After some little difficulty I discovered the seat of her malady, and that she was suffering under a tumour. I then felt her pulse, and requested her to shew me her tongue. Here another difficulty arose, as she could not shew me her tongue without unveiling; but the old lady who stood by told her that the Prophet allowed it before the Hakeem and Priest, at the same time quoting verses from the Koran in assertion of what she stated. This had the desired effect; and on her removing her veil, I was perfectly dazzled with the intense sweetness and beauty of her face. She was a Circassian, one of the fairest of her race, and had just arrived at Constantinople. After some trouble she permitted me to inspect the part affected; on beholding it, some lectures delivered by my revered Mentor, Mr. Phillips, and also by Mr. Ferguson, immediately recurred to my mind. In the lectures they said, that incision with the knife was the only remedy in such cases. After two days I ventured to break this to my trembling patient, much to her terror; but on my assuring her that I would remove it without her being sensible to pain, she at last consented, and I successfully performed the operation, putting her under the effects of chloroform, which appeared to the bystanders pure magic. They had heard tell of such things from the Arabian Nights, but could hardly believe their senses when actually beheld by themselves in the present day.
I have already endeavoured to show in how many various ways the Latins possess superior opportunities, and are in a better position than the Greeks, in having greater facilities daily afforded them as far as regards the work of conversion; but there is yet another great source of advantage to them, and one which holds out
many tempting inducements to the heavily-taxed peasantry to embrace at once, and without any further hesitation, the Roman Catholic faith. This is the privilege exercised by the consular authorities, and even by the very priests themselves, of protecting from outrage or insult every one who has embraced their religion, and who gives evidence of the sincerity of their intentions by regular attendance at mass, and by the rigid observance of high-days and holy-days, feasts and fasts. They also give them employment; and they become, de facto, protected by the French government; their taxes are light in comparison with those levied on their fellow-countrymen, and they are entirely exempted from that grinding system so commonly practised and played off upon the peasantry by the soldiery and underlings of government—a class of individuals that are a perfect bane to the Ottoman empire.
Before concluding these remarks, I must point out another glaring instance in which the Latins have gained a decided ascendancy over the Greeks in the East. I allude to the establishment by the Sisters of Charity of a hospital at Beyrout, in which the first medical advice there procurable has been secured. Here the poor fever-stricken natives have every attention paid to their wants in the hour of sorrow and sickness; while, side by side, on neat iron-bedsteads covered with snowy linen, we stumble across the last sad remains of the French Roman Catholic sailor, and, in the next bed to his, the Protestant British tar. Both have been equally cared for, as far as bodily concerns go, but there has been a fearful distinction between the spiritual consolation of the two. The Frenchman has received daily—hourly visits from the nuns, who have spoken to him smilingly of heaven, and
lighted death’s dark pathway with the rays of cheerfulness. The Englishman, on the contrary, has felt himself friendless and solitary—no gentle lips have stooped down to whisper comfort and holy counsellings to the quickly departing soul. The reason is, that there is not at present an English clergyman or an English doctor in Beyrout.
The Sisters of Charity, and their other kindred agencies in the East, are beneficial in their way. During seasons of sickness they are all in full requisition, and deserve their meed of praise. As to these religious ladies, whatever may be their proselytising propensities—we know, that where they chiefly confine themselves to their meek and humble calling, their indefatigable zeal and never-ceasing exertions at all seasons and at all hours, are greatly to be commended. The patients visited at their own houses retain a grateful sense of the patient attention shewn them in the hours of need and in seasons of epidemic, when in the East friends desert each other. The institutions under their control are remarkably well kept, and far more neatly and economically conducted than any hospitals or schools in England. The manner in which their internal economy and household arrangements are conducted and efficiently superintended is highly creditable to them.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE REMEDY.
From the earliest days of Christianity, the blessed truths of the Gospel were almost invariably accompanied by acts of mercy and love. At first, these truths were impressed upon the memories of reckless and darkly ignorant multitudes by signs and wonders, well suited to the times and people; and miracles, resulting in immediate temporary benefit to the afflicted, were apt, though but faint, illustrations of the incalculable boon about to be conferred on the immortal souls of the believers and followers of our blessed Redeemer—the blind received their sight—the lame recovered the use of their limbs—the sick were healed—and even the dead were brought to life again. The early apostles were physicians both to the soul and body; and those that had faith but as a grain of mustard-seed went about doing good to the sick and dying. These miracles were palpable and beyond the power of refutation; and as long as the necessity for something beyond the comprehension of man existed, such things were requisite to draw and fix the attention of ignorant and superstitious idolators; but as soon as the true faith had taken root, and the young sapling no longer required outward and visible props to secure it from those tempestuous hurricanes of persecution which, through so long a period, raged with hardly any intermission, then palpable
miracles ceased to be exercised on earth—the visible sign was removed—the word of command or the touch no longer possessed the healing virtue—but miracles of grace and mercy still continued to be performed, and they continue to this day the same, as palpably visible to the spiritually-minded man (who can distinguish the hand of God in every temporal blessing enjoyed by the true followers of Christ), as was the resurrection of Lazarus to those unbelieving Jews who were eyewitnesses to that marvellous demonstration of infinite power tempered with infinite mercy. In lieu of this power of performing miracles, or of witnessing them, men were endowed with a spirit of wisdom, which gradually developed itself in successive generations; and the sick and the dying—the maimed, the halt, and the blind, who had now no further hope of instantaneous or certain relief through miraculous gifts, resorted to the skill of physicians, men of more enlightened education than themselves, but in other respects their equals, co-partners of the joys and sorrows inherited in this world, and destined like themselves to terminate their earthly career in the grave. And these physicians, or at least some amongst them, laboured for the benefit of humanity.
At first, we may readily conceive that their resources were limited, and their primitive knowledge of medicines extremely scant; but the healing art never retrograded a single step. Of this we have abundant proof in the history of nations, as regards the advancement of this peculiar branch of science, though it is most true, that in countries such as, for instance, Arabia, which, in times past, was pre-eminent for its knowledge of medicinal drugs, and which may be said to have been the nursery of chemistry; this art has almost entirely disappeared