Now Then, At A Time When Everything Seemed To Depend Upon The
Effect Of Speech, We Were Left Without An Interpreter.
But this very circumstance, which at first appeared so
unfavourable, turned out to be advantageous.
The General, finding
that he could not have his words translated, ceased to speak in
Italian, and recurred to his accustomed French; he became eloquent.
No one present except myself understood one syllable of what he was
saying, but he had drawn forth his passport, and the energy and
violence with which, as he spoke, he pointed to the graven Eagle of
all the Russias, began to make an impression. The Pasha saw at his
side a man not only free from every the least pang of fear, but
raging, as it seemed, with just indignation, and thenceforward he
plainly began to think that, in some way or other (he could not
tell how) he must certainly have been in the wrong. In a little
time he was so much shaken that the Italian ventured to resume his
interpretation, and my comrade had again the opportunity of
pressing his attack upon the Pasha. His argument, if I rightly
recollect its import, was to this effect: "If the vilest Jews were
to come into the harbour, you would but forbid them to land, and
force them to perform quarantine; yet this is the very course, O
Pasha, which your rash officers dared to think of adopting with
US! - those mad and reckless men would have actually dealt towards a
Russian general officer and an English gentleman as if they had
been wretched Israelites! Never - never will we submit to such an
indignity. His Imperial Majesty knows how to protect his nobles
from insult, and would never endure that a General of his army
should be treated in matter of quarantine as though he were a mere
Eastern Jew!" This argument told with great effect. The Pasha
fairly admitted that he felt its weight, and he now only struggled
to obtain such a compromise as might partly save his dignity. He
wanted us to perform a quarantine of one day for form's sake, and
in order to show his people that he was not utterly defied; but
finding that we were inexorable, he not only abandoned his attempt,
but promised to supply us with horses.
When the discussion had arrived at this happy conclusion
tchibouques and coffee were brought, and we passed, I think, nearly
an hour in friendly conversation. The Pasha, it now appeared, had
once been a prisoner of war in Russia, and a conviction of the
Emperor's vast power, necessarily acquired during this captivity,
made him perhaps more alive than an untravelled Turk would have
been to the force of my comrade's eloquence.
The Pasha now gave us a generous feast. Our promised horses were
brought without much delay. I gained my loved saddle once more,
and when the moon got up and touched the heights of Taurus, we were
joyfully winding our way through the first of his rugged defiles.
APPENDIX - THE HOME OF LADY HESTER STANHOPE
It was late when we came in sight of two high conical hills, on one
of which stands the village of Djouni, on the other a circular
wall, over which dark trees were waving; and this was the place in
which Lady Hester Stanhope had finished her strange and eventful
career. It had formerly been a convent, but the Pasha of Sidon had
given it to the "prophet-lady," who converted its naked walls into
a palace, and its wilderness into gardens.
The sun was setting as we entered the enclosure, and we were soon
scattered about the outer court, picketing our horses, rubbing down
their foaming flanks, and washing out their wounds. The buildings
that constituted the palace were of a very scattered and
complicated description, covering a wide space, but only one storey
in height: courts and gardens, stables and sleeping-rooms, halls
of audience and ladies' bowers, were strangely intermingled. Heavy
weeds were growing everywhere among the open portals, and we forced
our way with difficulty through a tangle of roses and jasmine to
the inner court; here choice flowers once bloomed, and fountains
played in marble basins, but now was presented a scene of the most
melancholy desolation. As the watchfire blazed up, its gleam fell
upon masses of honeysuckle and woodbine, on white, mouldering walls
beneath, and dark, waving trees above; while the group of
mountaineers who gathered round its light, with their long beards
and vivid dresses, completed the strange picture.
The clang of sword and spear resounded through the long galleries;
horses neighed among bowers and boudoirs; strange figures hurried
to and fro among the colonnades, shouting in Arabic, English, and
Italian; the fire crackled, the startled bats flapped their heavy
wings, and the growl of distant thunder filled up the pauses in the
rough symphony.
Our dinner was spread on the floor in Lady Hester's favourite
apartment; her deathbed was our sideboard, her furniture our fuel,
her name our conversation. Almost before the meal was ended two of
our party had dropped asleep over their trenchers from fatigue; the
Druses had retired from the haunted precincts to their village; and
W-, L-, and I went out into the garden to smoke our pipes by Lady
Hester's lonely tomb. About midnight we fell asleep upon the
ground, wrapped in our capotes, and dreamed of ladies and tombs and
prophets till the neighing of our horses announced the dawn.
After a hurried breakfast on fragments of the last night's repast
we strolled out over the extensive gardens. Here many a broken
arbour and trellis, bending under masses of jasmine and
honeysuckle, show the care and taste that were once lavished on
this wild but beautiful hermitage: a garden-house, surrounded by
an enclosure of roses run wild, lies in the midst of a grove of
myrtle and bay trees. This was Lady Hester's favourite resort
during her lifetime; and now, within its silent enclosure,
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