After some prefatory discourse, these gentlemen told me that Sulymán Bey, the eldest son of Ahmed Bey, was given over by his physicians, and that the father, hearing of my presence in Damascus, entreated me to go and see him. I replied, that, in every house where I had been, I had found persons so little disposed to obey my directions as to make me despair of ever doing any good, and that, therefore, I declined going. Abd el Rahmán was thunderstruck on hearing me refuse to attend on such a distinguished family, and when too the heir was ill. The messengers went away, and in about half an hour returned, and said so much of the father’s grief at my refusal that I then yielded to their solicitations.
I found his son on a silk mattress, placed on the sofa, in an open alcove that looked on a marble paved court shaded by lofty orange and lemon-trees. There were three physicians present, a Turk and two Christians. Ahmed Bey received me very politely, and eagerly begged me to restore his son to health. The boy was about thirteen or fourteen—ugly, of diminutive stature, and somewhat hump-backed. He was labouring under anasarca, consequent on a long intermittent fever. After examining him, I said I saw no reason to doubt of the possibility of curing him. I was then asked how I would do it, which I declined telling: for I had no one but my servant for interpreter, and the little Italian which he knew made it impossible to explain my intentions clearly.
The bey told me that nothing had been left unattempted which the faculty of the city could think of. His son had been sewed up in a sheepskin fresh from the warm carcase. He had taken pills made of powdered pearl; he had lived six days on nothing but goats’ flesh; he had had pigeons’ skins put hot on his feet; but all had been unavailing. I merely observed that these remedies might have much merit in them, but that the practice of medicine in England was somewhat different; and, if he wished me to prescribe, my first condition was that I should not be controlled by anybody. After some other conversation, I went away.
About three hours afterwards, I was summoned again, and desired to act as I chose. Not to tire the reader, I was fortunate enough to restore the boy to perfect health, and the father signified to me that he would thank me in the Eastern way. On an appointed day, I was conducted to the vestibule of the bath, where Sulimán Bey, attended by half-a-dozen servants, awaited my coming. We undressed and entered the bath, having each a silk apron on. About an hour was consumed in the ceremonies of shaving the head, washing, depilation, &c.; after which we returned to the dressing-room, where we were enveloped in embroidered napkins, and lay down to repose. Pipes, coffee, and sherbets, were served. When it was time to dress, the bey ordered a page to invest me with the dress of honour which had been prepared for me. It consisted of an entire suit of Turkish clothes, with a pelisse, and three pieces of Damascus silks not made up. The whole might be valued at fifty pounds. After dinner I returned home, and could perceive, by the cheerfulness of my groom, who generally held my horse at the door, that he too had not been forgotten.
On the morrow, I was invited to a rural fête. I accompanied Ahmed Bey and his three sons, followed by his black and white servants, in all about twenty-five persons, on horses richly caparisoned, to a garden in the environs of the city. Beneath the shade of orange-trees, by the side of a stream that ran through the garden, carpets were spread, and a repast was served up. The bey had ordered several dishes, which, as being rare, he thought would please me. Through an opening in the trees, our seats commanded a view of the plain of Damascus, which, in the cultivated part, is one of the richest in foliage I ever saw. We sat, smoked, drank coffee and sherbet; and afterwards the pages were matched against each other to throw the giryd or javelin. The day passed away delightfully, and at sunset we returned to the city.
The bey expressed himself very grateful to me for having saved his son; and hence began an acquaintance between Lady Hester and him, which afterwards ripened into a long and durable friendship.
I cannot help mentioning an occurrence which happened in consequence of this cure. The bey, having conceived a favourable opinion of my skill, consulted me for himself and all his family. Among the rest was his sister, a young lady of sixteen, and of the most dazzling beauty. Upon that occasion, I was conducted to the harým by her brother, the bey, the women being previously warned to keep out of sight,[6] so that I saw no one but her. He desired her to unveil before me, which she did without any affectation.[7] Lady Hester soon afterwards paid a visit to the bey’s wife,[8] and was received with great ceremony.
In the same manner, she visited the lady of Hassan Pasha, of Assâd Pasha, and of several others, persons of distinction, so that she had an opportunity of seeing all who were most eminent for rank and beauty throughout the city. There was an Abyssinian slave, sixteen years of age, one of Ahmed Bey’s wife’s female attendants, whom her ladyship described as exquisitely handsome. In the harýms of all these families I too was admitted, but it was to see the sick. Wherever I was called I invariably found the patient, if too ill to rise, lying on a bed spread on the floor in the middle of the chamber, with no bedstead or curtains, but sometimes with a silk musquito net temporarily suspended. The females were always veiled on entering, generally by pinching a shawl over the face, so as to leave one eye[9] only visible; but would for a reasonable cause (as, for example, to look at their tongue) draw the veil aside. At any house where it became necessary for me to repeat my visits, these formalities were by degrees disused, and always first of all by the comeliest women. The women and men always wear a night-dress when in bed, generally consisting of a wrapping gown and a quilted jacket; for the coverlet, being wadded with cotton, and about one inch thick, does not, from its stiffness, keep in the warmth sufficiently—the sheet, moreover, is sewed to it; and therefore they wear night-clothes to prevent exposure to cold.
Mohadýn Effendy was a gentleman of the most polished manners, who had lived much at court, and who moved in the best society of Damascus. He was exceedingly polite and attentive to Lady Hester, and was one, among some others, who seemed to employ himself in trying to dive into the motives of her residence in a land so foreign in its climate, customs, and language, to her own.
There is a class of persons in Turkey unknown at present in Europe, but very common during the middle ages—I mean the captains of mercenary troops, who sell their services to the prince who can pay them best. There were, in 1812, three of them, who, living in the heart of the pashalik of Damascus, might be said to be independent of their legitimate masters, and to have a jurisdiction of their own. I was acquainted professionally with all three: their names were Ozûn Ali, Hamed Bey, and Muly Ismael. Ozûn Ali had a very fine palace in Damascus; the bey, Hamed, who was the son of a pasha, lived like a daring soldier, who devoted himself with equal ardour to Mars and Venus; but Muly Ismael, now somewhat advanced in years, was a politic chieftain, whose influence and weight had, no doubt, much sway in the province. Hamed Bey gave a horse to Lady Hester, who, in return, sent him a brace of pistols. These men were employed, on all occasions of insurrection, for levying imposts and contributions, for displacing motsellems and inferior governors; and probably occasioned as much alarm to the pashas themselves as to those against whom they were employed.