MEMOIRSOFLADY HESTER STANHOPE.
MEMOIRSOFLADY HESTER STANHOPE.
Prince Pückler Muskau—His letter to Lady Hester Stanhope—Story of the Serpent’s Cave—Letter from Lady Hester to the Prince—Ride from Jôon to Sayda—Cadi’s Justice—Madame Conti—Syrian surgeons.
March 20.—Lady Hester rose about three in the afternoon, and went into her garden: I joined her about five o’clock. Spring had already begun to display its verdant livery. The weather was exceedingly fine, and every bush and tree seemed to have swollen with sap, buds, and leaves, so that the eye could perceive a palpable difference even from the preceding day. The birds were singing on every branch (for nobody dared to molest them in this sacred spot), and the bulbuls sat warbling a low but gentle music, which, now and then, was broken in upon by their clearwhistle, falling in cadences on the ear like sweet concords. It was one of those hours which a man, who feels himself in the decline of life, or gradually sinking under disease, would most regret, in thinking that the harmony of nature must soon close on him for ever.
Lady Hester had placed herself in a small white alcove, which closed the vista at the bottom of a walk. A sofa, covered with marone-coloured cloth, with flowered chintz cushions, ran across the back of the alcove. On this she was leaning; and, being dressed in her whiteabahwith its large folds, she looked exactly like an antique statue of a Roman matron. Half way up the avenue stood an attendant in a handsome white Nizàm dress, which is exceedingly becoming to youth, waiting her call. As I advanced towards her, between two hedges—the one of double jessamine in full bud, and the other of the bright greenpervenche, or periwinkle-plant, with its blue flowers, forming an azure band from one end to the other, I was struck with the magical illusion which she ever contrived to throw around herself in the commonest circumstances of life.
As I approached, she addressed me with more cheerfulness than usual. “Do you know, doctor, that Prince Pückler Muskau is come to Sayda, and has written me a very agreeable, and what appears to be avery sincere, letter. Read it, and say what you think of it.” Translated, it was as follows:
Prince Pückler Muskau to Lady Hester Stanhope.
March 20th, 1838.My Lady,As I am aware that you are but little fond of strangers’ visits, from having often found they proceeded from idle curiosity, and sometimes even from more illiberal motives, I freely confess, madam, it is not without some degree of apprehension that, in my turn, I solicit permission to pay my respects to you. Permit me, nevertheless, to assure you that, for many years past, I have anticipated in fancy the pleasure of knowing you, and that it would be a downright act of cruelty on your part, if now, when the long wished-for moment is at last arrived, you should refuse me the happiness of paying my homage to the queen of Palmyra and the niece of the great Pitt.Besides, madam, I have the presumption to add that, from what I have heard of you, there must exist some affinity of character between us: for, like you, my lady, I look for our future salvation from the East, where nations still nearer to God and to nature can alone, some one day, purify the rotten civilization of decrepit Europe, in which everything is artificial, and where we are menaced, in a short time, with anew kind of barbarism—not that with which states begin, but with which they end. Like you, madam, I believe that astrology is not an empty science, but a lost one. Like you, madam, I am an aristocrat by birth and in principle; because I find a marked aristocracy in nature everywhere. In a word, madam, like you, I love to sleep by day and be stirring by night. There I stop; for, in mind, energy of character, and in the mode of life, so singular and so dignified, which you lead, not every one that would can resemble Lady Hester Stanhope.I close this letter, which already must appear too long to you, in earnestly entreating you not to set down as mere expressions the dictates of a heart artless and ingenuous, though old. I am neither a Frenchman nor an Englishman: I am but an honest and simple German, who perhaps lies open to the charge of too much enthusiasm, but never to that of flattery or insincerity.[Signed]Prince of Puckler Muskau.PS. Should you consent to my coming, might I presume to beg of you still farther to allow me to bring Count Tattenbach, a young man in my employ, who would be so much hurt to see me set off without him that I am induced to risk the request! Although severely wounded from a pistol-shot, he would notremain at Acre, for fear of losing the opportunity of paying his homage to you: nevertheless, your will, my lady, and not mine, be done in everything.
March 20th, 1838.
My Lady,
As I am aware that you are but little fond of strangers’ visits, from having often found they proceeded from idle curiosity, and sometimes even from more illiberal motives, I freely confess, madam, it is not without some degree of apprehension that, in my turn, I solicit permission to pay my respects to you. Permit me, nevertheless, to assure you that, for many years past, I have anticipated in fancy the pleasure of knowing you, and that it would be a downright act of cruelty on your part, if now, when the long wished-for moment is at last arrived, you should refuse me the happiness of paying my homage to the queen of Palmyra and the niece of the great Pitt.
Besides, madam, I have the presumption to add that, from what I have heard of you, there must exist some affinity of character between us: for, like you, my lady, I look for our future salvation from the East, where nations still nearer to God and to nature can alone, some one day, purify the rotten civilization of decrepit Europe, in which everything is artificial, and where we are menaced, in a short time, with anew kind of barbarism—not that with which states begin, but with which they end. Like you, madam, I believe that astrology is not an empty science, but a lost one. Like you, madam, I am an aristocrat by birth and in principle; because I find a marked aristocracy in nature everywhere. In a word, madam, like you, I love to sleep by day and be stirring by night. There I stop; for, in mind, energy of character, and in the mode of life, so singular and so dignified, which you lead, not every one that would can resemble Lady Hester Stanhope.
I close this letter, which already must appear too long to you, in earnestly entreating you not to set down as mere expressions the dictates of a heart artless and ingenuous, though old. I am neither a Frenchman nor an Englishman: I am but an honest and simple German, who perhaps lies open to the charge of too much enthusiasm, but never to that of flattery or insincerity.
[Signed]Prince of Puckler Muskau.
PS. Should you consent to my coming, might I presume to beg of you still farther to allow me to bring Count Tattenbach, a young man in my employ, who would be so much hurt to see me set off without him that I am induced to risk the request! Although severely wounded from a pistol-shot, he would notremain at Acre, for fear of losing the opportunity of paying his homage to you: nevertheless, your will, my lady, and not mine, be done in everything.
When I had finished reading the letter, Lady Hester resumed: “Now, doctor, you must go and see the prince at Sayda, for I can’t see him myself. The fatigue is too great for the present; but I will engage him to return again when I am better. I could wish you to say many things to him; for I can see that he and I shall do very well together: besides, I must be very civil to him; for he has got such a tongue and such a pen! I think I shall invite him to come and see the garden and the horses; but you must tell him the mare’s back is not only like a natural saddle, but that there are two back bones for a spine; that is the most curious part.—But no! if he comes it will fill my house with people, and I shall be worried to death; it will only make me ill: so I’ll write to him after dinner.
“What I would wish you to talk to him about is principally the serpent’s cave. You must tell him that, at ten or twelve hours’ distance from Tarsûs, there is a grotto, where once lived an enormous serpent with a human head, such as he may have seen in paintings representing the temptation of Eve. Thisserpent was possessed of all the skill in demonology and magic known on earth. There was an ancient sage who was desirous of acquiring this serpent’s wisdom, which he knew could be come at by destroying the serpent: he therefore induced the king of the country in which the grotto is situate to enter into his views, and, by the king’s orders, the neighbouring peasantry were assembled for that purpose. The sage, who had given instructions that, in killing the serpent, they were to proceed in a particular manner, and that the head was to be reserved for him, stationed himself not far off: and when the peasants went as usual to carry his food, intending to seize a proper moment for effecting the destruction of so formidable a reptile, the serpent, being gifted with the power of speech, said, ‘I know what you are come for; you are come to take my life. I am aware that I am fated to die now, and I shall not oppose it: but, in killing me, beware how you follow the instructions which the wicked man who sent you gave—do exactly the reverse.’ The peasants obeyed the serpent; and, doing precisely the reverse of what the sage had enjoined them to do, the king too died, and thus met the reward of his treacherous conduct. Since that time no other serpent has appeared with a human head, but several are living in the same grotto, and they still are fed by the neighbouringvillages, which send the food at stated times, and the people have opportunities of seeing them with their own eyes.
“You must tell the prince that this story is perfectly authentic, and that, since the time of Sultan Mûrad down to the present day, certain villages are exempted from taxes in consideration of providing sustenance for the serpents. As he naturally must wish to inquire into and see so remarkable a phenomenon, you may tell him that, if he puts himself into a boat, he can land at Tarsûs or Swadéya, and thence find his way a few hours’ distance farther, where the grotto is.”
I hung my head during the whole of this story, reflecting what a pretty errand I was going upon—to tell with a serious air a story so devoid of probability, and so likely to strengthen the supposition, common in England and elsewhere, that Lady Hester was crazy. She observed my ill-concealed incredulity, and bawled out rather than said, “Do you understand what I have been telling you? I suppose you’ll tell me I am mad. Do you believe these things or not? why don’t you answer?” As I remained mute, she said, “Well, will you repeat them to the prince as I have related them?” I answered, “Yes, I would do that.”—“But there,” said she, “go to dinner now, and come again in the evening: I suppose you arethinking more of your soup getting cold than of anything else.”
It was now sunset, and I found my family waiting dinner for me: but that was a very common occurrence, and excited no surprise. Having dined, I returned to Lady Hester. She was in the drawing-room, and she immediately renewed the subject of the grotto.
“The king’s name,” said she, “was Tarsenus—he gave the name to Tarsûs, or took his from it, I don’t know which. You must not forget to speak to the prince likewise of the dervises’ monastery, called Sultan Ibrahim, which is near Tripoli. He has only to present himself there, and use my name; they are all like my brothers; they have many learned men amongst them: if he wants a letter to them, I’ll give him one. As for the Ansaréas, the Ishmäelites, the Kelbëas, and all the sects on the mountains between Tripoli and Latakia, he will get nothing out of them; so it is of no use his trying. If he returns to Jerusalem, beg him not to extend his excursions towards the back of the Dead Sea, or beyond the Jordan; for, as he is known to be a friend of Mahomet Ali’s, some Arab behind a rock may pick him off, just out of spite to Ibrahim Pasha.”
Lady Hester went on. “Did you perfectly understand what I said before dinner about the serpents?”“Not altogether,” I replied. “Perhaps,” she observed, “you don’t like to go down to the prince?” I replied, anxious to seize any excuse for getting rid of the serpent story, “I can’t say I have any particular wish to go.”—“Why,” said Lady Hester, “you have done nothing but talk about him for these last five months; what was that for, if you don’t want to see him?”—“I talked about him,” answered I, “because I thought, from what I had read of his works, you would be pleased to see him, if he came this way?”
Lady Hester paused a little while, and then proceeded:—“Well, doctor, look here—you will talk a great deal about the serpents, and, when you can see a proper opportunity, and that nobody is likely to hear you, you will say to the prince in a low voice, ‘Lady Hester recommends you to make some inquiries about the serpents’ cave[1]when you are at Beyrout; for near to Tarsûs isKolôok Bogàz, where Ibrahim Pasha’s army is encamped: you will probably like tosee it, and this will be a good excuse, as everybody then will fancy you had no political motive for going there.’”
The mystery was out; for two or three months Lady Hester had been introducing the story of the human-headed serpent into her conversations; for two or three months she had known of Prince Pückler Muskau’s coming; for the same period I had entertained apprehensions that her reason was impaired: M. Guys had been primed in the same way, and formed the same conclusions; and all turned out to be one of those long-laid plots, for which she was so famous, to save the prince from being considered as a spy in the dangerous neighbourhood of two hostile armies.
It had happened some years before, when the prince’s letters on England were first translated, I, being in London, had noticed the work in a letter to her, and had copied out a few observations on herself made to the prince by a Hanoverian gentleman. Subsequently, when with her, I had spoken of the prince’s increasing reputation as a literary man, and mentioned such particulars of him as had come to my knowledge. All this, and his alliance with the family of Prince Hardenberg, with whom Lady Hester had been acquainted, increased her desire to see him: but how to accomplish it now was the difficulty. The fewhours she spent with M. Guys had done her a great deal of harm; for, being obliged to exert herself, and not being able to treat a guest as unceremoniously as she could me, the exertion proved too much for her strength. “Englishmen,” she said, “are fond of turning everything into ridicule, and of saying spiteful things of me; with the French and foreigners in general, it is not so: and with a man of the world, like the prince, I have nothing to fear on that score; but then how am I to lodge him and accommodate his people and his dinners, with a wretched cook and nothing of any sort fit for a man of rank! No, doctor, it will not do: so sit down, and write and tell him so.”
The following letter was the result. It was in French; but, as her ladyship’s French was sometimes worded without much regard to genders and tenses, although in her expressions nobody could be happier, it will be better to give a translation.
Lady Hester Stanhope to the Prince of PücklerMuskau, at Sayda.
Jôon, March 21, 1838.I trust, Prince, you will believe me when I say, I am overwhelmed with regret that my health will not permit of my having, at this moment, the honour ofmaking the acquaintance of a philosopher and a philanthropist such as you are. You may ask everybody whether, for these last five months, I have seen a single soul, excepting Monsieur Guys once; and, although, in that once, I every now and then retired for a few moments to my room to recover myself, and then returned to him again, yet, after he was gone, I had a relapse for some days. I would willingly purchase at the same price the pleasure of seeing you; but, in doing so, it might incapacitate me for some months longer from managing a very disagreeable business that has sprung up between the Queen, the English government, and myself; they pretending to meddle with my affairs, which, be assured, is what I will not allow.As my natural energy would not suffer me to converse tranquilly, when things sublime and of the highest importance would be our subjects, we must give up meeting each other for the present; but I console myself with the hope that your Highness will not leave Syria, until I have had an opportunity of appreciating a man, different they say from other men, and of making the acquaintance of your young Count, who, in devoting himself to your principles, necessarily secures one’s admiration of his character.(Signed)Hester Lucy Stanhope.PS. If you go to Damascus, do not neglect, in your way, to stop at a village named Hamâna, where Sultan Mûrad once halted. A very extraordinary and interesting story is attached to his stay there. Farther, do not forget to see the place at Damascus, where the Forty Sleepers (Welled el Kaf) and their black dogs are entranced: they will awake at the time that we are looking forward to.I send my doctor to you, who is a very good sort of a man, but is no philosopher, like you and me. He can give you some little information on certain curious things in the north of Syria, which no traveller has yet investigated.Hester Lucy Stanhope.
Jôon, March 21, 1838.
I trust, Prince, you will believe me when I say, I am overwhelmed with regret that my health will not permit of my having, at this moment, the honour ofmaking the acquaintance of a philosopher and a philanthropist such as you are. You may ask everybody whether, for these last five months, I have seen a single soul, excepting Monsieur Guys once; and, although, in that once, I every now and then retired for a few moments to my room to recover myself, and then returned to him again, yet, after he was gone, I had a relapse for some days. I would willingly purchase at the same price the pleasure of seeing you; but, in doing so, it might incapacitate me for some months longer from managing a very disagreeable business that has sprung up between the Queen, the English government, and myself; they pretending to meddle with my affairs, which, be assured, is what I will not allow.
As my natural energy would not suffer me to converse tranquilly, when things sublime and of the highest importance would be our subjects, we must give up meeting each other for the present; but I console myself with the hope that your Highness will not leave Syria, until I have had an opportunity of appreciating a man, different they say from other men, and of making the acquaintance of your young Count, who, in devoting himself to your principles, necessarily secures one’s admiration of his character.
(Signed)Hester Lucy Stanhope.
PS. If you go to Damascus, do not neglect, in your way, to stop at a village named Hamâna, where Sultan Mûrad once halted. A very extraordinary and interesting story is attached to his stay there. Farther, do not forget to see the place at Damascus, where the Forty Sleepers (Welled el Kaf) and their black dogs are entranced: they will awake at the time that we are looking forward to.
I send my doctor to you, who is a very good sort of a man, but is no philosopher, like you and me. He can give you some little information on certain curious things in the north of Syria, which no traveller has yet investigated.
Hester Lucy Stanhope.
This letter was despatched by the government estafette, who had brought the prince’s letter; and it was settled that I should pay the prince a visit this morning after breakfast, for it was now two hours after midnight.
March 21.—But just before setting off, Lady Hester altered her mind. An answer had come from Beyrout to a note I had written to Mr. Forster, saying he should reach Sayda on the 21st, at night, and leave it on the 22nd in the morning. It therefore suited better to combine two objects, and pay both visits together.
Prince Pückler Muskau, in the mean time, was unwilling to leave Sayda without a positive assurance from Lady Hester Stanhope that she would see him within a short time. Towards sunset, another estafette came, with a second letter from him, which, however, she did not suffer me to see. She merely said, “Doctor, the Prince won’t be put off; he renews his solicitations, and consents to go to a distance, and return again at the end of a week or ten days: so we must write him another letter.” This was as follows:
Lady Hester Stanhope to the Prince of Pückler Muskau.
Jôon, March 21, 1838.I find your highness to be a great philosopher, but nevertheless a very unreasonable man. Is your object, in coming here, to laugh at a poor creature, reduced by sickness to skin and bone, who has lost half her sight and all her teeth, or is it to hear true philosophy? Alas, at this moment, a terrible cough puts it out of my power even to speak during the greater part of the twenty-four hours. But I will not be stubborn; and, if you will consent to put off your visit for eight or ten days, I will receive you then, even if my health should be no better, that you may fulfil the object of your visit. However, I hope, as the fine weather is at hand, and as I now begin toget a little sleep, which I have not done for many months past, that I shall be able to converse with you for some hours at a time.It appears that you beg me to give you the history of Hafânah, if it is but piecemeal; but it is too long a one to put down on paper.[2]If you believe me, it is with regret that I am obliged to cross you; but I am convinced you would be the last man not to be sorry, if, from a degree of enthusiasm natural to me, which would be increased in finding in you sentiments analogous to my own, I should become excited, and fall anew into sufferings from which I am but just recovering.Sunday, Monday, Thursday, and Friday, will be the days most propitious for our first meeting: I should prefer Sunday or Thursday, according to the calculation I have made of your star and your character: so, Prince, depart in peace; only, when you return, write a little before, to apprize me of it.Hester Lucy Stanhope.
Jôon, March 21, 1838.
I find your highness to be a great philosopher, but nevertheless a very unreasonable man. Is your object, in coming here, to laugh at a poor creature, reduced by sickness to skin and bone, who has lost half her sight and all her teeth, or is it to hear true philosophy? Alas, at this moment, a terrible cough puts it out of my power even to speak during the greater part of the twenty-four hours. But I will not be stubborn; and, if you will consent to put off your visit for eight or ten days, I will receive you then, even if my health should be no better, that you may fulfil the object of your visit. However, I hope, as the fine weather is at hand, and as I now begin toget a little sleep, which I have not done for many months past, that I shall be able to converse with you for some hours at a time.
It appears that you beg me to give you the history of Hafânah, if it is but piecemeal; but it is too long a one to put down on paper.[2]
If you believe me, it is with regret that I am obliged to cross you; but I am convinced you would be the last man not to be sorry, if, from a degree of enthusiasm natural to me, which would be increased in finding in you sentiments analogous to my own, I should become excited, and fall anew into sufferings from which I am but just recovering.
Sunday, Monday, Thursday, and Friday, will be the days most propitious for our first meeting: I should prefer Sunday or Thursday, according to the calculation I have made of your star and your character: so, Prince, depart in peace; only, when you return, write a little before, to apprize me of it.
Hester Lucy Stanhope.
March 22.—The above letter was despatched by the estafette early in the morning, in the expectation that it would reach the Prince time enough to enable him to set off for Beyrout the same day. It was settled between Lady Hester and myself, that, having to meet Mr. Forster and Mr. Knox, I should afterwards call on the Prince. “Then, doctor,” said Lady Hester, “you will be enabled to give me a descriptionof his person, look, manners, &c.” So anxious was she that I should not miss him, that her manservant was at my door at sunrise, to see that I did not oversleep myself, although it was past three o’clock in the morning before I had retired to bed. Fatigue and want of rest were thoughts that never crossed her active mind, or, if they did, she pretended to forget them. Half an hour after sunrise I was on horseback, and on my road to Sayda.
The morning was beautiful. The shelving sides of the mountains, across which the path lay, just began to show forth the blades of corn with which they were generally sown. The birds carolled; the goats were browsing on the rocks; the village girls, with their water-pitchers on their heads, models of elegance for a statuary, were going slowly in groups to the spring. Not a breath of air, and not a cloud disturbed the serenity of the atmosphere. Before me an active lad, as walking groom, according to the custom of the country, led the way, with a pace as light as the antelope’s.
The road, with various windings, from a height of some five hundred feet above the level of the sea, descends, after a two hours’ ride, to the river Ewelly, where, on crossing a bridge of no very ancient construction, the traveller enters the orchards of Sayda, which continue, for a distance of another hour, tothe gates of the city. Close by the bridge stands a rude caravanserai, where travellers halt for a cup of coffee, to smoke a pipe, or, when the gates of the city are shut, which is always at two hours after sunset, to pass the night. A soldier or two may be generally seen squatted on the broad stone bench, ormustaby, as it is called, in front of the caravanserai, or khan, the more common name. These military loiterers are not such idlers as they seem, for they come here to watch for deserters, keeping a keen look-out upon all passengers that arrive by this road, and exercising, in fact, the scrutiny of a vigilant police, although with such apparent carelessness that it would be impossible for strangers to suspect their object.
Near the khan, about fifty yards higher up the river, is a water-mill, on the flat roof of which may be seen wheat just washed and spread out to dry, previous to being ground, and dozens of donkeys, with sacks of wheat or flour on their backs, coming and going to and from the mill and the city. Clumps of oleander bushes are scattered over the alluvial parts by the river side, and mulberry-tree plantations cover its banks.
I received a quietsalâamof recognition from two or three persons as I passed on; for here I was better known than I should have been at the same distance from my native place. Over the bridge theroad turns short to the right, and follows the seashore; an upper road inclines to the left, along the foot of the mountain, the track for those who would proceed to Tyr without entering Sayda. The space between the two, which is thickly covered with orchards and gardens, in the widest part may be nearly half a mile broad. The Mediterranean presented an unruffled deep blue expanse of waters, with here and there ashakhtoorlying as still on its bosom as in a picture.
Under the old and venerable sycamore, which I now remembered for five and twenty years, sat some peasant women, resting themselves on their way from the villages to the city, whose brown and uncovered bosoms contrasted unpleasantly with their intelligent and fine features and their white teeth. But they were bearers of heavy loads, and field-labour and the heat had made restraint irksome to them. Now and then a beautiful girl of fourteen or fifteen might be singled out from among them, whose well-turned ancle and finely-shaped foot, where not an inequality disfigured the beauty of the toes—whose rounded arm and taper fingers, with a form and face all Eastern, and her chemise buttoned with a little coquetry high up the neck—with her white pantaloons embroidered at the ancles, and silver rings round her legs and wrists—would arrest one’s attention, whilst the action of drawing her veil closer to her face seemed to signify that the passing glanceof admiration had not escaped her. Farther on, a long train of Druze women, known by the horns on their heads, from which their long veils, half crape half cotton, were suspended with more graceful folds, were seen winding along the sands, on their way to the Mountain, probably the harým of one of the numerous emirs or princes who inhabit Mount Lebanon. As I passed them they carefully drew their veils across their faces, and peered at me from one eye[3]with all the curiosity belonging to their sex. They were mounted on mules and asses, and their silk and brocaded dresses, with their cloth mantles, the trappings of their beasts, and the demeanour of their attendants, denoted them to be ladies of some rank.
Passing theSebat ayôon, or Seven Springs, a clear rivulet of water which rises about a hundred and fifty yards from the seashore—theShemaôony, where is a vaulted building enclosing the tombs of some ancient pashas, and also, as the tradition goes, that of one of the grandsons of Abraham—I approached the town. Close to the gate, but still in the suburbs, are two or three tombs held in great reverence, where some devout Mussulmans may generally be found in the attitude of prayer. Turning the corner by the barracks, I nodded to the blacksmith, who for manyyears had shod Lady Hester’s horses, and entered the city-gate. A few guards as usual were seated on the outside, and heaps of oranges and vegetables, the property of the gardeners, who had come with their daily supply for sale, were scattered about in such quantities, that it required some little attention to steer through them, without treading on the people who were squatted here and there on the ground in perfect confusion.
I rode to the French khan, to put up my horse; and, giving him to be tethered in the quadrangle under the shade of some lofty trees, I directed my steps to the house of one Lufloofy, where English travellers, on passing through Sayda, generally lodge for the night. For the good old times are gone by, when consuls’ houses were open for the reception of strangers, and the hospitality they received was thought to be sufficiently repaid by the pleasure which the conversation of a European, fresh from Christendom, was thought to afford.
I found that Messieurs Knox and Forster had passed through the preceding day, leaving a message of regret behind that they were obliged to resume their journey without seeing me. Returning after breakfast to the French khan, I waited upon the French consular agent, Monsieur Conti, in the hope of learning something of the prince’s movements.Having satisfied myself that he would not depart until the next day, I passed the morning very agreeably with Madame Conti, a lady remarkable for her conversational vivacity. A glance at the topics that make up the conversation in a gossiping visit of this sort in ancient Sidon may possibly afford some amusement to the English reader.
“You are a very bad neighbour, Mr. Doctor: we hardly ever see you now; and you have never yet brought your family here. You know this house is yours, and not ours: but then the air of the Mountain is so pure, and the road is so bad, that I don’t wonder at their seldom quitting it. We have had a very charming traveller here, who called on us in his way through—a man of most highly polished manners and agreeable address.”[4]
“Yes,” interrupted the husband: “I gave him such information as I could respecting the antiquities he would find between this place and Tyr, and I would have procured him a guide, but the nizàm has taken off all our idle fellows; so I advised him to address himself to the first peasant he met when he got near Sarfend (Sarpentum), and thus he would be able to see a particular grotto I directed him to.”
“Oh!” said the mistress of the house, “it is that very curious grotto, the subterranean chamber, the walls of which are painted over with”—(I must suppress her expression, admissible in Italian, but hardly tolerable to English ears)—“they say that the inhabitants thereabouts used to worship these symbols; and even now the Ansaréas retain the same profane worship, which has continued down to them from the days when the inhabitants of these countries adored Astarte. Strange indeed are these aberrations of the human intellect! The name of the grotto isMegâara el bizàz.”
M. Conti resumed—“The prince is not like the English; he does not even inquire about antiquities: he only spoke to me of Bâalbec.”
Some fish, fresh from the net, were brought in for sale. The mistress, for her family, and I, for mine, each bought two fine ones at the rate of fourpence the oka (4lbs.). Just before, there came in a Turk, who sat down without being asked to do so, and as soon as there was a break in the conversation, addressed himself to M. Conti about some property in litigation in the cadi’s office. “That man,” said the mistress of the house in Italian, which, of course, the Turk did not understand, “is animàm, and the cadi’s clerk: he is talking about justice. Do you know what he calls justice! it is this. When my husband has anysuit, which he and the cadi have to decide, and he comes to talk it over, I take an opportunity, and hold up one or more fingers, as the importance of the affair may require. He has a pretty quick eye, and he understands the number of fingers to mean so manykhyreeas” (gold pieces of money) “as a present for himself and master if the business should be settled in our favour. If he has not been bribed higher, before the end of the week you may be sure how the case will go.”
The imàm addressed himself to me, and said that the Syt (her ladyship) had always been accustomed to give forty piasters a year to his mosque for charity, and, he did not know why, for the last two years, her donation had been discontinued. “I tell Logmagi of it,” added he, “but he always puts me off by saying he has forgotten to mention it: and now, when I meet him in the street, he thinks, I suppose, that I am going to bother him about it, and looks another way. ‘Ya, Logmagi,’ I cry; ‘ya Hassan el Logmagi!—ya Hassan Captàn—ya Abu Mohammed;’ and, although I use the politest appellations, they are of no avail: he turns his head away, and pretends not to hear me. This is very hard, for it used to be a few piasters in my pocket: and the cadi is going to dismiss me from my place, which is a certain two piasters a day (fivepence), besides other little perquisites,in order to give it to his son, who is now grown a young man.”
“Yes, poor fellow!” interrupted Madame C.; “he picks up a few piasters by saying prayers over the graves for the dead, by writing petitions, letters, and so on:” then, turning to the imàm, she added, “Allah kerým!I dare say the doctor will speak a word for you.”
“In shállah—please God—he will,” ejaculated the man. “Good, my lady! May the Almighty restore her to health: she is the benefactress of the poor; and, when we heard she was so ill, half Sayda was in tears. God prolong her life!”
“Amen!” echoed the whole party. And the imàm, who, hearing I was in M. Conti’s house, had, no doubt, come for no other purpose than to try his luck, took his leave.
The imàm spoke the truth. Several poor families lived on Lady Hester’s bounty, and she subscribed to nearly all the mosques and charitable institutions. The old and infirm frequently received little comforts at her hands which their own means would not enable them to procure; and it created no little surprise that, without any previous inquiry, she always seemed to know the precise nature of their wants. Her presents, too, were enhanced in value by being bestowed at the right moment: nobody had to wait for her benevolence.
Madame Conti, the lively and loquacious lady of the khan, had been a severe sufferer by the earthquake of 1837. During that fearful convulsion, one of her ancles was crushed by the fall of a massive stone. One Abdhu, the son of a mason, and himself uniting the double occupations of mason and bone-setter, was immediately called in. The ancle was so mutilated that a European surgeon would have instantly proceeded to amputation; but Abdhu bound up the lacerated parts as well as he could with bandages, and, placing the patient in a damp vaulted warehouse on the ground-floor—the only room which the earthquake had not destroyed—confidently predicted her ultimate recovery. Prince Joinville, happening to be at Beyrout at the time in his frigate, very humanely sent his surgeon to Sayda to see what assistance he could render to the sufferers: the consul’s lady was, of course, the first person attended to. The surgeon pronounced his deliberate conviction that, if the leg were not amputated, the patient must sink under it: Dr. Canova, the Pasha’s physician, who was present, entertained the same opinion. Poor Abdhu lay crouched in a corner during the consultation; for his European brethren looked upon him with too much contempt even to recognize his presence in the room: but, when they were gone, Madame Conti again appealed to him, and he again reassured her. “Donot be alarmed,” he exclaimed; “my father and I have cured many worse cases than this.” She followed his advice, the European doctors making no scruple in saying that she must pay with her life the penalty of her obstinacy. The result proved that she was right, nevertheless; for, at this time, March, 1838, she was in perfect health, with the prospect of being able to walk without the help of crutches, and in June following she became a mother. The case is a curious one, and shows what nature can do in some instances; but it is quite certain that, under such circumstances, amputation would be considered in Europe the only means of saving the patient’s life.
On surgery in the East, which, it must always be recollected, is in the hands of barbers, one more anecdote may find a place. Hassan Tirâany, a brave Albanian soldier, and one of those who, after the siege of Acre, found refuge in Lady Hester’s house, once had his leg shattered by a cannon-ball. A considerable portion of the tibia was carried away. A Turkish barber replaced the piece that was wanting by another piece, of as nearly similar length and dimensions as he could, from a dog that was killed immediately for the purpose. Union took place, the leg healed; and, with the exception of a little deformity, the man was as active as ever. This story Lady Hester used to relate with great exultation.“There!” she would say; “tell Mr. Green that, and acquaint him with a discovery so useful to humanity.” But it is right to observe that the man was not a person of strict veracity; and that a little farther doubt is thrown on the anecdote by the fact that all Mussulmans consider dogs as unclean animals, so that they will hardly touch them, and are, therefore, very unlikely to consent to an osseous union with them.
FOOTNOTES:[1]I am indebted to the reviewer of these “Memoirs” in the New Monthly Magazine of July last, for more accurate information about this legend of the serpent. He says that a cave does exist at a distance of a few hours’ travel from Tarsûs, with which many traditions are connected; and, among others, that of the Seven Sleepers, whom Lady Hester alludes to elsewhere. In the same neighbourhood are to be met the ruins of a castle, called, to the present day, the Castle of the King of the Serpents, to which the fabulous story related by her is attached.[2]Here Lady Hester Stanhope interrupted the dictation of the letter. “You may tell the Prince,” said she, “a story about Sultan Mûrad—a sort of Eastern tale to put in his book. Sultan Mûrad was one day looking at the water boiling in a pot, and turning to his prime-minister who was with him, ‘Vizir,’ said he, ‘I wish to know from you what that bubbling water is talking about, and I command you to tell me.’ His manner was perfectly serious; and the vizir thought, that by such a strange command, expressed so doggedly, the sultan wished to pick a quarrel with him: so, after musing a little—‘Sire,’ replied he, ‘when one of the elements is in commotion, no doubt the master of the world would wish to know the reason. Be patient with me: give me ten days to interpret these signs, and I promise you I will do it.’—‘It is well,’ said the sultan; ‘remember that in ten days I shall expect your answer.’ The vizir retired from the sultan’s presence, and reflected very seriously on what he had to do. ‘My master,’ thought he, ‘is very ridiculous to set me to explain what a pot of boiling water is mumbling to itself about: but, as I am his slave, his orders must be obeyed in some shape. Who knows? there may be soothsayers or magicians who understand these things: I must find such a one out, at all events;’ and he resolved to go in quest of one. He accordingly mounted his horse, and with a single servant set out, without well knowing what road to take.” Lady Hester had got thus far in her story, when she said, “But, doctor, this will take too much time:—so let us finish the letter, and I shall perhaps be able to relate the whole story to the Prince himself.”[3]“Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes.”—Solomon’s Song,c. iv., v.9.[4]I regret not having noted down this English gentleman’s name.
FOOTNOTES:
[1]I am indebted to the reviewer of these “Memoirs” in the New Monthly Magazine of July last, for more accurate information about this legend of the serpent. He says that a cave does exist at a distance of a few hours’ travel from Tarsûs, with which many traditions are connected; and, among others, that of the Seven Sleepers, whom Lady Hester alludes to elsewhere. In the same neighbourhood are to be met the ruins of a castle, called, to the present day, the Castle of the King of the Serpents, to which the fabulous story related by her is attached.
[2]Here Lady Hester Stanhope interrupted the dictation of the letter. “You may tell the Prince,” said she, “a story about Sultan Mûrad—a sort of Eastern tale to put in his book. Sultan Mûrad was one day looking at the water boiling in a pot, and turning to his prime-minister who was with him, ‘Vizir,’ said he, ‘I wish to know from you what that bubbling water is talking about, and I command you to tell me.’ His manner was perfectly serious; and the vizir thought, that by such a strange command, expressed so doggedly, the sultan wished to pick a quarrel with him: so, after musing a little—‘Sire,’ replied he, ‘when one of the elements is in commotion, no doubt the master of the world would wish to know the reason. Be patient with me: give me ten days to interpret these signs, and I promise you I will do it.’—‘It is well,’ said the sultan; ‘remember that in ten days I shall expect your answer.’ The vizir retired from the sultan’s presence, and reflected very seriously on what he had to do. ‘My master,’ thought he, ‘is very ridiculous to set me to explain what a pot of boiling water is mumbling to itself about: but, as I am his slave, his orders must be obeyed in some shape. Who knows? there may be soothsayers or magicians who understand these things: I must find such a one out, at all events;’ and he resolved to go in quest of one. He accordingly mounted his horse, and with a single servant set out, without well knowing what road to take.” Lady Hester had got thus far in her story, when she said, “But, doctor, this will take too much time:—so let us finish the letter, and I shall perhaps be able to relate the whole story to the Prince himself.”
[3]“Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes.”—Solomon’s Song,c. iv., v.9.
[4]I regret not having noted down this English gentleman’s name.