SURPRISE OF SATALIEH {298a}
WHILST I was remaining upon the coast of Syria I had the good fortune to
become acquainted with the Russian Sataliefsky, {298b} a general officer,
who in his youth had fought and bled at Borodino, but was now better
known among diplomats by the important trust committed to him at a period
highly critical for the affairs of Eastern Europe. I must not tell you
his family name; my mention of his title can do him no harm, for it is I,
and I only, who have conferred it, in consideration of the military and
diplomatic services performed under my own eyes.
The General as well as I was bound for Smyrna, and we agreed to sail
together in an Ionian brigantine. We did not charter the vessel, but we
made our arrangement with the captain upon such terms that we could be
put ashore upon any part of the coast that we might choose. We sailed,
and day after day the vessel lay dawdling on the sea with calms and
feeble breezes for her portion. I myself was well repaid for the painful
restlessness which such weather occasions, because I gained from my
companion a little of that vast fund of interesting knowledge with which
he was stored, knowledge a thousand times the more highly to be prized
since it was not of the sort that is to be gathered from books, but only
from the lips of those who have acted a part in the world.
When after nine days of sailing, or trying to sail, we found ourselves
still hanging by the mainland to the north of the isle of Cyprus, we
determined to disembark at Satalieh, and to go on thence by land. A
light breeze favoured our purpose, and it was with great delight that we
neared the fragrant land, and saw our anchor go down in the bay of
Satalieh, within two or three hundred yards of the shore.
The town of Satalieh {299} is the chief place of the Pashalic in which it
is situate, and its citadel is the residence of the Pasha. We had
scarcely dropped our anchor when a boat from the shore came alongside
with officers on board, who announced that the strictest orders had been
received for maintaining a quarantine of three weeks against all vessels
coming from Syria, and directed accordingly that no one from the vessel
should disembark. In reply we sent a message to the Pasha, setting forth
the rank and titles of the General, and requiring permission to go
ashore. After a while the boat came again alongside, and the officers
declaring that the orders received from Constantinople were imperative
and unexceptional, formally enjoined us in the name of the Pasha to
abstain from any attempt to land.
I had been hitherto much less impatient of our slow voyage than my
gallant friend, but this opposition made the smooth sea seem to me like a
prison, from which I must and would break out. I had an unbounded faith
in the feebleness of Asiatic potentates, and I proposed that we should
set the Pasha at defiance. The General had been worked up to a state of
a most painful agitation by the idea of being driven from the shore which
smiled so pleasantly before his eyes, and he adopted my suggestion with
rapture.
We determined to land.
To approach the sweet shore after a tedious voyage, and then to be
suddenly and unexpectedly prohibited from landing—this is so maddening to
the temper, that no one who had ever experienced the trial would say that
even the most violent impatience of such restraint is wholly inexcusable.
I am not going to pretend, however, that the course which we chose to
adopt on the occasion can be perfectly justified. The impropriety of a
traveller’s setting at naught the regulations of a foreign State is clear
enough, and the bad taste of compassing such a purpose by mere
gasconading is still more glaringly plain. I knew perfectly well that if
the Pasha understood his duty, and had energy enough to perform it, he
would order out a file of soldiers the moment we landed, and cause us
both to be shot upon the beach, without allowing more contact than might
be absolutely necessary for the purpose of making us stand fire; but I
also firmly believed that the Pasha would not see the befitting line of
conduct nearly so well as I did, and that even if he did know his duty,
he would hardly succeed in finding resolution enough to perform it.
We ordered the boat to be got in readiness, and the officers on shore
seeing these preparations, gathered together a number of guards, who
assembled upon the sands. We saw that great excitement prevailed, and
that messengers were continually going to and fro between the shore and
the citadel. Our captain, out of compliment to his Excellency, had
provided the vessel with a Russian war-flag, which he had hoisted
alternately with the Union Jack, and we agreed that we would attempt our
disembarkation under this, the Russian standard! I was glad when we came
to that resolution, for I should have been sorry to engage the honoured
flag of England in such an affair as that which we were undertaking. The
Russian ensign was therefore committed to one of the sailors, who took
his station at the stern of the boat. We gave particular instructions to
the captain of the brigantine, and when all was ready, the General and I,
with our respective servants, got into the boat, and were slowly rowed
towards the shore. The guards gathered together at the point for which
we were making, but when they saw that our boat went on without altering
her course, _they ceased to stand very still_; none of them ran away, or
even shrank back, but they looked as if _the pack were being shuffled_,
every man seeming desirous to change places with his neighbour. They
were still at their post, however, when our oars went in, and the bow of
our boat ran up—well up upon the beach.
The General was lame by an honourable wound received at Borodino, and
could not without some assistance get out of the boat; I, therefore,
landed the first. My instructions to the captain were attended to with
the most perfect accuracy, for scarcely had my foot indented the sand
when the four six-pounders of the brigantine quite gravely rolled out
their brute thunder. Precisely as I had expected, the guards and all the
people who had gathered about them gave way under the shock produced by
the mere sound of guns, and we were all allowed to disembark with the
least molestation.
We immediately formed a little column, or rather, as I should have called
it, a procession, for we had no fighting aptitude in us, and were only
trying, as it were, how far we could go in frightening full-grown
children. First marched the sailor with the Russian flag of war bravely
flying in the breeze, then came the General and I, then our servants, and
lastly, if I rightly recollect, two more of the brigantine’s crew. Our
flag-bearer so exulted in his honourable office, and bore the colours
aloft with so much of pomp and dignity, that I found it exceedingly hard
to keep a grave countenance. We advanced towards the castle, but the
people had now had time to recover from the effect of the six-pounders
(only of course loaded with powder), and they could not help seeing not
only the numerical weakness of our party, but the very slight amount of
wealth and resource which it seemed to imply. They began to hang round
us more closely, and just as this reaction was beginning, the General,
who was perfectly unacquainted with the Asiatic character, thoughtlessly
turned round in order to speak to one of the servants. The effect of
this slight move was magical. The people thought we were going to give
way, and instantly closed round us. In two words, and with one touch, I
showed my comrade the danger he was running, and in the next instant we
were both advancing more pompously than ever. Some minutes afterwards
there was a second appearance of reaction, followed again by wavering and
indecision on the part of the Pasha’s people, but at length it seemed to
be understood that we should go unmolested into the audience hall.
Constant communication had been going on between the receding crowd and
the Pasha, and so when we reached the gates of the citadel we saw that
preparations were made for giving us an awe-striking reception. Parting
at once from the sailors and our servants, the General and I were
conducted into the audience hall; and there at least I suppose the Pasha
hoped that he would confound us by his greatness. The hall was nothing
more than a large whitewashed room. Oriental potentates have a pride in
that sort of simplicity, when they can contrast it with the exhibition of
power, and this the Pasha was able to do, for the lower end of the hall
was filled with his officers. These men, of whom I thought there were
about fifty or sixty, were all handsomely, though plainly, dressed in the
military frockcoats of Europe; they stood in mass, and so as to present a
hollow semi-circular front towards the upper end of the hall at which the
Pasha sat; they opened a narrow lane for us when we entered, and as soon
as we had passed they again closed up their ranks. An attempt was made
to induce us to remain at a respectful distance from his mightiness. To
have yielded in this point would have been fatal to our success, perhaps
to our lives; but the General and I had already determined upon the place
which we should take, and we rudely pushed on towards the upper end of
the hall.
Upon the divan, and close up against the right hand corner of the room,
there sat the Pasha, his limbs gathered in, the whole creature coiled up
like an adder. His cheeks were deadly pale, and his lips perhaps had
turned white, for without moving a muscle the man impressed me with an
immense idea of the wrath within him. He kept his eyes inexorably fixed
as if upon vacancy, and with the look of a man accustomed to refuse the
prayers of those who sue for life. We soon discomposed him, however,
from this studied fixity of feature, for we marched straight up to the
divan and sat down, the Russian close to the Pasha, and I by the side of
the Russian. This act astonished the attendants, and plainly
disconcerted the Pasha. He could no longer maintain the glassy stillness
of the eyes which he had affected, and evidently became much agitated.
At the feet of the satrap there stood a trembling Italian. This man was
a sort of medico in the potentate’s service, and now in the absence of
our attendants he was to act as interpreter. The Pasha caused him to
tell us that we had openly defied his authority, and had forced our way
on shore in the teeth of his own officers.
Up to this time I had been the planner of the enterprise, but now that
the moment had come when all would depend upon able and earnest
speechifying, I felt at once the immense superiority of my gallant
friend, and gladly left to him the whole conduct of this discussion.
Indeed he had vast advantages over me, not only by his superior command
of language and his far more spirited style of address, but also in his
consciousness of a good cause; for whilst I felt myself completely in the
wrong, his Excellency had really worked himself up to believe that the
Pasha’s refusal to permit our landing was a gross outrage and insult.
Therefore, without deigning to defend our conduct, he at once commenced a
spirited attack upon the Pasha. The poor Italian doctor translated one
or two sentences to the Pasha, but he evidently mitigated their import.
The Russian, growing warm, insisted upon his attack with redoubled energy
and spirit; but the medico, instead of translating, began to shake
violently with terror, and at last he came out with his _non ardisco_,
and fairly confessed that he dared not interpret fierce words to his
master.
Now then, at a time when everything seemed to depend upon the effect of
speech, we were left without an interpreter.
But this very circumstance, which at first appeared so unfavourable,
turned out to be advantageous. The General, finding that he could not
have his words translated, ceased to speak in Italian, and recurred to
his accustomed French; he became eloquent. No one present except myself
understood one syllable of what he was saying, but he had drawn forth his
passport, and the energy and violence with which, as he spoke, he pointed
to the graven Eagle of all the Russias, began to make an impression. The
Pasha saw at his side a man not only free from every the least pang of
fear, but raging, as it seemed, with just indignation, and thenceforward
he plainly began to think that, in some way or other (he could not tell
how) he must certainly have been in the wrong. In a little time he was
so much shaken that the Italian ventured to resume his interpretation,
and my comrade had again the opportunity of pressing his attack upon the
Pasha. His argument, if I rightly recollect its import, was to this
effect: “If the vilest Jews were to come into the harbour, you would but
forbid them to land, and force them to perform quarantine; yet this is
the very course, O Pasha, which your rash officers dared to think of
adopting with _us_!—those mad and reckless men would have actually dealt
towards a Russian general officer and an English gentleman as if they had
been wretched Israelites! Never—never will we submit to such an
indignity. His Imperial Majesty knows how to protect his nobles from
insult, and would never endure that a general of his army should be
treated in matter of quarantine as though he were a mere Eastern Jew!”
This argument told with great effect. The Pasha fairly admitted that he
felt its weight, and he now only struggled to obtain such a compromise as
might partly save his dignity. He wanted us to perform a quarantine of
one day for form’s sake, and in order to show his people that he was not
utterly defied; but finding that we were inexorable, he not only
abandoned his attempt, but promised to supply us with horses.
When the discussion had arrived at this happy conclusion, _tchibouques_
and coffee were brought, and we passed, I think, nearly an hour in
friendly conversation. The Pasha, it now appeared, had once been a
prisoner of war in Russia, and a conviction of the Emperor’s vast power,
necessarily acquired during this captivity, made him perhaps more alive
than an untravelled Turk would have been to the force of my comrade’s
eloquence.
The Pasha now gave us a generous feast. Our promised horses were brought
without much delay. I gained my loved saddle once more, and when the
moon got up and touched the heights of Taurus, we were joyfully winding
our way through the first of his rugged defiles.
APPENDIX
THE HOME OF LADY HESTER STANHOPE
IT was late when we came in sight of two high conical hills, on one of
which stands the village of Djouni, on the other a circular wall, over
which dark trees were waving; and this was the place in which Lady Hester
Stanhope had finished her strange and eventful career. It had formerly
been a convent, but the Pasha of Sidon had given it to the
“prophet-lady,” who converted its naked walls into a palace, and its
wilderness into gardens.
The sun was setting as we entered the enclosure, and we were soon
scattered about the outer court, picketing our horses, rubbing down their
foaming flanks, and washing out their wounds. The buildings that
constituted the palace were of a very scattered and complicated
description, covering a wide space but only one storey in height: courts
and garden, stables and sleeping-rooms, halls of audience and ladies’
bowers, were strangely intermingled. Heavy weeds were growing everywhere
among the open portals, and we forced our way with difficulty through a
tangle of roses and jasmine to the inner court; here choice flowers once
bloomed, and fountains played in marble basins, but now was presented a
scene of the most melancholy desolation. As the watchfire blazed up, its
gleam fell upon masses of honeysuckle and woodbine, on white, mouldering
walls beneath, and dark, waving trees above; while the group of
mountaineers who gathered round its light, with their long beards and
vivid dresses, completed the strange picture.
The clang of sword and spear resounded through the long galleries; horses
neighed among bowers and boudoirs; strange figures hurried to and fro
among the colonnades, shouting in Arabic, English, and Italian; the fire
crackled, the startled bats flapped their heavy wings, and the growl of
distant thunder filled up the pauses in the rough symphony.
Our dinner was spread on the floor in Lady Hester’s favourite apartment;
her deathbed was our sideboard, her furniture our fuel, her name our
conversation. Almost before the meal was ended two of our party had
dropped asleep over their trenchers from fatigue; the Druses had retired
from the haunted precincts to their village; and W—, L—, and I went out
into the garden to smoke our pipes by Lady Hester’s lonely tomb. About
midnight we fell asleep upon the ground, wrapped in our capotes, and
dreamed of ladies and tombs and prophets till the neighing of our horses
announced the dawn.
After a hurried breakfast on fragments of the last night’s repast we
strolled out over the extensive gardens. Here many a broken arbour and
trellis, bending under masses of jasmine and honeysuckle, show the care
and taste that were once lavished on this wild but beautiful hermitage; a
garden-house, surrounded by an enclosure of roses run wild, lies in the
midst of a grove of myrtle and bay trees. This was Lady Hester’s
favourite resort during her lifetime; and now, within its silent
enclosure,
“After life’s fitful fevers he sleeps well.”
The hand of ruin has dealt very sparingly with all these interesting
relics; the Pasha’s power by day, and the fear of spirits by night, keep
off marauders; and though _we_ made free with broken benches and fallen
doorposts for fuel, we reverently abstained from displacing anything in
the establishment except a few roses, which there was no living thing but
bees and nightingales to regret. It was one of the most striking and
interesting spots I ever witnessed: its silence and beauty, its richness
and desolation, lent to it a touching and mysterious character, that
suited well the memory of that strange hermit-lady who has made it a
place of pilgrimage, even in Palestine. {310}
The Pasha of Sidon presented Lady Hester with the deserted convent of Mar
Elias on her arrival in his country, and this she soon converted into a
fortress, garrisoned by a band of Albanians: her only attendants besides
were her doctor, her secretary, and some female slaves. Public rumour
soon busied itself with such a personage, and exaggerated her influence
and power. It is even said that she was crowned Queen of the East at
Palmyra by fifty thousand Arabs. She certainly exercised almost despotic
power in her neighbourhood on the mountain; and what was perhaps the most
remarkable proof of her talents, she prevailed on some Jews to advance
large sums of money to her on her note of hand. She lived for many
years, beset with difficulties and anxieties, but to the last she held on
gallantly; even when confined to her bed and dying she sought for no
companionship or comfort but such as she could find in her own powerful,
though unmanageable, mind.
Mr. Moore, our consul at Beyrout, hearing she was ill, rode over the
mountains to visit her, accompanied by Mr. Thomson, the American
missionary. It was evening when they arrived, and a profound silence was
over all the palace. No one met them; they lighted their own lamps in
the outer court, and passed unquestioned through court and gallery until
they came to where _she_ lay. A corpse was the only inhabitant of the
palace, and the isolation from her kind which she had sought so long was
indeed complete. That morning thirty-seven servants had watched every
motion of her eye: its spell once darkened by death, every one fled with
such plunder as they could secure. A little girl, adopted by her and
maintained for years, took her watch and some papers on which she had set
peculiar value. Neither the child nor the property were ever seen again.
Not a single thing was left in the room where she lay dead, except the
ornaments upon her person. No one had ventured to touch these; even in
death she seemed able to protect herself. At midnight her countryman and
the missionary carried her out by torchlight to a spot in the garden that
had been formerly her favourite resort, and here they buried the
self-exiled lady.—_From_ “THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS,” _by Eliot
Warburton_.
* * * * *
THE END
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Each volume will have a photogravure frontispiece, and the books will be
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On the opposite page is printed a first list of books, and many others
are in preparation.
The First Volumes will be—
Vanity Fair. By W. M. THACKERAY. Edited by Stephen Gwynn. _Three
Volumes_.
Pendennis. By W. M. THACKERAY. Edited by Stephen Gwynn. _Three
Volumes_.
Pride and Prejudice. By JANE AUSTEN. Edited by E. V. Lucas. _Two
Volumes_.
Cranford. By MRS GASKELL. Edited by V. Lucas.
John Halifax, Gentleman. By MRS CRAIK. Edited by Annie Matheson. _Two
Volumes_.
Lavengro. By GEORGE BORROW. Edited by H. Groome. _Two Volumes_.
Eothen. By A. W. KINGLAKE. Edited by D.
A Little Book of English Lyrics.
A Little Book of Scottish Verse. Edited by T. F. Henderson.
The Inferno of Dante. Translated by H. F. CARY. With an Introduction
and Notes by Paget Toynbee.
The Early Poems of Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Edited by J. Churton Collins,
M.A.
The Princess, and other Poems. By ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. Edited by
Elizabeth Wordsworth.
Maud, and other Poems. By ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. Edited by Elizabeth
Wordsworth.
In Memoriam. By ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. Edited by H. C. Beeching. {315}
NOTES.
{xiv} The title “Shadow of God,” or “Divine Shadow,” is really used
comparatively rarely, and only in the Court language. Judged by a strict
standard it is of doubtful orthodoxy.
{xvi} It is hardly correct to call them the _Unitarians_ of the Moslem
world, as Kinglake does, for Unitarianism, that is Antitrinitarianism, is
the essence of all Mohammedanism.
{xvii} Aden was occupied in 1839. _Eothen_ must have been written
between the tour in 1834 and its publication in 1844, but there seems to
be no evidence as to the date of composition, and perhaps it was not all
written at once.
{xxxi} This is
“The moving row
Of magic shadow shapes which come and go,”
mentioned in Fitzgerald’s version of _Omar Khayyam_.
{xxxv} [“Our Lady of Bitterness,” said to have been a nickname of Mrs.
Barry Cornwall, noted for her sharp tongue.]
{xxxvii} “Eōthen” is, I hope, almost the only hard word to be found in
the book; it is written in Greek _ἠωθεν_—(Atticè, with an aspirated _ε_
instead of the _ἠ_)—and signifies, “from the early dawn”—“from the
East.”—_Donn. Lex_, 4th edition.
{1} [This is all changed now. There is constant communication beween
the Servian and Hungarian banks, so much so that Belgrade presents few
national characteristics, and looks quite as much a Hungarian as a
Servian town.]
{2} A “compromised” person is one who has been in contact with people or
things supposed to be capable of conveying infection. As a general rule
the whole Ottoman Empire lies constantly under this terrible ban. The
“yellow flag” is the ensign of the quarantine establishment.
{6} The narghile is a water-pipe upon the plan of the hookah, but more
gracefully fashioned; the smoke is drawn by a very long flexible tube,
that winds its snake-like way from the vase to the lips of the beatified
smoker.
{7} [The wording “amber up to mine,” found in many editions, is
evidently a misreading of Kinglake’s handwriting. He must have made his
l’s rather small and not have dotted his i’s.]
{13} That is, if he stands up at all. Oriental etiquette would not
warrant his rising, unless his visitor were supposed to be at least his
equal in point of rank and station.
{14a} [A man in charge of post-horses. At the present day most business
connected with horse-transport in European Turkey is managed by Vlachs, a
people speaking a language closely akin to Roumanian, and scattered over
Macedonia, particularly near the Thessalian frontier.]
{14b} [This accomplished gentleman subsequently became the proprietor of
an hotel, which was long the principal hostelry of Constantinople. The
name still exists, but the building has been burnt down.]
{14c} The continual marriages of these people with the chosen beauties
of Georgia and Circassia have overpowered the original ugliness of their
Tatar ancestors.
{23} [The remains of this pyramid, or rather the chapel which is erected
over them, can be seen close to the railway immediately after leaving
Nish for Pirot and the Bulgarian frontier. Only two or three skulls are
now left embedded in masonry. According to the story now told in Servia,
Singelich, a Servian leader during the Karageorge Insurrection, when hard
pressed by the Turks, fired into his powder magazine, and blew up himself
and his followers as well as numbers of his enemies. The Turks, in order
to intimidate the other Serbs, collected the heads of the victims and
built of them a tower or pyramid. In 1878, when Nish became part of the
principality of Servia, most of the skulls were removed and buried, but
two or three remain.]
{31} There is almost always a breeze either from the Marmora or from the
Black Sea, that passes along the course of the Bosphorus.
{34} The yashmak, you know, is not a mere semi-transparent veil, but
rather a good substantial petticoat applied to the face; it thoroughly
conceals all the features, except the eyes; the way of withdrawing it is
by pulling it down.
{35} The “pipe of tranquillity” is a _tchibouque_ too long to be
conveniently carried on a journey; the possession of it therefore implies
that its owner is stationary, or, at all events, that he is enjoying a
long repose from travel.
{36} [The structure of Turkish can only be said to resemble Latin in the
general sense that the verb comes at the end of the sentence, which can
be swelled out to enormous, and indeed preposterous, dimensions. The
Turk of the old school thinks that a letter or document, and even a
single chapter of a book, ought to consist of one sentence; but in this
respect there has been considerable improvement of late, and modern
newspapers and light literature are written in phrases of relatively
reasonable length,—not longer, say, than German,—and with a much smaller
proportion of Arabic and Persian words. The Osmanli gets few
opportunities for public speaking nowadays, but it is said that the
short-lived Turkish Parliament in 1877 furnished a very creditable
oratorical display.]
{41} [Since this chapter was written the labours of Schliemann and
Dorpfeld have excavated Hissarlik, commonly considered to be the site of
Troy, though some prefer to identify the city of the _Iliad_ with the
ruins of Bunar Bashi, farther inland. Hissarlik is a huge mound, in a
singularly desolate plain about an hour’s ride from Kum Kale, at the
entrance of the Dardanelles, and is said to be composed of the ruins of
no less than eight or nine cities placed one on the top of the other. Of
the older layers the best preserved are the second and sixth cities.
There are no statues, inscriptions, or other indications, so that the
structure of this pile of dead towns is excessively difficult to
understand, and only becomes intelligible when explained by someone
thoroughly acquainted with the course of the excavations; for in order to
reach the lower layers it has naturally been necessary to displace the
upper ones. The general character of the scene is still excellently
described by Byron’s lines in _Don Juan_, Cant. iv.:
“Here, on the green and village-cotted hill, is
(Flanked by the Hellespont and by the sea)
Entombed the bravest of the brave, Achilles;
(They say so—Bryant says the contrary):
And further downward, tall and towering still, is
The tumulus—of whom? Heaven knows; ‘t may be
Patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus;
All heroes, who, if living still, would slay us.
High barrows, without marble or a name,
A vast, untilled, and mountain-skirted plain,
And Ida, in the distance, still the same,
And old Scamander (if ‘t be he), remain;
The situation still seems formed for fame—
A hundred thousand men might fight again,
With ease; but where I looked for Ilion’s walls,
The quiet sheep feeds, and the tortoise crawls.
Troops of untended horses; here and there
Some little hamlets, with new names uncouth;
Some shepherds (not like Paris), led to stare
A moment at the European youth,
Whom to the spot his schoolboy feelings bear;
A Turk, with beads in hand and pipe in mouth,
Extremely taken with his own religion,
Are what I found there—but the devil a Phrygian.”]
{50} The Jews of Smyrna are poor, and having little merchandise of their
own to dispose of, they are sadly importunate in offering their services
as intermediaries: their troublesome conduct has led to the custom of
beating them in the open streets. It is usual for Europeans to carry
long sticks with them, for the express purpose of keeping off the chosen
people. I always felt ashamed to strike the poor fellows myself, but I
confess to the amusement with which I witnessed the observance of this
custom by other people. The Jew seldom got hurt much, for he was always
expecting the blow, and was ready to recede from it the moment it came:
one could not help being rather gratified at seeing him bound away so
nimbly, with his long robes floating out in the air, and then again wheel
round, and return with fresh importunities.
{51} [Carrigaholt is said to have been Henry Stuart Burton, of
Carrigaholt, County Clare.]
{54} Marriages in the East are arranged by professed matchmakers; many
of these, I believe, are Jewesses.
{61} A Greek woman wears her whole fortune upon her person in the shape
of jewels or gold coins; I believe that this mode of investment is
adopted in great measure for safety’s sake. It has the advantage of
enabling a suitor to _reckon_ as well as to admire the objects of his
affection.
{66} St. Nicholas is the great patron of Greek sailors. A small picture
of him enclosed in a glass case is hung up like a barometer at one end of
the cabin.
{67} Hanmer.
{77}
“. . . ubi templum illi, centumque Sabæo
Thure calent aræ, sertisque recentibus halant.”
—_Æneid_, i. 415.
{82} The writer advises that none should attempt to read the following
account of the late Lady Hester Stanhope except those who may already
chance to feel an interest in the personage to whom it relates. The
chapter (which has been written and printed for the reasons mentioned in
the preface) is chiefly filled with the detailed conversation, or rather
discourse, of a highly eccentric gentlewoman.
{90a} Historically “_fainting_”; the death did not occur until long
afterwards.
{90b} I am told that in youth she was exceedingly sallow.
{92} This was my impression at the time of writing the above passage, an
impression created by the popular and uncontradicted accounts of the
matter, as well as by the tenor of Lady Hester’s conversation. I have
now some reason to think that I was deceived, and that her sway in the
desert was much more limited than I had supposed. She seems to have had
from the Bedouins a fair five hundred pounds’ worth of respect, and not
much more.
{96} She spoke it, I daresay, in English; the words would not be the
less effective for being spoken in an unknown tongue. Lady Hester, I
believe, never learnt to speak the Arabic with a perfect accent.
{99} The proceedings thus described to me by Lady Hester as having taken
place during her illness, were afterwards re-enacted at the time of her
death. Since I wrote the words to which this note is appended, I
received from Warburton an interesting account of the heroine’s death, or
rather the circumstances attending the discovery of the event; and I
caused it to be printed in the former editions of this work. I must now
give up the borrowed ornament, and omit my extract from my friend’s
letter, for the rightful owner has reprinted it in _The Crescent and the
Cross_. I know what a sacrifice I am making, for in noticing the first
edition of this book reviewers turned aside from the text to the note,
and remarked upon the interesting information which Warburton’s letter
contained. (This narrative is reproduced in an Appendix to the present
edition.)
{102} In a letter which I afterwards received from Lady Hester, she
mentioned incidentally Lord Hardwicke, and said that he was “the
kindest-hearted man existing—a most manly, firm character. He comes from
a good breed—all the Yorkes excellent, with _ancient_ French blood in
their veins.” The underscoring of the word “ancient” is by the writer of
the letter, who had certainly no great love or veneration for the French
of the present day: she did not consider them as descended from her
favourite stock.
{103} It is said that deaf people can hear what is said concerning
themselves, and it would seem that those who live without books or
newspapers know all that is written about them. Lady Hester Stanhope,
though not admitting a book or newspaper into her fortress, seems to have
known the way in which M. Lamartine mentioned her in his book, for in a
letter which she wrote to me after my return to England she says,
“Although neglected, as Monsieur le M.” (referring, as I believe, to M.
Lamartine) “describes, and without books, yet my head is organised to
supply the want of them as well as acquired knowledge.”
{105} I have been recently told that this Italian’s pretensions to the
healing art were thoroughly unfounded. My informant is a gentleman who
enjoyed during many years the esteem and confidence of Lady Hester
Stanhope; his adventures in the Levant were most curious and interesting.
{111} The Greek Church does not recognise this as the true sanctuary,
and many Protestants look upon all the traditions by which it is
attempted to ascertain the holy places of Palestine as utterly fabulous.
For myself, I do not mean either to affirm or deny the correctness of the
opinion which has fixed upon this as the true site, but merely to mention
it as a belief entertained without question by my brethren of the Latin
Church, whose guest I was at the time. It would be a great aggravation
of the trouble of writing about these matters if I were to stop in the
midst of every sentence for the purpose of saying “so called” or “so it
is said,” and would besides sound very ungraciously: yet I am anxious to
be literally true in all I write. Now, thus it is that I mean to get
over my difficulty. Whenever in this great bundle of papers or book (if
book it is to be) you see any words about matters of religion which would
seem to involve the assertion of my own opinion, you are to understand me
just as if one or other of the qualifying phrases above mentioned had
been actually inserted in every sentence. My general direction for you
to construe me thus will render all that I write as strictly and actually
true as if I had every time lugged in a formal declaration of the fact
that I was merely expressing the notions of other people.
{115} “Vino d’oro.”
{123} Shereef.
{124} Tennyson.
{126} The other three cities held holy by Jews are Jerusalem, Hebron,
and Safet.
{149} (The tented Arabs are no doubt very bad Mohammedans, but the
assumption which Kinglake seems to make that prostrations are essential
to a Moslem religious ceremony is not correct. The form of prayer called
in Turkey Namaz, which ought to be performed by every devout Moslem five
times a day, does necessarily involve prostrations in which the forehead
touches the ground, but it is by no means the only, though doubtless the
most important, act of worship mentioned by Islam. In the present case
the ceremony was probably a blessing, which is generally given by closing
the eyes and uplifting the arms with the hands bent back and the palms
open. I have often seen such benedictions given when a party sets out
for a pilgrimage or any other purpose.)
{166} Hadji, a pilgrim.
{169} [Kinglake might have added that Mohammedans admit that Christ
worked miracles and was miraculously born of a virgin. They do not
however believe that He was crucified.]
{181} Milnes cleverly goes to the French for the exact word which
conveys the impression produced by the voice of the Arabs, and calls them
“un peuple _criard_.”
{202} There is some semblance of bravado in my manner of talking about
the plague. I have been more careful to describe the terrors of other
people than my own. The truth is, that during the whole period of my
stay at Cairo I remained thoroughly impressed with a sense of my danger.
I may almost say, that I lived in perpetual apprehension, for even in
sleep, as I fancy, there remained with me some faint notion of the peril
with which I was encompassed. But fear does not necessarily damp the
spirits; on the contrary, it will often operate as an excitement, giving
rise to unusual animation, and thus it affected me. If I had not been
surrounded at this time by new faces, new scenes, and new sounds, the
effect produced upon my mind by one unceasing cause of alarm might have
been very different. As it was, the eagerness with which I pursued my
rambles among the wonders of Egypt was sharpened and increased by the
sting of the fear of death. Thus my account of the matter plainly
conveys an impression that I remained at Cairo without losing my
cheerfulness and buoyancy of spirits. And this is the truth, but it is
also true, as I have freely confessed, that my sense of danger during the
whole period was lively and continuous.
{203a} Anglicé for “je le sais.” These answers of mine, as given above,
are not meant as specimens of mere French, but of that fine, terse,
nervous, Continental English with which I and my compatriots make our way
through Europe. This language, by the by, is one possessing great force
and energy, and is not without its literature, a literature of the very
highest order. Where will you find more sturdy specimens of downright,
honest, and noble English than in the Duke of Wellington’s “French”
despatches?
{203b} The import of the word “compromised,” when used in reference to
contagion, is explained on page 18.
{204} It is said, that when a Mussulman finds himself attacked by the
plague he goes and takes a bath. The couches on which the bathers
recline would carry infection, according to the notions of the Europeans.
Whenever, therefore, I took the bath at Cairo (except the first time of
my doing so) I avoided that part of the luxury which consists in being
“put up to dry” upon a kind of bed.
{205} [See footnote, Introduction, p. xxi.]
{207} [Mohammedans commonly believe that the souls of the dead do not
rest in peace till their bodies are laid in the tomb. Hence they bury
the corpse as quickly as possible, and run to the cemetery in order to
shorten the interval during which the departed spirit is kept waiting.
After a few brief prayers at the graveside, the mourners retire forty
paces, halt, and pray again. It is believed that at this moment two
angels visit the deceased, inquire of his religious belief, and, if he
replies in the words of the formula, that there is “no God but God, and
Mohammed is the Prophet of God,” admit him, not exactly to Paradise, but
to a very tolerable section of Purgatory.]
{217} Mehemet Ali invited the Mamelukes to a feast, and murdered them
whilst preparing to enter the banquet hall.
{218} It is not strictly lawful to sell white slaves to a Christian.
{230} The difficulty was occasioned by the immense exertions which the
Pasha was making to collect camels for military purposes.
{233} Herodotus, in an after age, stood by with his notebook, and got,
as he thought, the exact returns of all the rations served out.
{236} [The author of the _Crescent and the Cross_, which appeared the
same year as _Eothen_.]
{246} See Milman’s _History of the Jews_, first edition.
{263} [Nablus still maintains its reputation for bigotry.]
{264} This is an appellation not implying blame, but merit; the “lies”
which it purports to affiliate are feints and cunning stratagems, rather
than the baser kind of falsehoods. The expression, in short, has nearly
the same meaning as the English word “Yorkshireman.”
{265a} The 29th of April.
{265b} [This was no doubt the case in this particular, but it must not
be supposed that April 29 is the Mohammedan New Year’s Day. The Moslem
religious year consists of twelve lunar months, and is eleven days
shorter than the Christian year. Hence, if in one year Muharrem (the
first month) falls on April 29, it would fall on April 18 the next. In
consequence of the great inconveniences of this mode of reckoning, Turks
adopt for secular matters another era called the Financial year, which
starts from the Hijra, but has solar months. But feasts and fasts are
fixed by the lunar year, so that the month of Ramazan rotates through all
the seasons.]
{267} [The statements at the beginning of this chapter are altogether
inaccurate. From the religious point of view a good Mohammedan is as
much, and more, bound than a Christian to encourage any form of
missionary enterprise, seeing that all non-Moslems are destined to
inevitable damnation. From the legal and practical point of view, the
exercise of all religions is nominally free in Turkey and it is therefore
illegal to convert a Christian at the point of the sword, but it will be
sufficient to remind the reader that during the massacres of 1895–96 many
thousands of Armenians turned Mohammedans, and that those who wished to
subsequently return to their old religion found great difficulty in doing
so.
As a rule Turks despise the Christian races too much to take any trouble
about converting them, but it is absurd to say that conversions are
illegal. On the contrary, they are fairly frequent, and it is only
necessary that the person converted should state publicly that his change
of religion is due to his own free will. Cases of young girls embracing
Islam are not rare. According to the law, minors wishing to become
Moslems must be taken to the house of a respectable person, where a
priest of their own religion can have access to them, and their change of
faith is not legal until they are of age (which means in the case of a
girl twelve or thirteen), but in practice every effort is made to isolate
them in such cases from their friends and surround them with
Mohammedans.]
{272} These are the names given by the Prophet to certain chapters of
the Koran.
{280} It was after the interview which I am talking of, and not from the
Jews themselves, that I learnt this fact.
{283} An enterprising American traveller, Mr. Everett, lately conceived
the bold project of penetrating to the University of Oxford, and this
notwithstanding that he had been in his infancy (they begin very young
those Americans) a Unitarian preacher. Having a notion, it seems, that
the ambassadorial character would protect him from insult, he adopted the
stratagem of procuring credentials from his Government as Minister
Plenipotentiary at the Court of her Britannic Majesty; he also wore the
exact costume of a Trinitarian. But all his contrivances were vain;
Oxford disdained, and rejected, and insulted him (not because he
represented a swindling community, but) because that his infantine
sermons were strictly remembered against him; the enterprise failed.
{292} The rose-trees which I saw were all of the kind we call “damask”;
they grow to an immense height and size.
{296} A dragoman never interprets in terms the courteous language of the
East.
{298a} [This place, which is commonly called Adalia (Antalia in
Turkish), is now a port in the province of Konia.
In the time of the Crusades the name varied between Attalie (or Attalia)
and Sattalie (Sattalia). As it seems clear that it is derived from the
founder, King Attalus, the S must be a later addition, and is perhaps to
be identified with the Greek preposition _els_, which is responsible for
such forms as Istambol (_είς την πόλιν_).]
{298b} A title signifying transcender or conqueror of Satalieh. {298c}
{298c} [Sataliefsky is merely an adjective derived from Satalieh, and
means “the Satalian,” just as Zabalkansky (p. 24) means “the
Trans-Balkanic one.” I mention this because in both cases Kinglake gives
the translation “Transcender” of the Balkans or Satalieh.]
{299} Spelt “Attalia” and sometimes “Adalia” in English books and maps.
{310} While Lady Hester Stanhope lived, although numbers visited the
convent, she almost invariably refused admittance to strangers. She
assigned as a reason the use which M. de Lamartine had made of his
interview. Mrs. T., who passed some weeks at Djouni, told me, that when
Lady Hester read his account of this interview, she exclaimed, “It is all
false; we did not converse together for more than five minutes; but no
matter, no traveller hereafter shall betray or forge my conversation.”
The author of _Eothen_, however, was her guest, and has given us an
interesting account of his visit in his brilliant volume.
{315} In the printed book the last page is a specimen page (34) of
Vanity Fair. It’s been omitted in this transcription on release.—DP.