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Geographies of Contact

 | 
Caroline Lehni
, 
Fanny Moghaddassi
, 
Hélène Ibata
, 
et al.

I. Scripting the Orient

Gregory Wortabet “of Bayroot, Syria”: A Failed Encounter?

Jacqueline Jondot

Testo integrale

  • 1 Gregory M. Wortabet, Syria and the Syrians: or, Turkey in the Dependencies (2 vol), London, James M (...)
  • 2 Jean Michel Hornus, “Le Protestantisme au Proche Orient”, Proche Orient Chrétien, 7 fasc. II, Avril (...)
  • 3 He refers to an early journey just after leaving school (GMW1 xiv) and to another one in 1843 (GMW2 (...)

1Gregory M. Wortabet “of Bayroot, Syria”1 proposes a tour of Syria in the 1850s, entitled Syria and the Syrians: or, Turkey in the Dependencies. Published in London in 1856, the two volumes of his travel narrative offer an extensive journey through Syria (which includes today’s Syria, Lebanon, Jordan and Palestine) together with a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. G.M. Wortabet’s father, Jacob Wortabet, was one of the first converts to Protestantism in Syria2 and “the first Evangelical Missionary to [Sidon]” (GMW1 334). Brought up in Sidon (GMW1 334) and Beirut (“Bayroot! happy home of my youth!” [GMW1 29]), G.M. Wortabet is well read and well travelled. He has toured his native land several times (“having re-visited his country” [GMW1 xv])3 and the instance which provides this narrative comes “after a tour of several years in Europe, Africa, Asia, and America” (GMW1 xv). The book is written from England although G.M. Wortabet claims to have “penned [it] on the spot after the fatigues of the day’s journey” (GMW1 xiv) and it is meant for an English Christian readership (GMW1 xiii, 322), Bible reading tourists (GMW2 126, GMW1 76).

  • 4 Interestingly enough, the word dragoman comes from the Arabic, tarjama, to translate, turjaman, tra (...)
  • 5 That is why he is rather critical of other travellers who only give a partial description: “I trust (...)

2In order to tour the Holy Land, foreign travellers generally need the service of a dragoman,4 one of the unavoidable figures of travels in the East, a mediator between foreigners and natives, in charge of the material organisation of the journey (GMW1 92-5). G.M. Wortabet seems particularly competent with the material modalities of the journey such as pricing its different stages (GMW1 93-95, GMW2 127-128). However, he holds a particularly ambiguous position—as both guide /spokesman (GMW2 378) and guided (he is a tourist and pilgrim [GMW2 197]), as both guide in presentia with a party of travellers and guide in absentia through his travel account, and also as both native informant and outside informant—which allows him—so he says—to give a complete encyclopaedic account of the area visited (GMW2 274).5 G.M. Wortabet is also aware of the particular interests of the English in this area. The English readership shapes his narrative: a travel narrative which uses a cultural approach tailored for them, with biblical references, a taste for landscapes expressed through certain aesthetical categories (GMW1 24-6, 30-2, 117, 3327) and a touch of “orientalism”.

  • 6 A number of Arab writers in the English language from Syria or Lebanon also insist on the Biblical (...)

3He insists on the biblical aspect of the land:6 “the scenes where the Christian faith had its origin and completion can never become dry to a Bible reader” (GMW1 xiii). His Protestant education is resonant with the English biblical cultural background and this probably accounts for the preference he gives to biblical sites over what he calls “orientalist” scenes, although the latter are not absent from his narrative. Recurring information on commercial exchanges shows his awareness of Britain’s economic interest in the area. His narrative is therefore organized around these two main areas of interest. However, G.M. Wortabet’s role as a mediator in the encounter with the Other is fundamental and we shall see how his background shapes his narrative.

4On such an extensive tour, one might expect G.M. Wortabet and his foreign party to make many encounters. But it is not so. Or rather, they do meet people but he does not dwell on these meetings. G.M. Wortabet arrives in the Levant on board a ship from Smyrna (GMW1 3) with “a Mr. Mitchell, of Philadelphia, […] with whom I was previously acquainted, and had intended accompanying in a tour of the Holy Land” (GMW1 3). Other passengers are merely fleeting appearances. Their nationalities are stated but little or none is said of the actual encounter: “with whom I was previously acquainted” is a recurrent phrase. Ships, however, afford scenes of cosmopolitan crowds (GMW1 11), usually described in terms of “great bustle” (GMW1 11). The same is said of the pilgrims’caravan to Jerusalem:

Here were people of many nations—descendants of Ham, Shem and Japheth. Here were Greeks, Armenians, English, Americans, French, Austrians, Belgians, Poles, Syrians, Turks, and I know not what. A party of Greeks were headed by an ecclesiastic of their Church, and a party of Armenians led by no less than ten Vartabeds. A French and an Austrian caravan also formed part of the train. Abyssinians, too, were there. Then the Bedouins and the Turks who accompanied them formed a sight as singular as it was motley. […] They were old and young, of all ages. […] Their dress was picturesque; the national dress of many a clime. […] Then there was a continual roar of singing, national airs of almost every clime. “Rule Britannia,” “Partant pour la Syrie,” and “Yankee Doodle,” contrasted with the senseless notes of Turk, Greek, and Bedouin. (GMW2 231-3)

  • 7 Local fairs are also described in terms of chaos: “The villages patronize these fairs, and hence yo (...)

5Cosmopolitan crowds obviously mean disorder/chaos to G.M. Wortabet7 yet he finds them “interesting” enough—that is the word he uses several times in these paragraphs—to list the whole congregation and their national distinctive signs. If he betrays any knowledge of the purpose or more precise origin of the people on board the ships or in the caravan, he does not say how he got it: he mentions, for instance, “some Christian merchants, from Tripoli and Lattakia, who had been on a purchasing expedition in the better provided bazaars of Smyrna to replenish their small shops” (GMW1 11). Background knowledge is acquired outside the text; he obviously considers that the circumstances of the acquaintance are not worth mentioning since his focus is elsewhere. But of that later.

6Once inland, the travellers stop at various khans, rest-houses on the roadside accommodating people, animals and goods. G.M. Wortabet gives a quick description of a khan (GMW1 132), insisting on the difference between a khan and a caravanserai (GMW1 213). Strangely enough, these places represented in most travellers’accounts as places of hustle and bustle are here shown as though they were empty but for his party. When there is some activity as in one instance with “two or three of our party buying silks of Damascus manufacture” (GMW1 213), he does not dwell on the encounter, preferring a sightseeing diversion. The only example of cohabitation with a man and his three cows and donkey, a man, a woman and their camel and infant (GMW2 23-4) is unpleasant, which perhaps justifies why his party “sought [their] inner chamber” (GMW1 176) at other khans in order to avoid the inconvenience. G.M. Wortabet does not take part in the conversation between his muleteer and the man. Only one mention of a request for food is recorded. The people met at different places are talked to for utilitarian purposes only, food, water, direction, as if there could be no other form of exchange between them and the travellers.

7Along their journey, G.M. Wortabet and his party stop at a number of places which traditionally are meeting places, such as wells and fountains, “tannor” (public ovens) or public baths. Unlike khans, they afford scenes of traditional activity. At wells, they meet women, who allow biblical similes (GMW1 121, 145) and even exegesis:

Some of the wells have an iron chain, or a rope with a bucket at the end attached to them, so that any person can draw water if he wants it; other wells have not this appendage, consequently, the people have to bring their means of raising it. This might have been the case at Jacob’s well, and at once gives the key to the remark of the woman of Samaria, “Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep.” (GMW1 121)

  • 8 Each time, the women offer them some of their bread (GMW1 153, 171), the superiority of which he pr (...)

8On meeting the women at the well, “the usual salutations” (GMW1 144) are sometimes exchanged in Arabic (GMW1 144-5). They ask water from the women, as if they were enacting biblical scenes in order to verify their verisimilitude (GMW1 145, 169). He seems more interested in drawing a sketch of the scene than interacting with the women: “I was not near enough to hear their conversation, nor did I desire it. I was interested in seeing them telle quelle” (GMW2 105). It is as though any exchange might mar the ideal biblical scene and turn it into a mere daily encounter without any touch of “romanticism” (“a picture of romance made more romantic” [GMW1 221]), a term he uses several times. Moreover, from observing such a scene, he draws generalizing conclusions such as “woman is the same all the world over” (GMW2 105) and goes on to make an anti-Turkish charge: “unless the finer endowments of her soul are crushed by Islamism or tyranny” (GMW2 105). The same kind of encounter takes place near ovens (GMW1 153-4).8 Food means exchanges with hardly any word uttered, or at least recorded. At the public bath, he procures a private room (GMW 1 212) not to mix with the Turks (GWM1 211) and describes the whole process as a silent story.

9The general impression is of a complete lack of dialogue in the book. How can one explain this since one would expect that G.M. Wortabet being a native, there would be no language barrier to hinder conversation with the people met during their journey? He notes that in the cities and ports, foreign languages are practised fluently (GMW1 36) by the merchants through their contact with foreign traders (GMW1 41). Away from the trading areas, the natives do not understand English (GMW1 255) and the few words exchanged along the road are in Arabic, reproduced and translated by the author, often with an explanation of the context in which the phrase is used. However, they are catch-all phrases, found in most travellers’accounts. The pilgrims’caravan is said to be “a Babel of languages” (GMW2 233). The religious sites are another instance of “a Babel of Bedlams” (GMW2 277) with priests or monks preaching in a great variety of languages (GMW2 278-9). Elsewhere, he insists on the distinction between languages at a Protestant mission and the great part given to Arabic to foster conversion (GMW2 3), religious proselytism being one of G.M. Wortabet’s purposes in writing this book.

10Dialogues, when any, are conveyed through reported speech (“a man told us” [GMW1 157], “the natives say” [GMW2 20]) and/or the passive voice (“we were told” [GMW1158], “we asked and were told” [GMW1314], “I was asked” [GMW1 226], “it was told me” [GMW2 27]), most of the time denying the interlocutors a status as subjects and eluding proper dialogue. The passive voice allows G.M. Wortabet to edit their speech and speak on their behalf. Linguistic and cultural differences are thus erased. Even more so when he translates titles (“the Mutsellim, or governor” [GMW1 27]) and most place names: “Cape Khauzeer” (which signifies “the head of a pig” [GMW1 23]), “Souk Wady Barada,” which means “the market or fair of the valley of the Barada” (GMW1 173), thus turning them into something familiar for the reader.

  • 9 This particular sight gives him the opportunity to describe the women’s headdress at length.

11To personal dialogic contact, G.M. Wortabet prefers visual contact. The verbs “see”, “look” are recurring when they meet people. “On first arriving at the Khan, we saw four Druze women on the hill above us” (GMW1 133).9 Seeing allows him to remain outside, as if it gave him some objectivity, as if he was wary of his subjectivity as a native.

12Since he does not talk, looking triggers digressions: “Looking at them, I was reminded of the judicious remark of Dr. Olin in describing the condition of the inhabitants of Syria” (GMW1 142). The sight of natives, rather than leading him to seek firsthand direct information from them, entails him to rely on second-hand knowledge from foreign scholars. This is a recurrent pattern throughout his narrative.

13Even when he is among natives with whom he talks, he needs the mediation of English eyes to describe the scene. He does not describe a group of young ladies with whom he converses, but resorts to an accumulation of long passages from several English travellers:

I could not help being reminded of Dr. Madden’s description of our ladies […]. Lamartine’s description of the peasantry of Mount Lebanon is both beautiful and characteristic […]. But Mr. Wolff’s enthusiastic description of a Syrian Jewess, even transcends the testimony of the above-mentioned writers. […] Bartlett, after describing the Syrian dress of female, says… (GMW1 224-5)

14Even when in direct contact, he prefers the agency of foreign authors who help him in his generalising enterprise: individuals do not interest him unless they serve to bring out generalisations or types or to uphold his biblical demonstrations.

15Does the fact that he prefers seeing to speaking mean that G.M. Wortabet’s narrative is superficial, that it remains on the surface of things? Certainly not, if one considers the length to which he goes to discuss the exact location of biblical sites, in a very modern scientific approach, (GMW1 173, 190, GMW2 237) or all the digressions concerning local customs (“I have introduced you behind the scenes, and described to you our habits, customs, and manners” [GMW2 337]) or his linguistic remarks (GMW1 23-24). He means to be a thorough guide: “this work would be incomplete without giving the reader a sketch of…” (GMW2 274). When the current journey does not afford him the possibility of giving his reader a complete outlook, he uses material from previous trips in the area: “I will close this chapter by giving the reader a narrative of a tour performed by myself and party in April, 1843; the more so, as it will take in all the places, I intended to speak of in this chapter” (GMW2 312). He apologizes for any inaccuracies: “Should he find any discrepancies in this description […], I would have him remember that […] I have done my best in the way of a careful description” (GMW2 291).

16If he resorts to the works and observations of foreign scholars it is because he believes that the natives are not to be trusted. Their knowledge is often faulty as they wish to please the traveller rather than give him accurate information: “The natives pretend to show the tourist the tomb of Abel” (GMW1 173).

The tradition in vogue among the natives is, that it was begun by Solomon. The intelligent tourist, however, will observe, that if begun by that monarch, of which, in my opinion, there is ample evidence in the masonry, which resembled greatly that of his temple at Jerusalem, it was never finished by him. (GMW1 150)

17Obviously, the natives do not have access to the sources available to G.M. Wortabet, sources which are mainly—not to say exclusively—Western sources (GMW1 326). Although critical of the natives who follow the desires of the travellers without a discriminating mind, in his own scholarly way G.M. Wortabet also offers the travellers what he thinks they want to see, that is to say biblical sites (‘bringing back to your vision the times of the Patriarchs” [GMW2 337-8]) and a few stereotypical “orientalist’ scenes (GMW1 36) by which term he means the reality of daily life in the area which he deems secondary to his purpose.

18If he claims to give the reader a historical panorama from the Canaanites to the “rule of Turkey” (GMW2 338), if he does mention several episodes of Phœnician history as well as a little Graeco-Roman history, there is a huge empty gap between the Crusades and the present time; he makes no mention of the centuries of Islamic culture. His choice reveals that what matters to him in the history and geography of the region is the periods and spaces of contact with the West. He also has a tendency to use past toponymy rather than contemporary place names: “[o] ur course led us to […] the Leontes […]. The Leitani, as the natives call it” (GMW1 326.); “Nahr en Kelb, or Dog River”, “The Lyceus of the ancients” (GMW1 111); “Djebail […] the Byblos of the ancients” (GMW1 111-2); “the present Saida as the natives call it” (GMW1 335). If his preference for ancient names is symptomatic of his nostalgia for a past grandeur as opposed to a less impressive present situation, by using them, he appeals to his readers’classical culture. In the same way, “Holy Land” often replaces “Syria”, to appeal to their Christian feeling. The encounter with contemporary Syria is therefore near impossible for the reader, hidden behind a cultural veil which G.M. Wortabet expects the English reader to expect.

  • 10 To G.M. Wortabet, the “nation” to which he appeals is Protestant rather than English or American, w (...)

19The encounter that G.M. Wortabet proposes to the English travellers is therefore one with his own phantasm of their phantasms of the East: a biblical land on trade routes. He makes it familiar and attractive by such similes as “[Phœnicia] was the England of her day” (GMW1 28) or “Bayroot may be fitly called the Edinburgh of Syria” (GMW1 35) or yet again: “there is a great resemblance between these Bedouins and the Aborigines of America” (GMW2 248).10

20What G.M. Wortabet proposes his party is an encounter in absentia. With his firsthand knowledge as a native and his bookish knowledge, he places himself between the traveller and the natives; he acts as an intrusive/pervasive substitute for a real encounter. This appears clearly in the photograph of himself which is placed at the beginning of the book: his bulky presence hides the landscape behind him, the bay of Beirut disappears in the background. In the foreground, he holds an open letter and envelope. It clearly shows his agenda: an omnipresent G.M. Wortabet who is the mediator between the land he proposes to convey through his text and the reader.

  • 11 It is clear that G. M Wortabet and his party do not follow the same lines. In the course of the nar (...)

21Foreign travellers are not encouraged to stay with natives. G.M. Wortabet claims that “there is in almost every village in Syria, a house called a manzool, a sort of Stranger’s Home” (GMW1 299) but his party usually stay with their consuls: “The European or American traveller will always find a welcome at the house of his consul” (GMW1 299). As for the natives, they stay with native friends.11

22Among his native friends, G.M. Wortabet is expected to give news and information on Britain and the West, which he supplies readily. These visits are the few instances where a dialogue is recorded, although he gives only samples: “It would be out of place to record here all our conversation; the above is given as a sample of the rest” (GMW1 223). In several such encounters, through questions and answers, G.M. Wortabet portrays himself as a real cultural mediator (GMW1 253-255). However, in such intercourse, some of which is reported in direct speech, G.M. Wortabet’s “I” is prevalent and “I told them” is recurrent (GMW1 222-229). G.M. Wortabet is once more the focus, but a focus to channel the conversation towards the grand achievements of Britain: “This led us to speak of the British enterprise. They were astonished at hearing of the railway, the telegraph, and the balloon […]. They admired the post-office system” (GMW1 222). “Of all things that interested them most was the newspaper system of England” (GMW1 254). Apart from the evolution of the international situation, he draws attention to the means of communication, those that will serve trade.

23So one may wonder whether actual encounters might mar the picture G.M. Wortabet carefully draws or rather might interfere with his project.

24An encounter is impossible in the pages of this guidebook because the encounter between Syria and Britain has taken place outside the book. G.M. Wortabet never dwells on his travels in England or other European countries of which he has an accurate knowledge since he can detail the stages between England and the Levant (GMW1 8-10). The encounter with English culture has taken place with the Protestant missionaries travelling through the country and training a number of Syrians. G.M. Wortabet is the product of such an encounter. The two main aspects of his travel book, Syria as biblical land and trading area, are inscribed in his double heritage, Phoenician and Protestant. His converted father was a trader-a retailer turned wholesaler (GMW1 56). This double heritage matches the English interests in the area and therefore shapes the encounter which he proposes to his travelling companions and his reader. Even though he focuses on the journey itself, its material modalities and the sights, his aim is elsewhere; he has a treble ideological purpose in mind: religious, economic and political.

  • 12 However, other consequences are not so good as, for example, the increase in prices of property (GM (...)

25The ports of the Levant have been of old places of contact and more often than not, G.M. Wortabet emphasizes the Phœnician heritage of the area (GMW1 28, 325, 334-5) with avowed nostalgia for the past greatness of Phœnicia, land of culture, of enterprise, of migration. The Sidonians, he reports, were “the first who ventured beyond their own coasts, and established anything like mercantile commerce” (GMW1 334), suggesting a great tradition of commercial exchanges. He quite readily emphasizes the thriving activity (GMW1 21) of a number of contemporary harbours to the detriment of the cities they serve. Mersina or Beirut have grown in importance as the ports of Tarsoos and Damascus (GMW1 12, 200) through foreign trade which displaces the centres of activity. Foreign interaction alters the outlook of the region. G.M. Wortabet enumerates the foreign vessels at anchor in the different harbours (GMW1 12) which allows him to stress the variety of countries involved in trade or other exchanges. This is valuable information for the English reader concerned with the economic exchanges of his country who can therefore weigh the relative importance of the European powers present in the area. Foreign trade (GMW1 35-6) gives an impetus to these harbours with several consequences: “progress in civilization” (GMW1 36) that is to say a number of improvements, among which enrichment leading to better conditions of life and better education (GMW1 41-2).12 Therefore, the natives can now actively take part in the trade activities: “A few years ago our principal merchants were foreigners, now they are natives; they now do all the exporting and importing business, and to them foreign ships come consigned” (GMW1 41). Accordingly, it appears important, not to say necessary, to keep these native traders in the fold of English ideology, within the English sphere of influence.

26As contact zones, harbours have acquired a cosmopolitan atmosphere which G.M. Wortabet stresses again and again: “a European air of business runs throughout, and when the traveller takes into consideration the many natives he will meet who speak his tongue fluently he begins to feel himself at home, and almost regrets that his search for Orientalism has been in vain, and that Bayroot is only a second edition of his native place” (GMW1 36). This early form of globalization may be good for trade but not necessarily for tourism as he believes that English tourists look for biblical and orientalist scenes.

27G.M. Wortabet also stresses how Turkey’s mismanagement of these provinces hinders trade: “The harbour has a light-house lit for and at the expense of the French agency. […] If Turkey could not afford to build light-houses, she must not expect ships to enter her harbours at night, and, consequently, she alone must be made responsible for the damage to those visiting or trading in her territory” (GMW1 26-7). More than a guidebook, G.M. Wortabet’s book is a clearly stated plea against Turkey’s present rule in the area; this is one of the leitmotivs (GMW1 166-7) of the text which he begins and ends with the place of Turkey on the international scene (GMW1 xv, GMW2 338). One of the purposes of the book is to inform the English of the geopolitics in the area to ensure their support and sympathies against the threat of France and Russia (GMW1 xv, GMW2 340).

28Considering the importance that G.M. Wortabet gives to commercial exchanges, one would expect him to stage some of the meetings between English and Levantine traders but he only suggests the thriving activity stylistically with enumerations of functions rather than individuals (“steamers arriving, steamers departing—merchants hurrying to save the mail—clerks running with bills of lading and bills of exchange—goods being landed, and others being shipped, brokers bustling, and a thousand other incidents connected with a commercial town” [GMW1 36]) and when he does stage a scene at a merchant’s, it is stereotypical. The merchant is any merchant in any port of the Levant. G.M. Wortabet is interested in representing types rather than individuals, as though general behaviours might help foreign traders in their work in the area. “A shopkeeper comes to buy a bale of goods from the merchant; he is accompanied by a broker” (GMW1 37). A similar scene is re-enacted in a bazaar which serves to “illustrate the custom of the East, which, in this day, prevails more or less over all Syria” (GMW1 182) as well as to make a few linguistic statements. G.M. Wortabet gives more space to the goods traded which are enumerated at length and in detail:

Its [Bayroot’s] shops and stores are well provided from the factories of Europe and America. The produce of the Indies he finds in almost every street. Suspended on a rope from the verandahs of the various shops, he will see exposed for sale New England drills, Manchester greys, Scotch Zebras, French silks, Swiss handkerchiefs, & c., and all bearing the stamps of the various factories where they are manufactured. (GMW1 35-6)

29As he means to convince the English reader of the importance of the role England can/must play in the area, he insists on the good reputation of English goods throughout the area (“The people in the East have taken the notion […] that everything made in England must be durable, and ought to be called everlasting! This character of John Bull is an established fact among Bedouins and townsmen.” [GMW1 199]) and also remarks on the gaps in the English commercial network (“There are no English merchants at present in Damascus.” [GMW1 199]), suggesting where it should be strengthened.

30Ports generally harbour consuls (GMW1 77). G.M. Wortabet and his party meet several of these consuls as their role is to facilitate the journey of the foreigners: “[The captain] promised to introduce us to the French consul, and request his good offices to procure us horses and guides” (GMW1 13). These consuls are natives (GMW1 115, 345) and G.M. Wortabet waits until nearly the end of the first volume to explain the consular system in Turkey only to criticize it strongly (GMW1 346-8). The consuls’houses are consistently described as being a mixture of East and West: “the house of the French consul […] furnished in Europeo-Oriental style” (GMW1 13). Therefore, the foreign traveller is not given firsthand access to Eastern customs.

31Other encounters serve to denounce the policy of Muslim Turkey (GMW1 172). This is the case with the visits at various religious establishments. He describes his contacts with the Protestant missionaries at length, and emphasizes their educational and medical role (GMW1 203-10). When he puts forward Protestant missions, his aim is to show how their interaction with the local population is positive. “It is only since the missionary went there that these improvements began to develop themselves. Far be it from me to depreciate the influence of European society on the place; but I think the great lever which moved the mass was missionary labour” (GMW1 43). To make his point, he notes that “the cry for them [Christian schools] is like a hurricane blowing over the land” (GMW1 206) and to make his point clearer, he cites Gladstone on “the effect of EDUCATION in placing Scotland in a position among nations second to no other” (GMW1 207). In his geopolitical plea, he also uses the example of Protestant Ireland as opposed to Catholic Ireland (GMW1 312), to urge English presence in the area to counterbalance “the manoeuvres of France to get supremacy in the East by means of the Papal religion” (GMW2 339): “what France could not do by might, she is doing by intrigue. Let Protestant England look to it” (GMW2 340). G.M. Wortabet sees the protection of the Christians in the area (“it is the influence of England which has made the Mahomedans of Beyrout treat their Christian neighbours with more respect than than [sic] they have heretofore done, and still do in other places of the East.” [GMW1 203]) as a means to further establish English presence in the Levant.

32G.M. Wortabet’s text is not the narrative of an encounter proper. The encounter has already taken place—through his education and travels—and/or is yet to take place—in trade and geopolitical deals. His book is a pretext to foster English presence in the Levant along three directions: religion as the basis for cultural penetration, trade to establish durable economic ties and geopolitics to circumvent French and Russian appetites. G.M. Wortabet paves the way for the real encounter that he calls for.

Bibliografia

Bibliography

Primary sources

Rihbany, A. M., A Far Journey, Boston, Houghton Miffin co., 1914.

Wortabet, G.M., Syria and the Syrians: or, Turkey in the Dependencies (2 vols), London, James Madden, 1856.

Secondary sources

Atiyah, E. An Arab Tells his Story. A Study in Loyalties, London, John Murray, 1946.

Hornus, J.-M., “Le Protestantisme au Proche Orient”, Proche Orient Chrétien, 7 fasc. II, Avril-Juin 1957, pp. 139-51.

Jondot, J., “Les écrivains d’expression anglaise au Proche-Orient arabe”, Thèse de doctorat d’état, Université Lyon II, 2003, htttp://demeter.univ-lyon2.fr:8080/sdx/theses/lyon2/2003/jondot_j

Note

1 Gregory M. Wortabet, Syria and the Syrians: or, Turkey in the Dependencies (2 vol), London, James Madden, 1856. (Hereafter, references will appear directly in the text as GMW1 and GMW2).

2 Jean Michel Hornus, “Le Protestantisme au Proche Orient”, Proche Orient Chrétien, 7 fasc. II, Avril-Juin 1957, p. 147.

3 He refers to an early journey just after leaving school (GMW1 xiv) and to another one in 1843 (GMW2 312).

4 Interestingly enough, the word dragoman comes from the Arabic, tarjama, to translate, turjaman, translator.

5 That is why he is rather critical of other travellers who only give a partial description: “I trust that this explanation will reconcile to the reader the glowing descriptions of some travellers, with the less enthusiastic accounts given by others, both of which are truthful as regards the seasons when the country was visited” (GMW1 318).

6 A number of Arab writers in the English language from Syria or Lebanon also insist on the Biblical identity of this region. See Abraham Mitrie Rihbany, A Far Journey, Boston, Houghton Miffin co, 1914. See also Jacqueline Jondot, “Les écrivains d’expression anglaise au Proche-Orient arabe” (Thèse de doctorat d’état).

7 Local fairs are also described in terms of chaos: “The villages patronize these fairs, and hence you are always sure to see a crowd, and an equal share of excitement wherever and whenever these fairs are held. A mass of men and women kept moving all round, making their purchases, or bargaining for an exchange; and to this medley concourse, an appendix of horses, mules, and donkeys, grazed around the fair grounds” (GMW1 292).

8 Each time, the women offer them some of their bread (GMW1 153, 171), the superiority of which he praises over English or American bread (GMW1 154).

9 This particular sight gives him the opportunity to describe the women’s headdress at length.

10 To G.M. Wortabet, the “nation” to which he appeals is Protestant rather than English or American, which may explain a hint of confusion between English and American, as an effect of his Levantine culture and the system of protections. See Edward Atiyah, An Arab Tells his Story. A Study in Loyalties, London, John Murray, 1946, pp. 1-4.

11 It is clear that G. M Wortabet and his party do not follow the same lines. In the course of the narrative, he several times alludes to divisions in the travelling parties. (“We formed two distinct cavalcades, […] the travellers’ party, […] and […] the baggage train.” (GMW1 123); “ordering my servant to pitch my tent in the European quarter” (GMW2 236). Moreover, their hospitality is shunned by other travellers met on their way (“Neither our muleteer, nor a Christian whom we overtook, would join in our meal, though we invited them; and as is common in this country, pressed on them the invitation” (GMW1 330).

12 However, other consequences are not so good as, for example, the increase in prices of property (GMW1 12)

Autore

Professor at Toulouse 2 University (France) and doctor in English literature, Jacqueline Jondot wrote a 3rd-cycle thesis on Orlando by Virginia Wolf and a PhD thesis on Middle Eastern Arab authors who write in the English language; she wrote articles on Ahdaf Soueif, Edward Atiyah, Carl Gibeily, Yasmin Zahran, Jamal Mahjoub, Fadia Faqir, Susan Abulhawa… as well as on British women writers (Virginia Woolf, Penelope Lively, Mary Shelley). She has also translated Outremer by Nabil Saleh. Her photos of Cairene mashrabiyyas and Egyptian Revolution graffiti have been exhibited. She has coordinated an issue of Horizons Maghrébins on The Revolution in Egypt, including her photos of street graffiti. She is currently working on a book about the Egyptian Revolution graffiti.

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