Sketches and Travels in London

by William Makepeace Thackeray

peaceful in the rosy sunshine: green islands dip here and there in

  its waters: purple mountains swell circling round it; and towards

  them, rising from the bay, stretches a rich green plain, fruitful

  with herbs and various foliage, in the midst of which the white

  houses twinkle. I can see a little minaret, and some spreading

  palm-trees; but, beyond these, the description would answer as well

  for Bantry Bay as for Makri. You could write so far, nay, much

  more particularly and grandly, without seeing the place at all, and

  after reading Beaufort's "Caramania," which gives you not the least

  notion of it.

  Suppose the great Hydrographer of the Admiralty himself can't

  describe it, who surveyed the place; suppose Mr. Fellowes, who

  discovered it afterwards--suppose, I say, Sir John Fellowes, Knt.,

  can't do it (and I defy any man of imagination to got an impression

  of Telmessus from his book)--can you, vain man, hope to try? The

  effect of the artist, as I take it, ought to be, to produce upon

  his hearer's mind, by his art, an effect something similar to that

  produced on his own by the sight of the natural object. Only

  music, or the best poetry, can do this. Keats's "Ode to the

  Grecian Urn" is the best description I know of that sweet old

  silent ruin of Telmessus. After you have once seen it, the

  remembrance remains with you, like a tune from Mozart, which he

  seems to have caught out of heaven, and which rings sweet harmony

  in your ears for ever after! It's a benefit for all after life!

  You have but to shut your eyes, and think, and recall it, and the

  delightful vision comes smiling back, to your order!--the divine

  air--the delicious little pageant, which nature set before you on

  this lucky day.

  Here is the entry made in the note-book on the eventful day:- "In

  the morning steamed into the bay of Glaucus--landed at Makri--

  cheerful old desolate village--theatre by the beautiful sea-shore--

  great fertility, oleanders--a palm-tree in the midst of the

  village, spreading out like a Sultan's aigrette--sculptured

  caverns, or tombs, up the mountain--camels over the bridge."

  Perhaps it is best for a man of fancy to make his own landscape out

  of these materials: to group the couched camels under the plane-

  trees; the little crowd of wandering ragged heathens come down to

  the calm water, to behold the nearing steamer; to fancy a mountain,

  in the sides of which some scores of tombs are rudely carved;

  pillars and porticos, and Doric entablatures. But it is of the

  little theatre that he must make the most beautiful picture--a

  charming little place of festival, lying out on the shore, and

  looking over the sweet bay and the swelling purple islands. No

  theatre-goer ever looked out on a fairer scene. It encourages

  poetry, idleness, delicious sensual reverie. O Jones! friend of my

  heart! would you not like to be a white-robed Greek, lolling

  languidly, on the cool benches here, and pouring compliments (in

  the Ionic dialect) into the rosy ears of Neaera? Instead of Jones,

  your name should be Ionides; instead of a silk hat, you should wear

  a chaplet of roses in your hair: you would not listen to the

  choruses they were singing on the stage, for the voice of the fair

  one would be whispering a rendezvous for the mesonuktiais horais,

  and my Ionides would have no ear for aught beside. Yonder, in the

  mountain, they would carve a Doric cave temple, to receive your urn

  when all was done; and you would be accompanied thither by a dirge

  of the surviving Ionidae. The caves of the dead are empty now,

  however, and their place knows them not any more among the festal

  haunts of the living. But, by way of supplying the choric melodies

  sung here in old time, one of our companions mounted on the scene

  and spouted,

  "My name is Norval."

  On the same day we lay to for a while at another ruined theatre,

  that of Antiphilos. The Oxford men, fresh with recollections of

  the little-go, bounded away up the hill on which it lies to the

  ruin, measured the steps of the theatre, and calculated the width

  of the scene; while others, less active, watched them with

  telescopes from the ship's sides, as they plunged in and out of the

  stones and hollows.

  Two days after the scene was quite changed. We were out of sight

  of the classical country, and lay in St. George's Bay, behind a

  huge mountain, upon which St. George fought the dragon, and rescued

  the lovely Lady Sabra, the King of Babylon's daughter. The Turkish

  fleet was lying about us, commanded by that Halil Pasha whose two

  children the two last Sultans murdered. The crimson flag, with the

  star and crescent, floated at the stern of his ship. Our

  diplomatist put on his uniform and cordons, and paid his Excellency

  a visit. He spoke in rapture, when he returned, of the beauty and

  order of the ship, and the urbanity of the infidel Admiral. He

  sent us bottles of ancient Cyprus wine to drink: and the captain

  of Her Majesty's ship "Trump," alongside which we were lying,

  confirmed that good opinion of the Capitan Pasha which the

  reception of the above present led us to entertain, by relating

  many instances of his friendliness and hospitalities. Captain G-

  said the Turkish ships were as well manned, as well kept, and as

  well manoeuvred, as any vessels in any service; and intimated a

  desire to command a Turkish seventy-four, and a perfect willingness

  to fight her against a French ship of the same size. But I

  heartily trust he will neither embrace the Mahometan opinions, nor

  be called upon to engage any seventy-four whatever. If he do, let

  us hope he will have his own men to fight with. If the crew of the

  "Trump" were all like the crew of the captain's boat, they need

  fear no two hundred and fifty men out of any country, with any

  Joinville at their head. We were carried on shore by this boat.

  For two years, during which the "Trump" had been lying off Beyrout,

  none of the men but these eight had ever set foot on shore.

  Mustn't it be a happy life? We were landed at the busy quay of

  Beyrout, flanked by the castle that the fighting old commodore half

  battered down.

  Along the Beyrout quays civilisation flourishes under the flags of

  the consuls, which are streaming out over the yellow buildings in

  the clear air. Hither she brings from England her produce of

  marine-stores and woollens, her crockeries, her portable soups, and

  her bitter ale. Hither she has brought politeness, and the last

  modes from Paris. They were exhibited in the person of a pretty

  lady, superintending the great French store, and who, seeing a

  stranger sketching on the quay, sent forward a man with a chair to

  accommodate that artist, and greeted him with a bow and a smile,

  such as only can be found in France. Then she fell to talking with

  a young French officer with a beard, who was greatly smitten with

  her. They were making love just as they do on the Boulevard. An

  Arab porter left his bales, and the camel h
e was unloading, to come

  and look at the sketch. Two stumpy flat-faced Turkish soldiers, in

  red caps and white undresses, peered over the paper. A noble

  little Lebanonian girl, with a deep yellow face, and curly dun-

  coloured hair, and a blue tattooed chin, and for all clothing a

  little ragged shift of blue cloth, stood by like a little statue,

  holding her urn, and stared with wondering brown eyes. How

  magnificently blue the water was!--how bright the flags and

  buildings as they shone above it, and the lines of the rigging

  tossing in the bay! The white crests of the blue waves jumped and

  sparkled like quicksilver; the shadows were as broad and cool as

  the lights were brilliant and rosy; the battered old towers of the

  commodore looked quite cheerful in the delicious atmosphere; and

  the mountains beyond were of an amethyst colour. The French

  officer and the lady went on chattering quite happily about love,

  the last new bonnet, or the battle of Isly, or the "Juif Errant."

  How neatly her gown and sleeves fitted her pretty little person!

  We had not seen a woman for a month, except honest Mrs. Flanigan,

  the stewardess, and the ladies of our party, and the tips of the

  noses of the Constantinople beauties as they passed by leering from

  their yakmacs, waddling and plapping in their odious yellow

  papooshes.

  And this day is to be marked with a second white stone, for having

  given the lucky writer of the present, occasion to behold a second

  beauty. This was a native Syrian damsel, who bore the sweet name

  of Mariam. So it was she stood as two of us (I mention the number

  for fear of scandal) took her picture.

  So it was that the good-natured black cook looked behind her young

  mistress, with a benevolent grin, that only the admirable Leslie

  could paint.

  Mariam was the sister of the young guide whom we hired to show us

  through the town, and to let us be cheated in the purchase of gilt

  scarfs and handkerchiefs, which strangers think proper to buy. And

  before the following authentic drawing could be made, many were the

  stratagems the wily artists were obliged to employ, to subdue the

  shyness of the little Mariam. In the first place, she would stand

  behind the door (from which in the darkness her beautiful black

  eyes gleamed out like penny tapers); nor could the entreaties of

  her brother and mamma bring her from that hiding-place. In order

  to conciliate the latter, we began by making a picture of her too--

  that is, not of her, who was an enormous old fat woman in yellow,

  quivering all over with strings of pearls, and necklaces of

  sequins, and other ornaments, the which descended from her neck,

  and down her ample stomacher: we did not depict that big old

  woman, who would have been frightened at an accurate representation

  of her own enormity; but an ideal being, all grace and beauty,

  dressed in her costume, and still simpering before me in my sketch-

  book like a lady in a book of fashions.

  This portrait was shown to the old woman, who handed it over to the

  black cook, who, grinning, carried it to little Mariam--and the

  result was, that the young creature stepped forward, and submitted;

  and has come over to Europe as you see. {2}

  A very snug and happy family did this of Mariam's appear to be. If

  you could judge by all the laughter and giggling, by the splendour

  of the women's attire, by the neatness of the little house,

  prettily decorated with arabesque paintings, neat mats, and gay

  carpets, they were a family well to do in the Beyrout world, and

  lived with as much comfort as any Europeans. They had one book;

  and, on the wall of the principal apartment, a black picture of the

  Virgin, whose name is borne by pretty Mariam.

  The camels and the soldiers, the bazaars and khans, the fountains

  and awnings, which chequer, with such delightful variety of light

  and shade, the alleys and markets of an Oriental town, are to be

  seen in Beyrout in perfection; and an artist might here employ

  himself for months with advantage and pleasure. A new costume was

  here added to the motley and picturesque assembly of dresses. This

  was the dress of the blue-veiled women from the Lebanon, stalking

  solemnly through the markets, with huge horns, near a yard high, on

  their foreheads. For thousands of years, since the time the Hebrew

  prophets wrote, these horns have so been exalted in the Lebanon.

  At night Captain Lewis gave a splendid ball and supper to the

  "Trump." We had the "Trump's" band to perform the music; and a

  grand sight it was to see the captain himself enthusiastically

  leading on the drum. Blue lights and rockets were burned from the

  yards of our ship; which festive signals were answered presently

  from the "Trump," and from another English vessel in the harbour.

  They must have struck the Capitan Pasha with wonder, for he sent

  his secretary on board of us to inquire what the fireworks meant.

  And the worthy Turk had scarcely put his foot on the deck, when he

  found himself seized round the waist by one of the "Trump's"

  officers, and whirling round the deck in a waltz, to his own

  amazement, and the huge delight of the company. His face of wonder

  and gravity, as he went on twirling, could not have been exceeded

  by that of a dancing dervish at Scutari; and the manner in which he

  managed to enjamber the waltz excited universal applause.

  I forgot whether he accommodated himself to European ways so much

  further as to drink champagne at supper-time; to say that he did

  would be telling tales out of school, and might interfere with the

  future advancement of that jolly dancing Turk.

  We made acquaintance with another of the Sultan's subjects, who, I

  fear, will have occasion to doubt of the honour of the English

  nation, after the foul treachery with which he was treated.

  Among the occupiers of the little bazaar matchboxes, vendors of

  embroidered handkerchiefs and other articles of showy Eastern

  haberdashery, was a good-looking neat young fellow, who spoke

  English very fluently, and was particularly attentive to all the

  passengers on board our ship. This gentleman was not only a

  pocket-handkerchief merchant in the bazaar, but earned a further

  livelihood by letting out mules and donkeys; and he kept a small

  lodging-house, or inn, for travellers, as we were informed.

  No wonder he spoke good English, and was exceedingly polite and

  well-bred; for the worthy man had passed some time in England, and

  in the best society too. That humble haberdasher at Beyrout had

  been a lion here, at the very best houses of the great people, and

  had actually made his appearance at Windsor, where he was received

  as a Syrian Prince, and treated with great hospitality by Royalty

  itself.

  I don't know what waggish propensity moved one of the officers of

  the "Trump" to say that there was an equerry of His Royal Highness

  the Prince on board, and to point me out as the dignified personage

  in question. So the Syrian Prince was introduced to the R
oyal

  equerry, and a great many compliments passed between us. I even

  had the audacity to state that on my very last interview with my

  Royal master, His Royal Highness had said, "Colonel Titmarsh, when

  you go to Beyrout, you will make special inquiries regarding my

  interesting friend Cogia Hassan."

  Poor Cogia Hassan (I forget whether that was his name, but it is as

  good as another) was overpowered with this Royal message; and we

  had an intimate conversation together, at which the waggish officer

  of the "Trump" assisted with the greatest glee.

  But see the consequences of deceit! The next day, as we were

  getting under way, who should come on board but my friend the

  Syrian Prince, most eager for a last interview with the Windsor

  equerry; and he begged me to carry his protestations of unalterable

  fidelity to the gracious consort of Her Majesty. Nor was this all.

  Cogia Hassan actually produced a great box of sweetmeats, of which

  he begged my Excellency to accept, and a little figure of a doll

  dressed in the costume of Lebanon. Then the punishment of

  imposture began to be felt severely by me. How to accept the poor

  devil's sweetmeats? How to refuse them? And as we know that one

  fib leads to another, so I was obliged to support the first

  falsehood by another; and putting on a dignified air--"Cogia

  Hassan," says I, "I am surprised you don't know the habits of the

  British Court better, and are not aware that our gracious master

  solemnly forbids his servants to accept any sort of backsheesh upon

  our travels."

  So Prince Cogia Hassan went over the side with his chest of

  sweetmeats, but insisted on leaving the doll, which may be worth

  twopence-halfpenny; of which, and of the costume of the women of

  Lebanon, the following is an accurate likeness:-

  CHAPTER XI: A DAY AND NIGHT IN SYRIA

  When, after being for five whole weeks at sea, with a general

  belief that at the end of a few days the marine malady leaves you

  for good, you find that a brisk wind and a heavy rolling swell

  create exactly the same inward effects which they occasioned at the

  very commencement of the voyage--you begin to fancy that you are

  unfairly dealt with: and I, for my part, had thought of

  complaining to the Company of this atrocious violation of the rules

  of their prospectus; but we were perpetually coming to anchor in

  various ports, at which intervals of peace and good-humour were

  restored to us.

  On the 3rd of October our cable rushed with a huge rattle into the

  blue sea before Jaffa, at a distance of considerably more than a

  mile off the town, which lay before us very clear, with the flags

  of the consuls flaring in the bright sky and making a cheerful and

  hospitable show. The houses a great heap of sun-baked stones,

  surmounted here and there by minarets and countless little

  whitewashed domes; a few date-trees spread out their fan-like heads

  over these dull-looking buildings; long sands stretched away on

  either side, with low purple hills behind them; we could see specks

  of camels crawling over these yellow plains; and those persons who

  were about to land had the leisure to behold the sea-spray flashing

  over the sands, and over a heap of black rocks which lie before the

  entry to the town. The swell is very great, the passage between

  the rocks narrow, and the danger sometimes considerable. So the

  guide began to entertain the ladies and other passengers in the

  huge country boat which brought us from the steamer with an

  agreeable story of a lieutenant and eight seamen of one of Her

  Majesty's ships, who were upset, dashed to pieces, and drowned upon

  these rocks, through which two men and two boys, with a very

  moderate portion of clothing, each standing and pulling half an

  oar--there were but two oars between them, and another by way of

  rudder--were endeavouring to guide us.

  When the danger of the rocks and surf was passed, came another

  danger of the hideous brutes in brown skins and the briefest