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 Bukera (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:—

“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.”