CHAPTER XX.

THE OCCUPATIONS OF THE PEOPLE.

It is early in spring. The snow that last week lay ancle deep in the plains and valleys of Mount Lebanon, has rapidly dissolved under the genial heat of the April sun. Storms that wildly raged along the sea-girt coast, outriders of Æolus, as he swept by in his hurricane-car, drawn by equinoctial gales; these have been lulled into repose, and the turbulent billows of the deep have forgotten their rough playmate, and are hushed into tranquility. The winter garb of the forest is fast being set aside; the waters of the river flow pleasantly in the warm glow of sunshine; feathered songsters are tuning up against the great spring jubilee; the linnet and the bulbul now call to mind snatches of sweet carols many months forgotten; nature awakes to the bright morning of the year; with light heart the bee sucks from early opening flowers; with the passing song, the peasant trudges forward to his daily labour; oxen are yoked to the plough; the earth—softened with excessive moisture—yields readily to the deep furrows made by the friendly implement; long hidden seeds are turned up to the light of day, and brought forth from nature’s storehouse to supply the wants of the hungry feathered multitude; grass springs up almost perceptibly beneath our feet; the swallow has returned from his distant journeyings, and brought with him a retinue of gaily dressed butterflies. The sun grows warmer from day to day; the sky remains clear and cloudless; the first week of April has fled on the rapid wings of time, and we are fairly launched into all the delights of an incomparable Syrian spring—hie we forth early on the morrow to breathe the pure untainted air—to revel in the sweet odours wafted around us from countless flowers—to watch the master-touch of that great and beneficent Creator, who has left no work unfinished. Manifold indeed are His works, and in wisdom has He made them all.

The morrow has come, we are up and abroad before the sun has cast his first mantle of light over the pleasant waters of the deep blue sea. We saunter into one of the many white mulberry plantations that surround us on every side, and observe that the leafless boughs are only just putting forth their tender spring buds: yet there is an unusual commotion amongst the rearers of the silkworm—whole families, men, women, and children, are variously employed; the earth round the roots of the mulberry trees is being hoed up; some are planting young shoots, others busy in the kitchen gardens; whilst, to the European eye, a few appear as though engaged in a mysterious occupation. They seem as if their arms were an inconvenience to them, or, as though they were all afflicted with boils or eruptions under their arms, which preclude the possibility of using them without intense pain and difficulty. The singular attitude of these people, as they move about like so many brood-hens with anxiously expanded wings, once attracted the attention of an English medical officer, who assured me, with great alarm depicted in his countenance, that tumours under the arm-pits are certain indications of the plague, and he immediately recommended our instant departure from the neighbourhood; whilst uncertain what course to pursue, one of the men thrust his hand into his bosom, and extracted the immediate cause of my friend’s alarm; this proved to be a small bag of silk-worm eggs, and as this remainder of his stock has been late in hatching, the peasant resorted to artificial means, and the heat of his body is usually productive of beneficial effects. However, in some parts of Syria the eggs are deposited in moderately warm rooms, which speedily bring forth the embryo worm. Wonderful to say, these eggs, which have been suspended in linen bags throughout the whole year; during the heat of summer, the mild autumn, and the cold of winter—on which temperature has produced no effect—now that the right season has arrived, issue forth from the diminutive eggs, just as the mulberry first puts forth its delicate foliage, so well adapted to the weak state of the _microscopic worm_. Insects now creep round the bag that had confined them as eggs, and the peasant, who has been anxiously watching them for the last week, welcomes their appearance with infinite satisfaction, as sure harbingers of spring; and, as on the produce of the silk season the fellah and his family depend, in a great measure, for their maintenance, the different processes are watched by them with great anxiety. Now let us attend from day to day, and watch the progress of these tiny millions as they advance in growth, and finally spin round themselves that marvellous small store-house of silk, commonly designated as the cocoon.

The first steps taken by the peasants after the eggs are hatched, is to place some of the minute worms in the centre of small circular baskets, which have been carefully cemented over with cow-dung, and left in a sunny spot till completely dry; this precaution is indispensable, because the worms are so diminutive that, however closely wrought may be the workmanship of the basket, they would inevitably fall through, and be destroyed or lost. The reason also for having the cow-dung is, that the cow is held in great esteem amongst most Oriental silk-worm breeders; and a superstitious idea prevails, that this animal has a sacred charm, and they therefore imagine that by covering the baskets with cow-dung, it will have some power over the worms. In this primitive condition, a handful of the tender leaves of the mulberry is plucked, and cut up similarly to tobacco, and then sprinkled over the young brood. This process is repeated twice daily, and suffices for the food of numerous caterpillars during the first days of their existence. Their growth is very rapid, and their appetite ravenous; and though tended each day with the utmost solicitude, it is by no means certain that one-half of the immense numbers contained in these baskets will arrive at perfection. Hundreds are trodden to death by their companions; scores of brave young worms perish beneath the weight of some slender mulberry twig, the size of which, though small indeed, is, in comparison to them, like a huge tree; besides these calamities, the worms are entirely at the mercy of the weather. In some parts of Syria, nature takes a freak into her head, and in the midst of sunshine and warmth, down comes a tremendous hail-stone shower or snow storm—then farewell to the worms and the poor peasant’s prospects; his only chance is, to send immediately to the mountain plantations, whose colder climate has retarded the hatching of the egg, and here, at great expense, purchase a second supply of “silk-worm seed” (as it is technically called by us), and then the crop is entirely artificial, for the leaves have attained too coarse a texture, and the peasant is compelled to chop them up into minute particles, before he durst administer them to the feeble and delicate insects. There are two other enemies from which the insect has to be guarded: during its first week’s growth, it is extremely liable to be beset by red ants; and during the spinning, or last week of its existence as a worm, the swallow and the sparrow think it a delicacy wherewith to feed their newly-hatched progeny; and great havoc is sometimes committed by these swift-winged depredators. Yet, notwithstanding all these drawbacks, so careful are the peasants, that every precaution has been taken long before the season arrives, to guard against any and all of these foes; and it may be accurately observed, that bad crops and unlucky seasons are the exceptions to a general rule. One year with another, he generally obtains, within a few drachmas, the quantity of silk he has reckoned upon, and he is usually pretty sure as to the amount of money he hopes to gain, as this has most commonly been agreed upon many months past, and the peasant has already received some portion of the fixed valuation in advance.

The first week of our watching has expired; the worms have increased. These little creatures, which occupied but a very small spot in the centre of the baskets, have now become so bulky, that they can no longer find space sufficient to crawl about without destruction to each other; consequently they have now to be removed to the _hoosse_, or cottages, erected purposely for their rearing, and they are no sooner placed here than the laborious part of the peasant’s business commences. Heretofore his wife and children have chiefly occupied themselves in supplying the frugal wants of the colony of young insects, and they had nothing else to do but to strip the smaller branches and twigs of the tender leaves; now, however, the worms, which are growing and thriving, require five times as much attention and food as before, consequently, the good man of the house and his son (if he has one), take the responsibility upon their shoulders the moment the worms become inmates of the _hoosse_, where they are generally installed with much ceremony; the priest repeats a benediction, and sprinkles holy water where the worms are to be placed.

We will follow the silk cultivator and his family, as they carry the small baskets containing the worms into the _hoosse_, which is a large hut with a peat roof; the walls are composed of reeds, platted liked mats, with small partitions on every side. The building, which has been newly done up, is daily inspected, to prevent birds from taking up their abode amongst the straw and rushes of which it is composed; the interior of the _hoosse_ is fitted up with shelves, formed with canes, on which are laid closely-worked long and narrow mats, woven of reeds. These extend round three sides of the nurseries, and are placed one above another, with an intervening space between each shelf of about twenty inches. On these mats a thick layer of mulberry leaves is laid among the insects; the baskets containing the worms are moved carefully on the mats, instinct leading them to the freshest leaves; meanwhile, the peasant and his family are busily repeating prayers for a blessing on their undertakings, at the same time mixing the grossest and most absurd superstitions with their simple prayers. Pieces of red cloth rags, or other dazzling colours, together with a shell of a hen’s egg, ornamented with a red silk tassel and blue beads, are attached to the poles that support the hoosse, and every other imaginable part of the building where they are likely to meet the eye and attract attention. This is to divert the stranger from allowing his thoughts to be wholly occupied with the worms, or from gazing on them uninterruptedly: such an offence would be sure to be productive of the “_evil eye_.” Indeed so great is the superstition of these poor ignorant peasants, and their dread of the baneful influence of this imaginary being, that they seldom have a child, cattle, or possess cocks and hens, or even trees upon which they place any value, without affixing to them a bunch of coloured rags, with a blue ring made of common glass, for say they, “those that have such things will be influenced by the venom of envy; and the venom of envy shooting out of the eyes will blight the object of our desire, as lightning blasts the tree.” So much for this absurd and ridiculous notion. Another formula gone through, is the tying small skeins of last year’s silk in various positions over the silkworms; this is to excite them to industry, and to shame such as are slothful, by shewing them the remnants of the riches and skill of their ancestors.

We have seen the silkworms duly installed in the hoosse, and retire to the music of their active mastication of the leaves, to return again on the morrow and see how things thrive.

To the surprise of my European friend, on entering the hoosse on the morrow, he found all solemn silence; on examining the shelves, he thought that the worms were all dead and gone. While he was regretting the heavy loss which would fall upon the cultivators, I smiled at his ignorance, and assured him that the worms were never more healthy than at the present moment, (the peasant adding in a whisper), “_they are all good_ _Christians of the Greek faith_, _and are keeping a three days’ rigid fast_.” And this is firmly believed by him and his family, and is the prevalent notion in Syria. At such periods as the present, when the worms are in a state of torpor, owing to their rapid growth, they are compelled at certain intervals to disembarrass themselves of the tight old skin, which being too small gradually bursts, and a fresh skin is formed, suitable to the increased size of the insect. At such periods the natives, from the highest to the lowest, priests and laymen, acknowledge the worms to be keeping a _Soame_, the Arabic term for fasts.

The third morning after our last visit we call again, and find the newly clad worms rapidly awaking to the sense of a keen appetite, glistening and shining like bridesmaids in their beautiful new white satin costumes. This process of shedding the skin, is evidently attended with danger to the silk-worm, if we may be permitted to judge from the number that have died under the process, whilst others, though surviving, have been so disfigured as to be rendered entirely useless. The peasant and his family are occupied collecting the dead and the maimed before feeding the hungry survivors; this finished, he arms himself with a sharp sickle; henceforth the leaves are no more gathered by the hands—trees are marked out in regular rotation—the smaller branches are cut off, which are then carried by the woman and children to a clean swept place in front of the hoosse; the leaves and even smaller twigs, are speedily separated from the branches, and sprinkled plentifully over the worms; the branches are collected up on one side, and left to dry for future use as fuel; thus, whilst the foliage of the mulberry nourishes and maintains life in the silk-worm, the branches are used to light the fire which suffocates the poor creatures when they have formed the cocoon, and assumed the chrysalis state. After this first _soame_, or fast, the worms grow very rapidly; in about a fortnight afterwards, they undergo the second fast—they are now, however, much stronger, and better able to resist the casting of their skins; so much so, that scarcely one dies under the operation. On recovering from this second _soame_, they eat prodigiously, and grow very rapidly. The peasant is compelled to cut the branches off the mulberry three times a day in lieu of once, as heretofore, and the worms feast without intermission, morning, noon and night; at length in about eight weeks from the time they were hatched, their existence as worms is rapidly drawing to a close. What was at first barely the size of a grain of fine gunpowder, is now become three and four inches long, sleek and fat, and for all the world looking like a young roasting lamb of Lilliputian breed, ready trussed up for cooking.

All the mulberry trees in the plantation, with the exception of some six or a dozen, present the lamentable spectacle of so many boughless stems; whilst nature around is profuse in luxuriance, and the wild convolvolus, as though compassionating the sad condition of the mulberry, twists its friendly leaves around, and decks it with gaudy blossoms of the early May morning. The peasant has been busy cutting down boughs of trees, etc., the bark of which he makes into string and ropes; these have been exposed to the sun, till all the leaves have withered and fallen to the ground. The worm which, by a wonderful instinct, has heretofore never strayed seven inches from where it was originally placed, now begins to evince symptoms of impatience, and roves about the edges of the shelves, or tries to mount up the smooth and slippery canes that support the shelves. The peasant, marking these indications, immediately places the dry twigs of thorn and bushes over the worms, and in a short time the whole colony rapidly mounts amongst these twigs, each choosing out for itself some favourable position, where it may with greater facility weave its costly and wonderful web. And now we stand quietly, and watch the indefatigable little creature silently persevering in completing its own little storehouse, and what will prove to be its own little tomb. No machinery could be more exact than the movements of this small insect, as it carefully draws out of its mouth thread after thread, now moving with its head to the right, and carrying the almost invisible web down to its tail, then turning its head in the opposite direction, apparently for the purpose of drawing the silk from where it had been fastened on one side, till it has carefully drawn it over its own head, and secured it with gummy saliva. We quit the worms at mid-day, when hardly a thread of this wonderful substance is as yet visible; we return early the next day, and the cocoon is formed, but it is yet too tender to be touched. The peasant merely contents himself with observing the shape and color of these cocoons—setting much store on such as are of a yellow brown tinge, small, with a belt in the centre. Some of the cocoons are as white as snow, some yellow, some brown. The peasant now reports the condition of the silk-worms to his masters who immediately places his seal on the door of the hoosse.

When they are considered fit to reel off the silk, he has the old oven to put in repair, to inspect the basin on the top of this altar-shaped furnace, to erect the old wheel, which has lain on the dust-heap ever since last year—drive a nail in here—put a new spoke in there; and when all is completed, and ready for immediate use, the peasant’s wife goes early on the morning of the auspicious day, and carries in her hand a morsel of damp clay; this she flings against the door-post of the master’s house, if it adheres, then luck will attend the season, if, on the contrary, it drops off, the silk will be unsaleable. This is not the last superstitious ceremony observed; early that morning, about an hour after sunrise, the master of the plantation, followed by the peasants, and all his family, march in regular procession to the hoosse, the great man carrying under his arm a bundle of handkerchiefs, or other trifles, as presents for his followers; these are duly distributed on reaching the sheds; every one says a blessing on that day’s undertaking, the door is unsealed, the people rush in, and rapidly empty the hoosse of the twigs and branches on which the cocoons have settled; these are piled up outside of the door, the women and children spread mats on the ground; here seated, they pick the cocoons from the twigs, and the peasants, as the mats get overloaded, gather them into a goodly-sized basket: by nightfall this operation has been concluded; they then separate from the mass some two or three hundred of the very best cocoons, which are set aside to breed from. Next day, the first streak of dawn has barely lit up the east, before the busy peasants are up and doing. “The cocoon cleaners” are occupied picking them; that is, detaching from the hard shell the soft downy substance, which afterwards constitutes what is termed the rough silk. The peasant, meanwhile, has lit the furnace; the water in the boiler is wrought to a proper temperature for reeling the silk. An old man busies himself in bringing bundles of faggots from the large pile of mulberry branches, with which to keep the fire alive. Baskets of picked cocoons are placed beside the peasant who, seated on a stool, chooses from these a dozen or fourteen at a time, while a man or a boy turns the large wheel with his foot; this wheel is about fifteen feet in diameter; the cocoons are thrown into the warm water, and well whipped with switches, till the whole surface becomes frothy, and the threads of the cocoons begin to detach themselves. Seizing these, the peasant skilfully draws them up, gradually using more strength, till he has sufficient length of thread to fasten to a peg in the wheel. The party at the wheel commences turning with all his force: the wheel goes round rapidly; the peasant is ever on the watch, knotting broken threads, supplying the place of empty shells by fresh cocoons, or screaming to his attendant for more fire or more water. So passes the day. Evening arrives, and there is a large heap of empty cocoons, in which, however, the dead worms still remain; and on the wheel, which was bare in the morning, there is a fine thick golden-looking skein of silk, weighing some four or five pounds. This primitive style of reeling is of course detrimental to the quality of the silk, and is a frightfully slow method compared to European factories, which I have visited. When the peasant discovers that he has more cocoons than he can possibly reel off within a given time, he stifles them by exposing them to great heat, a process by which the quantity of silk they yield is greatly diminished; but as the cocoon fly, _i.e._, the moth, comes out within three weeks, this stifling is indispensable, as the cocoon (except for rough silk) is wholly unfit for use when once it has been perforated by the moth.

About two weeks have passed since first the cocoon commenced to be reeled; the silk is now ready for the market, and is hanging out in golden festoons to dry thoroughly before it is packed. The old baskets are once again brought into play, but they are this time all alive with fluttering white velvet-like moths; they never fly. Their enjoyment of life is very brief indeed; the male moth dies within twenty hours of its birth; the female is then placed on fine linen rags, where, in the course of the day it will deposit from 100 to 500 eggs, which are left in the air for a short time, and then put into linen bags and hung from the beam in the centre of the house, or sent to the mountain to await another year. The silk season ends just as the heat of June sets in.

Having watched the whole process of the fellah throughout the silk season, we will continue to follow him to the close of the year. The silk being weighed and given to the women to make into hanks, and provision made for the future brood of worms, I will call my reader’s attention to the wheat harvest. The labours of the peasantry will now be of a severer nature than hitherto; he has to toil under the scorching rays of the sun, whose beams, at least in some parts of Syria and Palestine, are far more powerful than those ever endured by English reapers; consequently the fellah is compelled to desist from his occupation from mid-day till about two o’clock in the afternoon. During this portion of the day, scarcely a breath of air stirs, not a leaf is ruffled; even the many-coloured and beautiful butterflies lazily flutter from flower to flower seeking shade beneath the petals of the Damascene rose; all is perfectly still, and the peasants take their wonted siesta. However great may be the inconvenience of the intense heat, yet it is wholly balanced by the benefits which accrue from the excellent climate with which this country is blest. The farmer in Syria has little cause of apprehension from sudden storms or showers, so that the harvest is gathered in, receiving no injury from those changes of weather, to which it is subject in less genial latitudes. The corn being reaped by the fellahs, the damsels, even as in the time of Ruth, follow, gathering the ears and binding them in sheaves; after leaving them for a short time to dry, they are carried to a part of the field called _baiedar_, which has been levelled and swept clear to receive them. A rude machine, constructed of oaken planks with stones fixed in holes drilled on the under side, is placed on the now scattered sheaves; on this a youth sits or stands to drive the oxen round and round, which have been harnessed to it. This process separates the grain from the husk; it has next to be winnowed, and for this purpose is collected in heaps; the corn, by means of a wooden shovel, is thrown up in the air, when the delightful and cool breezes of evening waft the chaff to the winds. The reaping, threshing, and winnowing, being now completed, the wheat intended for domestic consumption, is stored in wells, constructed expressly for this purpose, whilst that which is for agricultural uses, is placed in enormous jars, of from five to fifteen feet in height, and of proportionate diameter.

The peasant now receives from his master the portion due to him from the harvest; he then commences making one half of what he obtains into _borghol_. The weather is most favourable for this process, as it requires fine sunny days, and during the night the wheat is covered with sheets to protect it from the dew, which is very heavy in the East. The grain is first washed and boiled, when it is exposed for several days to dry on mats, before carrying it to the mill, where it is ground and thus converted into _borghol_. Of this there are two kinds, viz., coarse and fine; this latter serves simply as a substitute for rice, and is called _ruzz-mufalfal_, whilst the other is used in _kubbas_, that favourite dish to which I have before alluded. The harvest is now over, and the vineyards in the surrounding mountains present a rich and beautiful sight; the bright and luscious clusters of black and white grapes lie in profusion along the ground, for in Syria the vines are suffered to trail on the earth; and I am persuaded that were they trained as in the Rhenish vineyards, they would yield a more abundant crop.

At this season of the year, the scene which is now presented is both picturesque, lovely, and interesting. Beneath a sky pure and bright, amidst the luxuriant and straggling vines, the damsels of Lebanon are busily occupied collecting the grapes. With what ease and elegance they move! Their graceful forms are shewn to full advantage in their loose and flowing vesture the brilliant and well-selected shades of which contrast beautifully with surrounding nature. Some are bringing baskets to be filled, whilst others are cutting the grapes and placing them in these panniers. The sun now begins to shed a deep red on the face of the western horizon, this is the signal to return home; each one takes her basket, puts it on her head, or loads her donkey, and the gay cavalcade moves homewards, singing some plaintive ditty; and thus ends a day which I know many of my fair Western readers would be not a little interested to witness. On the following day, those which are not required by the villagers for their own wines, arakey, or raisins, are carried to the market where they are sold. Even in the vineyards there remain enough to satisfy the weary traveller as he passes by, and to supply the feathered tribes, and the bees, that therefrom gather an abundant store of rich honey, either for hives, or, flying to far distant woods and meadows, make for themselves a secret nest amidst the fragrant herbs; however, these hidden stores are soon tracked out and added to the simple repasts of our peasantry. Scarcely is the vintage over, when the olive plantations require attention. This is one of the most celebrated as well as useful of all trees. The fruit is beaten from the tree in the same way as walnuts in England are threshed in a green or unripe state, it is steeped in an alkaline ley, and then pickled in salt and water, and that it is much esteemed when thus preserved is well known. To procure the oil, the nearly ripe fruit is bruised by moderate pressure in a mill, when the oil flows out. This valuable article is used in almost every Syrian culinary preparation, and it is also applied for many medicinal purposes. Thus with the olive, meet emblem of peace, end the bright beams of this year’s sun. Winter comes on with rapid strides: the boughs so lately loaded with leaves, flowers, and lastly, with fruits, are daily losing their beautiful foliage; and chilling autumnal breezes coldly whisper through the leafless branches, and Lebanon grows dark till the pale snow covers its top, and reflects the last dying rays of the sun. The peasantry now gather their supplies of fuel, which the relentless winds tear from the trees, scattering the earth with fragments of boughs, which, however, prove most acceptable to those who are in search of wood. And now the fellah and his cheerful family being furnished with fruits of all kinds, wine, honey, poultry and firing, and the numerous other et ceteras necessary to a Syrian household, fear nought for winds or storms; nor are his cattle forgotten, his cow and treasured mare are both furnished with provender, much of which has been made from the refuse left by the silkworm of the mulberry leaves, the centre part of which they could not devour; these having been collected were made into stacks ready for winter. During the autumn, the cattle derive much nourishment from the second crop which sprouts from the despoiled mulberry trees. The fellah’s wants being thus well supplied, he fails not to acknowledge the blessing which he possesses, and exclaims, “_El-Hham’dvo li-llah_!” God be praised!

The resources of Syria are inexhaustible if only properly developed. The trade in wine may rival that of Spain, Portugal, or France; the grapes are beautiful, and if they were only properly selected, and proper means taken to secure a good wine in this country, neither in Europe nor Asia is there greater facility for establishing an extensive and lucrative trade in this one department than in Syria and Palestine? The fruits are delicious; and those grown in the open air and without any trouble, rival in flavour, quality, and quantity, those of any other country, where the greatest pains are taken and great expense incurred to accomplish this. Then, again, the articles of tobacco, wheat, wool, etc., and innumerable other articles; madder root, the beautiful dyes of Syria (the Tyrian dye is not known now); one and all may, if properly cultivated and brought into the English market, rival its imports from all other parts of the world. The immense plains could, with very little outlay or labour, give us wheat and wool, indeed supply all the world; and Syria will, I hope, yet, at no remote period, become the granary of the west.

The white wool of Scripture was up to a late period partially grown in the country around the Euphrates; and, as is suggested by Dr. Thompson in the articles already adverted to in the Colonial and Asiatic Magazine, when an improved breed of sheep from English colonies, Spain, etc., shall be introduced into Syria, we may expect to supply with its resources the markets now chiefly furnished with wool from America, Australia, Germany, etc.