Little Memoirs of the Nineteenth Century

by George Paston

In his volume of travels in the East called Die Rückkehr, Prince Pückler-Muksau has given an amusing account of the negotiations that passed between himself and Lady Hester on the subject of his visit. For once the niece of Pitt had found her match in vanity and arrogance; and if the prince's book had appeared in her lifetime, it is certain that she would not long have survived it. His Highness describes how he bided his time, as though he were laying siege to a courted beauty, and almost daily bombarded the Lady of Jôon with letters calculated to pique her curiosity by their frank and original style. At last, 'in order to be rid of him,' as she jokingly said, Lady Hester consented to receive him on a certain day, which, from his star, she deemed propitious to their meeting. Thereupon the prince, who intended that his visit should be desired, not suffered, wrote to say that he was setting out for an expedition into the desert, but that on his return he would come to Jôon, not for one day, but for a week. This impertinence was rewarded by permission to come at his own time.

Great preparations were made for the entertainment of this distinguished visitor. The scanty contents of the store and china cupboards were spread out before the lady of the house, who infused activity into the most sluggish by smart strokes from her stick. The epithets of beast, rascal, and the like, were dealt out with such freedom and readiness, as to make the European part of her audience sensible of the richness and variety of the Arabian language. On Easter Monday, April 15, the prince, followed by a part of his suite, and five mule-loads of baggage, rode into the courtyard. He wore an immense Leghorn hat lined with green taffetas, a Turkish scarf over his shoulders, and blue pantaloons of ample dimensions. From the excellent fit of his Parisian boots, it was evident that he felt his pretensions to a thoroughbred foot were now to be magisterially decided. The prince has given his own impression of his hostess, whom he describes as a thorough woman of the world, with manners of Oriental dignity and calm. With her pale, regular features, dark, fiery eyes, great height, and sonorous voice, she had the appearance of an ancient Sibyl; yet no one, he declares, could have been more natural and unaffected in manner. She told him that since she had lost her money, she had lived like a dervish, and assimilated herself to the ways of nature. 'My roses are my jewels,' she said, 'the sun and moon my clocks, fruit and water my food and drink. I see in your face that you are a thorough epicure; how will you endure to spend a week with me?' The prince, who had already dined, replied that he found she did not keep her guests on fruit and water, and assured her that English poverty was equivalent to German riches. He spent six or seven hours tête-a-tête with his hostess each evening of his stay, and declares that he was astonished at the originality and variety of her conversation. He had the audacity to ask her if the Arab chief who accompanied her to Palmyra had been her lover, but she, not ill-pleased, assured him that there was no truth in the report, which at one time had been generally believed. She said that the Arabs regarded her neither as man or woman, but as a being apart.

Before leaving, the prince introduced his 'harem,' consisting of two Abyssinian slaves, to Lady Hester, and was presented, in his turn, to the sacred mares, which had lost their beauty, and grown gross and unwieldy under their régime of gentle exercise and unlimited food. Leila licked the prince's hand when he caressed her, and Leila's mistress was thereby convinced that her guest was a 'chosen vessel.' She confided to him all her woes, the neglect of her relations and the ill-treatment of the Government, and gave him copies of the correspondence about her pension, which he promised to publish in a German newspaper. To Dr. Meryon she waxed quite enthusiastic over his Highness's personal attractions, the excellent cut of his coat, and the handiness with which he performed small services. 'I could observe,' writes the doctor, towards the end of the visit, 'that she had already begun to obtain an ascendency over the prince, such as she never failed to do over those who came within the sphere of her attraction; for he was less lofty in his manner than he had been at first, and she seemed to have gained in height, and to be more disposed to play the queen than ever.'

This, alas, was the last time that Lady Hester had the opportunity of playing the queen, or entertaining a distinguished guest at Dar Jôon. In June, when the packet brought no news of her imaginary property, and no apology from Queen or Premier, she began at last to despair. 'The die is cast,' she told Dr. Meryon, 'and the sooner you take yourself off the better. I have no money; you can be of no use to me--I shall write no more letters, and shall break up my establishment, wall up my gate, and, with a boy and girl to wait upon me, resign myself to my fate. Tell your family they may make their preparations, and be gone in a month's time.' Early in July Sir Francis Burdett's long-expected letter arrived, but brought with it no consolation. He could tell nothing of the legacy, but wrote in the soothing, evasive terms that might be supposed suitable to an elderly lady who was not quite accountable for her ideas or actions. As there was now no hope of any improvement in her affairs, Lady Hester decided to execute her threat of walling up her gateway, a proceeding which, she was unable to perceive, injured nobody but herself. She directed the doctor to pay and dismiss her servants, with the exception of two maids and two men, and then sent him to Beyrout to inform the French consul of her intention. On his return to Jôon he found that Lady Hester had already hired a vessel to take himself and his family from Sayda to Cyprus. He was reluctant to leave her in solitude and wretchedness, but knowing that when once her mind was made up, nothing could shake her resolution, he employed the time that remained to him in writing her letters, setting her house in order, and taking her instructions for commissions in Europe. He also begged to be allowed to lend her as much money as he could spare, and she consented to borrow a sum of 2000 piastres (about £80), which she afterwards repaid.

On July 30, 1838, the masons arrived, and the entrance-gate was walled up with a kind of stone screen, leaving, however, a side-opening just large enough for an ass or cow to enter, so that this much-talked-of act of self-immurement was more an appearance than a reality. On August 6, the faithful doctor took an affectionate leave of the employer, who, as Prince Pückler-Muskau bears witness, was accustomed to treat him with icy coldness, and sailed for western climes. To the last, he tells us, Lady Hester dwelt with apparent confidence on the approaching advent of the Mahedi, and still regarded her mare Leila as destined to bear him into Jerusalem, with herself upon Lulu at his side. It is to be hoped that the poor lady was able to buoy herself up with this belief during the last and most solitary year of her disappointed life. About once a month, up to the date of her death, she corresponded with Dr. Meryon, who was again settled at Nice. Her letters were chiefly taken up with commissions, and with shrewd comments upon the new books that were sent out to her.

'I should like to have Miss Pardoe's book on Constantinople,' she writes in October, 1838, 'if it is come out for strangers (i.e. in a French translation); for I fear I should never get through with it myself. This just puts me in mind that one of the books I should like to have would be Graham's Domestic Medicine; a good Red Book (Peerage, I mean); and the book about the Prince of Wales. I have found out a person who can occasionally read French to me; so if there was any very pleasing French book, you might send it--but no Bonapartes or "present times"--and a little brochure or two upon baking, pastry, gardening, etc....

'Feb. 9, 1839.--The book you sent me (Diary of the Times of George IV., by Lady Charlotte Bury) is interesting only to those who were acquainted with the persons named: all mock taste, mock feeling, etc., but that is the fashion. "I am this, I am that"; who ever talked such empty stuff formerly? I was never named by a well-bred person.... Miss Pardoe is very excellent upon many subjects; only there is too much of what the English like--stars, winds, black shades, soft sounds, etc....

'May 6.--Some one--I suppose you--sent me the Life of Lord Edward Fitzgerald. It is I who could give a true and most extraordinary history of all those transactions. The book is all stuff. The duchess (Lord Edward's mother) was my particular friend, as was also his aunt; I was intimate with all the family, and knew that noted Pamela. All the books I see make me sick--only catchpenny nonsense. A thousand thanks for the promise of my grandfather's letters; but the book will be all spoilt by being edited by young men. First, they are totally ignorant of the politics of my grandfather's age; secondly, of the style of the language used at that period; and absolutely ignorant of his secret reasons and intentions, and the real or apparent footing he was upon with many people, friends or foes. I know all that from my grandmother, who was his secretary, and, Coutts used to say, the cleverest man of her time in politics and business.'

This was the last letter that Dr. Meryon received from his old friend and patroness. She slowly wasted away, and died in June 1839, no one being aware of her approaching end except the servants about her. The news of her death reached Beyrout in a few hours, and the English consul, Mr. Moore, and an American missionary (Mr. Thomson, author of The Land and the Book) rode over to Jôon to bury her. By her own desire she was interred in a grave in her garden, where a son of the Prophet Loustaunau had been buried some years before. Mr. Thomson has described how he performed the last rites at midnight by the light of lanterns and torches, and notes the curious resemblance between Lady Hester's funeral service and that of the man she loved, Sir John Moore. Together with the consul, he examined the contents of thirty-five rooms, but found nothing but old saddles, pipes, and empty oil-jars, everything of value having been long since plundered by the servants. The sacred mares, now grown old and almost useless, were sold for a small sum by public auction, and only survived for a short time their return to an active life.

In 1845 Dr. Meryon published his so-called Memoirs of Lady Hester Stanhope, which are merely an account of her later years, and a report of her table-talk at Dar Jôon. In 1846 he brought out her Travels, which were advertised as the supplement and completion of the Memoirs. From these works, and from passing notices of our heroine, we gain a general impression of wasted talents and a disappointed life. That she was more unhappy in her solitude than, in her unbending nature, she would avow, observes her faithful friend and chronicler, the record of the last years of her existence too plainly demonstrates. Although she derived consolation in retirement from the retrospect of the part she had played in her prosperity, still there were moments of poignant grief when her very soul groaned within her. She was ambitious, and her ambition had been foiled; she loved irresponsible command, but the time had come when those over whom she ruled defied her; she was dictatorial and exacting, but she had lost the influence which alone makes people tolerate control. She incurred debts, and was doomed to feel the degradation consequent upon them. She thought to defy her own nation, and they hurled the defiance back upon her. She entertained visionary projects of aggrandisement, and was met by the derision of the world. In a word, Lady Hester died as she had lived, alone and miserable in a strange land, bankrupt in affection and credit, because, in spite of her great gifts and innate benevolence, her overbearing temper had alienated friends and kinsfolk alike, and her pride could endure neither the society of equals, nor the restraints and conventions of civilised life.