CHAPTERVII.
Journey to Beyrout—Death of Mrs. K—— —Mr. George Robinson and M. Guys—The River Damoor—Khaldy—Letter from Lady Hester to Mr. K.—Lord Prudhoe—Mrs. Moore—Lady Hester’s dislike to be the subject of occasional poetry—Striking a Turk—Lady Hester’s opinion of Lord Byron—Arrival of Maximilian Duke of Bavaria—Letter to the Baron de Busech—Letter to H.R.H. the Duke Maximilian—Adventures of the Duke—Illness of the Duke’s negro, Wellington—Vexation of His Royal Highness—Letter to Mr. K., merchant at Beyrout—Letter to Lord Brougham—Professional visit to Sulyman Pasha’s child—League between the maids and receivers of stolen goods—Black doses for the Prince’s suite—Letter from Lady Hester to the Duke of Bavaria on his intended visit—The Duke leaves Syria.
Tuesday, May 15.—I had been to Sayda to-day, and was within a mile of Jôon, on my return, when I saw a servant making towards me in breathless haste. A letter had arrived for me from Beyrout, which Lady Hester had immediately forwarded to me on the road by this man, charging him to deliver it withall possible speed, so that it should reach me before the close of daylight. The reason of all this extraordinary haste was that I might be enabled to communicate at once with her, if necessary, concerning its contents; as the vigil of Wednesday commenced at sunset on Tuesday, from which hour till the following sunset she could neither see me, nor admit of any message from me. The reader will remember that on every Wednesday, from sunset to sunset, her ladyship was invisible.
There was indeed occasion, as it happened, for all this haste. The letter was from Mr. K., an English merchant at Beyrout, informing me of the alarming illness of his wife, and begging, in the most pressing terms, that I would use all expedition to come (as he was pleased to express himself) and save her.
As the sun was now setting, I desired the servant to tell Lady Hester that there would not be time in the interval for me to see her, and that I should be obliged to set off that night to Beyrout. I made my arrangements accordingly, and started at three o’clock in the morning, about two hours before daylight, accompanied by a servant. The horses were all at grass some miles from the house, so that I was compelled to perform the journey on an ass. It took me eleven hours; and, on my arrival, I found that Mrs. K. had died in the morning.
There was a very decent inn at Beyrout, kept by one Guiseppe Paraschivà, a Greek, who gave the most copious repasts that a hungry traveller can desire to find. Having ordered my dinner, I went to the French consul’s house, thinking there to meet with the physician who attended Mrs. K. In the quadrangle of his residence I saw a number of persons assembled, and an auction going on. I had not made three steps towards the circle, when a gentleman who knew me advanced in a hurried manner towards me. “Touch nobody,” said he; “the plague is in the town: it has taken us by surprise; three persons have died to-day in the blacksmiths’ street.”[24]I thanked my friend, and, having seen Monsieur Guys, who confirmed the bad news of the plague and of Mrs. K.’s death, I hastened away, and went to the English consul’s, Mr. Moore. He was already in quarantine, and received me at the doorway of his house, where it happened Lord Prudhoe was then sitting, in the same predicament.
The funeral of Mrs. K. took place in the evening.Her case had been a melancholy one: her sufferings must have been excruciating; and the affection of the husband, anxious to save the life of a wife he loved to distraction, induced him to allow of certain unskilful efforts for her relief, no doubt well intended, but assuredly baneful to the patient. The lady was a German, a model of domestic purity and affection, and idolized by her husband.
I saw Mr. K. the following day, and condoled with him on his loss. He was like a distracted man, and lay prostrate on his sofa, vowing vengeance against the French doctor, whom he denounced as his wife’s murderer.
Saturday, May 19.—As the Franks had now begun to shut up their houses, and the report of fresh cases of plague had created some consternation, I returned to Jôon. The preceding evening, whilst paying a visit to Monsieur and Madame Guys, he put into my hands a file of newspapers, a packet of letters, and a parcel, just arrived by a French merchant-vessel from Marseilles. The parcel contained Mr. George Robinson’s “Three Years’ Residence in the East,” which the author himself had kindly forwarded to me from Paris. I had the pleasure of opening it at the thirty-sixth page of his volume on Syria, and of reading to my friends, Monsieur and Madame Guys, the well-deserved tribute paid to their hospitality and distinguishedmerits, which excited in them a lively emotion. “We do our best,” said Monsieur Guys, “to make Beyrout agreeable to such travellers as we are fortunate enough to become acquainted with; but it is not always that we meet with such grateful acknowledgments.” Mr. Robinson, in his Arab dress, was the exact similitude of Burckhardt, alias Shaykh Ibrahim. He also spoke Arabic with a degree of fluency that made it probable, had he spent as many years in the East as Mr. Burckhardt, he would have been able, like him, almost to have passed for a native.
Being long familiar with the road from Beyrout to Sayda, it would be difficult for me to conjure up such a picture of its rocky and solitary horrors as that which has been drawn by M. Lamartine. Features so romantic could have been portrayed only under the sudden inspiration of novelty and surprise. First impressions are strongly contrasted with the hackneyed indifference of one who has traversed the same ground over and over again, and is become familiar with its peculiarities. Instead, therefore, of describing what would strike the eye of the new-comer, let us substitute a sketch or two of the actual manners of the people in the khans or on the high road, as they are presented to the habitual observer.
I left Beyrout on my return as soon as the citygates were open, which was before sunrise. The mulberry grounds and olive groves through which the road lies extend in this direction for four or five miles. Then the sandy soil ceases, the spurs of Mount Lebanon come down to within a few hundred yards of the seashore, and sometimes meet the waves. I was overtaken hereabout by three horsemen, all Christians—for Christians and Turks are seldom seen riding in company—and one of this goodly trio was, thus early in the morning, singing with all the force of his lungs. Osman Chaôosh, who was with me, said, “That man, who is so merry, is reputed to have the best voice in all Sayda; he goes very often into the Mountain to the different Emirs’ palaces, where he remains a fortnight together, and diverts them by his songs. They say the princes are so fond of him that he sometimes brings away bags full of money. Then he is invited to weddings, and to merchants’ and agas’ parties, and wherever gaiety or amusement of any kind is going forward.” By this time they had come up with us, and were questioning Osman, in a low voice, where I had been, &c. They then kissed their hands, touched their turbans, and, passing a-head, being well mounted on good mares, they soon outstripped us, and left us behind. Osman resumed the conversation—“Did you observe that rider, with a full face, on the chestnut mare, with a saddle covered with brocade? well, thatis one of the best penmen we have in all the pashalik. He was a government secretary at Acre, and vast sums of money passed through his hands; but some stuck to his fingers, and, being found out, he was bastinadoed and sent by the Pasha to theLemàn,” (place for convicts) “where he remained some months. He was not badly off, however, as he did nothing except smoking his pipe all day. He has now been out a good bit, but is employed again.”—“And is he well received in society after such an exposure?” I asked.—“Why not?” replied Osman; “he was not quite clever enough, and he suffered for it—that’s all.”
We soon after came to a khan, called El Khaldy, where we found the three horsemen dismounted, and seated under the shed, drinking arrack and smoking. I made a halt likewise to get something for breakfast. The khankeeper spread a clean mat on the floor of the estrade, and on this I sat down. A brown earthenware dish ofleben, or curdled milk, was served up with a wooden spoon, and about half a dozen bread-cakes, in size and substance like pancakes, were placed before me. When I had eaten this, a pipe and a finjàn of coffee, with a lump of sugar out of a little provision which Osman had in his saddle-bags (a precaution necessary in these public-houses, where no such luxury is found), finished my temperate meal. The ex-convict and the singer were treated as great gentry, whichI could easily observe by the attention the master paid them. Whilst I was smoking my pipe, another horseman arrived with a groom on foot. The groom tied up the horse in front of the khan, took off the saddle-bags, and, from a napkin, which he spread on the mat where his master had been littered down like myself, he pulled out bread, cheese, and a paper ofhalâwyornougat, as the French call it. Then, having unstrapped the nosebag of corn, he tied it over the horse’s head, and came and seated himself opposite his master, and both began to eat with sharp appetites, master and servant without any distinction. The landlord brought a small bottle with a spout to it, full of arrack, and a tumbler, which were set down without a word being spoken, showing he was well acquainted with his guests’ taste. The gentleman—as persons always do in the East—invited me to join him; and, on my thanking him, he did the same to a poor peasant who was seated near us. Good breeding among them requires that, when they eat, they should ask those present to do the same; but nobody ever thinks of accepting the invitation, unless pressed upon him in a manner which is understood to preclude a refusal. I however accepted a bit of halâwy, not to appear uncivil, upon which the traveller asked me if we had any such sweetmeat in my country. I declared we had none more to my taste, although our confectioners’shops possessed a great variety. He remarked that it was an excellent thing on the road wherewith to stay the appetite, and assured me that Haroun el Raschid himself, if I had ever heard of that caliph, did not disdain it. “Oh!” replied I, “we have many stories of the Caliph Haroun.”—“Have you?” cried he: “then, if you will give me leave, I will add one more to your store.[25]
“Hakem was one of the familiar friends of the Commander of the Faithful, Haroun el Raschid. The caliph said to him one day, ‘Hakem, I mean to hunt to-morrow, thou must go with me.’—‘Most willingly,’ answered Hakem. He went home and said to his wife, ‘The caliph has ordered me to go a hunting with him to-morrow, but really I cannot; I am accustomed to dine early, and the caliph never takes his dinner before noon: I shall die of hunger. Faith, I will not go.’—‘God forbid!’ said the wife: ‘you do not mean to say you will disobey the caliph’s order?’—‘But what am I to do?’ said Hakem; ‘must I die of hunger?’—‘No,’ quoth the wife; ‘you have nothing to do but to buy a paper of halâwy, which you can put in the folds of your turban, and so eat a bit every now and then whilst you are waiting for the caliph’s dinner time, and then you will dine with him.’—‘Upon myword,’ said Hakem, ‘that’s an excellent idea.’ The next day Hakem bought a paper of halâwy, stuck it into his turban, and went to join the caliph. As they were riding along, Haroun turned round, and looking at Hakem, spied out in the folds of his turban, rolled round his head, the paper in which the halâwy was wrapped. He called to his Vizir Giaffer. ‘What is your pleasure, Commander of the Faithful?’ said the Vizir.—‘Do you see,’ said the caliph, ‘the paper of halâwy that Hakem has stuck in his turban? By the Prophet, I’ll have some fun with him: he shall not eat a bit of it.’ They went on for a while talking, until the caliph, pretending that he saw some game, spurred on his mule as if to pursue it. Hakem raised his hand up to his turban, took a bit of halâwy out of it, and put it into his mouth. The same moment, the caliph, turning back to him, cried out, ‘Hakem!’ Hakem spit out the halâwy, and replied:—‘Please your Highness!’—‘The mule,’ said Haroun, ‘goes very badly; I can’t think what is the matter with her.’—‘I dare say the groom has fed her too much,’ replied Hakem submissively; ‘her guts are grumbling.’ They went on again, and the caliph again took the lead. Hakem thought the opportunity favourable, took out another bit of halâwy, and whipped it slily into his mouth, when Haroun suddenly turned round, crying ‘Hakem! Hakem!’—‘What is your Highness’s will?’ said Hakem, againdropping the halâwy. ‘I tell you,’ rejoined the caliph, ‘that this mule is a vile beast: I wonder what the devil it is that troubles her!’—‘Commander of the Faithful,’ said Hakem, ‘to-morrow the farrier shall look at her, and see what ails her. I dare say it is nothing.’ A few moments elapsed, and Hakem said to himself, ‘Am I a farrier, that that fool should bore me with his questions every moment? mule! mule! I wish to God the mule’s four feet were in the master’s belly!’
“Shortly after, the caliph pushed forward again. Hakem cautiously carried his hand to the halâwy, and made another trial; but, before he had time to put it into his mouth, the caliph rode up to him, crying out, ‘Hakem! Hakem! Hakem!’—‘Oh Lord,’ said Hakem, ‘what a wretched day for me! nothing but Hakem, Hakem! What folly is this!’—‘I think the farrier must have pricked the mule’s foot,’ said Haroun: ‘don’t you see that she is lame?’—‘My lord,’ said Hakem, ‘to-morrow we will take her shoe off; the farrier shall give her another shoe, and, please God, we shall cure her.’
“Just then a caravan came along the road on its way from Persia. One of the merchants approached the caliph, prostrated himself before him, and presented him with several objects of value, as also with a young slave of incomparable beauty and of a lovely figure,remarkable for the charms of her person, with taper waist and swelling hips, eyes like an antelope’s, and a mouth like Solomon’s seal. She had cost the merchant a hundred thousand denàrs. When Haroun saw her, he was charmed at her aspect, and became at once passionately enamoured of her. He immediately gave orders to turn back to Bagdad, and said to Hakem, ‘Take that young creature with you, and make haste with her to the city. Get down at the palace—go up to the Pavilion—put it in order—uncover the furniture, set out the table—fill the bottles—and look that nothing is wanting.’ Hakem hastened on, and executed his commission. The caliph soon after arrived, surrounded by hiscortègeof vizirs, emirs, and courtiers. He entered the Pavilion, and dismissed his suite. Going into the saloon, where the young slave awaited him, he said to Hakem, ‘Remain outside the door of the saloon; stir not a single step from it; and see that the Princess Zobëide does not surprise us.’—‘I understand,’ said Hakem. ‘A thousand times obedience to the orders of God and to the Commander of the Faithful.’
“The caliph sat down to table with the young slave: they ate, and then went into another room, where wines and dessert were prepared. Haroun had just taken a seat, had filled his glass, and had got it to his mouth, when there was a knock at the door. ‘As sure as fate,’ said the caliph, ‘here is the PrincessZobëide.’ He rose in a hurry, put away the wine and everything that was on the table, hid the young lady in a closet, and opened the door of the pavilion, where he finds Hakem. ‘Is the Princess Zobëide coming?’ said he to him. ‘No, my lord,’ said Hakem: ‘but I fancied you might be uneasy about your mule. I have questioned the groom, and, true enough, he had overfed her: the beast’s stomach was crammed. To-morrow we will have her bled, and all will be right again.’—‘Don’t trouble thyself about the mule,’ said the caliph; ‘I want none of thy impertinent stories now. Remain at thy post, and, if thou hearest the Princess Zobëide coming, let me know.’—‘Your highness shall be obeyed,’ replied Hakem.
“Haroun re-entered the apartment, fetched the beautiful slave out of the closet, and placed everything on the table as before. He had hardly done, when another knock was heard. ‘A curse on it! there is Zobëide,’ cries the caliph. He hides the slave in the closet, shuffles off the wine and dessert, and runs to the door. There he sees Hakem. ‘Well,’ says he, ‘what did you knock for?’—‘Indeed, Commander of the Faithful,’ replied Hakem, ‘I can’t help thinking about that mule. I have again interrogated the farrier, and he pretends there is nothing the matter with her, but that she has stood too long without work in the stable, and that’s the reason why she was a littlelazy when you rode her to-day: otherwise she is very well?—‘To the devil with ye both—thee and the mule!’ said Haroun; ‘didn’t I tell thee I would have none of thy impertinence? Stand where I told thee to remain, and take care that Zobëide does not catch us; for, if she did, this day would be a bad one for thee.’—‘May my head answer for my vigilance,’ said Hakem.
“Again the caliph goes in, and a third time lets out the young slave, replenishes the table, fills a goblet with wine, and carries it to his lips. Suddenly he hears a clatter on the terrace: ‘This time,’ said he, ‘there is Zobëide, sure enough.’ He pushes the slave into her hiding-place, removes the fruit and the wine, and burns some pastils to drive away the smell. He hastens up to the terrace of the pavilion, finds nobody but Hakem there, and says to him ‘Was that Zobëide?—where is she?—is she coming?’—‘No, no, Commander of the Faithful,’ said Hakem; ‘the princess is not here; but I saw the mule making a clatter with her feet, just as I did myself, and I am really quite uncomfortable about her; I was afraid she had the colic, and I feel quite alarmed.’—‘I wish to God thou may’st have the colic all thy life, cursed fool that thou art! Out with thee, and let me never see thy face again! If thou ever presumest to come into my presence again, I will have thee hanged.’ Hakemwent home and told his wife that the caliph had dismissed him, and had forbidden him ever to show his face at court again. He remained some time in his house, until he thought that the caliph’s anger had subsided. He then said to his wife, ‘Go to the palace, kiss Zobëide’s hand; tell her that the caliph is angry with me, and beg her to intercede with him for me.’ The wife fulfilled his commission. The Princess Zobëide interceded for Hakem, and the caliph pardoned him.”
My narrator, after receiving my thanks for hisentertaining story, took his leave, mounted his horse, and rode off. The conversation now became general, and turned on the river Damôor, which empties itself into the sea midway between Beyrout and Sayda, and often swells, from the rains and the melting of the snows in the mountain, so as to become exceedingly dangerous to ford, as there is no bridge over it. “What a fool the Jew was,” cried one, “to lose his life for a few piasters! The guides offered to take him across for akhyréah—four of them, two at the head and two at the flanks of his mule; but he must needs haggle, and would give no more than ten piasters; and, seeing one of the Pasha’s estafettes get across safe, he fancied he could do the same: but they know the ford as well as the guides; for they traverse it daily. So the Jew was carried off, and neither he nor his mule were everseen afterwards.”—“It was just the same,” said a second speaker, “with the peasant from Medjdeloony who was going to buy wheat at Beyrout: for you know, gentlemen, a Greek vessel had arrived from Tarsûs with very good corn, at four and a half piasters theroop. Well, he too was rash enough to suppose he could get across alone, and they only asked him five piasters—only a fourth of what they wanted of the Jew. But the waters were up to his armpits; and, his foot slipping just in the deepest part, he fell, and, after a few struggles, was carried out to sea. All the peasants of the village, which, you know, is close by where the English queen lives, came down to watch if the body was cast ashore: for they say he had above a thousand piasters in his girdle from different poor families who had commissioned him to buy for them: and the poor creatures were naturally anxious to recover it.”
Having smoked my pipe, I mounted my ass, crossed the Damôor in safety, and halted again atNebby Yuness, a santon’s, where there are two comfortable rooms for travellers, attached to the shrine. Here I smoked another pipe, heard a long string of compliments and grateful expressions from theimàm(who lived there to show the shrine to pilgrims), in return for the donations which Lady Hester sent occasionally to the shrine, and which he pocketed. I remounted,struck off atRumellyfrom the high road into the mountain by a cross country path, and at about five o’clock reached Jôon.
Khaldy, of which mention was made above, is a spot which has been too much neglected by travellers; and it would be well if some one, who had leisure and ability for such researches, would pass a day or two there, to make an accurate examination, and to take drawings of the numberless sarcophagi which lie about on the ground, or are hewn in the solid rock. Many of them have bas-reliefs on them; and, as such a mass of tombs must necessarily imply the former vicinity of some ancient city, diligent research might lead to the discovery of historical antiquities in the neighbourhood.
There is a day in the year, in the month of June or July, I now forget which, when hundreds of Christians resort to this spot from Beyrout, Sayda, and the villages of Mount Lebanon, for the celebration of a saint’s festival; and a part of the holiday consists in washing themselves in the sea. The craniologist might have a fine field for study in beholding a hundred bare heads at the same time around him. I happened once to ride through Khaldy on that very saint’s day, and never was I so struck with anything as with the sight of countless shaved heads, almost all having a conical shape, quite unlike European heads. But, besidesthis, a stranger would see much merry-making, dancing, drinking, and many mountain female dresses united here, which he would have to seek for through twenty districts at any other time. Monsieur Las Cases has a painting of this spot, which may, or might once, be seen at theGobelinsmanufactory at Paris, of which establishment he was director some years ago, or else in Monsieur Denon’s collection. It is one of those exaggerated fancy paintings which artists are never pardonable for making, when they are intended to be shown as faithful copies; because, like certain historical novels, they lend a false colouring to facts and realities. There are other untruths besides those which are spoken or written; and these undoubtedly may be classed amongst the most reprehensible. I often regretted that my numerous occupations prevented me from wandering over this interesting field of inquiry.
Sunday, May 20.—I gave Lady Hester an account of the tragical end of poor Mrs. K., which induced her to write a letter of consolation to the afflicted widower, of whom, though she had never seen him, she was a sincere well-wisher. This is a copy of it:—
To Mr. K., merchant at Beyrout.
Jôon, May 20, 1838.Sir,Nearly a year ago I had commissionedMohadýn—Mr. Lancaster’s idle and talkativeci-devantyoungservant—to felicitate you upon your marriage: but now the task of administering consolation for the late sad event devolves upon me. Mrs. K.’s conduct, from the first, had made a strong impression upon my mind. Young and handsome, as she was, to have left her country to follow you, argued her to be of no common mould. Avoiding to be detrimental to your interests, and giving up the empty homage, which vanity would have demanded with most women, that you should have left your affairs to accompany her—above considering what scandal might set afloat in the world—she followed the dictates of her own heart, and relied upon your honour: a circumstance, which, in the annals of your life, ought not to be forgotten.That you should be in despair at the loss of such a woman is but too natural: but you should consider, at the same time, that you have enjoyed perhaps in this one year more happiness than falls to the share of many, even during the course of their lives. Thank God for it! and do not, by despondency, displease the Omnipotent who has thus favoured you, or allow that amiable creature in other regions, from which she is perhaps still watching over you, to witness your despair. I have heard from one who knows you that you are of a manly character. Without making any sacrifice of those feelings which belong to energetic people only, make use of that energy and good senseto palliate your griefs; and bow with resignation to the will of the Almighty. I am quite against persons endeavouring to drive away sorrow by hurry or dissipation: cool reflection can alone bring some balm to the soul.I remain, sir, &c.Hester Lucy Stanhope.PS.—In the present state of your mind, I will not allow you to give me any answer. But I shall keep my eye upon you; and, if you are unheeding of my advice, I shall put myself into one of my great passions, which even exceed those which I understand you sometimes fall into, but which enhance your character in my estimation. For the cold-heartedness of men of the present generation is nearly death to me.
Jôon, May 20, 1838.
Sir,
Nearly a year ago I had commissionedMohadýn—Mr. Lancaster’s idle and talkativeci-devantyoungservant—to felicitate you upon your marriage: but now the task of administering consolation for the late sad event devolves upon me. Mrs. K.’s conduct, from the first, had made a strong impression upon my mind. Young and handsome, as she was, to have left her country to follow you, argued her to be of no common mould. Avoiding to be detrimental to your interests, and giving up the empty homage, which vanity would have demanded with most women, that you should have left your affairs to accompany her—above considering what scandal might set afloat in the world—she followed the dictates of her own heart, and relied upon your honour: a circumstance, which, in the annals of your life, ought not to be forgotten.
That you should be in despair at the loss of such a woman is but too natural: but you should consider, at the same time, that you have enjoyed perhaps in this one year more happiness than falls to the share of many, even during the course of their lives. Thank God for it! and do not, by despondency, displease the Omnipotent who has thus favoured you, or allow that amiable creature in other regions, from which she is perhaps still watching over you, to witness your despair. I have heard from one who knows you that you are of a manly character. Without making any sacrifice of those feelings which belong to energetic people only, make use of that energy and good senseto palliate your griefs; and bow with resignation to the will of the Almighty. I am quite against persons endeavouring to drive away sorrow by hurry or dissipation: cool reflection can alone bring some balm to the soul.
I remain, sir, &c.Hester Lucy Stanhope.
PS.—In the present state of your mind, I will not allow you to give me any answer. But I shall keep my eye upon you; and, if you are unheeding of my advice, I shall put myself into one of my great passions, which even exceed those which I understand you sometimes fall into, but which enhance your character in my estimation. For the cold-heartedness of men of the present generation is nearly death to me.
After this letter was written, Lady Hester talked about Lord Prudhoe and Colonel Davidson, who was also staying at the inn at Beyrout, and whose father, Lady Hester said, was a man of some note in her time. “Did you make acquaintance with them?” she asked: I replied, “No; for according to English custom, Englishmen, even in lands so remote from home, maintain their strange reserve, and carry their looks of distrust with them wherever they go. The‘Who are you, I wonder?—‘shall I degrade myself in speaking to you?’ seems to be ever uppermost in their thoughts.” She then spoke of Mrs. Moore, the lady of the British consul, whom she eulogized greatly. “That is one of the few women I must like,” said Lady Hester; “indeed it is my duty to do so, and, when next you go to Beyrout, you must tell her so: but you don’t know the reason, nor does she. What do you think of her, doctor?” I answered, “It appears to me that M. Lamartine, had he known her, would have felt the inspiration which he caught so readily in the poetic land of the East:—he has celebrated beauty less remarkable than hers.”
“And so I dare say you have supplied the omission,” observed Lady Hester. “I have attempted to do so in a very bungling way,” replied I. “Well,” said she, “never mind; let me hear what you have written.” So I drew out a few verses, which I had pencilled at the inn at Beyrout immediately after I had the honour of seeing that lady, and read them.
“They are not so bad,” observed Lady Hester; “but that was not what you went to Beyrout for.”
The subject carried her back to past times, and she said—“I have made it a rule all my life, from the moment I came into the great world, never to suffer verses to be written about me by anybody. If I hadliked the thing, I might have had thousands of poets to celebrate my praises in all manner of ways; but there is nothing I think so ridiculous. Look at the Duchess of Devonshire, with every day ‘A copy of verses on her taking a walk’—‘An impromptu on her having a headache’—and all such nonsense: I detest it.”
This brought to my mind a circumstance which occurred in the early part of our travels. I had written a small poem, in which a few lines, eulogistic of herself, were introduced; and one day I read it to her. After I had finished, she said, “You know, doctor, this will only do to show people in private; and, if ever you dare to put my name to any published poetry, I’ll take measures to make you heartily repent of it.”
Lady Hester, however, was not insensible to that species of praise which rests on the application of a passage of some classic author, to illustrate one character by its resemblance to that of another already stamped with celebrity. Thus she was greatly pleased when Mr. Pitt, in reading Gray’s fragment of the tragedy of Agrippina aloud, and in coming to some lines in which he recognized a great similarity to her language, cried out—“Why, Hester, that’s you; here you are—just like you!” then, reading on a little farther—“Here you are again scolding him!” meaning,as Lady Hester told me at the time, that it was just like her, scolding Lord Mahon.
Tuesday, May 22.—I had struck a Turk, one of the servants, with a stick over his shoulders; but, in so doing, I forgot the penalty attached to striking a Mussulman. Formerly such an act, done by a Christian hand, was punished with death, or the alternative of becoming a renegado of one’s faith. Even now the old Mussulman servants muttered threats against me, as I was told, and I really think would have done me harm, if they could. For all Lady Hester’s power hardly went farther than to have her people punished by the instrumentality of another Turk; but the moment I thought proper to chastise a fellow’s insolence with my own hand, she did not hesitate to tell me that I must be wary how I repeated it again; assuring me that a blow from a Christian never could be pardoned by them.
Thursday, May 24.—In reading the newspapers, Lord Byron’s name occurred. “I think,” said Lady Hester, “he was a strange character: his generosity was for a motive, his avarice for a motive: one time he was mopish, and nobody was to speak to him; another, he was for being jocular with everybody. Then he was a sort of Don Quixote fighting with the police for a woman of the town; and then he wanted to make himself something great. But when he allowedhimself to be bullied by the Albanians, it was all over with him; you must not show any fear with them. At Athens, I saw nothing in him but a well-bred man, like many others: for, as for poetry, it is easy enough to write verses; and as for the thoughts, who knows where he got them? Many a one picks up some old book that nobody knows anything about, and gets his ideas out of it. He had a great deal of vice in his looks—his eyes set close together, and a contracted brow, so”—(imitating it). “Oh, Lord! I am sure he was not a liberal man, whatever else he might be. The only good thing about his looks was this part,” (drawing her hand under the cheek down the front of her neck), “and the curl on his forehead.”
Saturday, May 26.—About eleven at night, Lady Hester went into the bath, previous to which I passed two or three hours with her. The conversation ran on the arrival of some Europeans at Sayda, who, by the report of a servant returning from the town, had lost two of their number by the plague, and, in consequence, had been put into quarantine at Sheemaôony, the Turkish mausoleum spoken of in a former page, about a quarter of a mile from the city gate. Lady Hester had heard of their distressed situation about four o’clock in the afternoon, it being said they were pilgrims who had applied for permission to be lodged at Dayr el Mkhallas, the monastery at Jôon, which hadbeen acceded to by the monks but forbidden by the health officers, owing to a foul bill of health they brought with them. Subsequently it was given out that they were poor Germans; and she, with her accustomed humanity, thinking they might be in want of some little comforts, had made up a couple of baskets of violet and rose syrups, capillaire, lemons, &c., and despatched a man with a note, in these words:—“The humble offering of Lady Hester Stanhope to the sick Germans, with her request that they will make known their wants to her, whether for medicines, or for whatever they may need.”
The servant had hardly set off, when an express arrived with a letter to her ladyship from one of the strangers, to the effect that, one of the party being ill, the writer requested she would be kind enough to send down her doctor. It was signed Charles Baron de Busech, Knight of Malta. On asking me whether I was afraid of the plague, I answered, “Yes; and as it appeared they were men of rank, and could not fail of obtaining medical advice from Sayda, where there were four or five army surgeons, and two or three physicians, I thought it best not to go until more clear information had been obtained respecting them.” Lady Hester approved of this, and wrote the following reply:—
To the Baron Charles de Busech, Knight of Malta, inquarantine on the seashore, Sayda.
Jôon, May 26, 1838.Sir Baron,Although I myself have no fear of the plague, or of persons infected with it, almost all the Franks have. The physician who is with me happens to be of the number; therefore, it does not depend on me to cure people of what I consider prejudices. Our days are numbered, and everything is in the hands of God.Your letter is without a date, and comes from I know not where. At the moment that I received it I had sent a servant with a few cooling syrups to some sick Germans, guarded by a ring of soldiers outside of the town, of whose names and class in life I am ignorant, although the peasants give out that there are some of very high quality among them: for I feared that, in a strange country, and thus surrounded by fever or perhaps plague, they would not be able to procure the drinks necessary in such maladies. I hope not to have offended any one, although I have made a blundering business, not knowing who I addressed myself to. But, having understood that they had yesterday demanded an asylum at Dayr Mkhallas, which had been refused them, I was uneasy on their account.I have ordered my purveyor at Sayda, Captain Hassan Logmagi, to come up to-morrow, that I may get a right understanding in this confused affair, and may see if it is in my power, by any trifling service, to be useful to them. Allow me to remark that, if, in any case, symptoms of plague, or even of the ardent fevers of the country, manifest themselves, the Frank doctors understand but little about it. The barbers of the country are those who have the most knowledge on the subject.This letter goes by the servant, who has in charge the basket of syrups, and whom I had called back when about ten minutes on his road.H. L. Stanhope.
Jôon, May 26, 1838.
Sir Baron,
Although I myself have no fear of the plague, or of persons infected with it, almost all the Franks have. The physician who is with me happens to be of the number; therefore, it does not depend on me to cure people of what I consider prejudices. Our days are numbered, and everything is in the hands of God.
Your letter is without a date, and comes from I know not where. At the moment that I received it I had sent a servant with a few cooling syrups to some sick Germans, guarded by a ring of soldiers outside of the town, of whose names and class in life I am ignorant, although the peasants give out that there are some of very high quality among them: for I feared that, in a strange country, and thus surrounded by fever or perhaps plague, they would not be able to procure the drinks necessary in such maladies. I hope not to have offended any one, although I have made a blundering business, not knowing who I addressed myself to. But, having understood that they had yesterday demanded an asylum at Dayr Mkhallas, which had been refused them, I was uneasy on their account.
I have ordered my purveyor at Sayda, Captain Hassan Logmagi, to come up to-morrow, that I may get a right understanding in this confused affair, and may see if it is in my power, by any trifling service, to be useful to them. Allow me to remark that, if, in any case, symptoms of plague, or even of the ardent fevers of the country, manifest themselves, the Frank doctors understand but little about it. The barbers of the country are those who have the most knowledge on the subject.
This letter goes by the servant, who has in charge the basket of syrups, and whom I had called back when about ten minutes on his road.
H. L. Stanhope.
The servant was despatched, and many conjectures were formed as to who the Baron de Busech could be. The reader will say that it mattered little who he was, and that humanity dictated, when a sick person demanded assistance, to go without delay and afford it. This, in common cases, no doubt was what I or any other medical practitioner should feel it his duty to do; but, where Lady Hester was concerned, the ordinary rules of life would not hold good. I at once considered what a warfare would ensue between her ladyship and myself on the treatment to be followed(she always assuming the right of dictation); and I thought it best to say I was afraid of the plague: for, although I felt little difficulty in giving way to Lady Hester’s opinion on other matters in discussion between us of every possible kind, it was different where the treatment of the sick was concerned; for there the case became serious, and life and death were in the balance.
Lady Hester made this, my refusal, a pretext for a long lecture, which she delivered in a mild tone, but mixed with the self-boasting common to her. Her reasoning was indisputably sound, but she did not know the motive that guided me.
Sunday, May 27.—Her ladyship’s letter to the baron was taken to Logmagi at Sayda, who went immediately and delivered it to that gentleman, and, according to the orders sent to him, offered his services and those of her ladyship to all the party. He then came up to the Dar, and informed her that the strangers were several in number, Germans of distinction, and delivered a letter to her from one of them. It was couched in courtly language, to thank her for her attention to them. It repeated the request that she would let her doctor come down, and was signed Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria.
As Beyrout was closed, owing to the plague, and the Sayda bakers never make any bread but flat cakes,flaky and unpalateable, Lady Hester ordered, as a first step for their comfort, a baking of forty or fifty loaves, about the size of twopenny loaves: and this supply was continued to the duke and his suite during the whole time they remained. She sent tea and a teapot, rum, brandy, and such little things as she knew could not be procured in the town. These articles were accompanied by a letter, as follows:—
To H.R.H. Duke Maximilian of Bavaria.
Jôon, May 27, 1838.Highness,I have been but too much flattered by the goodness with which you were pleased to look on the liberty I have already taken: it is a proof of your greatness as well as of your condescension. Dr. M. has made up his mind to present himself to your highness; but perhaps, on a first visit, he will not say what I will presume to do.In the first place, the air of the spot where chance has put you is bad. There is danger of getting a fever, unless you wrap yourself up well as the evening closes in, and take, in going to bed, a little brandy and water, with sugar in it, instead of cooling things: but what is best of all is a little rum, to prevent the circulation from becoming languid from the damp, and to keep up perspiration. Medical books saynothing of this, nor, generally speaking, have doctors much knowledge about it: but I have acquired my information from people who have never been attacked with fever, although often exposed, from their occupations, to sun and fatigue. The Germans (who, according to the traditions of the ancient Arabians, are of exceeding high race), like the kings, their ancestors, are not brought up idlers: therefore, it seems much more reasonable to infer that, if they follow the practice of the laborious, it will suit them better than the system pursued by indolent beings, who lead a kind of false existence, and whose complaints are often imaginary or the consequence of their own prejudices. In fevers of the country one cannot drink too much of cooling things, or of cold water: for if, during one or two days previous to trying any remedies intended to excite the circulation, refreshing beverages are not given, internal inflammation comes on, which carries off a man in a few hours. Bleeding is almost never to be feared in this country.Pardon me for having thus made myself a doctor; but it is necessary that your highness should have some insight into what is most necessary to observe in a climate which is a very wholesome one, if a person knows how to accustom himself to it.H. L. Stanhope.
Jôon, May 27, 1838.
Highness,
I have been but too much flattered by the goodness with which you were pleased to look on the liberty I have already taken: it is a proof of your greatness as well as of your condescension. Dr. M. has made up his mind to present himself to your highness; but perhaps, on a first visit, he will not say what I will presume to do.
In the first place, the air of the spot where chance has put you is bad. There is danger of getting a fever, unless you wrap yourself up well as the evening closes in, and take, in going to bed, a little brandy and water, with sugar in it, instead of cooling things: but what is best of all is a little rum, to prevent the circulation from becoming languid from the damp, and to keep up perspiration. Medical books saynothing of this, nor, generally speaking, have doctors much knowledge about it: but I have acquired my information from people who have never been attacked with fever, although often exposed, from their occupations, to sun and fatigue. The Germans (who, according to the traditions of the ancient Arabians, are of exceeding high race), like the kings, their ancestors, are not brought up idlers: therefore, it seems much more reasonable to infer that, if they follow the practice of the laborious, it will suit them better than the system pursued by indolent beings, who lead a kind of false existence, and whose complaints are often imaginary or the consequence of their own prejudices. In fevers of the country one cannot drink too much of cooling things, or of cold water: for if, during one or two days previous to trying any remedies intended to excite the circulation, refreshing beverages are not given, internal inflammation comes on, which carries off a man in a few hours. Bleeding is almost never to be feared in this country.
Pardon me for having thus made myself a doctor; but it is necessary that your highness should have some insight into what is most necessary to observe in a climate which is a very wholesome one, if a person knows how to accustom himself to it.
H. L. Stanhope.
The letter being sent off, I mounted, and rode down with the view of presenting myself to the prince. I have already described the Shemaôony, where he was encamped, as a vaulted building covering the tombs of some pashas of former days, and having an arcade of about thirty feet square, where devout pilgrims, who visited the tombs, might pray, eat, and sleep. The sand of the seashore reaches to its base, and behind is a lane running through gardens, overshadowed with sycamores, eastern lilac trees, vines, banana plants, orange-trees, &c. The prince’s tents were fixed some in front and some in rear of the building, and the platform of the arcade was given up to the servants. The quarantine guards had their tents in the foreground, at a convenient distance, and sentries at the four angles prescribed the bounds out of which the travellers were not to stir, and within which nobody from without was to intrude.
As soon as I alighted from my horse, Baron de Busech made his appearance, and, advancing to the boundary, told me the prince was gone with Khosrô Effendi, the government secretary, and a file of soldiers, to look at a villa not far off, where, if possible, he might be somewhat better accommodated than in the broiling spot they were then occupying. The baron took the opportunity of the duke’s absence to inform me of the state of his own health. He wassuffering from an indisposition, light, indeed, but alarming in his present situation. The history of the party was as follows:—
The Duke of Bavaria, prince of the blood royal, and brother-in-law to the reigning monarch, a young man, in size and appearance something like the Duke of Orleans, had left Europe for Egypt, had crossed the desert to Syria, and had visited Jerusalem. The plague was in the holy city; and on quitting it for Nazareth, the duke’s physician, a German of six and twenty, fell ill and died in two or three days, whilst at the same time a negro, the duke’s Mameluke, was attacked with symptoms similar to those that had carried off the doctor. The duke and his suite quitted Nazareth precipitately, and the monks of the monastery there caused the effects of the deceased to be burnt, considering his case one of plague. On reaching Sayda, the party, having a foul bill of health, were stopped, and put under quarantine. It consisted of his Royal Highness Duke Maximilian; of Charles Baron de Busech, and his brother, Baron Frederick; of the Count Wilsensheim, one of his Imperial Majesty’s chamberlains, and consul-general from his Holiness the Pope at Ancona; of the Chevalier Heusler; Captain Heugler of the Bavarian guards; Mr. Meyer, painter; Mr. Petzmeyer, an accomplished musician; with servants, to the number of fifteen or sixteen persons.
In about half an hour the duke arrived, and with great condescension conversed with me for some time. He was much annoyed at the awkward situation in which he found himself, expressed great obligations to Lady Hester, and begged me to do what I could for the baron’s complaint. The interview over, I remounted my horse, and returned to Jôon, to send down medicines, and to give Lady Hester an account of my visit.
Tuesday, May 29.—I went down again. This time I was called upon to decide whether the duke’s black Mameluke had the plague or not. It may be conceived what agitation the duke himself was in; for, if the case was one of plague, in addition to the danger he ran of being himself infected, he would be subjected, perhaps, to a month’s quarantine. I had not been able to see the black on my previous visit; for he was in a tent behind the building; and, being too weak to walk to where I was, none of the servants were willing to lead him. A Turk, therefore, was hired for a pecuniary compensation to attend on him,[26]and he now led him, tottering and debilitated by sickness, to the exterior of the tents, under some trees, where a tent was fixed for him. There the poor fellow could lie and inhale the breezes of that blue sea, over which he never was to sail again; there he might have the view of travellers passing and repassing, and, if his thoughts were not disturbed by delirium, might find some solace from the novelty of the scene.
As I had declared my inability, from the distance at which I lived, to undertake the black’s cure, the duke had engaged one of the regimental surgeons from Sayda. The poor patient was conducted out, and with a glistening eye, furred lips, and a total inattention to objects around him, was half led and half supported to the spot destined for him. He fell on his mattress, and, after he had lain a minute or two, I spoke to him in English. At the sound of his mother tongue, he raised his head. It must be mentioned that his situation had something peculiarly distressing in it. Born in New York, a free black, he had at the age of fifteen accompanied a Dutch merchant to Havre, Paris, Antwerp, and Frankfort. There the duke, who one day caught sight of him and was taken with his fine countenance and person, offered him advantageous terms to come and live with him; which, with the consent of his first master, he did. The duke dressed him as a Mameluke, and (from being as handsome ablack as could be seen, even now in sickness) his good disposition, coupled with his appearance, made him a favourite. He accompanied his royal highness in his travels. Having picked up a little German, all went on very well so long as his health was good; but when sickness overtook him, and his supposed malady made him an object of terror to everybody, he had much difficulty in explaining his wants. Judge, then, of the electrical effect that the sound of English must have had on him. He was called Wellington.
“Wellington,” said I, “how do you do? Take courage, my good fellow; I am come to see if I can be of any use to you.” He stared for some time before he could recover himself, but at last he answered, “Blessings on you then, sir, for I am much in want of somebody to speak to. I am very ill, and nobody can understand me. I want a clean shirt, and they say I can’t have one washed: now, that I won’t believe; and I wish you would tell somebody to send a washerwoman to me.” I assured him that nobody was to blame. I endeavoured to make him understand how he was situated; and, after comforting him awhile, told him I was desirous of examining his swellings. I had never seen a plague-swelling but once, and that twenty years before: so that my evidence could only be negative proof of the nonexistence of that disease. His attendant placed himin a favourable position, and, at the distance of five feet from him, I inspected it as well I could: it was as big, taking its outer border, as the back of a small hand, and seemingly angular. There was much stupor, into which he fell the moment I ceased to speak to him. His skin was dry, his tongue black, his head ran round if he raised it from the pillow; he had great thirst, great debility, and no appetite. These concomitant circumstances made it probable that the swelling was pestilential; and the surgeon of the regiment, who was with me, and who had seen many cases of plague, was of that opinion.
When I returned to the duke, who was waiting for me with the government secretary, and M. Lapi, the Austrian referendary, I told them I must decline saying it was not the plague. The duke was vexed; for I believe at that moment he would have given half his dukedom, and me a ribbon to my button-hole, to be out of his unpleasant situation; but I composed his mind as much as possible, by assuring him that, even if it were plague, neither he nor his suite now ran any risk of taking it: since, at such an advanced period of the spring, experience had shown that the contagion, under common precaution, was rarely propagated. Still the duke betrayed great anxiety, by his eagerness to obtain a positive denial from me of its being the plague. “It is nothing but a syphilitic case—I amsure you think so—do tell the quarantine inspector so”—and many expressions of that sort fell from his mouth; but I could not conscientiously speak otherwise than I had done, as too much responsibility for the safety of the community rested upon it.
I requested that a cabin of branches might be made over Wellington’s tent, to keep the burning sun out; and recommended such little comforts as his case seemed to require. It was agreed that the medical treatment should be the same as in malignant fever, and I then returned to Jôon.
Wednesday, May 30.—I did not see Lady Hester until after sunset. Poor Wellington’s situation excited in her much sympathy, and the duke’s still more. She treated my opinion lightly, and considered his highness hardly dealt with. She wrote a letter to that effect, and gave her own view of the subject, which was certainly entitled to much consideration, from her having the conviction that she had had the plague herself many years before. Plague is generally sporadic the first year of its appearance, little contagious, and passes almost unobserved, under the denomination ofhumma, or malignant fever: it is in the second year that its ravages become terrible.[27]
Thursday, May 3.—Provisions were sent down to the duke and his party, and Lady Hester was quitebusy in providing for, and anticipating their wants. M. Lapi came up at her request, to give her some information respecting the duke and his suite.
Friday, June 1.—This day a messenger came from Beyrout with a file of newspapers up to April 15th. In one of them (April 12th), appeared a paragraph regarding Lady Hester’s affairs. M. Guys wrote me word that he was still prevented from setting off to Aleppo, owing to the plague. He informed me also that Mr. K. was about to commence an action against the French doctor, for unprofessional treatment in his wife’s illness, which Mr. K. styled assassination. This line of conduct did not accord with Lady Hester’s notions of humanity and forbearance towards a practitioner to whom less blame attached than if the case had been left solely to his guidance. She accordingly wrote to him the following letter, which, however, did not go until the 3rd:—
To Mr. K., merchant, at Beyrout.