“Mr. Elliot came to see me from Constantinople, in order to make the pashas and governors of the neighbouring provinces treat me well. He fell ill, and I sent for the doctor of a frigate that was on the coast for him—a man who could kick his forehead with his toe. I quizzed Mr. Elliot a great deal.
“But now, doctor, what did Mr. Forster say about the Scotch? If he agrees with me that they sprang from hereabouts, I might have given him some useful hints on that subject: but we will write him a letter[42] about it.”
When I told her that Mr. Forster had spoken of a work of Sir Jonah Barrington’s on Ireland, in which it was said that Mr. Pitt got up the Irish rebellion in order to make the necessity of the Union more palatable to parliament, she observed that, if she met him, she would settle his business for him. “Mr. Pitt liked the Irish,” said she. “There were some fools who thought to pay their court by abusing them, and would talk of men’s legs like Irish porters, or some such stuff: but I always answered, they would be very much pleased to have their own so, which was much better than having them like a pair of tongs: and I was certain to observe a little smile of approbation in Mr. Pitt’s eyes, at what I had said.”
In this way her ladyship would run on from topic to topic—with a rapidity and fluency which frequently rendered it difficult to preserve notes of even the heads of her discourse. Her health was slightly improved: she attended a little more closely to my advice, but still would never allow me to see her until her coughing fit was over, which usually lasted for about a couple of hours. Notwithstanding this, her pulse maintained a degree of vigour which was very extraordinary, considering the state of attenuation to which she was reduced. She had a great reluctance in touching on her bad symptoms, but dwelt readily on such as were favourable. “I certainly have got small abscesses,” she answered to me, “but it is not consumption: because there are hours in the day when my lungs are perfectly free, as there are others when I can hardly breathe. Sometimes, doctor, my pulse is entirely gone, or so thin—so thin!—as to be but just perceptible, and no more. You pretend to find it very readily and tell me it is not bad: but Zezefôon can’t feel it, and Sàada can’t feel it, and old Pierre has tried, and says the same. I think, too,” continued she, “I was a little delirious this morning; for, when I awoke, I asked where Zezefôon had gone, although there she was, sitting up on her mattress by my bedside before my eyes.”
FOOTNOTES:
[37] The reader ought to be informed that, a few years before this time, Beshýr Jumbalàt, a man of the first family of the Druzes, had risen by his possessions and influence to such power in Mount Lebanon as to excite the jealousy of the Emir Beshýr, the recognized prince of the Druzes, by right of investiture from the Porte. The Emir (who is a Mussulman) entertained such fears of being supplanted by a chief of his power and popularity, that, after a variety of intrigues and plots, he at last succeeded in effectually awakening the distrust of Abdallah, the Pasha of Acre, who finally united with the Emir in a plan for his destruction. The person of the unfortunate Beshýr Jumbalàt was accordingly seized, his palace razed to the ground, and his possessions confiscated; nor was their jealousy set at rest until they ultimately got rid of him by strangulation.
[38] Ben Jonson, in his “Alchemist,” alludes to such a book, “Ay, and a treatise penned by Adam.”
[39] It may be right to mention that Mr. Forster, as I believe, is not one of the family alluded to in this anecdote: but, as Lady Hester’s remarks hinged on his name, I thought it best to retain it.
[40] This note I afterwards read and copied. These two gentlemen presented themselves at the gate, and Lady Hester dictated the following message to them, which Miss Williams wrote:—“Lady Hester Stanhope presents her compliments to Mr. Anson and Mr. Strangways, and acquaints them that she is little in the habit of seeing European travellers, therefore declines the honour of their visit.” To this was returned following answer:—“Mr. Anson presents his compliments to Lady Hester Stanhope, and begs to assure her he has not the slightest wish to intrude where his visit is accounted disagreeable: but having, during a three months’ residence among the Arabs, met with universal hospitality, he took for granted that he would not have met with the first refusal in an English house.”
[41] The benýsh is a large mantle, reaching to the ground, ample, and folding over, with bagging sleeves hanging considerably below the tips of the fingers. When worn, it leaves nothing seen but the head and face. This is synonymous with a dress coat.