This day an English sloop of war hove-to off Sayda. The captain of her sent for the English consular agent alongside, and what took place on this occasion may serve as an example of the necessity of having Englishmen, and not foreigners, as consular agents in distant countries. The precise object that the captain of the sloop had in view of course can only be known to himself; but what queries he put to Mr. Abella, the agent, and what answers he received, very soon transpired. Since, how could it be otherwise, when the agent was a native of Syria, and understood no language but Arabic? Being, therefore, summoned to the ship, which he could not go aboard, as she could not communicate with persons from the shore until her bill of health had been examined by the health officers, he was first of all compelled to take some one as an interpreter between the captain and himself, and then to hold his parley from the boat to the ship’s quarter; but, as the interpreter might only speak Italian, and the captain only English, a third aid is required, and we will suppose an officer to be called, who takes the question from the captain’s mouth in English, repeats it in Italian to the agent’s interpreter, who translates it into Arabic; and then the answer goes back through the same channels: so that it must necessarily happen that the sense and the wording undergo a material change. But there is yet a greater evil. If the questions relate to matters of importance, as the progress of the Druze insurrection (for example), or the probability of Ibrahim Pasha’s success or defeat, how is the consular agent, so circumstanced, to give a faithful account? for, should he divulge matters unfavourable to the Pasha’s cause, his well-being, and perhaps his life, may be endangered: since, although he himself, as an agent in the English service, receives a certain protection, he may have brothers and relations who are at the Pasha’s mercy: nay, he himself, perhaps an agent to-day and dismissed to-morrow, may be left to cope with powerful enemies for the rest of his life.
Now, the French government secures Frenchmen for consuls and agents, and the English government, one would think, ought to act on the same principle. Let it not be said that men could not be found—native Englishmen—willing to banish themselves to these countries, and that for a very trifling salary. Among the half-pay officers of the army and navy might be selected numbers, who, even for so small a stipend as two hundred a year, would willingly accept such situations; because a very short residence would show them that, with economy, a hundred a year in the Levant is equivalent to two at home.
In affairs, where the conflicting interests of English and Mahometans, or disputes between travellers and natives, are to be settled, it is absurd to suppose that an agent, accustomed to cringe and fawn to the Turks all his life, will, or can, ever obtain redress for the party whose country he represents: it is impossible!
Saturday, June 30.—Lady Hester had sent to Dayr el Kamar for old Pierre, and he arrived this day. He brought news of a very different nature from that which I had learned at Sayda on the preceding Thursday. Ibrahim Pasha had been defeated by the insurgents, and had retreated as far as Zahly, a burgh overlooking the Bkâa, on the north-east slope of Mount Lebanon. In consequence of this, the road from Dayr el Kamar to Damascus was too dangerous to pass, and all the muleteers were stopped at those two places, afraid to cross the intervening plain.
I was surprised in the evening, when conversing with her ladyship, to see how the strongest minds are borne into the regions of fancy by what, with people of common sense, would be considered as mere visionary absurdities. I believe I have related elsewhere how a person, having gained the confidence of Lady Hester, told her he knew of a book that foretold the destinies of persons, which book he procured at her desire, and out of it offered to answer any questions she chose to put about anybody. “I would not,” said Lady Hester, when narrating the story, “ask him what would happen in Syria, because I conceive the course of events may be predicted by a man of great sagacity in any country, where he has cast a wistful eye on things passing around him; but I fixed on you, and asked him, ‘What is the doctor doing in Europe?’ The man opened his book, and read, and explained thus:—‘I see an elderly person sitting up in his bed, and by the bed-side a young woman kneeling, whilst she entreats and implores the elderly person not to take some journey, or go on some voyage,’ which of the two he could not precisely say. Now, doctor, that you know was exactly the case: for did not Mrs. M. some one day cry and beg of you not to go and join me? I am sure it was so. I next asked him about myself. He consulted his book, and said, I was to be witness to great battles, or be near where they were fought, and that one of the contests would be so bloody that, on one side, not a person would be left to tell the story: this battle, moreover, was to be fought on a plain three miles long and three broad, near Zahly, and upon Mount Lebanon. But,” added Lady Hester, “I never could find any solution to this prophecy until now; and the battle between Ibrahim Pasha and the insurgents clearly was the one meant. Neither could I discover where the plain was three miles long, and three broad, and I sent people to the neighbourhood of Zahly; but nobody knew anything of such a place, until at last information was brought me that there existed a plain as described in the heart of the mountain, like a basin, and which was shut out from the rest of the world. The book also said that a boy of royal blood would come from distant regions, would kiss my stirrup, and place himself under my guidance. All this was prophesied some years ago, and I always interpreted the bed-scene as relating to Mrs. M. That came to pass; for, though you will not confess it, I am sure it was so; and now the other part has been fulfilled too.”
In the course of the day, Lady Hester received a letter from Dr. Mill and Colonel Hazeta, to say that their quarantine was over, and that they would be at Jôon on the 1st of July.
Sunday, July 1.—They arrived early in the morning. After they had breakfasted, I received a note from Dr. Mill to say that he was about to read the morning prayers in his room, and to invite me and any others so disposed to join him.
These gentlemen remained two days, but a press of business prevented me from making memorandums. They always went together, when Lady Hester sent word she was ready to receive them: and this vexed her a great deal. Dr. Mill’s profound knowledge of languages, and his extensive reading, had given her hopes that she might have cleared up some difficulties respecting Eastern history, and have discussed certain religious points about which she had not perfectly made up her mind; but Colonel Hazeta, who was a man of the world, and could take no part in abstruse subjects, was a barrier to such conversation.
Friday, July 6.—Lady Hester was very low spirited, and her cough troublesome. She was unable to converse, and I left her at ten in the evening. Ali, the messenger, had gone to Beyrout two or three days before to carry the letter to Lord Palmerston, and to await the arrival of the steamboat, which was expected. His delay in returning had created great despondency in her; and, as the air was balmy and serene and it was a moonlight night, I sat on my terrace, which overlooked the path by which Ali must pass, fondly hoping that he would make his appearance with the long looked-for letter from Sir Francis Burdett. Presently I heard the dogs bark, and saw Freeky, the stoutest of our mastiffs, and generally the leader, rush towards the brow of the mountain which overlooked the valley through which Ali must come. Their barking grew fainter, and on a sudden ceased, and I then knew they had met some one belonging to the household. In about a quarter of an hour I recognized Ali, who, entering the gate, delivered his oilskin portfolio to me, and, under a cover to myself from the French chancellor, I found a packet for Lady Hester. I immediately sent it to her, and waited anxiously for the morning to learn what good news it brought.
Saturday, July 7.—It was Sir Francis Burdett’s long-expected, long-procrastinated answer, the delay of which had caused so many wretched nights and days to poor Lady Hester, and prevented her from forming any settled plans. Alas! now that it was come, it proved very unsatisfactory; yet, notwithstanding, Lady Hester invented a thousand excuses for him. “It is evident, doctor,” said she, “that he could not write what he wanted to write: he wishes me all the happiness that a mortal can share, but says not a word that I did not know before. I have told you that Colonel Needham left Mr. Pitt a large property in Ireland by his will; but it so happened that Mr. Pitt died three days before Colonel Needham, and consequently the death of the legatee before the testator, in a legal point of view, put an end to the right. I knew that as well as he did; but that was not what I inquired about: for when Lord Kilmorey died, to whom the property went, I supposed that, as it was originally intended for Mr. Pitt, he might have said, ‘As I have no children, this may as well revert to where it was originally intended to go:—’ just as Mrs. Coutts did not get her property from Mr. Coutts, but with the understanding that it was to be left afterwards to some of his grandchildren. One time, when Lady B. was so odd in her conduct, Mr. C. had some thoughts of making his grandson his heir, and asked me to get him created Lord C.; but the pride of Lord Bute, and other reasons, prevented this.”