Rainy season――Lady Hester’s despondency――Her Turkish costume――Turkish
servants――Terror inspired by Lady Hester in her servants――Visit of
Messieurs Poujolat and Boutés――Lady Hester’s inability to entertain
strangers――Her dejected spirits and bad health.
November 24.――Still rain, rain! The courtyards were deep in mud and
puddles, and the men-servants walked about in wooden clogs, such as
are worn in breweries. The flat roofs, which cover the houses in most
parts of Syria, are made of a cement of mortar and fine gravel, in
appearance like an asphaltum causeway. In the hot months fissures show
themselves; and it rarely happens, when winter comes on, that, during
the first heavy rains, the wet does not filter through. Lady Hester,
therefore, had to suffer, as well as all the house, from this
annoyance, hardly bearable when a person is in health, but extremely
distressing and even dangerous in sickness. For some days past pans
had been standing on the bedroom floor to catch the droppings, and it
continued to rain on. The sloppy communications from door to door,
where every door opens into a courtyard, gave likewise a damp to the
apartments only supportable in a climate as mild as that of Syria.
Snow had covered the upper chain of Mount Lebanon in great abundance,
and the wind blew furiously. Everybody was out of humour, and many of
the servants were labouring under bad coughs and colds: but the women,
notwithstanding, always moved about the house with naked feet. It was
a wonder to see how, with coughs that might be heard from one
courtyard to another, they constantly went barefoot, and yet got well;
and a servant, if sent to the village, was sure to leave his shoes at
the porter’s lodge, and, drawing his _sherwáls_ or trousers up above
his knees, to set off as light as a deer through the pelting storm,
careless of wet, if he could but cover his head.
I saw Lady Hester about two in the day: she was in low spirits, lying
in her bed with the window and door open from a sense of suffocation
which had just before seized her.
“Would you believe it,” said she, as I entered, “those beasts would
leave me to die here before they came to my assistance! and, if I
happen to fall asleep, there is not one would cover my shoulders to
prevent my taking cold.”
Poor Lady Hester! thought I, the contrast between your early days and
your present sufferings is almost enough to break your heart. So I
abused the maids handsomely; and then, being satisfied with the warmth
of my expressions, and having vented her own anger, she began to talk
composedly.
I remained until near dinner-time, and, after dinner, went to her
again. She observed that the nights were dreadfully long, and that she
should be obliged to me if I would read to her. Her stock of books,
and mine too, was very small, and, after naming a few, which did not
please her, I recollected she had asked me once if I had by me a
heathen mythology, and she immediately fixed on that. So, writing on a
slip of paper to my daughter to send me hers, Lady Hester said, “First
let me order a pipe for you:” for this was usually the preliminary to
all business or conversation. Every sitting was opened with a pipe,
and generally terminated with one; as her ladyship would say, “But,
before you go, doctor, you must smoke one pipe more.” When the book
came, she desired me to turn to the part about Jupiter Ammon, and it
will be seen farther on why she did so. After a page or two, she began
to talk of the coming of the Mahadi, and the conversation was
prolonged far into the night. She afterwards ordered tea――for I now
drank tea with her almost every evening――and I then returned to my
house, covered with my thick capote, which, in the short distance of a
few hundred yards, could hardly save me from being wet through.
November 25.――The annual fast of the Mahometans, called Ramazàn, had
begun on the preceding day. It is customary for persons of rank to
make presents of clothes and other things to their dependants, during
the lunar month that the Ramazàn lasts, in order that they may appear
dressed up in finery on the first day of the succeeding new moon, at
the holyday of the Byràm, which succeeds it, as Easter-day does Lent
among Christians. Lady Hester, who never was behindhand in
beneficence, made it a rule to clothe all her Mahometan servants anew
at this season, as she did all her Christian ones on New Year’s Day or
at Easter. New capotes, pelisses, sherwáls, shirts, shifts, turbans,
gowns, &c., were always bought previous to the time; and, the best
being given to the most deserving, the worst to the least so, with
none at all to the lazy and worthless, some sort of activity was
observable in their service previous to the expected time. But the
objects they coveted once in their possession, they soon relapsed into
their customary sloth.
Some of these articles of dress were lying on the floor, Lady Hester
having had them brought for her to look at. She said to me, “You must
take home one of these abahs[14] to show to your family. You must
tell them,” continued she, “that once I had all my servants clothed in
such abahs as that: but they played me such tricks, I have given it
up. Some sold them; and, on one occasion, four of them marched off
within twenty-four hours after I had dressed them from head to foot,
and I never saw them again: isn’t it abominable? At the time that I
dressed them so well, and rode out myself with my bornôos, crimson and
gold, the gold lace being everywhere where silk tape is generally put,
I did not owe a shilling in the world.”
“Once,” she continued, “when riding my beautiful Arabian mare Asfoor,
near a place called Gezýn, in that crimson bornôos, with a
richly-embroidered dress under it, and on my crimson velvet saddle, I
happened to approach an encampment of the Pasha’s troops. Several
_benát el hawa_” (street ladies), “who were living with the soldiers,
ran across a field to come up with me, thinking I was some young bey
or binbashi. Every time, just as they got near, I quickened my horse’s
pace, that they might not see I was a woman: at last, two fairly came
and seized my knees, to make me turn and look at them. But what was
their confusion (for such women are not so hardened as in Europe) when
they saw I had no beard or mustachios, and was one of their own sex!”
Lady Hester related this droll adventure to me more than once, to
show, I believe, what a distinguished and real Turkish appearance she
made on horseback, which was perfectly true: but to return to the
servants.
A Turk for work is little better than a brute animal: he moves about
nimbly, when roused by vociferation and threats, and squats down like
a dog the moment he is left to himself. England produces no type of
the Syrian serving-man. He sets about his work as a task that is given
to him, and, when it is over, sits down immediately to smoke his pipe
and to gossip, or seeks a snug place near at hand, and goes to sleep.
You call him, and set him to do something else, and the same practice
follows. The next day you expect he will, of his own accord,
recommence what was shown to him on the preceding one; but no such
thing: you have to tell him over again, and so every day. He is a
thief from habit, and a liar of the most brazen stamp, as no shame is
ever attached to detection. In plausible language, protestations of
honesty and fidelity, he has no superior; and, if beaten or reviled,
he will smother his choler, nay, kiss the hand that has chastised him,
but waits a fit opportunity for vengeance, and carefully weighs kicks
against coppers. He is generally so servile as to make you bear with
his worthlessness, even though you despise him; and, when your anger
appears to threaten him with the loss of his place and is at the
highest, he smooths it down with an extraordinary day’s activity,
making you hope that a reformation has taken place in him: but it is
all delusion. And think not that you, a Christian, can raise your hand
against the meanest servant, if a Mahometan: when you would have him
beaten, you must employ another Mahometan to do it, who will, however,
lay on to your heart’s content.
What has been said above applies to the menials of towns and cities.
Of another class of servants taken from the villages, Lady Hester used
to say, “I have tried the Syrian _fellahs_” (peasants) “for twenty
years as servants, and I ought to know pretty well what they are fit
for. It is my opinion that, for hard work, lifting heavy things, going
with mules and asses, for foot messengers across the country, and for
such business, you may make something of them, but for nothing else.
The women are idle, and prone to thieving; and it is impossible to
teach them any European usages.”
One day, in walking through the back yard, I observed two stakes,
about six feet high and sharply pointed, stuck deep and firmly into
the ground, which had before escaped my notice. I inquired what they
were for, but got no satisfactory answer, the dairyman, to whom I
addressed myself, using the reply so common throughout the East, _Ma
aref_ (I don’t know); for no people in the world have so quick a scent
of the danger of being brought into trouble by professing to know what
is inquired about as the Orientals. A Jew, in a street in Turkey, and
a Christian likewise, is sure to answer the most simple question by an
“I don’t know”――“I have not heard”――“I have not seen;” for he fears
what that question may lead to, and that, if he knows a little, a
bastinadoing may be resorted to to make him know more: so I afterwards
asked Lady Hester. “Oh!” replied she, “I’ll tell you how those stakes
came there: I had forgotten all about them. One day, at the time they
were robbing me right and left, I ordered the carpenter to make two
stakes, such as people are impaled upon, and to erect them in the back
yard. I spoke not to any one why or wherefore I had given the order;
but if you had seen the fright that pervaded the house, and for weeks
how well the maids behaved, you would then have known, as I do, that
it is only by such terrible means that these abominable jades can be
kept under. From that time to this it appears the stakes have
remained; for, as I never go into that yard, I had forgotten them: but
since they are there still, there let them be.”
Thus Lady Hester was dying in a struggle to cure her men and maids of
theft, lying, and carelessness, whilst they ended the month with the
same indifference to honesty, truth, and cleanliness, as they began
it.
Each one was a sycophant to those who had authority over him; each one
distrusted his comrade. Lady Hester might say with truth, “If I did
not act so, they would cut your throat and mine:” but why did she keep
such wretches about her? why not turn them away, and procure European
servants? or why continue to live in such a wild mountain, and not
make her dwelling-place in or near a city, where consular protection
was at hand? The first three questions I have endeavoured to answer
already; and, as for the last, respecting consular protection, he that
had dared to suggest such an expedient of safety to her would have
rued the observation. To name a consul in that sense to her was to
name what was most odious; and the epithets that were generally
coupled with their names were such as I have too much respect for that
useful body of magistrates to put down in writing.
Saturday, November 25.――As I was returning from the village about
four in the afternoon, on ascending the side of the hill on which Lady
Hester’s house stands, I met four persons mounted on mules, and
conjectured them, by their boots, which were black, and reached up to
the calf of the leg, not to be of the country; for in Syria either red
or yellow boots are always worn. They had on Morea capotes, and their
dress was that of the more northern provinces of Turkey. In passing
them, I said, “Good evening!” in Arabic, but, on receiving no answer
from the two nearest to me, I looked hard at them, and immediately saw
they were Europeans.
On alighting at my own door, I asked the servant if he had seen
anybody go by, and his reply was, that three or four Turkish soldiers
had passed. I then inquired of one of Lady Hester’s muleteers, who was
unloading some provisions he had brought from Sayda, if he knew who
the four men were whom I had seen; and he answered that, at the foot
of the hill, they had inquired of him the road to Jôon, and that they
were Milordi travelling: Milordo being the term applied to every
European who travels in the Levant with a man-servant, and has money
to spend.
I went in to Lady Hester a few minutes afterwards, and told her that
some travellers, as I thought, to get a nearer view of her house than
could be had from the high road, had made a round, and had just ridden
past the door. About a quarter of an hour afterwards, the maid
brought in a message from the porter to say that two Franks, just
arrived at the village of Jôon, had sent their servant with a note,
and the porter wished to know whether the note was to be taken in. For
Lady Hester had been so tormented with begging letters, petitions,
stories of distress, &c., that it was become a general rule for him
never to receive any written paper, until he had first sent in to say
who had brought it, and from whom it came; and then she would decide
whether it was to be refused or not. The note, accordingly, was
fetched.
Lady Hester read it to herself, and then the following conversation
took place, which will explain some of the reasons why she did not
always receive strangers who presented themselves at her gate. “Yes,
doctor,” said she, “you were right: they are two travellers, who have
been to Palmyra and about, and want to come and talk to me concerning
the Arabs and the desert. Should you like to go to Jôon, and tell them
I can’t see them, because I have been confined to my room for several
days from a bad cold?” I answered, “Certainly; I would go with the
greatest pleasure.” She then rang the bell, and desired the servant to
order my horse. She continued, “One of the names, I think, is a man of
a great family.”――“What is it?” I asked. She took up the note again.
“Boo, poo, bon――no――Boo――jo――lais――Beaujolais, I think it is. No,
Pou――jo――lat; it is Poujolat.”――“Then,” interrupted I, “I guess who
they are: there was a Monsieur Poujolat, who came into the Levant six
or seven years ago, to make researches respecting the crusades: I saw
him at Cyprus; he and Monsieur Michaud were together. They were
considered men of talent, and I believe were contributors to some
Paris newspaper during Charles the Tenth’s time. They had published
already some volumes of their travels before I left Europe, and the
greatest part of the ground was travelled over, as I surmise, in the
saloons of their consuls, during the long evenings when they were shut
in by the plague of 1831 and 1832; for they speak of many places where
they could hardly have gone. But this is not unusual,” I added, “with
some writers; for Monsieur Chaboçeau, a French doctor at Damascus,
told me, in 1813, when I was staying in his house, that Monsieur de
Volney never went to Palmyra, although he leads one to suppose he had
been there; for, owing to a great fall of snow just at the period when
he projected that journey, he was compelled to relinquish the attempt.
Monsieur Chaboçeau, an octogenarian, had known him, and entertained
him as his guest in his house; and he answered me, when I reiterated
the question, that Volney never saw Palmyra.”
“Oh! if they have written about the crusades,” said Lady Hester,
paying no attention to what I said about Volney, “tell them that all
the crusaders are not dead, but that some of them are asleep only;
asleep in the same arms and the same dress they wore on the field of
battle, and will awake at the first resurrection. Mind you say the
first resurrection; for I suppose you know there are to be two, one a
partial one, and the last a general one.[15]
“But there, doctor, I must not detain you. Now, just listen to what
you have got to do. Mohammed shall take to them two bottles of red
wine, and two bottles of _vino d’oro_” (ding, ding.) “Zezefôon, tell
Mohammed to get out four bottles of wine, two of each sort; of my
wine――you understand――and he is to put them in a basket, and be ready
to go with the doctor to Jôon.” Then, addressing herself again to me,
“You must say to them that I am very sorry I can’t see them, but that
I am not very well, and that I beg their acceptance of a little wine,
which, perhaps, they might not find where they sleep to-night. Say to
them, I should be very much pleased to talk over their journey to
Palmyra with them; and add that the respect I bear to all the French
makes me always happy to meet with one of their nation. Say that the
wine is not so good as I could wish it to be, but that, since Ibrahim
Pasha and his soldiers have been in the country, they have drunk up
all the good, and it is now very difficult to procure any. If they
talk about Ibrahim Pasha, say that I admire his courage, but cannot
respect him; that I am a faithful subject of the Sultan, and shall
always be so, and that I do not like servants that rise against their
masters; for whether Cromwells, or Buonapartes, or people in these
countries, it never succeeds. If they allude to the horrors of the
recruiting service, and to the nizàm troops, tell them that I never
interfere in matters like that; but that, when heads were to be saved
and the wounded and houseless to be succoured, as after the siege of
Acre, then I was not afraid of Ibrahim Pasha, or any of them. Well, I
think that’s all:” then, musing a little while, she added, “I ought,
perhaps, to ask them to pass the night here; but, if I did, it would
be all confusion: no dinner ready for them――and, before it could be,
it would be midnight, for I must have a sheep killed: besides, it
would be setting a bad example. There would be others then coming just
at nightfall to get a supper and be off in the morning, as has
happened more than once already. So now go, doctor, and” (ding, ding)
“Fatôom! who is that woman that lodges strangers sometimes at
Jôon?”――“Werdy, Sytty, the midwife.”――“Ah! so; very well. Tell them,
doctor, that they had better not think of going to Sayda to-night, as
the gates will be shut; and that they will be nowhere better off for
sleeping in all the village than at Werdy, the midwife’s: for she has
good beds and clean counterpanes: so now go.”
I half rose to go, still hanging back, as knowing her ladyship would,
as usual, have much more to say. “Oh! by the bye,” she resumed, “if
they inquire about me, and ask any questions, you may say that
sometimes I am a great talker when subjects please me, and sometimes
say very little if they do not. I am a character: what I do, or intend
to do, nobody knows beforehand; and, when done, people don’t always
know why, until the proper time, and then it comes out.” Here she
paused a little, and then resumed. “I dare say they came here to have
something to put in their book, so mind you tell them about the
crusaders; for it is true, doctor. You recollect I told you the story,
and how these sleeping crusaders had been seen by several persons; and
I don’t suppose those persons would lie more than other people; why
should they?”――“Why should they indeed?” I answered. “They were
martyrs,” resumed her ladyship, “and those who sleep are not only of
the Christians who fought, but of the Saracens also; men, that is, who
felt from their souls the justice of the cause they fought for. As for
yourself, if you don’t believe it, you may add you know nothing about
it; for you are lately come into the country, and all these are things
which are become known to me during my long residence here.”
At last I went, mounted my horse, and rode out of the gate, Mohammed
following with the basket of wine. But, instead of having to go to the
village, I found the strangers waiting on their mules about two or
three hundred yards from the porter’s lodge. My horse, taken from his
feed, for it was near sunset, and seeing the mules, jumped and pranced
so that I was obliged to dismount before I could approach them. I
delivered Lady Hester’s message to them, and in answer they expressed,
in polite terms, their regret at not seeing her, and their still
greater regret that the reason was from her ill state of health.
Unlike what some Englishmen have done on similar occasions, they
uttered not the slightest murmur about her want of hospitality, nor
the least doubt of the veracity of the excuse; but, as soon as they
found that they should not be admitted, they cut short all further
conversation; lamenting, as night was fast approaching, that they
could not stop, and that they were under the necessity of bending
their way somewhere as fast as possible to get a night’s lodging. I
pointed to the village, recommended them to go there, and repeated
Werdy, the midwife’s name, two or three times, as a cottage where they
would be comfortably lodged. But, yielding to the advice of their
servant, who, as is the case with all travellers ignorant of the
language in a strange country, seemed to lead his masters pretty much
where he liked, they were induced to set off for Sayda, where they
could not arrive in less than three hours, instead of passing the
night at Jôon, where they would have been housed in ten minutes. So,
presenting them with the wine, and having informed them of the name of
the French consular agent at Sayda, where they would do well to demand
a lodging, I wished them good night, and took my leave. They mounted
their mules, and descended the bank by the narrow path that led under
the hill to the Sayda road; when, as I was going back to the house, I
heard one of the gentlemen calling out to me, “But the empty bottles?”
Now the interview had been conducted, on my part, with all the
etiquette I was master of, and on theirs, up to the moment of saying
good night, with the politeness so natural to the French nation. But
the exclamation, “What’s to be done with the empty bottles? you gave
us the wine, but did you give us the bottles too?” sounded so comic,
and in the vicinity of that residence too, where it was customary to
give in a princely way, that the speaker fell a degree in the scale of
my estimation on the score of breeding, how much soever he might be
commended for his intended exactitude and probity.
I returned to Lady Hester. During my short absence, one of her maids
had informed her that the Franks, although they had made a show of
going to Jôon when first they passed the gate, had in fact only
retired into the valley between the two hills, where they had unpacked
their saddle-bags and shifted themselves, in order to make a decent
appearance before her. This increased her regret at the trouble they
had so uselessly put themselves to. The rain came on soon after, and
their unpleasant situation was the subject of conversation for a good
half hour. The name of the other gentleman who accompanied Monsier
Poujolat was Boutés.
Much has been said of Lady Hester Stanhope’s rudeness to her
countrymen and others in refusing them admittance when at the door,
and probably Messrs. Poujolat and Boutés might have complained at
Sayda of her inhospitable conduct: but it is scarcely necessary for me
to say that her real motives for acting as she did were not from a
dislike to see people, since nobody enjoyed half-a-day’s conversation
with a stranger more than she did. A few days after,
December 2.――I had taken a long ride in the morning, and had seen a
frigate under her studding sails running towards Sayda. The arrival of
a ship of war was always an event to set the house in commotion; for
it was very well known that, if her colours were English or French,
the chances were ten to one that either the captain or some of the
officers would come up to Jôon. Accordingly, on returning home at
about 4 o’clock, I told Lady Hester Stanhope of it: but she was not
well, had passed the night badly, and all she said was,――“Well, if
they come, I shall not see any of them.” Now, it is not improbable, if
any of the officers had presented themselves, and had been told that
her ladyship was unable to receive them, owing to the state of her
health, that they would have gone away discontented, and disposed to
attribute her refusal to any other cause than the real one: but let
any one, who reads what follows, say if she was in a fit state to hold
conversation with strangers.
Her health was still very far from good, and this day was a day of
sorrow. Her maids had been sulky and impertinent, and her forlorn and
deserted situation came so forcibly across her mind, that she raised
up her hands to heaven, and wept. “Oh!” said she, “if these horrid
servants would but do as they are told, I could get on by myself, and
should not want anybody to help me: but they are like jibbing horses,
and the only good horse in the team is worked to death. Were I well, I
would not care for a thousand of them; I should know how to manage
them: but, sick as I am, hardly able to raise my hand to ring the
bell, if anything were to happen to me, I might die, and nobody would
come to my assistance.”
I offered, as I had done almost daily, to have my bed removed to the
room next to hers, and to sleep there, in order to be at hand if she
should want my assistance: but she would not admit of it; and I could
only use my best efforts to soothe her, which was no easy matter. I
remained six hours with her, sitting the whole time in a constrained
posture, that I might catch her words, so low was her voice. And I
could not move without sensibly annoying her, as she was sure to
construe it into a wish to be gone, or a disregard of her situation,
and to say she was neglected by everybody.
It is incredible how Lady Hester Stanhope used to torment herself
about trifles. People, who never happened to meet with a person of her
peculiar character, would be amazed at the precision with which she
set about everything she undertook. The most trivial and fugitive
affairs were transacted with quite as much pains and exactitude as she
brought to bear upon the most important plans. This was, in fact, the
character of her mind, exhibiting itself throughout her entire
conduct. I have known her lose nearly a whole day in scolding about a
nosegay of roses which she wished to send to the Pasha’s wife. For the
purpose of sending nosegays safely to distant places, she had invented
a sort of canister. In the bottom part was placed a tumbler full of
water, in which the flower-stalks were kept moist; and the nosegay was
thus carried to any distance, suspended to the mules, saddle, or in a
man’s hand. The servants, who could not understand why such importance
was attached to a few flowers, were remiss in keeping the canisters
clean, nor would the gardener arrange the flowers as Lady Hester
wished. For a matter like this she would storm and cry, and appeal to
me if it was not a shame she should be so treated.
December 3.――To-day, a servant, who was ill, had become the object of
her immediate anxiety. “As for myself,” cried she, “I care not how
ragged, how neglected I am; but I am in a fever if I think a poor
creature is in want of such comforts as his illness may require. Such
is my despotism: and I dread every moment of the day lest his
necessities should not be attended to. Who is to see his room warmed,
to take care he has proper drinks, to give him his medicine? I know
nobody will do it, unless I see to it myself.” I assured her he should
have every attention possible.
It was in vain to expect any sentiment or feeling from servants and
slaves, who had no prospect before them but one constant round of
forced work, against their habits and inclinations. Although Lady
Hester Stanhope had adopted almost all the customs of the East, she
still retained many of her own: and to condemn the slaves to learn the
usages of Franks was like obliging an English housemaid to fall into
those of the Turks. Thus, the airing of linen, ironing, baking loaves
of bread instead of flat cakes, cleaning knives, brightening pots,
pans, and kettles, mending holes in clothes, and other domestic
cleanly usages, were points of contention which were constantly fought
over and over again for twenty years, with no better success at the
last than at the first.
Her conversation turned one day on Sir G. H. “What can be the
reason?” said she, “I am now always thinking of Sir G. H. Seven years
ago, when you were here, you spoke about him, and I thought no more of
him than merely to make some remarks at the moment; but now I have
dreamed of him two or three times, and I am sure something is going to
happen to him, either very good or very bad. I have been thinking how
well he would do for master of the horse to the Queen, and I have a
good way of giving a hint of it through the Buckleys: for I always
said that, next to Lord Chatham, nobody ever had such handsome
equipages as Sir G.: nobody’s horses and carriages were so neatly
picked out as theirs. Sir G. is a man, doctor, from what you tell me,
that would have just suited Mr. Pitt. That polished and quiet manner
which Sir G. has was what Mr. Pitt found so agreeable in Mr. Long. It
is very odd――Mr. Pitt always would dress for dinner, even if we were
alone. One day, I said to him, ‘You are tired, and there is no one but
ourselves; why need you dress!’ He replied, ‘Why, I don’t know,
Hester; but if one omits to do it to-day, we neglect it to-morrow, and
so on, until one grows a pig.’”
December 7, 1837.――Poor Lady Hester’s appearance to-day would have
been a piteous sight for her friends in England. I saw her about noon:
she was pale, very ill, and her natural good spirits quite gone.
“Doctor,” said she, in a faint voice, “I am very poorly to-day, and I
was still worse in the night. I was within that” (holding up her
finger) “of death’s door, and I find nothing now will relieve me. A
little while ago, I could depend on something or other, when seized
with these spasmodic attacks; but now everything fails. How am I to
get better, when I can’t have a moment’s repose from morning till
night? When I was ill on former occasions, I could amuse myself with
my thoughts, with cutting out in paper;――why, I have a closet full of
models, in paper, of rooms, and arches, and vaults, and pavilions, and
buildings, with so many plans of alterations, you can’t think. But
now, if I want a pair of scissors, they can’t be found; if I want a
needle and thread, there is none forthcoming; and I am wearied to
death about the smallest trifles.”
She here began to cry and wring her hands, presenting a most
melancholy picture of despair. When she had recovered a little, she
went on: “To look upon me now, what a lesson against vanity! Look at
this arm, all skin and bone, so thin, so thin, that you may see
through it; and once, without exaggeration, so rounded, that you could
not pinch the skin up. My neck was once so fair that a pearl necklace
scarcely showed on it; and men――no fools, but sensible men――would say
to me, ‘God has given you a neck you really may be proud of: you are
one of nature’s favourites, and one may be excused for admiring that
beautiful skin.’ If they could behold me now, with my teeth all gone,
and with long lines in my face――not wrinkles, for I have no wrinkles
when I am left quiet, and not made angry: but my face is drawn out of
its composure by these wretches. I thank God that old age has come
upon me unperceived. When I used to see the painted Lady H. dressed in
pink and silver, with her head shaking, and jumped by her footman into
her sociable, attempting to appear young, I felt a kind of horror and
disgust I can’t describe. I wonder how Lady Stafford dresses, now she
is no longer young: but I can’t fancy her grown old.”
She paused, and then resumed. “I have,” she said, “been under the saw”
(drawing the little finger of her right hand backward and forward
across the forefinger of her left) “for many years, and not a tooth
but what has told; but it is God’s will, and I do not repine: it is
man’s ingratitude that wounds me most. How many harsh answers have
even you given me, when I have been telling you things for your good:
it is that which hurts me.”
I confessed my fault, and expressed my deep regret that I had ever
caused her any pain.
She went on. “When I see people of understanding moidering away their
time, losing their memory, and doing nothing that is useful to
mankind, I must be frank, and tell them of it. You are in darkness,
and I have done my best to enlighten you: if I have not succeeded, it
is not my fault. As for pleasing or displeasing me, put that out of
your head: there is no more in that than in pleasing or displeasing
that door. I am but a worm――a poor, miserable being――an humble
instrument in the hands of God. But, if a man is benighted, and sees a
light in a castle, does he go to it, or does he not? Perhaps it may be
a good genius that guides him there, perhaps it may be a den of
thieves: but there he goes.”
In this mournful strain Lady Hester went on for some time. Every thing
around me presented so affecting a picture, that, unable to restrain
my emotions, I burst into tears. She let me recover myself, and then,
making me drink a finjàn of coffee, with a little orange-flower water
in it, to restore my spirits, she advised me to go and take a walk.
An hour or two afterwards I saw her again. She was much better, and
was sitting up in her bed, cutting out articles of clothing, and
fixing on patterns for new gowns for her maids. “I hate money,” she
said, “and could wish to have nothing to do with it but saying, ‘Take
this, and lay it out so and so.’” Ever sanguine, she was forming plans
of what she should do in the spring, when she purposed remodelling her
household, and replacing her present servants by a fresh set. The
world was to be convulsed by revolutions, nations were to be punished
by sickness and calamities; and her object was to secure, for those in
whose welfare she felt interested, an asylum in the coming days of
trouble.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] An abah is either a long cloak, or else a woollen
frock-coat, sometimes brocaded in a triangle of gold
thread (the base going from shoulder to shoulder, and
the apex pointing at the waist), on a marone-coloured
ground, as this was, and presenting a very brilliant
appearance.
[15] It was by such speeches as these that Lady Hester
sometimes left an impression on her hearers that she
was insane. The reader must judge for himself. There
are, however, strong reasons for believing that there
was a profound and deeply-planned method in all her
actions, and those who said she was unsound in her
intellects would have had great difficulty in proving
it before a competent tribunal. The vast combinations
of her mind, when it was possible to get a glimpse of
them, filled one with surprise, and set at naught all
previous conjecture or conception; whilst separate and
particular conversations and reasonings wore the stamp
of great oddity and sometimes of insanity. Let Mr.
Dundas, Lord Hardwicke, Mr. Way, Lord St. Asaph, Count
Delaborde, Count Yowiski, if still alive, Count de la
Porte, Dr. Mills, M. Lamartine, Count Marcellus, and a
hundred others who have conversed with her, say what
was the impression she left on their minds; and not
till then let persons who have never held intercourse
with her of late years pronounce her mad.