The inhabitants of Syria and Palestine form a most interesting study. Their dress, their manners and customs, and their language, are all primitive. No European nation, with the exception perhaps of the Spaniards, bears the least resemblance to them. Like Spain, too, the best specimens of humanity are here found among the lower classes. The farther we go from the contaminated atmosphere of government offices, the more successful shall we be in our search after honesty, industry, and genuine patriarchal hospitality— the great, almost the only unadulterated virtue of the Arab. They are illiterate, of course, and extremely ignorant of all Frank inventions; but still there is a native dignity in their address and deportment, which will both please and astonish those who have seen the awkward vulgarity of the lower classes in some more favoured lands. Whether we enter the tent of the Bedawy or the cottage of the felláh, we are received and welcomed with an ease and courtesy that would not disgrace a palace. The modes of salutation are very formal—perhaps some would call them verbose and even tedious, One is apt to imagine, on hearing the long series of reiterated inquiries after the health, happiness, and prosperity of the visitor who drops in, and the evasive replies given, that there is surely some hidden grief, some secret malady, which his politeness would fain conceal, but which the heartfelt sympathy of the host constrains him to search into. It is disappointing to discover, as every one will in time discover, that this is all form; and that the “thousand and one” keif keifaks? and keif khátéraks? and keif hál súhhétaks? and inshallah mabsúts? and the equally numerous, but not very satisfactory responses of, Ullah yusallémak, Ullah yusallem khatérak, Ullah yahfúzak, Ullah yutawwel ’umrak—are all phrases which mean nothing, so far as the feelings of those who use them are concerned. Still there is something pleasing in these inquiries, compliments, and good wishes, empty though they be. The gestures used in salutation are also graceful, if a little complicated. The touching of the heart, the lips, and the forehead with the right hand, seems to say that each one thus saluted is cherished in the heart, praised with the lips, and esteemed with the intellect. When peculiar deference and respect are intended to be shown, the right hand is first lowered almost to the ground, as a proof that the individual would honour your very feet, or the soil you tread. A still greater deference is implied in kissing the hand; and the greatest of all is kissing the feet. These latter, however, it is just as dignified for travellers firmly, but courteously, to resist. Another remark may be made on a curious custom which universally prevails in Syria. An Arab when eating, whether in the house or by the wayside, however poor and scanty may be his fare, never neglects to invite the visitor, or passing wayfarer, to join him. And this is not always an empty compliment; indeed there are few Arabs who will not feel honoured by the traveller’s tasting their humble fare. The invitation, however, is generally declined by a set courteous phrase. The word of invitation is invariably tefuddhel, the multifarious meaning of which I can only interpret by the Italian favorisca. The complimentary declinature is, Ullah yezíd fudhlak, "May God increase your bounty.” In passing his house, too, in company with a stranger, the Arab will always invite him in, by the same tefuddhel; and in presenting coffee, sherbet, fruit, or any other delicacy, the same word is used—in fact, with the exception of bakhshísh, it is the most common and expressive word in the Arabic language.
In making purchases from an Arab, his politeness is almost amazing. When the price is asked, he replies, “Whatever you please, my lord.” When pressed for a more definite answer, he says, “Take it without money.” One cannot but remember, under such circumstances, Abraham’s treaty with the sons of Heth for the cave of Machpelah (Gen. xxili.). Our feelings of romance, however, are somewhat damped when we find that the price ultimately demanded is four or five times the value of the article. An Arab always tells you that his house is yours, his property is yours, he himself is your slave; that he loves you with all his heart, would defend you with his life, &c. &c. This all sounds very pretty, but it will be just as well not to rely too much on it for fear of disappointment. Nothing, however, is lost by politeness; and so one may seem to believe all that is said, and even utter an occasional Ullah yutawwel’umrak ya sídy, "May God prolong your life, O my lord!” by way of showing gratitude. The Arabs are most profuse in the use of titles. Every beggar will address his fellow with “O my lord,” ya sídy (pronounced seedy), or "Your excellency,” jénábak; while the traveller is generally saadatak, “Your highness.” It has been too often the practice of Englishmen to “manage” their Arab servants and muleteers by bullying and browbeating; but this is a great mistake. Insolent dragomen generally resort to such practices to sustain their temporary tyranny. I need not say that such conduct is beneath the dignity of an English gentleman. Unvarying courtesy, accompanied with as unvarying firmness, will gain the desired object far more effectually. This is especially the case with the Bedawin, who can often be persuaded by a kind word when they could not be driven by a rod of iron. At the same time, any approach to undue familiarity should be immediately checked; the permission of such familiarity will be attributed by the Arab to weakness of character, perhaps in some cases to fear, of which he will not be slow to take advantage when occasion offers. To know one’s place and keep it, and to know one’s rights and insist on obtaining them, are all-important qualifications in Syria as elsewhere.
The only exception to the general politeness of the Arabs (by which name I call all the people of Syria) is to be found in some bigoted Muslems of the old school (generally confined to the great cities), who have for long centuries confounded the words káfer, kelb, and Nusrány—"infidel,” “dog,”: and “Christian;” and have, consequently, treated them all with the same contempt. The best way to deal with such people is to take no notice of them. They generally satisfy their dignity by muttering a curse, which can do no harm. Travellers should be cautious, in addressing Muslems, not to offend their prejudices. For example—the salutation, Salámu ’aletkum, "Peace be upon you,” should never be used by a Christian in saluting a Muslem: it is the distinguishing salutation of the “faithful,” who alone claim the right of invoking peace on others. For the káfer to invoke peace on the “believer” is an insult; so at least the Muslems argue, and it is useless to contradict them. A polite Christian, even when a Muslem honours him with the above salutation, will not return the otherwise uniform answer, Aleikum es-saldám, “‘Upon you be peace;” but will employ some other phrase, so as to avoid even the semblance of offence. By keeping in mind these few remarks, and setting them down as the peculiarities of the country, which strangers will observe if they would not be thought vulgar and ignorant, the traveller or occasional resident may smooth his way and secure respect.
The modern inhabitants of Syria and Palestine are a mixed race, made up of the descendants of the ancient Syrians who occupied the country in the early days of Christianity, and of the Arabians who came in with the armies of the khálifs and settled in the cities and villages. The number of the latter being comparatively small, the mixture of blood did not visibly change the type of the ancient people. This may be seen by a comparison of the Christians with the Mohammedans—the former are undoubtedly of pure Syrian descent, while the latter are more or less mixed ; and yet there is no visible distinction between the two classes save what dress makes. Every one, however, can at a glance distinguish the Jew, the Turk, or the Armenian, each of whom is of a different race.
The whole inhabitants may be best considered as “ Religious Sects.” It is religion which has made most of the real distinctions that are found to exist among them, though difference of climate and mode of life have also had their effect on dress and minor matters. The mountaineer, for example, has his bag-trousers of immense capacity, his stiff embroidered jacket, and his trim turban ; while the Bedawy of the desert is sans-culottes, and his raiment consists of a loose calico shirt, over which is occasionally thrown the abba, and on his head is the kufíyeh bound with a twisted rope of camel’s hair. The city gentleman struts about in his flowing robes, yellow slippers, red over-shoes, and turban of spotless white or embroidered Indian muslin; while the felláh of the Anti-Lebanon hills or Damascus plain looks more active in his gay-coloured spencer and short Turkish trousers. The inhabitants of some of the villages of Palestine, and of the plains of Hamah, seem to carry most of their wardrobe on their heads, for the enormous turban is out of all proportion to the scanty shreds that cling round the body.
I shall now glance at the several religious sects, &c.
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One thing will not fail to strike the observant Englishman in Syria, and that is, that patriotism is unknown. There is not a man in the country, whether Turk or Arab, Mohammedan or Christian, who would give a para to save the empire from ruin; that is, if he be not in government pay, in which case of course his salary and the empire would go together. The patriotism of the Syrian is confined to the four walls of his own house; anything beyond them does not concern him—selfishness reigns supreme. The consequence is, that there is not a road in the whole country; the streets of the great cities and villages are in winter all but impassable, and in summer reeking with the stench of dead dogs and cats and other abominations. Dogs are the only scavengers; anything which is too corrupt or filthy for them to eat, rots where it lies. It sometimes happens that a roué pasha takes a pious fit, and spends a tithe of his ill-got gains in building a bridge or adorning a mosk, to smooth his way to paradise; but the moment the work is finished the process of dilapidation begins, and nobody ever dreams of repairs. One would imagine, in traversing Syria, that the whole country had recently been shaken to its centre by some fearful earthquake, there are so many broken bridges, ruinous mosks, and roofless caravansaries. It is emphatically a land of ruins, and ruins are increasing in number every year.