Hassan, however, could not walk so great a distance, and Hadj Ali was compelled to leave him by the way, lying down in the middle of the road. The affair was not made a serious one at Acre; for the Turks hold living by one’s wits to be a fair mode of gaining a livelihood: and they thought that the loss of the money, which Hadj Ali had taken from him, and the beating he had received, were punishment enough. Hassan however limped on, and reached Acre three or four days afterwards. He went immediately to Hassan Aga, a favourite Mameluke of Sulymán Pasha, who knew him, and there complained bitterly of the treatment he had received at Mar Elias. Hassan Aga espoused his cause; and, had the matter been pursued by her ladyship, would have stood forth as his protector. For, in this respect, I observed on several occasions such a relation between client and patron as I suppose to have existed in ancient Rome. Thus, whenever a person of inferior station in life was in jeopardy, from the oppression of the great, it did not follow that he became their victim; for either his cause was espoused by some great man, whose creature he was, or, if he had not the means of interesting such a one directly, he found some channel through which to come at him, and thus would often transfer his own quarrel to the shoulders of the patron. By these means men of consequence in Turkey form parties, which they often use for the furtherance of their own ambitious views, or to repress those of their rivals.
This business was hardly over when a letter came to me from Macarius, patriarch of Antioch, praying my attendance on him, inasmuch as he was very ill. Exclusive of my readiness on all occasions to visit sick people of the country, the patriarch was entitled to my attendance on the score of obligations owed to him for having lent his house to Lady Hester, and for having put the village of Abra under her control. I rode over immediately to the monastery of St. Saviour (Dayr Mkhallas) where he resided; but I had been called in too late to be able to save him.
He had now been ill ninety-five days. His malady had begun in an intermittent fever, which left him, and was renewed in making his annual rounds through his diocese in the month of October. A violent purgative remedy, administered to him by one Hanah Zahár, a silversmith of Sayda, who was much in repute as a doctor in the neighbourhood, had reduced him to a state of great debility, from which he never recovered. His subsequent treatment had tended to bring on a dropsical affection, the insidious approaches of which had not been strictly guarded against; and, now that his dangerous state became too apparent, Mâlem Hanah Zahár had been dismissed, and my aid was solicited.[85]
I found him under the influence of a medicine which had been administered as tincture of bark, but which was in fact an opiate. His sister-in-law, Helayny, an Egyptian woman, was supporting his pillow, and two priests were fanning him. There was much simplicity in the appearance of his bed and room.
He died on the Friday following, at midnight, in the arms of Tanûs, an old servant. As soon as the breath was out of his body, he was dressed in his most splendid robes, the mitre was placed on his head, and he was carried in an arm-chair into the church of the monastery. From the time he became my patient I was accustomed to ride over almost every day. On Thursday I had left him in bed with no hope of recovery. On Saturday, what was my surprise, on approaching the monastery, to find a crowd of people assembled at the church doors; and, on entering it, to see the dead patriarch sitting in a chair, with a crosier in his left hand and the New Testament in his right, whilst an incense-pan smoked by his side. Prostrate, before and around him, were men and women, some of whom religiously approached the corpse, plucked a hair from the beard, or kissed the hand.
Messengers had been sent to the bishops of Sayda, Acre, Beyrout, and the other sees in the district. Theodosius, bishop of Acre, happening to be at Beyrout, arrived about eleven in the morning just before me, and was giving the necessary orders for the funeral. I went into the room where he was. It is customary for the Greek catholic church to embalm its patriarchs: and this is generally done by the priests: but, as the offensive smell, which continued to arise from the last patriarch, whose body was deposited under the staircase in the chapel of Mar Elias, had convinced me that little or no care was used by the priests in doing it, I volunteered my services, which were accepted. I expected that some objection would have been made on the score of my being a heretic; but perhaps the priests were glad to get rid of a process so disagreeable to eyes unused to the dissection of dead bodies.
There was a receipt for preparing the drugs used in embalming kept at the see, which was forthwith sent to Sayda to be made up.[86] The corpse was immediately carried into a vault or cellar near the door of the church. I was assisted by two peasants, who, together with the monks, showed as much indecency in the treatment of the body now lifeless as they had manifested obsequiousness and servility to it when breathing. I proposed that a flat table should be put upon trestles (such being the bedsteads of the monks themselves) to lay the corpse on: but their reply was, “Why not on the ground?” I asked for silk thread to sew up the body: but they produced cotton, and said that would do well enough. I required a sponge and hot water: the latter they would not give themselves the trouble to bring, and the sponge they produced was as black as a coal. Who would be the future patriarch, not what would become of the dead one, was now all their consideration.
I opened the body. I removed each viscus, one by one, observing the external phenomena only, fearing to cut into them, lest the bystanders should speak of it among the populace, and I get stoned. Not one monk would attend, each declaring that he could not bear the sight: a lay brother came in once, to ask when the process would be over, and, having stolen a handkerchief, disappeared. The contents of the abdomen and chest being removed, I rubbed in the powdered ingredients over the interior surface of these cavities just as one salts down meat. Then, stuffing the whole with bran, I sewed up the body with the usual stitch; and, the thread being blue, the suture looked neat, which was the principal thing that excited admiration in the peasants. I took out the brains and filled the skull with powdered drugs. The integuments were then carefully drawn over and sewed up.[87] The body was afterwards washed as clean as I could do it; for the bystanders were extremely indifferent to my reproaches for their irreverent conduct,[88] and would afford me no assistance.
They now dressed the corpse in a pair of drawers, a kombáz (or gown) of white silk, with gold tinsel running through it; a silk band or cope, in the shape of a horseshoe, which came over the shoulders from behind and reached to the ground, and a smaller one of the same kind over it, which two latter are episcopal emblems. To the right side in front was suspended a square board, covered with silk, resembling a dragoon’s despatch bag. The mitre was then placed on his head; and the body, being tied in an arm-chair to keep it erect, was carried into the church, which was lighted up for the mass of the dead. It was eight o’clock in the evening, and I had been employed just five hours. A great concourse of people was assembled from the neighbouring villages. Not sure how some of them might be disposed to consider my interference in the religious rites of their church, I declined to attend the service. On the following morning, I mounted my horse, and rode back to Mar Elias.
I heard afterwards that, having been exposed to the devout and curious all night, he was buried the next day, seated in an arm-chair, in a place excavated beneath the pavement of the church, which was well done; for, in such an imperfect mode of embalming as that just related (in which I had necessarily followed the custom of the monks), there was no reason why a corpse should not corrupt almost as soon as if it had been left to natural decay.