[38] Mr. Way, a gentleman who owed his large fortune to a peculiarity in spelling his name, and his well-merited reputation to the way in which he spent it.
[39] Syt, (in Arabic سَيت) signifies Dame, in the acceptation of a high-born lady; Sytty, Madam; the ty being the pronoun affixed, my. This was the title generally given to Lady Hester by the servants: dyn es Syt therefore means Madam’s religion. Sometimes, however, they would address her as Her Felicity, Sáadet-es-Syt, and visitors generally used that term.
[40] Murdah or Mahedi, the expected Messiah of the Turks.
CHAPTER V.
Buoyancy of Lady Hester Stanhope’s spirits—Death of Miss Williams—Mrs. ——’s first visit to Lady Hester—The Author is summoned to Damascus to attend Hassan Effendi: declines going—Discussions between Lady Hester and Mrs. —— thereupon—Lady Hester’s hatred of women—She sends her maid to revile Mrs. —— —The Author resolves to return to England—Alarm from soldiers on their march—Lady Hester assists Abdallah Pasha in laying out his garden—Anecdotes of the first Lord Chatham—Fresh discourses about the Journey to Damascus—Anecdotes of Mr. Pitt—His attachment to Miss E.—His admiration of women—His indulgence towards other people’s failings—Lady Hester and the fair Ellen—Strange history—Mr. Pitt’s attention to the comfort of his guests, and of his servants—Strange rise of one of them—Lady Hester’s pathos—Paolo Perini’s expected post of artilleryman.
Her ladyship, in several conversations, took great pains in acquainting me with all the material events that had occurred during my absence in Europe, and in what relation she stood with the pashas and governors of the neighbouring towns and provinces, proceeding, in succession, from occurrences relating to the most exalted individuals, to those connected with the lowest persons that surrounded her. She talked of her debts, her illnesses, her trials and sufferings, and never finished a day without picturing to herself a brighter futurity, when her worth would be more appreciated, when the clouds that overspread her existence would be dissipated, and when the neglect in which she was left by her friends would meet with its just punishment, and her magnificent star rise again, with renewed splendour, to gladden the world, and those, more particularly, who had been faithful to her cause. This buoyancy of spirits saved her from the despondency which others, in her deserted state, must inevitably have felt. The work of years to come was chalked out in her active imagination; plans were sketched; new channels of correspondence were to be opened; her household was to be remodelled; fresh buildings were to be raised; learned researches were to be made: valuable manuscripts were to be procured. It is impossible to say what was not projected; but her faithful Miss Williams still rose uppermost in her mind, and her first care was to see the last duties, yet remaining, paid to her memory.
As that excellent person occupied an important position in Lady Hester Stanhope’s house and affairs, I will here make room for the following account of her sickness and death, as it was given me by Um Ayôob, a respectable widow of Jôon. This woman was in the habit of doing needlework at Lady Hester’s, when she would pass whole days together at the house. One day, as she and Miss W. were sitting in the same room sewing (it was on a Friday), Miss W. said to her, “Dear me, how cold I am—I am all in a shiver!” The season (it being autumn) was very sickly, and many of the servants were lying ill, one being at the very time dangerously so with continued bilious fever. The shivering, however, passed over. Um Ayôob went home at night, and the following day returned to her work. Miss W. was on her legs again. The day after she had an attack of intermittent fever. This was Sunday, and on Monday she was pretty well again. Expecting the return of the fit on Tuesday, the good widow asked Miss W. whether she should remain with her; but Miss W. said “No: your daughter has got an ague as well as myself; so go, and attend upon her—she may want you in the night; and come to me on Thursday, as to-morrow I shall not require your services, for I intend to remain quiet all the day.” So, on Wednesday, Um Ayôob did not go. On Thursday she was baking, when a servant came to her, and said, “Make haste, for God’s sake! you are wanted to attend on Miss W.” As the old lady’s bread was just baked, she thought she would take a couple of hot cakes in a clean towel, with the idea that Miss W. might like them buttered for her breakfast. “So,” said Um Ayôob, when she told me the melancholy story, “as I was hastening along the bottom which divides the village from the Dar, I was met by little Gayby, crying, ‘Oh, come, come—run, run!’—‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.—‘Oh, oh! she’s dead! she’s dead!’ sobbed Gayby.—‘Who’s dead?’ cried I, terrified out of my senses.—‘Miss Williams,’ answered she. I was struck with horror, and, quickening my pace as fast as I could, I arrived out of breath, and found the tale but too true—Miss Williams had breathed her last.”
It appeared that, on Wednesday morning, Lady Hester, who was herself ill in bed, had given orders to the little girl, Gayby, to prepare, from the medicine-chest, a dose of salts and senna, she being too ill to see to it herself. This dose, according to the assertion of Nasara, one of the maids, who waited on Miss W., produced an extraordinary effect through the day and night, and Miss W. was not free from its action until she expired. Besides the black dose, she took also three pills, but of what nature I could not learn. The persons who attended on her were Nasara, Gayby, and Fatôom, the Fatôom so often named in these pages, who was at that time eleven or twelve years old. Um Ayôob, who loved and regretted Miss Williams (as indeed did almost everybody), sat by her corpse the remainder of the day. In the course of the afternoon, she was surprised to find that the body, so far from becoming cold, retained almost its natural living heat. There happened to arrive at Lady Hester’s the preceding day a doctor of the country, who had been sent for to attend on Moosa, the man-servant, then lying dangerously ill, and who died two days after Miss W. Um Ayôob called him into the room, and begged him to feel the body, and say whether there was not yet life in it. He was equally of opinion with the widow that the appearances were very surprising, and the more especially as the cheeks retained some colour, and (according to Um Ayôob’s expression), as something kept continually bubbling inside of her like boiling water. The doctor went to Lady Hester and told her what he had seen, and asked her permission to open a vein. Lady Hester, who was overwhelmed with affliction at the loss of a person so dear to her, said, “Do what you please.” He accordingly opened a vein in the foot, and the blood spirted out, said Um Ayôob, as from a living person. After having taken what he thought a sufficient quantity, he bound up the incision; but life never returned, and on Sunday she was buried in the burying-ground of the monastery of Dayr el Mkhallas, the coffin being followed by the French vice-consul and some merchants of Sayda.
I must here observe that the letting of blood was an ill-judged expedient for restoring the living action, because it only completed the exhaustion already carried to its utmost point by the previous depletion of the bowels. The case is not the same as when, after a fall or an attack of apoplexy, the opening of a vein may give an impulse to the suspended circulation, just as a touch of the finger to the balance of a watch will set it going when it has stopped. But here the vital warmth should have been nourished and promoted by every available means, and nature should have been left to husband her internal resources until reanimation had been effected.
In company with my family, I visited Miss Williams’s grave, and could not forbear shedding tears over it; for I had known her many years. She was a creature of remarkable singleness of mind, of unstained purity, and so universally beloved that the people of the neighbourhood and the peasantry talk of her to this day as a model of virtue and goodness. The only monument raised over her grave was a rude, oval-shaped wall, topped with thorny shrubs, to keep the jackalls from scratching for her corpse.