In coming away, I had an opportunity of judging of the extreme simplicity of the Aga’s mode of living. His dinner was laid out on a mat, on the floor of a room which we passed, and consisted of six or eight messes of pilau and yakhny, which are boiled rice and a stew of small bits of meat and vegetables, and these in dishes of common queen’s-ware. There were no knives or forks, and the spoons were wooden. A man in England, living like a temperate Mahometan, would pass for a prodigy with some, and with others, for one who took not enough to support life; by all, he would be considered as a most sober liver: for the food of Mustafa Aga, like that of most of the followers of Mahomet, was generally confined to rice, boiled mutton, vegetables, honey, and fruit. Water was his only drink; and, on the very afternoon of this visit, being requested to call on him that he might consult me respecting some indisposition, when I advised him to use a tincture, which he understood from me was compounded of spirit, he totally rejected it, upon the plea that, in whatever state he might be, his abhorrence of vinous liquors was settled.
In the mean time, Mâlem Selim was treated with the most marked civility by Lady Hester. The public bath was hired for him an evening or two after our arrival. Two sumptuous repasts were prepared for him every day, and people saw with wonder the deference that was paid him by her ladyship. But she had her ends to answer; and on such occasions it might be observed, by those in the habit of living near her, that she often would raise very humble individuals to an elevation to which they had not been accustomed, by which they were the more easily led to forget their natural prudence, and communicate more readily the information she wanted. She knew that, when these artificial props were taken away, folks could very easily be made to drop to their own level again.
In the middle ages, Tripoli was the scene of much warfare. It was taken by the crusaders after a siege of seven years, and retaken by the Saracens in 1229 by sap.
Modern Tripoli is the head of a pashalik, extending north and south from Nahr Ibrahim to Bylán, and bounded on the east by the highest chain of the mountains which run parallel to the coast. Ali, a pasha of two tails, held it, but resided at St. Jean d’Acre as kekhyah of Sulimán Pasha, whilst Mustafa Aga governed in his stead. It is the best built and cleanest town along the coast of Syria; perhaps, too, the largest, certainly, at the time we are speaking of, the most commercial; although now superseded by Beyrout. The castle is at the south-east part of the city, and is of Saracen or Frank construction. There are five or six mosques. The Greeks and Maronites have their churches, and the Franciscans and Capuchins their monasteries. A river runs by the city, which serves to irrigate the gardens. As it is built at some distance from the sea, (about one mile) there is a small town, called the Myna, close to the harbour, if the insecure anchorage formed by two or three rocks deserves that name. Between the city and the Myna are the orchards and gardens, which are the boast of the place, both for their productions and beauty. Oranges were now in season, which have been before mentioned as very juicy at this place. One of the chief sources of wealth to the city was the manufacture of silk turbans, sashes, bath waist-cloths, and saddle-covers, which are in request throughout Syria. The Christians here were of the Greek church; and so violent were they against schismatics, that it was dangerous for a Greek Catholic to tarry in the place for a few hours. The bishop of Tripoli was an agreeable man, who spoke often in praise of the English: for he had known many of that nation, when our army invaded Egypt the second time under General Fraser, at which period he was residing as a priest at the Greek convent of Alexandria.
I had an opportunity of seeing, in the bishop’s house, the library belonging to the see. The books had been thrown into a lumber room, and left there to be devoured by the rats, or more slowly consumed by moths and damp. There were some Greek manuscripts. The church was undergoing a thorough repair, and, to embellish the altar screen, a Candiote painter had been sent for, whose skill in his art seemed to me far from despicable. He showed me some copies from Italian engravings, which were very well executed: and, when I asked him if he did not prefer them to the gilded daubs of Virgins and Saints of his own church, he showed himself perfectly aware of the faults of his countrymen’s manner, but said he must paint to please, or he could not live.
The climate of Tripoli is reputed to be the worst in Syria, and the cadaverous looks of the inhabitants bore evidence to the truth of the assertion; for, although the season was far advanced, it was grievous to behold and hear of the number of the sick. The prevailing disease was a bilious remittent fever: this, if not fatal, generally left an ague, which, ending in obstructions, brought on dropsy and death. I was witness here to a fatal mortification from the application of leeches by a French doctor to the foot; to the only case of gout that came under my observation in Syria; to the worst case of epilepsy I ever saw; and to hysterical fits, with lunar recurrences, from seven to fifteen times in the twenty-four hours, which had now lasted two years. These latter I cured, and may cite that cure as having led to one of those ingenious subterfuges, which were not rare in the Levant, to avoid the weight of an obligation. When the young lady, who had been thus afflicted, was found to be relieved by my treatment of her, she was hurried off to the convent of Mar Antaniûs Kuziyah (famed, as I have already mentioned, for miraculous cures) from which, in a few days, she returned, and her parents and friends were loud in their admiration of the Saint, who took no fees, and dumb on the merits of the doctor, who they were afraid would.
We had not been long at Tripoli,[16] when a letter reached Lady Hester from her old friend Mûly Ismael of Hamah, requesting she would allow me to go to a monastery, eight or ten leagues from Tripoli, where his khasnadár or treasurer, a man whom he greatly esteemed, was lying grievously afflicted with a stroke of the palsy. Accordingly, I set off a day or two afterwards, on the 20th of December, and was fortunate enough to hire one of the muleteers, who had accompanied us on the Bâlbec journey, to carry my luggage. I was mounted on a mule, and placed my man, Giovanni, with a few necessaries on another, whilst the muleteer, named Michael, walked.
As we went out of Tripoli, about noon, the rain fell in torrents, and we were soon wet through. Our route lay about east-north-east; and, after passing a stony and rugged road, we came upon an extensive plain, named el Accàr. The day closed in very early, and, from the continued rain and darkness, the beaten track was by no means clearly visible. We reached a river, which appeared so swollen that we dared not ford it, and were puzzled what to do. A light on our right attracted us, and, after following the course of the stream for about two miles, it disappeared, and we resolved to return down again. We accordingly arrived at the point whence we had turned off, but still hesitated to ride into the stream, as we could discern no appearances of a path or of footsteps down the bank, as of a ford. A light on our left was now seen: we rode towards it, and after a little time came to some tents. Huge mastiff dogs rushed out upon us, and the muleteer had much ado to keep them at bay with a club stick, until two or three ill-looking men issued from the tents to discover the reason of their barking. They were Turkmans, who were pasturing their flocks and herds on these plains, and, when they saw we were benighted travellers, they very strongly pressed me to go no farther, and to spend the night with them: but I hesitated to do so on account of my ignorance of their habits of life, and resolved, on hearing that the river was fordable, to pursue my journey. One of the Turkmans accordingly led us back to the same place where we had been twice before, and bade us ride through boldly. When we were safe over he wished us good night. As he had previously told us that we could reach a caravansery a few miles farther on, we took fresh courage, and for a time I forgot the rain in musing on the Turkman dogs and the shepherd’s civility; but, at last, cold and weariness made me anxious to get housed. There was no light before us, and the plain was every where covered with large pools of water which embarrassed us exceedingly. The mules were fatigued, and could with difficulty be driven on. The muleteer finally declared that the servant’s mule could go no further, and that we must sleep in the plain.
Although the rain fell in torrents, as there was no alternative, I got off; and the best arrangement that circumstances would admit of was made for the night. I found a knoll of ground, somewhat drier than the rest of the soil; and a small rug, which I carried with me in travelling, was opened on it, upon which I seated myself with my legs doubled under me: and, with my hood[17] drawn over my head, I leaned against my-medicine-chest, and went supperless to sleep. The muleteer and Giovanni made the best of their situation.
In the morning, when daylight came, we found, to our surprise, that a quarter of a mile more would have brought us to the caravansery which we had been told of. The mules were re-loaded, and, just at this moment, a caravan, on its road to Tripoli, passed us. A dozen tongues addressed us at once to inquire why we had stopped short of the caravansery, and many jokes were cracked upon our miserable appearance. In twenty minutes we reached Nahr el Kebýr, a river, on the banks of which was a large, but dilapidated caravansery, where we found a man, who, for a small recompense, stripped and walked before us through the ford. The stream was rapid and deep, so that for a moment I feared we should have been carried away by it: which, encumbered with dress as we were, would have been to our inevitable destruction.