FOOTNOTES:
[1] I am indebted to the reviewer of these “Memoirs” in the New Monthly Magazine of July last, for more accurate information about this legend of the serpent. He says that a cave does exist at a distance of a few hours’ travel from Tarsûs, with which many traditions are connected; and, among others, that of the Seven Sleepers, whom Lady Hester alludes to elsewhere. In the same neighbourhood are to be met the ruins of a castle, called, to the present day, the Castle of the King of the Serpents, to which the fabulous story related by her is attached.
[2] Here Lady Hester Stanhope interrupted the dictation of the letter. “You may tell the Prince,” said she, “a story about Sultan Mûrad—a sort of Eastern tale to put in his book. Sultan Mûrad was one day looking at the water boiling in a pot, and turning to his prime-minister who was with him, ‘Vizir,’ said he, ‘I wish to know from you what that bubbling water is talking about, and I command you to tell me.’ His manner was perfectly serious; and the vizir thought, that by such a strange command, expressed so doggedly, the sultan wished to pick a quarrel with him: so, after musing a little—‘Sire,’ replied he, ‘when one of the elements is in commotion, no doubt the master of the world would wish to know the reason. Be patient with me: give me ten days to interpret these signs, and I promise you I will do it.’—‘It is well,’ said the sultan; ‘remember that in ten days I shall expect your answer.’ The vizir retired from the sultan’s presence, and reflected very seriously on what he had to do. ‘My master,’ thought he, ‘is very ridiculous to set me to explain what a pot of boiling water is mumbling to itself about: but, as I am his slave, his orders must be obeyed in some shape. Who knows? there may be soothsayers or magicians who understand these things: I must find such a one out, at all events;’ and he resolved to go in quest of one. He accordingly mounted his horse, and with a single servant set out, without well knowing what road to take.” Lady Hester had got thus far in her story, when she said, “But, doctor, this will take too much time:—so let us finish the letter, and I shall perhaps be able to relate the whole story to the Prince himself.”
[3] “Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes.”—Solomon’s Song, c. iv., v. 9.
[4] I regret not having noted down this English gentleman’s name.
CHAPTER II.
Mehemet Ali’s hospitality to travellers—Prince Pückler Muskau’s appreciation of it—His reception of Doctor M.—Reflections on passports—Lady Hester’s pecuniary difficulties—Her reluctance to reduce her establishment—Her restlessness—Presents in Eastern countries—Severity necessary with Eastern servants—Letter from Lady Hester to Lord Ebrington—Outrage committed on old Pierre—Defection of the Ottoman fleet—Khalyl Aga.
About noon, I went from the French khan to the house which Prince Pückler Muskau occupied. He was lodged in the residence of Ibrahim Nuckly, one of the richest merchants of the place, who, by the governor’s order, had removed his family to accommodate his highness, whose suite was numerous. Mahomet Ali, viceroy of Egypt, anxious to do honour to the Prince, had given him a special firmàn, requiring all official persons to treat him in a manner suitable to his rank. A military officer, a Tartar, and two or three chaôoshes, accompanied him in his travels; and everything was provided for him at the Pasha’s expense.
These signal acts of oriental hospitality have given occasion to some discussion amongst European travellers. It is urged, on the one side, that such travellers should avail themselves of these favours merely as credentials for enabling them to procure whatever they may require in accordance with their rank; but that they should acknowledge all the courtesies they receive by presents and remuneration at least equivalent to the trouble and expense they occasion. On the other hand, it is said that such magnificent liberality should be accepted in its full and unrestricted sense, anything in the shape of largess or repayment being regarded only as a reduction from the free grace of the original courtesy. In this latter sense, Prince Pückler Muskau understood the viceroy’s hospitality: he took the firmàn strictly according to the letter; and his house, post-horses, and provisions—in short, his whole expenditure, was defrayed by checks on the viceroy’s treasury. The Duke Maximilian of Bavaria, Lord Prudhoe, and a few others, who were favoured with similar firmàns, thought otherwise: they left proofs of their generosity wherever they went, handsomely rewarding everybody whom they put to the least trouble or inconvenience. It is impossible to suppose that the Prince thought he could repay all the kindnesses he received by the gratitude of his pen; because it is impossible to suppose that favours of that kind could exert any influence over his writings. The only conclusion at which we can reasonably arrive is that he was proud of this distinguished feature in his travels—namely, that of having traversed the whole of Egypt and Syria with all the pomp of a grandee without having expended a single farthing. The distinction is a strange one, but it is a distinction notwithstanding.
The courtyard of the prince’s house was filled with military officers, government people, and others, waiting to be presented; but, as soon as my name was announced, I was ushered by his dragoman into a handsome alliah, or saloon, gaily painted in Arabesque, with sofas round three sides of the room. The remains of breakfast were on the table. He expressed great pleasure in seeing me, and, by his countenance and manner, immediately prepossessed me in his favour. He is a tall man, about fifty years of age. I found him dressed in a loose morning-gown, with white trousers, and a yellow scarf thrown over his shoulders somewhat for effect, with a casquette on, and having the air and demeanour of what he was—a man of the world and of high birth. He had a chamelion crawling about on the tube of his pipe and on his chair; and, every now and then, the exclamation of “Ou donc est le caméléon? ou est mon petit bijou?” made me fear at first we were going to have a second edition of Monsieur L—— with his lap-dog, who, in talking to it in all those endearing terms which the French use towards pet animals, and in making more fuss about its food, bed, and the like, than humanity requires, had greatly lessened himself in the estimation of both Turks and Christians, in a country where exaggerated and unnatural phraseology is never applied to brute animals.