My friend, Shahamet Ali, had for some time rented a cottage at Ryde, in the Isle of Wight, where on our return he invited me to pass a few days. I cordially accepted this invitation, and whilst at Ryde had the happiness of meeting Lord and Lady Downes, together with Sir Claude Wade and his amiable lady, from all of whom I received much kindness, which has not ceased to this day. My visit to Ryde extended over a month, and my friend, Shahamet Ali, was during that time making his arrangements for a journey to Constantinople and thence to Mecca, which last place he visited for the express purpose of purifying himself, he having mixed so much with Christians that his religion required his pilgrimage thither. I accompanied him as far as Paris, where I left with him letters of introduction to my friends in the East. I have since heard from him; he had reached Mecca in safety, had performed his ablutions to satisfy the prejudice of his countrymen, thus washing away all impurities supposed to be contracted by mingling for so long a time in the customs and manners of the infidels. He is now settled as agent for the East India Company at Selana in Malwa.
We both were much pleased with the Parisians. No introduction was needed—our position in society was a passport everywhere. The French are so amiable, _au dévant de vous_; perfect in grace, fascination and _toilette_; more cheerful, and perhaps warmer-hearted than the English—but far less stable. A Frenchman may form a violent attachment to a person to-day, and to-morrow be wholly indifferent as to his whereabouts or welfare. An Englishman may be some months before he evinces the least symptoms of even a partiality; but when a friendship really exists, you may count upon its sincerity and continuance.
I returned to London and remained for some time, when my good friend, Mahomed Pasha, being recalled to Constantinople, it was arranged that I should return to Paris and reside there. Amongst others whose acquaintance I had the honour of renewing in France, was that of M. Lamartine, the great admirer of Lebanon, whom I had met in Syria. We were mutually pleased to renew our friendship. He wrote a very flowery letter to the Sultan Abdul Medjid, in which he said that having a map before him of all that mighty potentate’s dominions, he had fixed upon a little spot in Syria (Lebanon), whither he would wish to withdraw himself from the turmoil and strife of life to settle down; but the Turkish government, considering that the Maronites, who already possessed much influence through French protection might choose him as their Emir, consequently, in lieu of the small bit of ground begged for in Syria, presented him with an immense tract of fertile ground in Asia Minor, where the poet-statesman of France might sow every seed, save the seed of political discord, which in such a wilderness would never take root.