[1]Ancient name of the Lake of Janina.
[1]Ancient name of the Lake of Janina.
ON October 16, 1810, Lady Hester Stanhope and her companions left Athens on board of a Greek polacca. But, having been enlightened in regard to the skill of the mariners who, in time of storm, fold their arms, invoking St. George and leaving Heaven to take charge of the working of the ship, they disembarked in all haste at Erakli—the ancient Heraclea—and Lord Sligo and Bruce proceeded to Constantinople to seek aid. They returned with a Turkish officer provided with a firman. Barques awaited, of that type in which the prow is shallow and the poop pointed, with those fine bronze-chested sailors, with flowing breeches and scarlet tarboosh, whose deep voices add to the melancholy of the passage the charm of unknown tongues.
On one of those November evenings which tinge the sky with delicate and glowing roses, just when the countless minarets of the mosques of Constantinople were fading into the night come unexpectedly, the barques stopped at Topkhana. A sedan-chair for Lady Hester, and for the others the walk through the steep and mountainous streets. The lugubrious barking of the famished dogs wandering, in bands, in the deserted quarters, the capricious flame of the lantern which precedes the caravan, sometimes lighting up old leprous houses, at others throwing into the shadow gardens of which hardly a glimpse could be had—it was Pera.
What long strolls in the narrow streets in which the absence of carriages made the voices sound strangely! Passing between the double hedge of merchants who seemed to watch purchasers from the depths of their shops like spiders crouching in their webs, Lady Hester and her friends had the impression of moving about under the jeering eyes of a row of servants.
One Friday, an Amazon calmly traversed the streets of Constantinople. She was Lady Hester, who was on her way to attend the procession of the Sultan Mahmoud so far as the mosque, and had found this convenient means to avoid being annoyed by the populace, dirty and dusty, as could possibly be desired. It was the first time that a woman, a European, with face uncovered, promenaded thus equipped. It was necessary to be of the stamp of Lady Hester, to have her contempt of opinion, her disdain of social conventions, her insensate desire to get herself talked about, her love of sensation, to attempt so bold an enterprise. It was necessary to possess her tall figure, her impressive countenance, her manly appearance, to succeed and pass without insults. The spectacle, besides, was worth this risk.
Janissaries, in brand-new uniforms, keep in check the crowd while the police distribute the blows of "Korbach." First came some dozens of water-carriers, spilling in the dust the sacred liquid, without any stint. Then a confused and important mass of servants, equerries, executioners. Then, surrounded by footmen, mounted on a horse magnificently caparisoned, a man with a proud and distant air, wearing a dark beard. "Here is the Sultan!" exclaimed the doctor and his friends. But it was only the officer who bore the Sultan's footstool.... The mistakes are repeated for the sword-bearer and the pipe-bearer. "This time, it is he!" Not yet. And the Captain Pacha, the Reis Effendi, the Kakliya Bey, the Grand Vizier, enveloped in their priceless pelisses, the hilts of their khandjars blazing with diamonds and throwing sparks, pass nonchalantly on their chargers, which are half-crushed beneath the weight of the harness, casting on the people bored glances.
On a sudden, there came the most profound silence, a silence mournful, heavy, uneasy, and a singular murmur, monotonous and plaintive, like the voice of the swell beating against the cliffs, rose from the prostrate crowd—all these men, bringing the folds of their robes over their chests with a concerted gesture, called down the blessings of Mahomet on the Commander of the Faithful. And Mahmoud passed.... His escort, dressed in garments of brocade plaited with golden and silver threads and wearing plumed helmets, surrounded him with a rampart of fluttering and nodding plumes and hid his person from the generality of mortals. His stallion, of a snowy whiteness, disappeared beneath the saddle-cloths and gala trappings which were studded with mother-of-pearl and pearls and multi-coloured gems. The crowd rose again; Kislar Aga, the Minister of Pleasures—happy Minister!—a hideous negro with a bestial countenance, followed, surrounded by a hundred eunuchs, both black and white. A bunch of eunuchs! Finally, a dwarf preceded three hundred pages of haughty bearing, clad, in white satin.
After spending a few days at Constantinople, Lady Stanhope abandoned her house at Pera, which was too small, for a villa at Therapia. The waves of the Bosphorus came to beat against the walls, and afar off the transparent wintry light bathed the Asiatic coast and the shores of the Black Sea. The visitors were numerous: Stratford Canning, English Ambassador at the Sublime Porte; Mr. Henry Pearce, a friend of Bruce; Mr. Taylor, who arrived from Egypt and Syria; Lord Plymouth and many others. Constantinople was very gay; receptions and balls followed one another, and only the dragomans, in their parti-coloured costumes, gave to them an Oriental tinge. For the Turks rarely mix with Europeans, fearing the length of their meals and the use of wine.
The doctor, upon whom his profession conferred special privileges, received invitations from the Captain Pacha's medical attendant. Meals which might nourish the vanity, if not the stomach. The fare was not bad, but scarcely was a dish placed upon the table than diligent servants pounced upon it and carried it away. And then the clear water, however pure and fresh it might be, was not a beverage which was long endurable.
Lady Hester was soon on a footing of intimacy with several distinguished Turks. "One ought to see them," she wrote, "seated under the trees of a public promenade, not distinguishing the Greek, Armenian or European women, but looking at themen bloclike sheep in a meadow." She invited the Captain Pacha's brother to dinner, and, very quickly familiarised with the use of knives, forks and chairs, he spent more than half an hour at table—which is a great concession for a Turk—ate of everything, including the good substantial English roast joints and the heavy greasy puddings, enjoyed three or four glasses of wine and appeared enchanted with all that his hostess offered him. It was true that the hostess was not an ordinary one.
To charm her hours of leisure which all these occupations did not contrive to fill, she went to visit the ships of the Turkish fleet, in the dress of an officer. She wanted to see everything, examined everything in detail, ferreted everywhere and returned delighted with her expedition. To one of her friends, who, shocked at her masculine garments, took the liberty of reproaching her on the subject, she retorted with her customary impetuosity: "Breeches, a military cloak and a hat with a plume are no doubt a more indecent costume than that of your fine madams half-naked in their ball dresses."
From February the weather abruptly changed. Never was English spring more severe. There was a foot of snow, and Lady Hester suffered cruelly from the cold, for the brasiers which they carried about from one room to another did not give even the illusion of warmth. She had a wild desire to leave for Italy or for France, desire so much the more ardent that the English were forbidden to enter these countries. She left no stone unturned to approach M. de Latour-Maubourg, the French Ambassador at Constantinople. It was a difficult task, for relations between French and English were so strained that it was forbidden, even to private individuals of the two nations, to have any intercourse with each other. Lady Hester was like one of those thoroughbreds of which William Pitt spoke. You are able to guide them with a hair and their pace is regular and easy, but if you thwart them, they rear and become furious. The obstacles excited instead of stopping her. She swore that she would see M. de Latour-Maubourg, and she kept her word. She took long walks through the Turkish country and rambled in the inextricable alleys of Pera to throw off the scent of the spies whom Canning, become suspicious, had launched in pursuit of her, poor devils who had never been accustomed to such rough work. One day, when she was going to join the French Ambassador on the shores of the Bosphorus, she was followed ... On the morrow, Canning asked her:
"Lady Hester, where did you spend the day yesterday?"
She took the offensive:
"Has not your spy informed you?"
Canning began to laugh and lectured her:
"If you continue, I shall be obliged to write to England."
But Lady Hester did not allow herself to be intimidated easily.
"Ah well," replied she, "I shall also write a letter in my style: 'Dear Sir,—Your young and excellent Minister, in order to prove his worth, has begun his diplomatic career by causing ladies to be followed to their rendezvous, and so forth.'"
During this time, Latour-Maubourg was working actively to obtain the authorisation desired and sent letter upon letter to Paris. Meanwhile, Lady Hester, Bruce and the doctor set out for the sulphur baths of Broussa; Broussa the green, Broussa the divine, with its white houses lost in the forests of pointed minarets, of tall cypress-trees and broad plane-trees; Broussa which sleeps at the foot of Olympus in an ocean of orchards eternally in flower and in fruit, to the thirst-quenching sounds of the countless cascades descending from the mountains.
Some months later, they returned to Constantinople, or rather to Bebec, the lease of the villa at Therapia having expired. All the wealthy Turks had their summer residences on the shores of the Bosphorus, and hours passed, carelessly and quickly, in watching row past the richly decorated barges, with their flashing draperies, which conveyed from door to door the beautiful visitors. But to obtain provisions was a difficult matter; the doctor suffered from the heat and regretted the good dinners in the English fashion. Here there was nothing but mutton, nothing but mutton, and if it had only been eatable! There was certainly some fish to be had which could be fried, but the fishermen were so powerful!...
Lady Hester not caring to spend another winter at Constantinople and not receiving any reply from France, decided to sail for Egypt. The climate attracted her, and perhaps also the recollection of Moore, which urged her to go towards the places through which he had passed. Then began for the doctor a punishment of another kind. He had certainly succeeded as a doctor at Constantinople. A marvellous cure, vanity quite apart, performed on the Danish Minister, had made him the fashion. One morning he had awakened to find himself famous. The Captain Pacha made him attend his wife, who, after all, died. He had illustrious patients, even the Princess Morousi, wife of the former Hospodar of Wallachia! He became the habitué of the harems and began, as so many others had, to taste the charm of the women of the Orient. He admired everything in them; their skin fragrant and soft, their long hair to which the henna imparted reddish reflections, their slight (?) embonpoint which rendered their contours softer and accentuated the languidness of their movements. He began a crusade against the use of European corsets, since his deities did not wear them. And arrived at the highest point of poetic enthusiasm, he cried:
"The ottoman is their throne and the flower which bends its head their model!"
Decidedly, he was in the mood to lose the notion of the straight line! And now all of a sudden, because this tall woman, who assuredly had not soft movements, had decided upon it, he was obliged to depart!
His beautiful patients brought him on his departure their fees concealed in the embroideries which their white hands had themselves executed. And if, in the course of his voyage, the doctor chanted the praises of the Turks, nay, even of the Armenians, and was very cold in referring to the Greeks, do not seek for political reasons. It is quite simply that the first were much more generous!
Lord Sligo, the best-hearted of men, the warmest of friends, had returned to Malta in the course of the winter. But Lady Hester found another escort in the person of Mr. Pearce, who solicited the honour of joining the expedition.
On October 23, 1811, accompanied by seven Greek servants, amongst whom was a young man, Giorgio Dallegio, of dark complexion, active, alert, speaking three or four languages, and who was not slow in attracting Lady Hester's attention, the travellers embarked for Alexandria, on board of a Greek vessel, with a Greek crew, alas! Rut they had no choice. Contrary winds retained them near Rhodes until November 23. Four days later, a nice little storm of the first class came on. As though this was not enough work, they sprung a leak, and at night the master began to shout: "All hands to the pumps." All hands to the pumps is very quickly said, but Levantine vessels rarely possess pumps, and when they have them they are worthless, which, by chance, was the case now. Bruce, Pearce, the doctor and the seven servants set to work and emptied in regular order the buckets into the sea. Lady Hester, to whom a little air of danger was attractive, encouraged them by voice and gesture and distributed wine, which was of more value. Day broke; the sea was of a leaden hue, the sky of a dirty grey. The Greeks threw themselves into the bottom of the boat, calling upon all the saints of Christianity: "Panagia mou! Panagia mou!" but taking good care not to put into action the useful proverb: "Aid thyself, Heaven will aid thee!" The south-western point of Rhodes appeared; the vessel no longer answered to her helm; through the rent which had grown wider the water was entering with a sinister gurgle, weighing down the ship which, like a great gull wounded unto death, was leaning in an alarming manner and was lying on its side. The masts cracked. Then the master—who was no use except to shout—roared in a voice of thunder:
"Launch the cutter."
Rush of twenty-five persons. The doctor had still the presence of mind to run and fetch his fees hidden in the cabin. The wind tossed the little vessel about like the parings of an onion; waves covered her incessantly, and the doctor found that there were a great many "tubs" for one man.
The last hope of the shipwrecked was a rock half a mile away. By dint of efforts and of savage struggles for life, they reached the reef. It was not, however, the refuge they had longed for. The seas swept the greater part of it; a narrow excavation was the only sheltered spot. Lady Hester and her maid established themselves there as their right. Night came. No water, except the waterspouts which the sky cast down without counting, no provisions! At midnight, the wind having fallen a little, the master suggested that he should go with the crew to fetch help from Rhodes, adding that, if everyone wanted to come, he would answer for nothing. Willingly or unwillingly, Lady Hester and her friends allowed them to go, making them promise to light a fire so soon as they reached the land. In what bitter reflections did the unfortunates indulge as they shivered there in the darkness, rinsed by the waves, lashed by the rain, buffeted by the wind, stupefied by the moaning voices of the raging sea! The doctor, as he tightened his belt by a hole, did not rail against those brutes of Greeks. At last a flame perforated the night. Then nothing more. A timid sun succeeded in piercing the curtains of clouds, then declined towards the horizon. It was thirty hours since the shipwrecked had eaten anything. The doctor was sure that these brutes had abandoned them without remorse. Suddenly, the piercing sight of Lady Hester descried a black speck which finally became a boat. The calumniated crew, with the exception of the master, who had preferred to direct the rescue from a distance, was returning, bringing bread, cheese and water. But the sailors had consoled themselves abundantly on land with arrack; they were drunk, and their insolence increased every minute. All the alcohol which they had consumed rendered them indifferent to the squalls of wind and rain which had begun again. Deaf to the entreaties of the passengers, they decided to embark forthwith.
Lady Hester and her friends preferred to run the risk of sudden death rather than perish slowly of inanition on that forlorn rock. They landed safe and sound, to the general astonishment, and took refuge in a neighbouring hamlet, miserable and leprous. Filthy houses! The English would not have been willing to use them as pigsties. The rain penetrated them, and the bed of manure spread on the ground exhaled a nauseating odour. And an increasing invasion of shaggy rats and of voracious fleas!
The doctor set out for Rhodes in all haste in order to bring back money and provisions. The bey received him very badly, though it is true that the doctor cut a very sorry figure in his garments of a rescued traveller. Meantime, Lady Hester, who had endeavoured to leave the hovel in which she was stranded, had fallen ill on the way. She had nothing by way of luggage except General Moore's miniature, a snuff-box given her by Lord Sligo, and two pelisses. Precious souvenirs, no doubt, but of no utility. The consul, who was an old man of seventy-five, was unable to do anything for them, and the bey pretended to be so poor that, after having granted them thirty pounds, he begged them not to trouble him further. Thirty pounds! It was little for eleven persons naked and famished.
The loss the most irreparable was that of the medicine chest. Finally, however, everything was arranged. Lady Hester, whose adventurous character accommodated itself to the unexpected, praised the Turks warmly: "I do not know how it is done, but I am always at ease with them and I obtain all that I ask for. As for the Greeks, it is quite different; they are cheats, cheats...." The doctor had made a good recruit.
Lady Hester, who resigned herself to the misadventures of the others as readily as she did to her own, wrote, in speaking of Bruce, Pearce and Meryon, to one of her friends: "They are quite well; they have saved nothing from the wreck; but do not imagine that we are melancholy, at any rate, for we have all danced, myself included, the Pyrrhic dance with the peasants of the villages which were on our way!" What an exceptional character! A woman who has lost all her trunks and who dances the Pyrrhic dance!
The doctor, who had been despatched on a confidential mission to Smyrna, to bring back money, without which one can do nothing in the Orient, and clothes, without which one can go nowhere, returned with boxes and coffers.
Lady Hester, Bruce and Pearce threw themselves upon him like children and arrayed themselves as fancy dictated. They donned magnificent and strange costumes, which seemed to form part of a vast Turkish emporium. The doctor completed his accoutrement by thrusting a yataghan through his girdle.
Lady Hester, finding herself very much at her ease with her Turkish robe, her turban and her burnous, decreed that she should travel thus henceforth. And the wearing of this masculine costume was to remove many difficulties in permitting her to move everywhere with her face uncovered. From his stay in Rhodes the doctor preserved two principal recollections: first, that the English raise the cost of living wherever they go; next, that the women of the island weave very durable silk shirts, which can be worn for three years without tearing them.
Captain Henry Hope, commanding the frigateSalsette, in the harbour of Smyrna, having learned of Lady Hester's shipwreck, came to fetch her to convey her to Egypt. At the beginning of February, 1812, theSalsetteentered the port of Alexandria. Colonel Misset, the English Resident, was full of kindness and attentions; he laughed till the tears came into his eyes at the singular costumes of the travellers and gave them advice as to their behaviour. Lady Hester took a violent dislike to the town. "The place is hideous," said she twenty-four hours after her arrival; "and if all Egypt resembles it, I feel that I shall not stay there long."
The French occupation was remembered by everyone, but the Christians of Alexandria had peculiar taste and coldly confessed their preference for Turkish rule. What a difference between the justice meted out by the French and that by the Turks! With the cadi, when a man was accused of murder, the case was not protracted. He was confronted with the witnesses, and then and there he was either released, or imprisoned, or bastinadoed or executed. If he were thrown into prison, the amount of compensation was immediately fixed, at five, ten, one hundred piastres, according to the importance of the victim and the means of the assassin. The latter circumvented influential friends; it was necessary for the friends to be influential.
"Come," said they, "a thousand piastres, between us, if you say a word for him."
They made discreet inquiries of the Governor's mistress for the time being, whom a diamond ring persuaded to intercede for the unfortunate man. Entreated on the right, supplicated on the left, solicited at the baths, tormented in his harem, harpooned by some, harassed by others, the Governor ended by demanding mercy, remitted the fine and released the prisoner. At any rate, they knew what to expect; it was clear, plain, precise, if not just. While with the French—Oh! There now! A poor little crime of no importance at all dragged on for months, for years.... And how could you expect that a lawsuit would not be perpetuated when there were so many notaries, so many attorneys, so many advocates, clerks, registrars and scribes interested in prolonging.
Lady Hester proceeded to Rosetta—town with this charming name, guarded by its ramparts of red bricks and its groves of palm-trees, from where she intended to ascend the course of the Nile so far as Cairo. She hired two boats, and the wonderful voyage began. Wide, powerful, calm, impressive and deep, it was truly the king of rivers, the river which gives life, the river which saves.... Flotillas of earthen jars tied together by branches followed the current of the stream.Kanjesbearing beehives, piled up in the form of pyramids, descended slowly. They were the bees which had flown to meet the spring, and which, having left two months earlier for the plains of Upper Egypt, where the sainfoin and the clover were already ripening, were now returning with their golden booty towards the Delta. The travellers met innumerable barges with curved prows and rafts laden with big restless oxen. At the villages they revictualled in flour, eggs and poultry. They took their meals on board and the days slipped by like hours. Sometimes the banks were high and the water very low, and curious persons landed to get a view of the land. They returned very quickly towards the boat, disappointed by the sadness and the monotony of the immense plains with their trifling undulations, rebuffed by the hostile reception of the hamlets: mass of mud, huts of loam, labyrinth of alleys where the foot slips in dried camel-dung, headlong flight of the women who hide themselves, squalling of children at the maternal heels, grumbling of fellahs suspecting the tax-gatherers, baying of dogs, putrid odour which rises from beings and things which decomposition lies in wait for.
The Arabs say that if Mahomet had tasted the water of the Nile, he would have wished to remain in this world to drink it. But the doctor preserved his preference for the growths of France, nay, even for the resinous wines of Chio.
At Boulak the voyage stopped. The harbour was swarming with those tiny donkey-drivers who make such incredible charges. Shaking their saddles with the tall pummels decorated with tassels, mirrors and pendants, waving their glass trinkets, decked out, ornamented, like shrines, their mischievous eyes watching the customer, making ready to rush so soon as they catch sight of a Turkish soldier, whose stern countenance implies an empty purse (an astute trick of their masters!), they hailed in our travellers a fine windfall.
Scarcely was Lady Hester installed with Bruce in a house at Cairo than she prepared for her visit to the pacha. She adopted for this solemn occasion a Berber costume, of which the wild magnificence suited her proud and independent demeanour. Trousers of dazzling silk laminated with gold, heavy robe of purplish velvet ornamented with rude and sumptuous embroidery, shawl of cashmere forming turban and girdle, sabre with hilt encrusted with precious stones. It had cost her more than £300. Bruce treated himself to a sword worth 1000 piastres. As for the doctor, he was satisfied with the modest apparel of an Effendi.
The Pacha sent five horses richly caparisoned in the Mameluke fashion, on which Lady Hester and her suite mounted to go to the palace. They alighted only in the second court.
Mehemet Ali, who had never seen Englishwomen, was greatly delighted at this interview, and awaited his fair visitor in a pavilion in the midst of the gardens of the harem. He rose to go to meet her and made her sit on divans of scarlet satin which were covered with precious filigree-work. Mosaics rambled over the open walls, singing all the gamut of blues: warm blues, blues deep and velvety, mauve blues, blues with reflections of silver. Stained-glass windows muffled the light received by the transparent enamels and arabesques of gold where slept dead turquoises, monstrous rubies and emeralds. A jet of water fell back weeping into a shining basin.
Black slave girls handed crystal cups in which slowly dissolved sherbets made of pistachio-nuts. Lady Hester refused the pipe which was offered her; she was later on to smoke like a stove. By the aid of an interpreter, Mehemet Ali, who was a man of slight figure and richly dressed, talked with her for nearly an hour. This magnificent specimen of the English race was to fill him with admiration for a country which produced such women. Fascinated by her abnormal dimensions, attracted by the strength, the determination and the will which could be read on her haughty features, he compared her mentally to those comical beings who peopled his harem and asked himself if humanity were not composed of men, women and Englishwomen—an intermediary sex. Moreover, he reviewed his troops before her and made her a present of a magnificent Arab stallion. However, the handsome Mamelukes so celebrated had disappeared in the horrible massacre of the preceding year. Abdah Bey, who was the flower of the Court, was unwilling to be behindhand and presented her with a thoroughbred. These two horses were sent later to England: one to the Duke of York, for whom Lady Hester had retained a kindly preference, the other to Viscount Ebrington, under the care of the servant Ibrahim. Bruce was not forgotten in this exchange of compliments and received a sabre and a cashmere.
The spring advanced, the amusements multiplied: opening of a mummy and extraction of a tooth in a perfect state of preservation by a French surgeon—foolish diversion!—Egyptian dancing-girls, excursions to the Pyramids of Gizeh under the escort of the Mamelukes.
At length, on May 11, 1812, the faithful friends of Lady Hester: Bruce and Pearce, who took a liking to the adventure, the doctor—who regretted already the amber-coloured Egyptian women, moulded in their chemises of blue cotton, Venuses tanned by the sting of a too ardent sun—embarked at Damietta for Palestine, for Jerusalem. Two French Mamelukes, as bodyguards, with their syces, the English lady's-maid, a groom, three men-servants, a porter, followed.
And all this company was not too much to transport the six great green tents decorated with flowers, the numerous chests of palm-wood, light and tough, which contained all the outfit of the caravan to replace what had disappeared in the shipwreck off Rhodes.
WHAT did Lady Hester intend to do in Syria and in Palestine?
She did not intend to seek oblivion, for the necessity of getting herself talked about, and the thirst for a celebrity which she strove vainly to retain, formed part of her nature, and she never got rid of it.
She resembled closely her grandfather, Lord Chatham. She had not only his grey eyes, which anger darkened strangely, and of which no one was able, at that time, to stand the glance, but also the inexorable will, the terrible passions, the continuous tension of the mind in the direction of one single object without troubling about the obstacles to be overthrown or the means employed to conquer them.
Grattan, in the curious portrait which he has traced of the first Pitt, wrote: "The Minister was alone. Modern degeneracy had not touched him. An old-fashioned inflexibility governed this character which knew neither how to alter nor to become supple.... Creator, destroyer, reformer, he had received from Heaven all that was required to convoke men into a social group, to break their bonds or to reform them...." Lady Hester had inherited these astonishing gifts, which her unconventional education had still further strengthened. Under the eyes of her frightened governesses who had abandoned the impossible task of making her a young girl like the others, without the knowledge of her father and her stepmother, who, besides, were not interested in the matter, she sprouted forth luxuriantly. In the same way as her figure and her "little" foot, never constrained, developed magnificently, her luminous intelligence, her originality, her energy, her rough clear-sightedness forcibly asserted themselves. Never contradicted, she might be proud of her qualities and of her extraordinary faults, proud also of that indomitable character which she had alone formed and which never inclined before anyone, ignorant at once of the art of changing principles or that of humouring public opinion by half-loyal measures or proceedings.
Amongst all those wonderful women in which the eighteenth century, according to Burke, was so fertile, Lady Hester Stanhope has a place apart. The Duchess of Rutland, the Duchess of Gordon, the Duchess of Devonshire, Mrs. Bouverie, the Marchioness of Salisbury, Mrs. Crewe, Lady Bessborough, Lady Liverpool and many others, who had on their side fortune, beauty, charm, fascination and grace, cannot be compared to her. Morally and physically, Lady Hester is outside the picture. She is the echo, not only of the feminine character of her time, but of the characteristic tendencies of her age. Preoccupation with the Eastern problem, misanthropy, taste for action, hatred of hypocrisy, love of social questions and contempt for the people, were imperfectly embodied, but they were embodied all the same.
Her misfortune was to be a woman. So long as her uncle Pitt had been near her, she had been able to imagine that she had changed her sex. She had lived, acted and thought as a man, but as a man who would have been a beautiful woman and whom the admiration of the crowd retains far from the combats of politics and the struggle of life.
William Pitt had certainly been, according to the admirable phrase of Mirabeau, "the Minister of Preparations." He had seen the French Revolution approaching, and long before all others he had understood the danger of it. Joining then the fate of France—for which he entertained neither antipathy nor hatred—with that of the Revolution, he engaged England in that formidable struggle of which he could not foresee the issue. Killed by "the glance of Austerlitz," he died too soon to reap the fruit of his wonderful perspicacity. He died, above all, too soon for Hester Stanhope, whose future he had not assured. There did not fail, certainly, statesmen behind whom a pretty woman was bestirring herself, champion of their policy, to cite only that charming Georgina Spencer, Duchess of Devonshire, who displayed in Fox's favour an indomitable energy, not fearing to splash about in the mud and kiss butchers with her patrician lips in order to exercise the omnipotence of her persuasion over the Westminster shopkeepers at the time of the famous elections of 1784. So well that Pitt was to write to Wilberforce, who was anxious: "Westminster is going well in spite of the Duchess of Devonshire and other women of the people, but it is not known yet when the voting will be finished."
But the statesman chosen was only a screen which permitted the spirit of intrigue which breathed amongst the great ladies of the English aristocracy to have free course. For Lady Hester, William Pitt was the reason of existence. When he disappeared, what was she able to do?
He said to his niece, after having lived a long time with her, that he did not know whether she were more at her ease in the whirlpool of pleasures and fêtes, in the perplexity of politics or in the most profound solitude. Sometimes, in fact, Lady Hester went into Society eagerly and carried into the world her extraordinary brilliancy, her satire, humour and her biting wit, feared almost as much as the strokes of Gilray's pencil. Sometimes, she shut herself up with her uncle, serving him as secretary, astonishing him by the correctness of her judgment, by the comprehension and knowledge of men which this child of twenty years possessed, and without which the finest gifts of the understanding are reduced to sterility and do not descend from the domain of pure ideas to that of reality. Sometimes, she fled to Walmer Castle; and there, occupying herself in causing trees to be planted, in designing gardens, she bathed in silence and meditation. But now the world, she was surfeited with it!... She had just experienced the fragility of its infatuations. Politics! She was henceforth outside everything, and she had to witness the triumph of Pitt's enemies, the forgetfulness of his services. This power of money would have been necessary in order to struggle against the coteries of the drawing-room, the personal enmities which she had created. And she had only the pension of £1200 granted her in accordance with Pitt's last wish. There remained retirement. For the conquered, retirement is unendurable in the places which were witnesses of their past successes, unless they are surrounded by dear friends whose presence consoles them and makes them forget. Lord Camelford, whom she had thought for a moment of marrying, had quarrelled with the Pitts over a matter of money; he had given his sister—which assuredly he had the right to do—an estate which Lord Chatham hoped to inherit. Sir John Moore had just been killed. She dreamed of far-off solitudes, and she thought of undertaking an expedition which would cover her name with glory and whose fame would reach England.
Horace Walpole, an unsparing critic of his contemporaries, said of Chatham that he was "master of all the arts of dissimulation, slave of his passions, and that he simulated even extravagance to insure success." Under the smoke of gossip and tittle-tattle he hatches always a fire of truth. The second part of the portrait can apply as well to the granddaughter as to the grandfather. Lady Hester was enslaved by a redoubtable passion: ambition, and ambition without object. Well women incarnate almost always their aspirations, their desires, their admirations and their hatreds in living beings and real things: concrete which, after being the symbol of the abstract, is confounded with it to make only one. Lady Hester did not escape the common rule; solitude became little by little the means of getting herself still talked about; then became peopled by escorts, caravans and Arab chiefs; her ambition was not quicker than hatred of her enemies and disgust of England, and she determined upon this journey across the unknown East, journey which would serve at once her need of solitude and of celebrity in astonishing the world. Only, she possessed—as much on the side of Pitt as of Stanhope—a slight taste for eccentricity. She had no need to simulate an extravagance, which was natural to her; she was inclined to do nothing like other people.
Unconsciously also, a mysterious reason urged Lady Hester to choose Syria, and particularly Jerusalem, for the theatre of her exploits. It was nothing less than a prediction of Brothers. A figure strange, this Brothers, who created a sensation towards the end of the eighteenth century.
A former lieutenant in the Navy, his imagination became disordered in meditating upon the most obscure passages of the Apocalypse; the endless leisure which voyages permit are truly pernicious for feeble minds.... He soon abandoned his career and modestly assumed the title of "Nephew of God and Prince of the Hebrews," consecrating himself entirely to the divine mission which he believed he had received. He lived in an agreeable hallucination. "After which, being in a vision," said he, "I saw the angel of God by my side, and Satan, who was walking carelessly in the streets of London." Even when quite mad the English preserve a sense of humour!
So long as Brothers contented himself with predicting the approaching destruction of London and the restoration of the Kingdom of Judea, the Government did not trouble, but the situation changed when the vague prophecies were transformed into imperious advice to the King:
"The Eternal God commands me to make known to you, George III, King of England, that immediately after the revelation of my person to the Hebrews of London as their prince, and to all the nations as their governor, you must lay down your crown, in order that all your power and your authority may cease."
But no time was lost in sending this troublesome person to Bedlam. Before going, he bestirred himself so much and to such good purpose to obtain a visit from Lady Hester that this singular request reached the ears of Pitt's niece. Curious to make the acquaintance of the prophet, she hastened to accede to his wish. Brothers solemnly predicted to her that "she would go one day to Jerusalem, and would lead the Chosen People; that on her arrival in the Holy Land there would be upheavals in the world and that she would pass seven years in the desert." While she was rusticating at Brousse, two Englishmen, who were passing through it and who knew the prophecy, amused themselves about her great future. "You will go to Jerusalem, Lady Hester," said they; "you will go. Esther, Queen of the Jews! Hester, Queen of the Jews!"
Did the coincidence of the names strike her, or did this programme fascinate her by its novelty? Did she consider Brothers as an inoffensive lunatic or as a visionary of genius? She was not yet the sorceress of Djoun, believing firmly in magicians and enchanted serpents. But many sensible men, such as William Sharp, who had even given to the world a fine engraving of the prophet, with these words: "Believing firmly that this is the man chosen of God, I have engraved his portrait," and as Mr. Nathaniel Brassey Halhed, an Indian official and translator of the code of Geptoo laws, if it please you, had publicly proclaimed themselves his disciples.
However that may be, Lady Hester took, with the handsome Colonel Bruce, the road to Jerusalem, wearing the costume of the Egyptian Mamelukes: short bolero of red satin, purple tunic without sleeves, gallooned with gold, wide trousers of which the multiple folds had the thickness of drapery, cashmere shawl twisting like a turban around her head. All that formed a symphony of red, which blazed forth when she partially opened the great white burnous which hid her entirely during her ramblings on horseback. They only proceeded so far as Jaffa; Jaffa which bathes the foot of its dirty houses in the sea, and which the pilgrims returning from Jerusalem, after the Easter festival, fill with confusion and noise, transforming the little dead town of fishermen into a comical fair in which all the idioms of creation are entangled.
They were received by the English consular agent. He was a person called Damiani, a compromise between the patriarch and the Italian merchant, but in which the patriarch held the upper hand, an active man of sixty, wearing a singular costume: an old Eastern robe of sky-blue, lined with ermine, dirty trousers from which burst out two grey legs, head-dressà la française, that is to say, hair worn in a thick iron-grey queue, and above all ... above all, an immense three-cornered hat, polished by the years, soaked with sweat and dust since the Egyptian campaign. Three-cornered hat which was to amuse royally the Princess of Wales during her famous journey to Jerusalem, and which was to make Alphonse de Lamartine smile gently twenty years later.
Mohammed Aga, Governor of Jaffa, believing that it was an affair of some pious lady of little importance, was hardly civil and did not facilitate in any way the organisation of the caravan. Lady Hester never forgave him.
On May 18, 1812, eleven camels and thirteen horses left the town, conveying the travellers, save Pearce, who was keeping apart. By Gudd and Ramle they made their way towards the Holy City. It was harvest-time. Armed with short reaping-hooks, the peasants cut the barley, fresh barley which formed in the arid landscape islets of shade and points of velvet on which the eye lingered. Naked gold-coloured children followed the horses to offer some ears of corn in exchange for a serious backsheesh, and the doctor, in throwing them the piastres, declared sadly that no people knew better how to extort presents.
The mountains assumed a severe aspect. The path plunged into the rock like a nail into a wall. They reached a village amongst the fig-trees, where they were courteously received by the king of the mountain, the great sheik Abu Ghosh, who held in his hands the keys of Jerusalem. Detested by the surrounding pachas, feared by the travellers, he lived in independent existence in the midst of his hardy and brave mountaineers. Imposing dues at his pleasure upon the caravans, holding the pilgrims to ransom, levying taxes upon the convents, compelling the monks to bring out their little savings, he reigned without dispute over the mountains of Judea, from Ramle to Jerusalem, from Hebron to Jericho. Abu Ghosh was one of the most astonished of men to see a European woman arrive, surrounded by so numerous a suite, mounted on excellent horses. Ordinarily, the travellers contented themselves with wretched animals and clothed themselves in rags to pass unnoticed. The sheik, delighted to make the acquaintance of an English princess and fascinated by the haughty dignity of her manners, treated her very well. His four wives hastened to cook a delicate supper: vine-leaves filled with meat, stuffed pumpkins, roast mutton, chicken swimming in an ocean of boiled rice.
And the doctor thought sadly that this modest repast was the highest point of the culinary art of the Arabs.
When night came, Abu Ghosh installed himself with his pipes and his wives at the corner of the fire and watched over the sleep of the woman who had committed herself to his care. Early in the morning they separated as friends, and one of the sheik's brothers protected Lady Hester so far as Jerusalem.
Monotony of a poor land, and all at once, like a town of clouds, an apparition of the Middle Ages, loopholed walls and belfries, belfries and cupolas!... After having vigorously driven away the dragomans of the Franciscan monastery who clung to them tenaciously, and pointed them out in advance to Turkish cupidity, Lady Hester wandered into Jerusalem as her fancies dictated.
Accompanied by twenty horsemen, she made her way to Kengi-Ahmed, governor of the town. The seraglio partly opened its grated windows, eyelids closed by an unconquerable sleep on the Mosque of Omar, the holy mosque with its Persian and blue mosaics surrounded by gardens of cypress-trees. She went to the Holy Sepulchre, and her visit was not characterised by the meditation usually associated with a pilgrimage, not even with a pilgrimage undertaken for artistic purposes. The monks had, contrary to their custom, closed the doors of the church. They solemnly opened them and came in procession to meet her carrying lighted candles. The crowd, curious to see the spectacle, collected and vociferated in chorus. The police kept it at a distance by blows from cudgels. Lady Hester relieved the necessities of a Mameluke who had escaped the previous year from the Cairo massacre. When Emin Bey—that was his name—had heard the first shots fired by the Albanian soldiers massed on the walls, when the great slaughter had begun, he had comprehended that his only chance of safety lay in headlong flight. Then he had driven his spurs into his horse's flanks, and raising the animal, which was rearing and neighing with terror, he had leaped from the platform facing the citadel to the foot of the ramparts—a leap of forty-five or sixty feet. He had afterwards succeeded in reaching Jerusalem by the desert, not without having been first overpowered and robbed by the guides who conducted him. Since that time he had stooped to live on alms.
She sauntered in the infamous alleys of the Ghetto (Was it necessary to facilitate Brothers' task?), meeting children oldish-looking and shrivelled, the Jews of Central Europe with their orange-coloured greatcoats, wearing their tall skin caps and their abject air.
On May 30, Lady Stanhope, after a visit to Bethlehem, village of Judea, over which hover the glad memories of the Christ, where long lines of women defile like shadows, wearing with serene gravity their horned head-dresses and their trailing blue robes, reached St. Jean d'Acre by way of Atlitt beach, on which are engulfed the last vestiges of Pelerin Castle, and Haifa in the shadow of Mount Carmel. The road soon became more frequented. It was marked out by carcases. It seemed a giant abattoir. Dead horses, of which the inhabitants of the town had got rid; camels which had fallen exhausted on returning from a distant journey sick asses despatched on the spot. From this charnel-house issued an acrid and warm odour which turned the stomach. As the caravan passed, clouds of blue flies buzzed by in clusters, and yellow dogs fled growling and watched from a distance these intruders who came to share in their festival banquet. The sun burned with a malicious pleasure these heads half gnawed away, these eviscerated bodies, this greenish flesh. And the old bones, already picked clean by the jackals and washed by the rains, sparkled here and there, like great white flowers on the fields of corruption.