keep up such an
appearance of state; but the secret lies in a nut-shell. In his case
_the master is the hireling of the servant_. His warehouseman alone (who
drives a thriving trade in the wealthiest bazaar) pays him perhaps, sixty
pounds sterling per annum, to enjoy the privilege of European protection;
so that at this rate, and as the list of protected is a long one, the
Syro-European merchant is in the receipt of an excellent income; he keeps
his horses and gives grand entertainments; but as far as conscience or
honesty goes, these are two hard words not to be met with in his
vocabulary.
This is _infamous_! But even this is a trifle in comparison to what is
done by such as are invested with authority as consuls. These have a
long list of protected, and the consular secretary, and consular
interpreter has each his own peculiar protégées; and so the number goes
on gradually downwards, until we arrive at the consular _cawass_; and
even he can boast of one or more on his list! Thus, in lieu of a consul
only protecting a _dozen or fourteen_ individuals (which is about treble
the number he is, strictly speaking, allowed), he in fact is the indirect
means of affording protection to many _scores_ of individuals; each of
whom is a dead loss to the treasury of the local government, and a
burthen to his poorer and less fortunate brethren; and this because the
exact amount of any given tax to be collected being beforehand fixed by
the government, the Nazirs and Sheikhs allot to each man of the village
his own portion; and what should have fallen on the shoulders of the
exempted or protected man, is obliged to be made good by those persons
who are subjected to the tax.
But this is not all: the subordinate officers in some of the European
Consulates are guilty of equally gross offences. The consuls are apt to
be wheedled over by the cunning dragoman or chancellor, so completely,
that at last they place a blind and implicit faith in their every word or
suggestion, and will on no consideration listen to complaints often too
justly founded against these upstart Jacks in office.
An instance of this occurred to myself; but I will, from delicacy to the
high official functionary mixed up with it, omit names of places and
persons. A native Prince was anxious to call upon one of the
authorities, but being unacquainted with the English language, he desired
me to accompany him; not but that the authority in question was furnished
with an interpreter, but simply, because the Prince wished, for privacy’s
sake, that the matter of conversation should be confined to ourselves,
without any prying ears being witness to the interview. Arriving at the
office, we were shown in; but the interpreter ushering the Prince into
one apartment, showed me into another. I was quite amazed at this
strange proceeding; but as the dragoman immediately left the room, I
could only conjecture that it was some sly trick of his own, or a wish to
be possessed of information regarding the Prince. Whichever motive it
might have been, the visit terminated without my seeing the official. On
a subsequent occasion, however, I alluded to the matter; the dragoman was
taxed with it but stoutly denied having done anything of the kind,
declaring that I of my own accord had gone into another room. I brought
the Prince’s testimony to prove how the man had slighted me; but
notwithstanding all this, that lying interpreter had gained such
influence with this high official, that our testimony was discarded, and
he was believed.
After this long digression from the subject, for which I beg the reader’s
kind forgiveness, I now resume the thread of my narrative.
The staple produce of Lattakia is wheat, silk, and tobacco; {97} of
these, the latter is considered to be the finest and most odoriferous in
the world; and the _aboo reah_, though many attempts have been made to
introduce it into other parts of Syria, will grow nowhere else save at
Jabaliy, a small seaport town about three hours to the southward of
Lattakia, and where one of the Sultans who had abdicated his throne and
withdrawn himself from the world, built a magnificent mosque, and some
other public edifices, the ruins of many of which are still to be seen,
and which render “Sultan Ibrahim,” as Jabaliy is from these circumstances
styled, an object of interest to travellers.
Whilst at Lattakia a messenger arrived with dispatches, summoning us to
Beyrout. On our arrival there, we found the combined Austrian, Turkish,
and English fleets anchored before the town, to compel the Egyptians to
evacuate Syria, and at the invitation of my friend, Ahmed Bey, I paid him
a visit on board of the Turkish Admiral’s vessel, who despatched me on a
secret mission to the mountains; whilst there I was filled with
consternation by hearing a report that Ibrahim Pasha, having obtained
intelligence of my movements, had set a price upon my head. I
immediately burnt all my papers, changed my dress, and travelled in
disguise of a beggar, expecting every moment to be recognised and
beheaded. At last I reached a village called Arrayah, near the road to
Damascus; here I had some relations, and I immediately went to them for
shelter.
After I had been there a few days, the news of it reached the governor,
and he immediately sent two _cawass_ to arrest me; but the servant of my
friend, having received information that I was being pursued, hid me in
the harem apartments, which are accessible to none but the head of the
family, a priest, or a physician; here I was secreted, and on their
arrival, they even sent in a priest to the harem to ascertain if I was
there; but the vigilance of my protectors evaded them even in this, and I
was let down from the window in a basket into the garden, from whence I
escaped to a cave close by till midnight; I then made my way back to my
relations, who told me of the close search the _cawass_ had made, and the
disappointment they experienced at not finding me.
A few days after this an English traveller passed through the place, and
understanding a little of his language, I offered my services to
accompany him to Beyrout, under the title of _turjaman_; and according to
the laws of Turkey, I no sooner joined him than I was under British
protection. By this means I reached Beyrout in safety; and finding that
the Capitan Pasha had gone to Acre, I joined the English forces, and
then, for the first time in my life, witnessed the consummate skill and
accuracy with which the troops carried on the warfare.
Nothing could have been more ingenious than the plan of attack. The
Turkish troops, arriving in steamers and vessels of war, were during the
night, with the utmost precaution, transhipped to the British vessel; and
next morning, those vessels, supposed by the forces on shore to carry
troops, were towed down by the “Geyser” and other steamers towards
Ras-Beyrout, which occasioned the whole of the Egyptian forces to
evacuate the town, and take up a strong position in that neighbourhood.
When the steamers perceived this, they altered their course and proceeded
to Dog River. Here a few Albanians had been stationed to oppose them.
These were mown down by the heavy batteries of the frigates, who landed
their troops and took unmolested possession of the place. Soon after
they were joined by Beschir Kasir, with a body of men from the mountains,
whom the English commandant supplied with arms, etc. And thus the
victory was won.
I remained with the army several weeks, and assisted in the operations
against the Egyptians; and after the conclusion of peace, accompanied an
English officer and a numerous body of attendants to Tripoli, or as we
call it, Trablous, the beautiful orange garden of the world. People talk
so much about St. Michael oranges; for my part, I have never seen any
orange in the world whose flavour and scent could equal that of Trablous;
besides which, they are so plentiful and cheap, that although all the
sea-coasts, and the interior of Syria and Palestine, and even parts of
Asia Minor, are supplied with boat-loads and camel-loads of oranges from
Tripoli, there is still abundance left to cause them to be a cheap as
well as a delicious luxury. Our duty here, as elsewhere, was to see that
the people of the place and the neighbourhood were well governed—to hear
complaints and bring them in a proper form before the local authorities,
to the end that injured parties might obtain redress—and to enquire into
and make notes of everything that occurred.
The natives had christened my friend “Abu Rish,” which being literally
translated, means “the father of a feather”; they gave him this name
because he always sported a large feather in his cocked hat, which was
seldom set aside in his journeyings. I have no doubt but that many of
the ignorant and half wild natives of some of the villages that we passed
through looked upon this hat and feathers in something the same light as
the native of the savage island regarded that of Captain Cook,
considering it to be a very strangely formed head, an abnormal
amalgamation of the cock with the man.
We were lodged at Tripoli, with the Signor Catsoflis, the British
vice-consul, at whose house we experienced much hospitality. Signor
Catsoflis and his brother, the Austrian vice-consul, are twins; and so
strong is the resemblance between them, that it is barely possible for a
stranger to distinguish the one from the other when apart. The wife of
Signor Catsoflis, the Austrian vice-consul, is the sister of Signor
Elias, the vice consul at Lattakia. I never before, or since, have set
eyes on any woman that could rival her in beauty, and her disposition was
as sweet as her face was lovely. This lady made a complaint to me on
behalf of a fellow Christian, a poor peasant from the mountains, who
accustomed to rove about free, and in such dress as his fancy dictated,
amongst his own villagers, unwittingly made his appearance in the streets
of Tripoli, dressed in a light robe of a greenish colour, which excited
the wrath and indignation of some fanatics, who, saying that none but
descendants from the prophet could be permitted to wear any colour
approaching to green, tore the garment from the poor fellow’s back, beat
and otherwise shamefully ill-treated him; this was the instance of the
complaint. “And now,” said the fair advocate, addressing herself to me,
“let me see if you and your friend are really possessed of such influence
and authority as you vaunt yourselves of, by causing the wrongs of this
poor unoffending man to be redressed.” If anything could have spurred me
to the deed, it was certainly being thus taunted by one of the handsomest
women in the world. I immediately agreed to comply with her wishes, and,
girding on my sword, took the Cawass, and proceeded direct to Yusuf
Pasha. Before going, however, I had donned a pair of Wellington boots
that a European friend had lent me; and the brilliant emerald green of
whose tops must have inspired the gaping Moslems in the streets with the
utmost envy and rage.
I entered into the presence of the governor without even announcing
myself, an abrupt proceeding which not a little disconcerted His
Excellency, who began anxiously to question me, hoping that I was the
bearer of good, not of unfavourable, news. I stated the case to the
governor, and he replied very civilly, that he regretted that it did not
come within his jurisdiction, being purely a question of creed. The
Cadi, however, being summoned to the divan, tried to shuffle out of the
matter as best he could; he said it was decidedly against the law of the
prophet, and that the aggressor merited the punishment. I asked him
whether this law was intended to bear only upon certain individuals, or
upon all. The Cadi replied, upon all; then, said I, if such be the case,
you had better take me and give me a bastinadoing, for as you see,
pointing to my boots, nothing can be a brighter green than those are;
this completely confounded the Cadi. I insisted on having the men
bastinadoed on the very spot where the outrage had been committed; the
consequence was, that after some little demur, I carried the day, and
they were punished as I had directed. This event occasioned immense
sensation amongst the inhabitants, and impressed them with a due notion
of the influence and power of the British nation, tending to keep the
more fanatical within bounds, since no rank, or grade, or riches could
protect them from punishment if they once gave offence to Europeans.
After remaining some time at Tripoli, we proceeded to visit the famous
cedars of Lebanon. There are at present eleven of these celebrated
trees, seven of which are supposed to have existed from the time of the
building of Solomon’s temple. I need scarcely inform my readers how
conspicuously these trees have figured in Scriptural metaphors. The
prophet Ezekiel speaks in glowing terms of their beauty. Again, Isaiah
seems in a remarkable manner to predict their extinction, “The rest of
the trees of this forest shall be few that a child may write them.” How
literally has this prophecy been fulfilled!
On my last visit to Syria I found the priest, to whom the charge of these
trees is committed, had planted a number of seedlings, though with what
success I have not yet heard. A church has also been built on the spot.
The Arabs believe they were planted by the hands of the Almighty himself,
and there are innumerable traditions connected with these trees, which I
hope to give an account of in a future work. One of these cedars is of
so great a diameter, that a monk actually hollowed it out and formed a
sort of room in which he took up his abode. The trunks are covered with
names of travellers, many of a very old date cut out with the knife.
From the cedars we proceeded to the wonderful ruins of Baalbec; but these
have been often described by various travellers. After a beautiful
journey of two days over verdant hills and down deep ravines, we reached
Damascus, where I was pleased beyond measure to meet my connexions and
acquaintances. At this time several European officers were travelling
over Syria in all directions on diplomatic missions. These endeavoured
to ascertain the exact capabilities of every town and village, as regards
the number of men that could bear arms; the number of cattle, horses,
etc.; the arms and quantity of ammunition, and the proportion that the
Moslem population bore to the Christians. Of these gallant officers, one
was sent to Damascus, and whilst residing there, he was very much
captivated by the beauty of the Moslem ladies. On first arriving, this
gentleman was well received by the grey-bearded authorities; but he soon
lost caste; reports and complaints were of every-day occurrence; this
white stranger would persist in making love to the Moslem ladies, and the
Moslem girls would persist in making love to him. This was a dreadful
state of affairs; but this was not all, for even the old Armenian
patriarch was roused into wrath by discovering that a timid little
Armenian girl was actually head over ears in love with the
feather-crowned stranger, or rather with his money. There was no
standing this. The people said it was a crying shame, and reported it to
the Cadi, who complained to Nedjid Pasha; and the Pasha, who was one of
the old school, and a right down Frank hater, complained to the
Commander-in-Chief of the forces at Beyrout. The Commander-in-Chief sent
several officers up to Damascus to investigate the case, which was tried
in open divan before the Pasha, who summoned such as had charges against
the gallant officer to appear before him. The charges brought against
him were twofold. First, that he had endeavoured to subvert the minds of
the people from rendering due homage to Ottoman authority, by asking them
such significant questions as, for instance, If the English or the French
were to lay siege to the country, with which of the powers would you
side? The second charge was, the heinous offence of making love to some
score of Turkish damsels, besides the Armenian lady in question. The
first charge was thrown out as frivolous, absurd, and annoying; the
second was fully proved.
I acted as turjaman Bashi to the Court of enquiry, and from the
circumstance of the gentleman being in a foreign land, I was naturally
disposed to lean rather to the side of the European. The Mahommedans
observed this, and were very spiteful against me. The result of all this
was, that the military gentleman was advised to leave Damascus; but he,
availing himself of a moonless night, put a termination to the whole
affair, by starting off for the sea-coast, carrying away with him a fair,
young widow, who had captured his heart by her dancing, and to whom he
was ultimately married; and, for aught I know to the contrary, they are
to this day a very loving and happy couple. Strange to say, neither
understood a word of each other’s language, and it would appear, from
this example, that words are not necessary where such expressive things
as eyes and flowers are brought into play.
This romantic lady, after a lapse of time, settled at Beyrout, together
with her affectionate husband; the story had preceded them to this place,
but they soon mixed in society as though nothing had happened. The
Syrians, though strictly moral, mingle humanity with their laws of
etiquette; they do not, as in England, for ever exclude from society such
as have been guilty of so trivial a peccadillo as this lady was guilty
of. They remember that all are but frail mortals and apt to err.
To me the English appear to be over severe. It is true, that in Turkey
the Moslems are entitled to four wives, and that in England a man can
only marry one; but I should like to know who is the greater delinquent,
he that avowedly and opening admits of polygamy, or that man, who, as is
often the case amongst society in England, and indeed all Europe, vowing
solemnly at the altar that “_forsaking all others he will keep only with
her_,” marries one wife, and at the same time continues to associate with
half a dozen other women? For my part, whenever I hear of an English
lady eloping, I cannot help fearing that she has been driven to it by the
inconstancy or neglect of a wicked husband.
In Damascus, at the period I am writing of, there dwelt an extraordinary
man, well known to the English who visited the place as the proprietor of
a large hotel, by the name of Sayed Ali; he also filled the office of
chancellor to the English consulate. This extraordinary character could
speak and write several languages with the utmost fluency, and no one
could fathom out what countryman he was, or what creed he professed.
With the English he was an Englishman, and none could doubt his
pronunciation. This was the case with the French; whilst the Turks,
listening in admiration to his high flow of Stamboline Turkish, and his
profound knowledge of the Koran, ranked him amongst the most devout and
most learned of their citizens. One thing only was positive with regard
to Sayed Ali, and that was, that his wife was a Moslem, the daughter of
some fanatical Sheikh. Sayed’s wife had an extremely handsome sister;
who having been seen but once, had captivated the heart of an old English
official, who at that time resided at Damascus; and this gentleman,
notwithstanding the great disparity between them in every respect, in
age, rank and creed, determined, cost what it might, to marry the girl.
Female friends were employed as go-betweens, and these so effectually
wrought upon the imagination of the fair lady, that she actually resolved
to embrace Christianity, and fly for succour to the arms of her lover.
Things had arrived at this pitch, when Sayed Ali accidentally got scent
of what was going on; he subsequently declared to me, that had it not
been for the high official position of the gentleman in question, he
certainly would have shot him; as it was, he contented himself with
calling at his sister-in-law’s house, and knocking at the door drew his
sword; the girl responding to the knock, opened the door, when the
infuriated Sayed Ali made a murderous attack upon her, and inflicted a
wound on her shoulder, a repetition of which must have proved fatal. As
this happened during the day, the noise attracted a crowd around the
house, and the girl was rescued. Rendered desperate by this, Sayed Ali
made a plunge at himself, and inflicted a wound in his abdomen of nearly
an inch deep; not, however, relishing the sensation, the monster drew out
his sword, and calling lustily for aid was forthwith carried away to his
own house. Here he was attended by the English medical officers then at
Damascus. I shortly after called to see him, and to inquire into the
cause of this murderous onslaught. In reply, he told me that his motives
were what I have already stated; he was determined that his name should
not be defamed, or his wife’s family put to shame by the act of a
thoughtless, capricious child, winding up, however, with—
“I’m glad I have not killed her, and for my part I’ll never be such a
fool again as to stab myself to please any one in Damascus.”
The doctor dressed the wounds, and both shortly afterwards recovered,
whilst the greatest delinquent in the affair suffered neither pain or
inconvenience from his gross misconduct. He is now in high office under
the government at Constantinople. This is a fair sample of the abuses
practised by many of those in authority, who in lieu of holding out a
pattern for imitation, both by example and precept, are unfortunately too
prone to indulge their own vicious propensities, setting all propriety,
honour, and justice at defiance. I do not mean to say that all incline
in the same way—that all are addicted to falling desperately in love with
every girl they meet; but this I assert, with very few exceptions, they
have their peculiar fancies, for the gratification of which they stoop to
many acts of meanness. In illustration of what I say, I may be permitted
to quote one more instance,—a case widely different from the foregoing,
and yet equally offensive to honourable minds.
“One man, a sycophant, partly to curry favour with a great man whom he
wished to oblige, partly to satisfy his avaricious propensities, delayed
a steam packet twenty-four hours beyond its fixed time of departure,
because the vessel chanced to sail upon a Saturday, and the great man in
question was a Jew; he detained the steamer till Sunday morning to
accommodate the fastidious Hebrew, and to profit by his commission on the
lordly passage money.
“Now this man is professedly a Christian, but he prefers breaking the
Christian’s sabbath to inconveniencing his friend or his pocket; but
apart from all this, we have still to calculate the losses arising from
the expenses incurred by such a vessel lying unnecessarily idle—the risk
of insurance, and the loss of time to money, cargo, and letters.” {107}
But let us turn to a more pleasing subject. In these latter days of
progression and civilisation, Damascus happily has kept pace with the
other towns in Syria; there has been a large influx of European
merchants. The Greek patriarch has, in the true spirit of civilization,
and after great exertions, established a school which will be productive
of much good.
From Damascus we went down to Sidon, visiting, _en route_, the residence
of the late Lady Hester Stanhope, at Djouni, which was even then fast
falling to decay. Lady Hester I had known personally, and although
clever and eccentric, with a head full of strange fancies, yet she had a
heart not devoid of good feeling and kind intentions. For my part, I can
always recollect, with grateful pleasure, the kind reception I met with
at her house, and if there is any thing which I consider base, it is the
conduct of her biographer (who was also her physician), and who has
abused a sacred trust to pander to the inquisitiveness of the European
world; or else to contribute to the depth and weight of his own purse,
has raked up the ashes of one, who at least towards himself, was the best
of friends and patronesses; and whether the book contains much of truth
or much of imagination, it is either a breach of confidence of the very
worst order, or a libel on the dead which there is none to controvert or
dispute.
At Sidon there, at that time, resided General Loustannau, whose life
abounded more in romantic incidents than all the novels of our most
celebrated writers. In India he had served under a native Prince with
such courage and distinction, and through so long a period of years that
he had amassed an immense fortune. He was at the time of my visit a
half-witted mendicant, one of the many objects of the late Lady Hester
Stanhope’s benevolence, and one who, like herself, was subject to many
extravagant eccentricities. The story of Loustannau is so remarkable
that I cannot refrain from quoting part of it from Mr. Kelly’s work on
Syria:
“General Loustannau was a native of Aidens, in the department of Basses
Pyrénées; his family was not wealthy, and his youthful ardour impelled
him to seek his fortune in foreign lands. Arriving at Bordeaux for the
purpose of embarking for America, he found a vessel about to sail for
India with M. de Saint Lubin, who was commissioned by Louis XVI. to
propose to the Mahrattas a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive,
against the English. Loustannau took advantage of the opportunity, gave
up his American project, and in
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