IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND.
Many of my fair friends have been exceedingly anxious for me to give them
my first impressions of England. After so long a residence in the
country, I must confess my habits have become completely Anglicised; I
have, however, the pleasure of offering them a translation of portions of
some letters written to a friend at Constantinople during my first visit
to England:—
* * * * *
“You asked me, before leaving Stamboul, to convey to you as well as I
could by letter my first impressions of England and the English. Your
Excellency can hardly conceive the difficulty of the task which you have
allotted me. However arduous the undertaking may be, I shall endeavour,
to the best of my poor abilities, to satisfy your curiosity, and fulfil
my rash promise. In our own dear village, and indeed in the most active
and bustling towns of Syria, the silence and monotony of the houses are
only occasionally broken in upon by the busy hum of human voices—the
clattering hoofs of horses and mules—the braying of donkeys, and the
merry tinkling bell of the caravan. The sweet song of the bulbul and
other summer birds, with the buzzing of the honey-bee, are the familiar
sounds to which we are from our infancy accustomed. Stately forest
trees—mountains and hills—valleys and dales—citron groves and
orchards—the bright plumage of birds and the painted wings of butterflies
are the every-day pictures, furnished by the hand of nature, and on which
alone our eyes have been content to dwell. The sound of chariot wheels
has through centuries been hushed and sunk into oblivion, together with
the fiery-spirited warriors that guided them. Such is the quiet state of
affairs in our own loved country of Syria. Now, therefore, imagine
yourself blindfolded and transported as though by magic into the very
centre of the city of London.
“Previously, however, a vast extent of ocean has to be traversed, which
is accomplished in an incredibly short space of time, during which period
much suffering from sea-sickness is to be expected, and many are
compelled to keep to their cabins, creeping only upon deck occasionally
to cheer the heart with a distant glimpse of land, as Malta and Gibraltar
have appeared to view, and as speedily vanished from sight, leaving, like
the false mirage, no trace behind. At last the shores of _Ingleterra_
are discerned. The announcement is heard with indescribable delight, for
the term of purgatory is about to expire. Well wrapped in a _burnoos_,
for, although midsummer, the air is keen, you scramble upon deck, and
being comfortably seated, take a first survey of the famed shores of
Britain. As far as the eye can stretch, the whole land appears to be
what is really the case, in a high state of cultivation. Houses and
windmills innumerable meet the view, and a vast number of smoking
minarets, which on inquiry prove to be the chimneys of countless
factories. But you are not left long to consider these matters—what is
occurring in the more immediate vicinity of the steamer rivets your
attention. Thousands of vessels of all sizes, shapes, and nations, are
moving up and down the channel. Gigantic men-of-war steamers—still
larger mail-packets, ships-of-the-line, frigates, sloops, gun-brigs,
Indiamen, schooners, barks, boats, all puffing and sailing, pitching and
rolling, and getting entangled with one another in the most alarming
manner. Frenchmen shouting and screaming to fishing-boats—Italians
stamping at pilots—Greeks throwing their red caps overboard, pulling
their hair in despair at not being able to make themselves understood.
In short, the confusion of this Babel of tongues is so great that you
stand and look on stupified and bewildered with amazement, and so
overcome with alarm and the novelty of the thing, that you have ceased to
watch the ship’s progress till the anchor is down, and you find yourself
in the custom-house surrounded by boxes and inquisitive people, whilst
thunder seems to be rolling along the streets outside.
“A kind friend passes your luggage through the custom-house and hurries
you into a cab, so imbecile and helpless have you become. If you had
eyes all around your head, they would not suffice to look at the people
and the sights in the streets. Thousands of people are pushing and
running, and shouting and walking, in every direction; hundreds of
carriages, three and four abreast, blocking up every thoroughfare. Now
come waggons and carts of every description, omnibuses innumerable, and
cabs; all these being the _arabaz_, or wheeled conveyances, varying in
size, shape and colour, the number of wheels on which they move, and the
number of horses by which they are drawn; some conveying mountains of
bale goods, others laden with beer-barrels, whilst some are exclusively
for the use of passengers. The noise created by these numerous vehicles
jolting over the hard roads is greater than the roar of the Sultan’s
artillery. What are all these people come out to see;—is your first
natural inquiry. Is there a fire, or has there been an earthquake, or
are all the suburban villages and towns pouring in their multitudes to
witness some grand spectacle? You are inclined to doubt your friend when
he tells you that this is an every-day occurrence in London; but
experience proves him to be correct. _Wallah yar effendem_. If Stamboul
were in flames, and all the Sultan’s harem burning, there could not be a
greater concourse of people than may every day be encountered, between
the hours of three and five, in one single street of London, and all the
other hundred streets are almost equally well filled. Men, women, and
children, all busy, all intent on some errand or occupation. Perhaps
few, if any, of the vast crowd you encounter have come out simply for air
and exercise. The reason for all this is, that London is a very dear
city, talent plentiful, occupation scarce, so that every one is obliged
to depend upon his own individual active exertions to enable him to
procure even a crumb of bread. _Inshallah Būkera_ (to-morrow, please
God) is a phrase wholly disregarded in England, and not to be found in an
Englishman’s vocabulary. If you were to put off till to-morrow what
might be done to-day, you would find yourself a beggar.
“The English run a race with time; and though they cannot catch and
overtake him, they keep close upon his heels. An old merchant dies at
eighty, who, from the age of eleven or twelve, has been hard at work six
days in every week from ten in the morning till four in the evening,
amassing wealth, leaving riches, a good name, and a vast inheritance
behind him. That man has made more use of his time than five hundred of
the most active of our countrymen; and there are a thousand instances of
such as these to be met with in the city.
“But whilst we have been thinking about this, the cab stops opposite to a
splendid _seraiyah_, a veritable palace. You image that this must be the
Queen’s residence, and begin to expostulate with your friend for ushering
you into the presence of royalty before you have had time to pay some
attention to your toilet; he laughs at your ignorance. Two gentlemen,
handsomely dressed and without hats, rush into the street and officiously
carry in your luggage. You are quite shocked to see the nobility thus
debased, and struggle with them to relieve them of their burden. The
friend again interferes, and you find to your amazement, that the palace
is nothing more than a large _khan_ for the accommodation of wealthy
travellers, and that the two gentlemanly-looking men are _khudâmeen_, and
that there are at least a dozen more, all in the same capacity, all as
well dressed and as good-looking. You are then ushered into a room
splendidly furnished; mirrors and chandeliers, tables and chairs,
pictures and divans, all in profusion, and the commonest article in the
room worth at least one thousand piastres. Your friend touches a spring,
a bell rings in the distance, the door opens, and a _houri_ enters. This
must be the lady of the palace; but she is young and tender as a dove,
and blushes like the rose of Damascus in acknowledging your _salams_.
Alas! even this beautiful creature is one of the _khudâmeen_, and you
sigh to hear your friend order her to bring up the scuttle of coals,
whose black dust cannot but soil her snowy and tapering fingers. It
takes you a good week to settle down into anything like peace and
comfort, or to get accustomed to the ways of the place and the hours for
eating and sleeping. It takes you a month to reconcile yourself to the
perpetual roaring and din in the streets, occasioned by the countless
vehicles passing and repassing in the streets.
“At last, however, you feel tired of being shut up alone, and ordering a
carriage, step into it, and bid the driver take you to one of the
fashionable drives. You go on at a rapid pace for a few hundred yards,
and then there is a dead halt; vexed at this, you stand up in the
carriage to endeavour to discover the cause, and then a sight meets the
view quite sufficient to paralyse a stranger. In front, as far as the
sight can reach, and behind, as far as the eye can see, as well as on
either side of you, is one dense forest of human beings, horses, donkeys,
carts, carriages, waggons, chimney-sweeps. Officers, lords and ladies,
policemen and rabble. You move slowly along as though you were in a
funeral procession, until a favourable opportunity presents itself for
the coachman to display his skill, and then he dashes at full speed
through carriages, and carts, so close together that none but his
experienced eye could ever have imagined it possible to squeeze one’s way
through uninjured. Expecting every instant to be crushed to death, you
throw yourself back in the carriage, and shut your eyes on what was too
fearful to look upon. By-and-by the easier motion of the carriage
re-assures you—you look up, you have been disentangled from the dense
crowd, and are driving along in comparative solitude through street after
street of magnificent palaces. By-and-by, you pass through a square, and
the verdure of a few trees comes like a refreshing shower to the seared
up heart, and recalls to mind the lovely home of our ancestors in
Lebanon. After awhile, we emerge from the turmoil and smoke, and dust of
the city; and lo! before you, a magnificent garden—such a one as the
Pacha of Damascus would be proud of. Real, fine, stately trees, and
plenty of grass—plots of flowers—and imitation rivers and lakes, covered
too with wild ducks, and geese, and numberless other water fowl, now
become so domesticated, however, that you see them running out of the
water at the approach of little children who carry baskets full of crumbs
to feed them with.
“Here, in roads railed off, the fashionable world drive and ride about
for a few hours every evening in the season. A carriage passes with two
_houris_ in it, whose faces leave an impression on your heart, which
latter is as susceptible as wax. Another carriage, and two still more
beautiful—a few minutes afterwards three pass at the same moment, with
such eyes that the glances from them emit brilliant sparks of love; but
there is no end to the _houris_ and no end to the heart-aches, so we bid
the driver speed home again, and close our eyes, firmly determined not to
be exposed to any fresh onslaught from these _houris_—these daughters of
the finest people in the world. Arrived at home, dinner is served in
magnificent style. The silver dishes, and the knives and forks—the
spoons, etc., would alone suffice to purchase a property in Lebanon that
would yield you or me a comfortable revenue for life; and as the thought
strikes me, I sicken at the waste and splendour whilst millions are
starving in the world; and though the dishes are excellent and rare, and
well chosen, I would willingly resign them all for one good Syrian
_pillaf_, and the pleasure of a _chibuk_, and a few minutes’ chat with
your Excellency.
“Nothing is more difficult than for a stranger to form acquaintances in
London, unless he is furnished with good letters of introduction, or
holds an official position. In the latter case, his rank at once
entitles him to the _entrée_ of a certain circle of society. Being the
guest of a nobleman or some notable man, is a passport into the society
of his list of acquaintances; and once having been introduced, your
number of friends is rapidly augmented. Thus, supposing I dine at Mr.
P---’s to-day, there, amongst others, I meet Mr. W---. This gentleman
invites me to his house, and there I find an entirely new set, who, in
their turn, again introduce me to their friends and acquaintances.
English ladies are the stars of English society. The married and elder
ladies I may term the planets; their destinies are fixed, and they are
placed in one particular position for life; but true to this theory, like
planets, they emit a steady light; their language is refined, their
manners fascinating, their bearing commanding respect, their conversation
agreeable and instructive, and their wit brilliant and full of point.
The young ladies are the satellites that revolve round these planets,
more brilliant in the pride of youth and beauty, more active, and much
gayer; their hearts would hardly counterbalance a feather. Poor doves!
affliction and the trials of life have as yet no stamp on the soft
waxwork texture of their sensitive affections; they talk and laugh, and
ride and dance with young men without the least restraint, and the voice
of calumny is never heard. How different from our poor, ignorant
countrymen! What would all the old men and women of Lebanon say, if
their daughters and granddaughters were seen taking long solitary rides
and walks with the young men? With us, in the present uncivilized state
of affairs, such liberties would be highly improper; but it is vastly
different in England and Europe, where men and women are, from early
childhood, educated with the strictest attention to morality as well as
accomplishments. Girls of fifteen have sufficient confidence in their
own strength of mind, and in the integrity and high honour of those with
whom they associate, ever to feel embarrassed in the society of young
men, though these young men be comparative strangers; they know
themselves to be ladies, and that their associates are gentlemen; and in
England these two words comprise everything that is virtuous and
honourable.
“The smallest deviation from the rigid path of religious virtue or
worldly honour is visited with the severest penalty, and the delinquent
is irrevocably lost, and for ever excluded from the pale of society.
With such a punishment hanging over their heads, apart from the natural
instinct to virtue, a _faux-pas_ is rare indeed amongst the highest
classes of society.
“Ladies are the leading features; many of them are renowned for great
literary acquirements; most are accomplished; and the highest honours are
inwardly awarded them by the opposite sex. If a lady enters a room, all
the gentlemen rise from their seats, nor will they be seated again until
she has chosen one for herself. If a lady drops a handkerchief, the men
all rush to pick it up, so as to save her the trouble of stooping; when
she speaks, all are attentive; and when she sings and plays, the whole
company are hushed into such profound silence, that you might hear a pin
drop.
“When dinner, supper, or whatever the repast may be, is announced, the
master of the house leads out the lady highest in rank present, the
others being handed out by respective gentlemen; the lady of the house
remaining till the last, when she is conducted to the refreshment-room by
the gentleman of the highest rank present. In England men and women
usually wear no covering on the head whilst in-doors, with the exception,
however, of _matrons_, who wear caps made of some elegant lace material,
and _widows_ who, according to custom, put on _weeds_ for a certain
period after the husband’s decease. _Weeds_ means a peculiar cap,
composed of white muslin, in shape both ugly and unbecoming.
Notwithstanding this, my friend Mrs. ---, who is a widow ever looks
charming and beautiful. But to return to the dinner; when it is
finished, the ladies at a given sign from the mistress of the house, rise
and leave the table. The gentlemen remain seated for about half-an-hour
longer, during which interval they sip their wine, eat fruit, and
converse. In England they offer wine and meat in abundance, but _water_
and _bread_ is but scantily supplied. No smoking is allowed within
doors, nor is it genteel to smoke in the streets—or even to smell of
smoke when you enter the society of ladies; in fact they smell it as
quickly as the gazelle does the hunter. Gentlemen who are fond of
tobacco, have regular smoking rooms, or go to their clubs to indulge in a
cigar; but the majority eschew smoking altogether. Our nation labours
under a very false impression in supposing that the English are a people
with very few ideas of religion; and in imagining that because they do
not observe fasts and festivals, and cross themselves, they are almost
worse than infidels. In no country is the Sabbath more strictly or
rigorously regarded than in England. Not only are the shops and places
of public entertainment closed on that holy day, but in some families in
England even cooking is not allowed. The churches and chapels are
literally crowded with well-dressed men and women twice a day. And there
are many families that attend Divine service once or twice a week.
Besides this, they support many splendid charitable institutions,
hospitals for the sick and maimed, poor-houses for the paupers,
foundlings for the unfortunate, and in fact, have institutions for the
relief of every description of disease and infirmity to which human
nature is subject. Nor must I omit to mention the public schools, and
colleges for children of both sexes, where thousands are clothed, housed,
fed and educated at the public expense, and where they will receive
instruction that will fit them for any sphere; besides these, there are
also innumerable private charities, and Her Majesty the Queen herself,
takes the lead in distributing large bounties annually in the cold winter
time—fuel, clothing, blankets, and many other requisites to the
friendless and needy. Nor is it only for the temporal welfare of others
that they exert themselves. Missionary establishments are supported by
voluntary contributions, and the annual revenue or income of these
institutions, consisting of millions of piastres, is expended in
supporting missionaries and schools at home and abroad. Ladies and
gentlemen who die worth immense fortunes, leaving no heirs to inherit,
bequeath the bulk of their fortunes towards the furtherance of charitable
objects.
“There are merchants in London, and in some of the other principal towns
in Great Britain, who are in possession of princely fortunes, and they
always go on augmenting their wealth by any feasible scheme for the
improvement of commerce—such as the laying on of a new line of steamers,
or the construction of railroads. Schemes that require millions of money
as a first outlay, and before any profits can be hoped to be realised,
are discussed with the utmost _sang-froid_ by the merchants _on Change_,
that is, at a large elegant building, set aside and built expressly for
merchants to congregate and transact business. If the scheme is approved
of to-day by a number of leading merchants, and the sum requisite be five
millions sterling, by this day fortnight, at latest, the money is
contributed and safely lodged in the banker’s hands. Such, _Mashallah_!
is the expeditious method adopted by English merchants, the richest
commoners of the richest kingdom in the world.
“The fashionable world of London has fashionable hours for everything.
Ladies sometimes do not get up before mid-day, and then usually breakfast
in their private apartments, and not unfrequently in bed. The afternoon
is the fashionable time for receiving visits; they dine when, in our
country, people are thinking of going to bed; and this is not all, for,
by the time that the son of Lebanon’s first refreshing siesta may be said
to be over, these people are thinking about amusing themselves for the
night. At about ten o’clock, fashionable evening parties commence. Some
people are invited to four or five of these in the same evening, and they
may perhaps go to all, remaining but a few minutes at each. Ladies and
gentlemen dance till past midnight. Bands of delightful music are
playing; the rooms are arranged like fairy land; the girls are so
beautiful, and dressed so elegantly, that the whole scene is like a
realisation of the fabulous tales of the Arabian Nights. Then there is
also the opera, where professional singers and dancers are employed; and
the magnificence with which the stage is decorated, the lights, the
music, the dancing—so airy that the girls barely touch the ground with
their toes. All is as a scene of magical enchantment, till the curtain
drops amidst thunders of applause, and you are led out by your friends in
a state of mental aberration. The next morning you awake, and look over
your last night’s expenditure, and you find a few such items as the
following:—
£ s. d. Piastres.
Grapes (ten paras’ worth in 0 10 0 = 55
Syria)
Opera-ticket 1 1 0 = 110
Supper, Cab-hire, etc. 1 11 6 = 165
---
Total 330
“Three hundred and thirty piastres for a few hours’ entertainment! Such
is but a trifling instance of the daily expenditure accruing in London,
this great mart which offers such numberless enticements to spend money;
but, on the other hand, few, if any, places in the world present greater
opportunities for amassing wealth. The very atmosphere of this great
city seems to infect its inhabitants with an insatiable desire of
becoming rich; such is, indeed, my own case, and it will be my constant
endeavour to gain such a fortune as shall entitle me to be the enviable
possessor of an English home, and become a domesticated man, and at the
same time enable me to forward the interests of my own dear country, by
contributing to the construction of hospitals, schools, etc., where my
brethren and ‘the stranger that sojourneth in the land’ may receive
relief.
“Men in this country seldom think of marrying before they are thirty or
forty years old; girls never before they are sixteen; but I must mention
one thing which will rather surprise and amuse your Excellency.
Children, especially daughters, are excluded from society until they are
thoroughly educated, and considered by their parents fit to make their
_début_. You may visit and dine continually at a house, without being
aware that there are any children under the same roof. When young, they
are kept almost exclusively in the nursery, under charge of a governess
and nursery-maids. When old enough to go to school, they are sent off to
these establishments, rarely coming home, except in cases of sickness or
for the holidays, and even then they are seldom permitted to dine at the
same table, or keep the same hours as their parents when there is
company. Fancy a Syrian mother being separated from her children for
months, and not seeing them, though easily within reach; knowing that her
sons, if disobedient or naughty, have no mercy to expect from the
schoolmaster, no sparing of the rod, or of heavy tasks either; and that
their daughters may be going supperless to bed, for some trivial offence
against the schoolmistress, whilst she, the mother, is supping
sumptuously. If you tell them that this seems unnatural and cruel, their
reply is, that they went through it themselves; but you will barely
credit what I write, when I tell you, that there are many instances where
mothers of young families, seldom see or inquire after their offspring
more than once a day, sometimes not so often; and even sometimes they go
out of town for a week or ten days, leaving these troublesome
incumbrances to the tender mercies of a nursery-maid. What would our
mothers have said, if any one had suggested to them, that it would be
best to place us under the care of servant-maids? Would they ever have
tasted food before they knew that we were served, or rested till they had
wrenched the cane from the hand of the schoolmaster, torn his beard, and
carried us away home?
“However great the Western Europeans are, they cannot, in general, be
said to possess that attachment and love which binds and links most
oriental families together. I must here mention that beards are at a sad
discount in England; moustaches hooted at, or only used by military men.
Alas! for the reverence paid to the long beards of Syria. The possessors
of such in this country would be set down as Jews; they are considered
inconvenient, unsightly, and not reckoned as contributing to cleanliness.
I knew a Frank in Syria, a hakeem, whose flowing beard was the admiration
of all beholders; his patients used to seize it and make him swear by it,
that he would do his best to cure them; and as for the damsels, happy was
she that could make him vow fidelity to her, on the strength of his
beard. Well, your Excellency, I met this hakeem in the streets of
London. I knew him not; but he recognised me and spoke to me. The cruel
razor had been at work, and his face was as smooth and beardless as the
newborn babe. I asked him what had caused him to commit such an act of
insanity, and he told me that, when he first landed, the children in the
streets hooted, pelted him, and cried out ‘Halloo Moshes!’ and so, for
quietness’ sake, he was obliged to submit his beautiful beard to the
hands of a ruthless barber. In England no one wears beards. Bishops are
beardless; Cadis are beardless; lawyers, hakeems, even the
solicitors—wonderful indeed! but what is still more wonderful and absurd
is, that these great men wear long curly wigs, which vastly resemble the
sheepskins worn by our buffoons and tale-tellers.
“Young ladies in this country are devotedly attached to handsome
uniforms; and fine uniforms are devotedly attached to handsome fortunes
as well as faces. Sometimes young officers elope with heiresses worth
millions of money, whereas the officer, perhaps, has nothing but a gay
uniform and a good-looking face and figure to shew: but in all cases,
young ladies are very fond of red and blue coats; and an officer in the
guards is irresistible. Even the beadle, that is, the _Indilaft_, is an
object of admiration to the lower classes, as he struts about in his
gold-laced cocked-hat and uniform.
“It may of a truth be said of the English, that they strive with each
other in their efforts to oblige a stranger, and heap civilities and
attentions upon him. With them it is a matter of earnest regret that any
foreign friend should find cause of complaint against any of their
countrymen. One great advantage that we Syrians possess, is the very
fact of coming from the Holy Land. Say to an Englishman, of whatever
grade, ‘I am a Syrian,’ and he will immediately know how to appreciate
your worth, and the excellence of your country; he will talk to you of
Hebron and many other towns with unabating pleasure; and the reason is,
that, from his infancy upwards, with him Syria has been a familiar
household word; as a lisping infant, he has read at his mother’s knee of
King Solomon and the cedars of Lebanon. At school, his prize-essays have
been about Jerusalem; and if, mayhap, he is a poor man, unable to write
or read, still, from the pulpit, he has long been accustomed to hear of
the great patriarch, the prophets, and the kings, of Israel, the temple
of Solomon, and other marvellous facts so intimately linked with his
creed; the scene of all which was Syria and the Holy Land. Though most
true that it is not an easy matter to cultivate the acquaintance of an
Englishman, still, when you do once become acquainted with him, and are
well known to him, then you are his friend in the true acceptance of that
term, and you continue his friend for life, whether you remain in England
or go abroad (I have found this by experience). Moreover he takes a
pride in introducing you to his own circle of acquaintances, and
endeavours, in concert with them, to promote your best interests and
welfare; he abides by you as your friend during your absence, and if
anything should reach his ears derogatory to your character, his best
energies are brought into play; he sifts the matter thoroughly, hushes
the voice of calumny, or exposes the infamy of the calumniator; and if
perchance you are guilty in his opinion of any breach of etiquette or a
misdemeanour, he weighs the matter maturely in his own mind, and is as
ready to correct and reprimand, as he is to overlook the offence, and set
it down to the score of your being a stranger, and necessarily
uninitiated in the strict etiquette of the land.
“The English do a good action solely from a wish to do good, and from no
other earthly inducement. I am now speaking of Englishmen as
individuals, for, when acting in numbers, I must confess I do not hold so
high an opinion of them. This is proved by the many companies
continually advertised and puffed up before the public, but which are
nothing more or less than a hoax to catch the unwary, invented by
unprincipled men, of which I myself have more than once been the dupe.”