Lady Hester lodged in a cottage in a village two or three hundred yards from the ruins. To get to it there was a path, of course little trodden until our coming: to return home from it after dark was always at the hazard of broken shins.
There being nothing farther to detain us at Ascalon, on the 15th we returned to Jaffa. An unlucky accident happened through the negligence of Mbárak, who, being caffegi, or coffee-server, laid a complaint against a peasant for stealing a silver coffee-cup stand, or zerf, which was missing. The peasant was bastinadoed at Mejdel; when, on our arrival at Ebna, the cup was found. I made Lady Hester acquainted with the circumstance, and reprimanded Mbárak severely. A sum of money was sent to the poor peasant to recompense him for the injustice that had been done him; but the soles of his feet were not to be healed by money. Oh! ye men in authority, be not too hasty in awarding stripes!
I bought a few coins at Mejdel, but of no value: none were found during the excavations. Silver or gold coins of Ascalon are so rare that it is said one of either of these two metals would be worth from ten to fifteen guineas.
When we returned to Jaffa, Lady Hester wished to enjoy a little quiet; and a cottage belonging to Signor Damiani, and situate in a garden half a league from the town, was made comfortable for her as far as time and its ruinous condition would allow. I lodged as before in the monastery.
One thing had troubled Lady Hester very much during the whole journey, which may be mentioned as showing the system, pursued universally throughout the Turkish empire, of making it impossible for Christians, however favoured, to enjoy tranquilly the concession of any right or immunity ordinarily belonging to Mahometans only. One of these was to have black slaves, whom Christians are not allowed to buy, but which Lady Hester had been privileged to do. Derwish Mustafa Aga had not been many days acquainted with Lady Hester, when he heard of her possessing a black slave, and her ladyship told him how much pains she had bestowed in having her instructed in the principles of her religion; adding, that he might question her, if he would, to see if she had profited by the lessons she had received. The Zaym did so, and expressed himself so satisfied with her progress, that he thought it a pity (he said) she should be left among Christian servants, who would contaminate her mind and expose her to the temptation of wine, &c. The fact was, that the old man found her young and beautiful, though black, and, according to the usages of his country, would have very willingly made her his concubine. He, therefore, often renewed the subject: and, half joking half seriously, would say to Lady Hester that she was aware that the first duty of a Mussulman was to get a true believer out of the hands of infidels; and that, when the business was over, he should require her at her hands. Then he would say, “Tell me her price, that you may not be a loser by her;” and would continually be making many similar speeches. Lady Hester used to remark upon this subject: “This man puts me in an awkward predicament:—what can I do? He will make me give her to him at last, for, when he says that he will buy her of me, that means nothing; I can’t take money of him. To give her to a man like Mûly Ismael, who has wives and a harým, might be harmless; but to this man, who I know will make use of her for his own purposes on the road, it is a disgrace, and I cannot do it.” Nor did she; but it will be seen how, to the last, he tenaciously persisted in demanding her; and, in her stead, obtained one of less beauty and value indeed, but still recommendable for both.
Among the merchants of Jaffa, I had a few patients, and in visiting their houses I saw somewhat of the domestic society of the place. One of these was a blind Turk, whose conversation I found very interesting. He had been converted to Islamism from Christianity, and passed for a learned man. Not thinking that his apostacy from the religion of Christ ought to make me decline his visits, we often saw each other; although some people in England, for whom I have a great respect, and to whom I mentioned the subject, were of opinion that I ought to have done so.
One day, whilst I was sitting in my room at the convent, Mâlem Mûsa and M. Beaudin being with me, a young man, about twenty-two years old, entered, and, giving me the salutation, used between friends when they meet, of a kiss on each cheek, set himself down in the highest place, with the air of a man who knew that he had a right to it. He was handsome and of a pleasing countenance. It is customary in the East not to ask the business of a person who presents himself as a stranger, until he has been welcomed by some refreshment. Conformable to this usage, I bade the servant bring coffee and pipes, and stared with some degree of inquisitiveness, trying to guess, in my own mind, who he could be. Mâlem Mûsa, I have said, was a man acquainted with the world, and he saw at once that the stranger was unfortunate: thinking, therefore, to relieve the young man’s chagrin, he began a long story on the fickleness of fortune. The youth, encouraged by his apparent sympathy, by degrees took courage and told his tale. He said his name was Mohammed Bey, son of Daher Tabû, and nephew of a pasha; that he had been motsellem of Killes, near Aleppo, but had been driven from his home by the persecution of Gelal-ed-Dyn, pasha of Aleppo. The account he gave us of his misfortunes was as follows.
This Gelal-ed-dyn had been sent on a mission from the Porte, commissioned to punish the rebels at Aleppo. He passed the night, on his way thither, at Killes, and was magnificently entertained by Mohammed Bey, whom in return he honoured with great apparent civility; and professed so much satisfaction with his treatment that he invited the bey to accompany him on his expedition. The bey went. During the whole of the siege of Geser Shogr, which preceded the attack on Aleppo, he manifested an unusual liking to him. Topal Ali and Sayd Aga having fled from Geser Shogr, Gelal-ed-dyn marched for Aleppo, where by artifice he succeeded in prevailing on the chiefs of the rebels to trust their persons within his camp, and then massacred them. The bey told us he was witness to the massacre, and that he stood by, his knees trembling and his teeth chattering, in an indescribable way, whilst the pasha’s only remark was: “Well, now it’s over, what do you think of all this?”
In the evening of the same day, the kekhyah sent for him, and he immediately repaired to his tent. “I want,” said the kekhyah, “thirty-three purses of you.” The youth was astounded, and cried “where am I to find such a sum?”—“You best know,” replied the kekhyah; and he was led from the tent to prison, where he was chained. Here he found himself in company with several others in a similar situation. The prison doors were opened in the night, and, soon after, two or three reports of guns gave the signal of the death of more victims of the pasha’s sanguinary cruelty. This uncomfortable scene was renewed for several nights. At last the bey’s turn came. He was conducted by some Albanian soldiers into a room, where he was again told he must find the sum of money demanded of him. Upon declaring it to be impossible, he was put to the torture by means of a rope, twisted tight round his head, and pressing on two phalangeal bones placed on his temples. Overcome by extreme pain, he promised to do all they asked, though he knew not how. He returned again to prison, and time was given him to raise among his friends what he could. Half the sum required was finally paid, and he was set at liberty.
He fled from Aleppo to Antioch, from Antioch to Hamah; thence to Damascus, Acre, and Jaffa. “Here, gentlemen,” he continued, “I am come to throw myself at the feet of the English lady, and ask succour at her hand.” He then exhibited his sherwals, (brogues) and the other parts of his dress torn and dirty, as proofs of his situation. He said that Mûly Ismael had given him 200 piasters; Bekyr Aga of Antioch 500; and that Kengy Ahmed Aga had, since his arrival at Jaffa, taken care that he should not want for a meal.