CHAPTERIII.
Lady Hester’s mode of life—Boghoz Bey—The insurrection of the Druzes—Character of the Emir Beshýr—Ibrahim Pasha—Lady Charlotte Bury—Preparations for the reception of Prince Pückler Muskau.
Tuesday, April 3, 1838.—I have frequently been asked this question in England—“How did Lady Hester pass her time in the solitude of the Lebanon?” and, if my answers were generally evasive, the reader of these pages can have no difficulty by this time in understanding the reason why. Another common inquiry was—“Is she writing her memoirs?” Some people were curious to know whether she read a great deal; and others fancied her to be riding in oriental splendour at the head of tribes of Arabs, or residing in a palace, where she sat on a throne of ivory and gold, robed in silk and brocade, and treading, when she walked from room to room, on cashmere shawls; elevating her, in fact, into the queen of realms which had as clear an existence in their imagination as the kingdoms in the thousand and one Arabian nights. Whoever has perused thus far this melancholy accountwill have seen how sad a reality has been substituted for such pleasing visions. Her memoirs, if ever they are written, must be found in her letters, of which many hundreds may yet be in the hands of her various correspondents: for her pen was very prolific. And, were it possible to hope that a sufficient number of these could be obtained from the individuals possessing them, on the pledge that they should be devoted to such a purpose, a compilation might be made, not less entertaining than instructive. Some of her letters on political subjects would be read with great attention by the world, both for the style and for the enlarged and original views they contain. Of these perhaps the most carefully written, at least since she came abroad, are those addressed to the late Mr. Coutts, the eminent banker. The letters she received, I believe, were very generally burned. I have entered her room when she had before her a pile of them squeezed up that would have filled an oven, which she was preparing to have consigned to the flames. She told me that, before Miss Williams’s death, a heap twice as large had been destroyed. This gave me some idea of the extent of her correspondence.[8]
The contrast between the way in which she actually employed her time and the way in which most people supposed she spent it affords a curious illustration of the strangely erroneous impressions which sometimes get abroad concerning remarkable individuals. For the last six or eight years, with the exception of her multifarious correspondence and the occasional visit of a traveller, her hours were filled up in counteracting the intrigues of her maids, or of the Emir Beshýr, or of Mahomet Ali—and I never could see that she attached much more importance to the one than the other: in doing acts of charity; in stimulating the Druzes to rise in arms against Ibrahim Pasha; in fostering the Sultan’s declining power; in bringing consuls to what she considered their true bearings; and in regulating her household. Who would suppose, for instance, that four long hours were spent this day in sorting napkins, table-cloths, quilts, pillows, &c., preparatory to the prince’s visit. Her minute directions in those matters would have worn out the most indefatigable housekeeper. Of what assistance I might be on such occasions I never could make out; but she generally requested me to be present, if it were only, she said, to be a voucher for her against the lies of the women, who often stood her out, when her orders were not executed, that she had not given them.
During the day she called in a Metouali servant-girl about thirteen years old, who perhaps had not been in her presence for a year: but, under the pretence of examining whether her hair had been kept in a cleanly condition, she really wanted to ascertain whether there were any appearances of levity about her. This led to a conversation concerning little children. “Were I a despotic sovereign,” observed she, “I would institute a foundling hospital upon a different plan to those now in existence, where children should be received, and placed in the care of the daughters of people in good circumstances, under the direction of old women, that these young persons might learn how to nurse, and dress, and dandle, and manage infants when they themselves became mothers. What is so shocking as to find English girls who are married, and have never seen how an infant is taken care of?[9]They bring one into the world, and know no more the duties of a mother—no, not so well as the sheep and the asses. What is the reason you always see little lambs and little foals gambolling about so, and little children always crying? theremust be something wrong, and that I would obviate?”
Lady Hester spoke of Mahomet Ali and Boghoz Bey, his minister, once a penniless Armenian adventurer, who went to Egypt to seek his fortune. “I consider Boghoz,” said she, “as one of the most consummate politicians in Europe. He is not an Armenian, although he says he is—his mother was; so was his ostensible father, a rich merchant;—but I have found out his real father. His real father was a Turkish aga, named” (I forgot who) “who used to pay clandestine visits to her, and he is the fruits of them. When I wrote to him once, I gave him such a trimming!—something in this way.—‘Sir, I once knew, when I was in Egypt, a Mr. Boghoz, a polite and accomplished gentleman, who left very agreeable recollections of himself in my memory. I hear now there is a Boghoz Bey, the minister of his Highness the Viceroy of Egypt, and that he has joined in a revolution with his master against his legitimate sovereign. If Boghoz Bey would listen to me, I would tell him that partial revolutions never succeed, and that I never thought well of them. The lot of those who rise against their lawful sovereign has always been unfortunate. Show me an example of a usurper, who has not ended badly: even Buonaparte could not bear to be called one. I a usurper!were his words—I found a crown in the mud, and placed it on my head. When servants take a ride in their master’s coach, everybody scoffs and laughs at them, and they are sure to get overturned. The column of power, which Mahomet Ali has raised, will melt away, like snow before the sun, as soon as his good fortune has come to its zenith. I cannot change my opinion, and Boghoz Bey need not attempt to make me: for he might as well attempt to make a quaker uncover himself before a king, which several monarchs in Europe have not succeeded in doing.’”
Wednesday, April 4.—To-day, as usual, I did not see Lady Hester. Her maid told me she had ordered her window-shutters to be closed, and not to be disturbed on any account.
April 6.—Lady Hester was better. She informed me that Ibrahim Pasha’s affairs were growing critical; for Sherýf Pasha was so badly wounded in the leg that he could not stir from his bed, and Sulymàn Pasha was blockaded in the Horàn. These two generals, she added, had lost full 10,000 men, and the Arabs and Druzes were grown so bold that they had penetrated as far as Hasbéyah, and had made considerable booty.
As the Druze insurrection has excited considerable attention in Europe, and as the origin of it is butimperfectly known, I may be excused for making a short digression from my diary in order to give the reader such information respecting it as I picked up in conversation with individuals, who, from their proximity to the scene of action, may naturally be supposed to have drawn it themselves from good sources.
The prince of the Druzes, known by the title of the Emir of the Druzes, or the Emir Beshýr (Emir being his title and Beshýr his prenomen, as we should say Prince Edward), has, in the course of his long life—for he is now more than eighty-four years of age—been obliged to fly from his principality three or four times, having, on many occasions, with difficulty escaped the vengeance of three successive pashas of Acre, who, for his treasonable practices, by mandates from the sultan, sought his head. Twice or three times he took refuge in Egypt. His last flight to that country was not many years ago; where, until he was able to return to Mount Lebanon again, he lived, it was said, in obscurity, unnoticed by Mahomet Ali. He must be a wise man who could say whom Mahomet Ali noticed or not; for, during this apparent neglect, it is suspected the plan for the conquest of Syria was laid between them. On his return to Syria, the Emir Beshýr was reinstated in his principality. Some events, not necessary to ournarrative, retarded for a time the projected invasion; but, at last, seizing upon a propitious moment, Ibrahim Pasha marched his father’s forces into Syria, besieged Acre, the stronghold of the country, took Damascus, all Cœle-Syria, and the sea-coast, and then led his troops, elate with victory, into Asia Minor, where he defeated the sultan’s army, and would have proceeded on to Constantinople, had not the intervention of the European powers arrested his course.
Returning to Syria, he organized his new government, and silently matured his scheme for bringing Mount Lebanon into subjection. In order to obtain popularity for himself, stories were industriously circulated by his emissaries of the total estrangement of Sultan Mahmood from every tenet and dogma of Islamism. He was said to frequent houses of ill repute, to dress like a Frank, to drink wine with the Greeks in the taverns at Pera, and to have lost all sense of Mussulman propriety. These scandalous rumours were promulgated in all directions with a sinister view to elevate, by comparison, the character and life of Ibrahim Pasha; for there is nothing so revolting to the true believers as any approximation to European usages and vices: and whatever some writers, in their ardour for civilization, as they designate it, may fancy, no amalgamation ever can be formed betweennations so opposite in climate, habits, religion, and dress, as the Europeans and Orientals. Be this as it may, it is not improbable that these malevolent reports, to a certain extent, answered the ends for which they were designed, insensibly undermining the sultan’s personal influence, and disposing the Syrian mussulmans to regard Ibrahim Pasha as an apostle of their faith.
It was not until the fourth year from his first invasion that Ibrahim Pasha attempted the complete subjugation of Mount Lebanon. The Druzes are a warlike people, hardy, accustomed to fatigue and to the use of arms, living in villages difficult, nay, impossible of access for artillery, and easily capable of defence from their natural position. All their houses are of stone, and the interminable succession of field walls forms favourable breastworks for opposing an approaching enemy. Some old castles, dating from the time of the crusaders, are still standing in various parts of the country, generally on sites commanding the surrounding neighbourhood. Beside the Druzes, there is a race of Christians, known as the Maronite population, whose villages cover that part of the chain of Mount Lebanon which runs behind Tripoli as far as Calât el Medýk and the plain of Accár, where a narrow defile occurs, through which there is a communication between the plains of Accár and the Bkâa,which is the plain that divides Lebanon and Ante-Lebanon. Beyond this defile, the mountain rises into a lofty chain, running towards Latakia; and here dwell the Ansaréas, the Ishmaelites, and some other races:—but we have only to do now with Mount Lebanon.
By arrangements, supposed to have been previously made between the Emir and Ibrahim Pasha, and in order that it might look as if the Emir was taken totally by surprise, one fine night in the summer, several regiments of Ibrahim Pasha’s troops were marched from Acre, Sayda, and Tripoli, on one side, and from Damascus and Bâalbec on the other, so as to arrive atBtedýn(the Emir’s palace) at Dayr el Kamar (the chief town) and at all the other important points of Mount Lebanon, precisely on the same day, and as nearly as possible precisely at the same hour. Either that the time had been well chosen, inasmuch as the Druzes were then employed in harvesting and other agricultural labours, or else the plan had been so laid as to ensure success and to preclude resistance: the result was that the mountain was taken possession of without firing a gun. The Emir Beshýr, acknowledged to be the most consummate and perfidious hypocrite of modern times, played his part so well and feigned such great trepidation and alarm when two regiments marched into the courtyard of his palace, that he persuaded his household, his minister, and theDruze people in succession, that he was the victim of the stratagem as much as they were themselves.
But, although Ibrahim Pasha had thus concentrated in the Lebanon a sufficient force to overawe the Druzes, the material fact was not to be overlooked that they were still in possession of their arms, which, under favourable circumstances, they might turn against the occupants. His first step, therefore, was to disarm them, which was done effectually; those who were refractory being either bastinadoed, or, if they exhibited any very aggravated resistance, put to death. Many, however, succeeded in secreting their weapons. Not to have too much work on his hands at once, Ibrahim exempted the Christians from the disarmament, and, by cajoling and pretending he was disposed to favour them, he flattered the petty vanity, that readily manifests itself in a population which the superiority of the Druzes and long habits of servility to mussulman masters had kept somewhat in a state of inferiority; for, although the Maronites, who never live much away from Mount Lebanon, hold themselves not at all inferior to the Druzes, it is not so with the Greeks and Greek Catholics of the villages, who, creeping through life in abject submissiveness to their rulers, were easily entrapped by so flattering and unexpected a compliment. The consequence was that, what with fine silk girdles and turbans of brightercolours than before, what with a brace of pistols and the conceit their new privilege inspired, persons who had returned to the mountain after the absence of a year, would not have known them. Thus was created a certain degree of dislike in the breasts of the Druzes, who saw the Maronites and other Christians take the part of their oppressors against them; but, when a sufficient time had elapsed for leaving this source of jealousy to ferment between the two parties, Ibrahim Pasha played off another of those tricks for which he is unrivalled. Abbas Pasha, his nephew, one day happened to see one of the principal Christians, a warden of the Emir Beshýr’s, dressed out very finely, with his pistols in his girdle, and with side arms; “Who is that man?” said he, in a loud tone of voice; “what is all that finery? what is the meaning of those pistols, of that khanjàr, and that sabre? why, what am I to wear, if those fellows appear in my presence such fine gentlemen? Some remedy must be found for this—I must see to it.” True enough he did; for, very shortly after, the Christians were desired to bring their arms and give them up, and the same measures were resorted to for enforcing the order in reference to them which had already been applied with such savage rigour to the Druzes.
The whole of Syria was now defenceless. The beautiful bazars of Damascus, once famous for theirfinely-tempered blades and weapons of defence, which, for many centuries, conferred such a remarkable reputation on the artificers of that city, were now shorn of their splendour. The Turks, who, in general, have always been proud of displaying their sabres, guns, and pistols, on their persons or suspended over their sofas, were now crestfallen: sadness was depicted in every countenance, and only wolves, jackals, and partridges seemed to rejoice in the change that had taken place.
But the spirit of the Druzes was not broken: they began to suspect that they had been betrayed by the Emir Beshýr. Circumstances transpired from time to time which led them to suppose that their independence had been made a traffic of between him and Mahomet Ali, and that they had been sold to enrich the coffers of the one, and enlarge the domains of the other. The equivocal conduct of the Emir Beshýr, his overacted apprehension, the treachery discoverable in some of his measures, finally, his known duplicity, led them to the conclusion that he had betrayed them. To complete their disasters, Ibrahim Pasha introduced the conscription among them, a measure so revolting to their usages, and so utterly at variance with the voluntary levies of their forefathers, that the severest punishment, not even the fear of death, could induce them to submit patiently to so hateful an infliction.
The Druzes are inhabitants of three provinces ofSyria, viz., Mount Lebanon, Gebel Aali, near Aleppo, and the Horàn. The proximity of the Horàn to the Desert and to the Bedouin Arabs, who acknowledge the authority of neither pasha nor sultan, obviously suggested that district—little known, indeed, to European travellers, but affording many natural means of defence, and far removed from garrisons and cities—as a refuge from the conscription. Many recruits, therefore, fled from their families in Mount Lebanon to the Horàn, until, from increase of numbers and of sufferings in a common cause, they mustered in sufficient force to oppose resistance to the Pasha’s troops. They were joined by the Bedouin Arabs, who hover round that quarter, and, in their approaches towards Damascus, gave considerable apprehension to their Egyptian masters. Sheryf Pasha marched to quell the insurrection, and Suliman, Pasha of Sayda, joined him. We have already seen that Sheryf Pasha was wounded in a rencontre with them; and, taking up the events that occurred in the course of the campaign from that date, I shall insert them in my diary as they come to my knowledge.[10]
Lady Hester, who was favourable to the cause of the Sultan and abhorred the Emir Beshýr, whilst she admired the military talents and known courage of Ibrahim Pasha, determined, nevertheless, to stigmatize him as a rebel, and work his overthrow, if she could: she, therefore, encouraged in every way the hostile disposition of the Druzes. From the beginning of Ibrahim Pasha’s successes in Syria, the protection she afforded to the refugees and wounded from Acre sufficiently manifested her tendencies. Mahomet Ali, who was aware of her political abilities, her unflinching opposition to him, and her fearless support of the Sultan, had written, through Boghoz Bey, to deprecate her interference in the affairs of the province, and to signify that, if she afforded an asylum and counsel to his enemies, the tranquillity of Syria could not be secured. A portion of her answer has already been given; but when Ibrahim Pasha made so easy a conquest of the mountain, a word fell from his mouth, which, if ever the Druzes succeed in expelling him, may be said to have been the cause of his reverses. He is reported to have exclaimed from his divan, when the news of the entire occupation of Mount Lebanon without firing a single shot was brought to him, “What, those dogs of Druzes had not a single bullet for us!” This little sentence was repeated to Lady Hester, and not long afterwards a Druze of somenote came to pay her a visit. As he entered the room, she abruptly addressed him in the same words, “Dog of a Druze! what, hadn’t you one single bullet for Ibrahim Pasha?”—and then, with a sort of sarcastic pity, dilated on Ibrahim Pasha’s exultation over them. She made it a by-word among her servants; and not a Druze came near the house but he was saluted with, “Dog of a Druze! what, had not you a single bullet for the Pasha?” To people connected with Ibrahim Pasha’s government, she told the same story, seemingly as if in praise of the Pasha’s bravery, who loved war so much that he could not bear an easy and bloodless conquest, even though to his own advantage. In every quarter, through every channel, the Pasha’s saying was echoed in the Druzes’ ears: and his followers, thinking it an anecdote that told well for their master, did not consider that it rankled in the bosoms of the Druzes, who, stung to the core by these cutting words, swore never to sleep until the hour of vengeance came.
We will now return to the narrative of the occurrences which were passing in Lady Hester’s house.
Saturday, April 7.—This day, when I saw Lady Hester, she asked me if, on entering, I had observed anybody under the olive-tree outside of the gate: I answered I had. “Well,” said she, “go and talk to her.”—“But the person I saw was a poor man,” Ireplied.—“Ah! that’s the one,” resumed Lady Hester; “that’s not a man, but a woman in man’s clothes: that woman, at the siege of Acre, used to carry water to the artillerymen on the ramparts, during the fire, to drink, and was never in the least afraid; she is worth seeing: she comes to me every year for a little money. I used to give her 150 or 200 piasters: but, as I am poor now, take her fifty, and tell her I am rather short of money.” I went, and sat down and talked with her. She had a small gray eye and a placid countenance: she seemed to be very well aware of the movements of the Pasha’s troops, and it struck me afterwards that she might be accustomed to use her disguise for the same purposes in Lady Hester’s service that the woman spoken of in a former part did for the first Lord Chatham. I told her Lady Hester was ill, and that there was no chance of seeing her: I added some tobacco to the present which her ladyship had sent her; and, in very proper terms, she returned thanks, and went away.
Sunday, April 8.—Osman Chaôosh had been sent to Beyrout for money, and returned to-day, bringing only £40, the bill on Mr. Michael Tutungi having been protested. The steamboat from England had arrived, and there were no letters.
Monday, April 9.—When I first came to Jôon, Lady Hester Stanhope had expressed an inclination tosee one of Lady Charlotte Bury’s novels: so, having at length received, on the preceding evening, the “Memoirs of a Peeress,” which I had written for to France, I began reading it to her to-day. She was calm and composed. The history of events, so well known to her, seemed to afford her singular pleasure; and it was evident that if she had always sought for amusement in books, instead of spending her time in disciplining incorrigible knaves and wenches, she might have found many happy hours, even in the midst of sickness and solitude.
Lady Hester had been looking into the book in the course of the day. “I do not think,” observed she, “that the heroine’s character is hers;” (meaning Lady Charlotte’s,) “it seems to me a fictitious one, made up partly of her own observations, partly of what has happened to herself: if it is anybody, it must mean Lady Caher. Perhaps Lady Charlotte’s husband writes the books, and she supplies the materials. The style is not that of a woman like her; she is more likely to set off on foot three or four miles to see how they ploughed (at Abra, for example,) like an active Scotch woman; but, as for writing a book, I think she was no more likely to do it than I am.[11]I couldnot write a book, doctor, if you would give me the world. Ah! I could dictate a little to anybody who wanted to write down a correct account of circumstances that I know.
“I remember Lady Charlotte’s first going to court, and the effect was very much what she describes of Miss Mordaunt:—that is, somebody said she is too thin—very handsome, to be sure, but too thin: and somebody else observed that, in a year’s time, when she filled out, she would be remarkably beautiful, which turned out to be the case. She was three years older than me, but she had such a hand and arm, and such a leg! she had beautiful hair too, gold colour, and a finely-shaped nose, and fine complexion. In about three years she all at once disappeared from thebeau monde: she married her cousin, who was poor, and was still Lady Charlotte Campbell, but always in uneasy circumstances. When he died, she travelled into Italy, for the sake of educating her children, and there she married the tutor:—some of those tutors are very good-looking men. There was a daughter of the D*** of B*******, who married a tutor. To besure they were carroty, although she was the prettiest; but the D*** would not see her for three years, and, at last, they gave him a living. One of the R****** family also married a tutor.”
I read on, and came to the passage where the heroine speaks of herself as grown old, and having lost her charms. Here Lady Hester interrupted me:—“That cannot be her,” said she; “for C. told me she is still a loveable woman, and that the Persian Ambassador left England desperately in love with her.”
An Englishman, as it was supposed, in the course of the day, was seen to pass the gate, and was observed taking sketches towards the south side of the walls; he spoke to nobody, and went his way: who or what he was no one knew.[12]
Thursday, April 12.—The whole of the last week had been a busy one with Lady Hester, who, in spite of her weakness, had rummaged out all her best sheets, bought new dinner-napkins, had particular and strange marks put to them, and, on the certainty of theprince’s coming, had ordered the road within the gate up to the strangers’ garden to be new laid and rolled, the doors to be fresh painted, and such other preparations to be made as should give an air of cleanliness, if of nothing else, to her solitary abode.
This day was showery; yet, notwithstanding, about three o’clock, she issued from her chamber, and, requesting me to be present, she made the store-room man produce all the contents of his china-closet and spread them out on the pavement of the courtyard before her; where, seated with her stick in her hand to point and strike with, she examined, re-examined, and classed everything, until she had made up a breakfast and dinner service for the prince, as also one for his Turkish attendants, and one for his European servants.
It was on such occasions as these that Lady Hester infused activity into the most sluggish. A blunder, an act of stupidity, or a lie, was sure to be followed by a smart blow on the shoulders from her stick, which fell like a German corporal’s on a soldier at drill. The epithets of beast, rascal, stupid fellow, etcetera, were dealt out with much freedom and readiness in the Arabic language. An old blue and white teapot, two teacups and saucers, and two plates, one a little broken, were all she could muster of the same pattern for tea-things; and, for dinner, whiteplates and dishes composed a plain but decent set. In my own house, not five hundred yards off, I had a complete breakfast set in white French porcelain, and another in English ware, as also a spare dinner service: these I pressed her to make use of for the prince, but she would not listen to it:—“let him see what I am reduced to,” she said. Lastly, she sent for the two servants who were to wait at table on the prince, and ordered them to set out on the ground (for there was no table in her apartments, except the old card-table, which alternately went from her bed-room to her saloon, and from her saloon to her bed-room, as she moved from one to the other) all the plates and dishes as if for dinner, that they might take a lesson. But, as it was impossible to make them understand anything about order or symmetry, I suggested that one of my lads, who was accustomed to lay the cloth, should be promoted to that post during the prince’s stay. “Let me see first if he knows,” said Lady Hester: so Mahmôod, a Turkish lad of sixteen, was sent for. He had never seen Lady Hester, and, like all those who were shut out from her courtyard and garden, thought her some mysterious being: judge, therefore, of his fright when he came before her. Being told what he was called for, he set about it as he had been taught by Miss Longchamp, who, in the French fashion, and at a roundtable, had made him place the soup-terrine in the middle. This excited a loud exclamation from Lady Hester, and afforded her an opportunity of showing how a table was laid in fashionable houses. The scene lasted until sunset, and Mahmôod was duly promoted to the office ofbuffetierto the prince’s table!
FOOTNOTES:[8]A collection of the Arabic letters which she had received from people of all classes and on all subjects would have been very valuable to the Oriental scholar: but these were also burned at various intervals.[9]“There is perhaps not one mother in ten thousand, who, before becoming such, has ever inquired into the nature and wants of the newly-born infant, or knows on what principle its treatment ought to be directed.”—Physiology of Digestion, by Andrew Combe, M.D.,p.232, 2nd edition.[10]It may be mentioned that Suliman Pasha is considered as the most efficient general in Syria, and, in difficult situations, he is supposed to direct the movements of the army. Ibrahim Pasha passes for being jealous of him, but unable to do without him.[11]On returning to Europe, I discovered that this novel, although edited by Lady C. Bury, was the production of another lady, Mrs. C. Gore. Nevertheless, the observations made on it and on its supposed author are retained, in the hope that each of these highly-gifted persons, as well as the reader, will be amused in hearing Lady Hester’s comments, made in a different spirit from that which animates a critic in our periodical reviews.[12]I have often thought it must have been Mr. Roberts, who, in his “Views of Syria,” has given such a beautiful drawing of Lady Hester’s house, notwithstanding that the surrounding scenery is somewhat embellished by the painter’s imagination; there being no river at the foot of the mount, but only a watercourse always dry, excepting after heavy rains.
FOOTNOTES:
[8]A collection of the Arabic letters which she had received from people of all classes and on all subjects would have been very valuable to the Oriental scholar: but these were also burned at various intervals.
[9]“There is perhaps not one mother in ten thousand, who, before becoming such, has ever inquired into the nature and wants of the newly-born infant, or knows on what principle its treatment ought to be directed.”—Physiology of Digestion, by Andrew Combe, M.D.,p.232, 2nd edition.
[10]It may be mentioned that Suliman Pasha is considered as the most efficient general in Syria, and, in difficult situations, he is supposed to direct the movements of the army. Ibrahim Pasha passes for being jealous of him, but unable to do without him.
[11]On returning to Europe, I discovered that this novel, although edited by Lady C. Bury, was the production of another lady, Mrs. C. Gore. Nevertheless, the observations made on it and on its supposed author are retained, in the hope that each of these highly-gifted persons, as well as the reader, will be amused in hearing Lady Hester’s comments, made in a different spirit from that which animates a critic in our periodical reviews.
[12]I have often thought it must have been Mr. Roberts, who, in his “Views of Syria,” has given such a beautiful drawing of Lady Hester’s house, notwithstanding that the surrounding scenery is somewhat embellished by the painter’s imagination; there being no river at the foot of the mount, but only a watercourse always dry, excepting after heavy rains.