“What I would wish you to talk to him about is principally the serpent’s cave. You must tell him that, at ten or twelve hours’ distance from Tarsûs, there is a grotto, where once lived an enormous serpent with a human head, such as he may have seen in paintings representing the temptation of Eve. This serpent was possessed of all the skill in demonology and magic known on earth. There was an ancient sage who was desirous of acquiring this serpent’s wisdom, which he knew could be come at by destroying the serpent: he therefore induced the king of the country in which the grotto is situate to enter into his views, and, by the king’s orders, the neighbouring peasantry were assembled for that purpose. The sage, who had given instructions that, in killing the serpent, they were to proceed in a particular manner, and that the head was to be reserved for him, stationed himself not far off: and when the peasants went as usual to carry his food, intending to seize a proper moment for effecting the destruction of so formidable a reptile, the serpent, being gifted with the power of speech, said, ‘I know what you are come for; you are come to take my life. I am aware that I am fated to die now, and I shall not oppose it: but, in killing me, beware how you follow the instructions which the wicked man who sent you gave—do exactly the reverse.’ The peasants obeyed the serpent; and, doing precisely the reverse of what the sage had enjoined them to do, the king too died, and thus met the reward of his treacherous conduct. Since that time no other serpent has appeared with a human head, but several are living in the same grotto, and they still are fed by the neighbouring villages, which send the food at stated times, and the people have opportunities of seeing them with their own eyes.
“You must tell the prince that this story is perfectly authentic, and that, since the time of Sultan Mûrad down to the present day, certain villages are exempted from taxes in consideration of providing sustenance for the serpents. As he naturally must wish to inquire into and see so remarkable a phenomenon, you may tell him that, if he puts himself into a boat, he can land at Tarsûs or Swadéya, and thence find his way a few hours’ distance farther, where the grotto is.”
I hung my head during the whole of this story, reflecting what a pretty errand I was going upon—to tell with a serious air a story so devoid of probability, and so likely to strengthen the supposition, common in England and elsewhere, that Lady Hester was crazy. She observed my ill-concealed incredulity, and bawled out rather than said, “Do you understand what I have been telling you? I suppose you’ll tell me I am mad. Do you believe these things or not? why don’t you answer?” As I remained mute, she said, “Well, will you repeat them to the prince as I have related them?” I answered, “Yes, I would do that.”—“But there,” said she, “go to dinner now, and come again in the evening: I suppose you are thinking more of your soup getting cold than of anything else.”
It was now sunset, and I found my family waiting dinner for me: but that was a very common occurrence, and excited no surprise. Having dined, I returned to Lady Hester. She was in the drawing-room, and she immediately renewed the subject of the grotto.
“The king’s name,” said she, “was Tarsenus—he gave the name to Tarsûs, or took his from it, I don’t know which. You must not forget to speak to the prince likewise of the dervises’ monastery, called Sultan Ibrahim, which is near Tripoli. He has only to present himself there, and use my name; they are all like my brothers; they have many learned men amongst them: if he wants a letter to them, I’ll give him one. As for the Ansaréas, the Ishmäelites, the Kelbëas, and all the sects on the mountains between Tripoli and Latakia, he will get nothing out of them; so it is of no use his trying. If he returns to Jerusalem, beg him not to extend his excursions towards the back of the Dead Sea, or beyond the Jordan; for, as he is known to be a friend of Mahomet Ali’s, some Arab behind a rock may pick him off, just out of spite to Ibrahim Pasha.”
Lady Hester went on. “Did you perfectly understand what I said before dinner about the serpents?” “Not altogether,” I replied. “Perhaps,” she observed, “you don’t like to go down to the prince?” I replied, anxious to seize any excuse for getting rid of the serpent story, “I can’t say I have any particular wish to go.”—“Why,” said Lady Hester, “you have done nothing but talk about him for these last five months; what was that for, if you don’t want to see him?”—“I talked about him,” answered I, “because I thought, from what I had read of his works, you would be pleased to see him, if he came this way?”
Lady Hester paused a little while, and then proceeded:—“Well, doctor, look here—you will talk a great deal about the serpents, and, when you can see a proper opportunity, and that nobody is likely to hear you, you will say to the prince in a low voice, ‘Lady Hester recommends you to make some inquiries about the serpents’ cave[1] when you are at Beyrout; for near to Tarsûs is Kolôok Bogàz, where Ibrahim Pasha’s army is encamped: you will probably like to see it, and this will be a good excuse, as everybody then will fancy you had no political motive for going there.’”
The mystery was out; for two or three months Lady Hester had been introducing the story of the human-headed serpent into her conversations; for two or three months she had known of Prince Pückler Muskau’s coming; for the same period I had entertained apprehensions that her reason was impaired: M. Guys had been primed in the same way, and formed the same conclusions; and all turned out to be one of those long-laid plots, for which she was so famous, to save the prince from being considered as a spy in the dangerous neighbourhood of two hostile armies.
It had happened some years before, when the prince’s letters on England were first translated, I, being in London, had noticed the work in a letter to her, and had copied out a few observations on herself made to the prince by a Hanoverian gentleman. Subsequently, when with her, I had spoken of the prince’s increasing reputation as a literary man, and mentioned such particulars of him as had come to my knowledge. All this, and his alliance with the family of Prince Hardenberg, with whom Lady Hester had been acquainted, increased her desire to see him: but how to accomplish it now was the difficulty. The few hours she spent with M. Guys had done her a great deal of harm; for, being obliged to exert herself, and not being able to treat a guest as unceremoniously as she could me, the exertion proved too much for her strength. “Englishmen,” she said, “are fond of turning everything into ridicule, and of saying spiteful things of me; with the French and foreigners in general, it is not so: and with a man of the world, like the prince, I have nothing to fear on that score; but then how am I to lodge him and accommodate his people and his dinners, with a wretched cook and nothing of any sort fit for a man of rank! No, doctor, it will not do: so sit down, and write and tell him so.”
The following letter was the result. It was in French; but, as her ladyship’s French was sometimes worded without much regard to genders and tenses, although in her expressions nobody could be happier, it will be better to give a translation.